#and is feeling angsty because I have no one here w me

[ophelia-bloodletting]

.

[catiuskaa]

you asked me to stay. [Not yet].

PAIRING! idol!bangchan x reader

SUMMARY: even if idols 'don’t date fans', there are no rules against a little bit of teasing, and so it happens that Mr Bang Chan here really likes your kind of thinking.

WC: 4.1k

CW: starts off fluffy, then angsty if you squint?, but develops into a (short but still) spicy NSFW. lol, the triangle of (fan)fiction! not gonna say anything else cause I don’t want to spoil it, teehee. Have fun! (I did!)

REQUESTED! here by my sweet 'n spicy baby @sharonxdevi, hope you like my take on it! <3

A/N: wanted to pop down here as a reminder that just because the setting is a fan meeting and yada yada, this work is still unrelated to Channie as an idol. now, please keep reading! I really like how this one turned out 🤭

[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]

He's so sweet.

You kept giggling and blushing like an idiot, but how couldn't you? The Christopher Bang was right before you, smiling and laughing at the lame jokes you blabbered as a blush surely creeped out, your face a deep shade of a pinkish tone.

“Oh, and I wanted to mention that you look so amazing in your performances! You have me addicted, Chan.” You giggled.

He chuckled, blushing lightly, raising a hand to his mouth, half covering it. “Really?”

You could melt at the sight of him.

“Yeah! I’ve watched all your fancams.” You nodded with enthusiasm.

His laughs turned louder, his ears red. “I feel so shy knowing someone as pretty as you watches me dance so much.”

…

You blinked, your eyes wide.

As what?

He cheeked his tongue, eyeing at you sheepishly.

Oh. So he knew what he was doing.

You smirked softly. Your change in attitude made him raise his eyebrows slightly.

“One minute.”

You eyed at the suited man that came to talk to Chan and smiled. He left back to his position, and you leaned closer to the idol.

“Just have to say, that tongue of yours?” You chuckled, and to him, it was one fo the most enticing sounds he had heard in a while. “Keep it in your mouth if you don’t want STAY to act up.”

There was a bubbly feeling in your stomach that only heightened when you watched his face displaying raw surprise.

You were about to combust in spontaneous fire because, well, you just flirted with an idol, a real famous one, that is, but then, he smirked, leaning even closer to you. You could feel his breath on the shell of your ear. His hand softly took yours, and your breath hitched as he snickered playfuly, making you feel a shiver travel down your spine.

“I’m thinking there are far more interesting places where I could keep it.” He grinned in a teasing tone, staring at your lips for a second, licking his own. “But I’m obedient. I’ll keep my mouth shut if you say so.” He stated lowly, his eyes locked on yours. …

Oh.

OH.

MY GOD.

He squeezed your hand, sitting back again. His face was covered by a shade of red, and he couldn’t exactly place what had taken over him.

For a moment, he bit his lip, wary of your reaction, considering you hadn’t so much as muttered anything, frozen in your place.

But then you chuckled, struggling to grasp what had just happened, and his whole body relaxed when you squeezed his hand too.

“Bet. You won’t.” You snickered, standing up, siren eyes staring down at him as you moved away, allowing the next person’s turn.

He winked at you as you left.

W-What had just happened?

Your mind felt fuzzy.

Had Bang Chan just done the triangle method on you?

Chan stared at your back before facing the person in front of him.

He could’ve sworn he had seen you before.

[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Chan grimaced at Hyunjin, sinking his head back on the pillow in his hotel room.

“Leave him alone, Jinnie.” Yongbok frowned slightly. “But I have to say. Not the smartest move, mate.”

Chan sighed in frustration. “I know, I know.”

And it was because he knew that he didn’t dare to say, but just thinking about you, he also knew for a fact that he wouldn’t hesitate on doing it again. Had he had the opportunity, maybe even more.

But idols don’t do that.

Because it is for a reason that idols don’t date fans. Marketing? 100%. Sure. But it also protected them from scandals and such. Or that’s what Chan liked to say to himself.

Felix felt a bit guilty. Chan had gotten scolded by almost all the members now, some who went more ballistic than others —like Hyunjin, who still was fuming, claiming that if Chan was going to do something forbidden, he could’ve said something better than that—, but he looked at the fellow Australian and stood up, laying his small hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder.

The taller one stopped his rambling against Chan and his alleged lack of creativity regarding flirting, and his eyes softened, looking at Yongbok.

“Give the man a break.” Felix smiled softly. “He understands what he’s done. He’s a big boy. Right, Channie?”

The big boy lazily raised his hand from the bed, not moving his head from the pillow as he hummed and raised his thumb.

“This bitch—” Hyunjin started, threatening to throw a pillow at the older one, but Felix quickly pushed him away, taking him back to their room.

Finally alone after what seemed like a lifetime, Chan turned around, staring at the ceiling.

He covered his face with his hands.

Reckless. Stupid, reckless idiot.

It had to be past twelve when he got tired of waiting for sleep to get to him. That never happened anyways. So he stood up with a groan, yawning out of boredom, quickly fetching a jacket and heading to the elevators with slow steps.

He got in and slowly started to put on his beanie and his mask, which wouldn’t really make a difference if someone recognized him, still, it gave him some reassurance. But then, the elevator stopped barely two floors after he got in.

His whole body tensed up.

He recognized who stepped in, messy hair, funny slippers and padded jacket on.

He knew who that was, because he had been right.

He had seen you before.

“Oh.” You smiled, and he could tell by the small wrinkles in your eyes, because the bottom half of your face was hidden by the jacket’s high neck. “Good night.” You mumbled softly.

He nodded. He was afraid you’d recognize him. He was unsure of what to do himself —or if he should do anything—, he couldn’t even think of how you would react. And just the idea that you wouldn’t like seeing him there made him hide his face more in his dark mask, so instead, he fidgeted with his room card, not daring to look at you for too long.

“Trouble sleeping?” You pondered in a kind tone. He nodded again, and you smiled. He had to hold back the impulse of lowering your jacket just so he could see your bright features, the ones that had charmed him so much barely a couple of hours ago.

“Same here.” You muttered, and he could’ve sworn that your voice alone, warm and soothing, could singlehandedly lull him to sleep in a heartbeat. “Walking helps though, don’t you think?”

He, again, just managed to nod. But for some reason, your presence didn’t make him feel guilty for not talking. In the middle of the night nothing seemed to have any rules between you two and the four walls of the elevator.

“Sorry, am I bothering you?” You asked in a murmur.

It was the first time he shook his head no, vigorously so, and you blushed lightly, smiling.

“Good to know.” You grinned, chuckling softly. The elevator dinged, arriving to the last floor. Chan held back a frustrated groan, yearning to keep hearing your voice.

“Have a good night.” You smiled, but his hand softly took yours.

“Huh?” You muttered softly.

Chan struggled. Fuck, shit, fuck. He had done that completely out of reflex. He didn’t know what to say, and just scrathed the side of his face, staring at your linked hands.

He shook his head once more, asking you to stay.

To you, you already had the weird feeling that you knew him. But he touched your hand, and something from it felt shockingly familiar.

Now, you could’ve sworn you had seen him before.

“What is it?” You asked, your voice coated in something sweet, something that Chan suddenly wanted to taste. “Would you like to walk with me?”

He nodded eagerly. And you grinned sheepishly.

You two crossed through the hotel main’s hall nonchalantly, and Chan just followed you, intriegued that you hadn’t taken the main entrance door to exit.

“Trust me,” you muttered, smiling. He felt it was scary that he would, in a heartbeat. “The gardens are so much better.”

You took his hand. A motion completely out of reflex, that both of you only allowed yourselves to yearn for in silence.

You grinned at him, turning around, and his breath hitched, lips parted beneath his mask when he realized how close you were.

You opened a black door to your right with a soft push of your body.

The hotel gardens at night were like a dream. The moonlight turned everything into a soft, magical scene. Tall trees swayed quietly, and you could hear crickets and leaves rustling. There was a small lake below it, its water calm, that reflected the image above it like a mirror, moon and stars glistening on the clear surface.

Even if Chan was only looking at the glow through your eyes.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You grinned.

You stared back at him. Something in his eyes reminded you of someone you knew. A peculiar someone, that is.

He hummed in agreement, and your smile widened.

“Shall we?” You giggled in a murmur, letting him step outside before you.

There was a warmth in the night that ushered Chan to take off his mask and hat.

But he didn’t dare to. Not yet.

You two walked alongside, hands and knuckles brushing against each other, and the idol allowed himself to grin as you smiled, looking at the flowers that decorated the place. It was the first time in his life that he had found solace in the shared silence of insomnia.

With a swift motion, he surrendered. He felt like it wasn’t fair to know who you where if you didn’t —or couldn’t— recognize him. To hell with it, he thought, taking his hat and mask off.

But, much to his surprise, you didn’t so much as glance at him. You just snickered when he sighed, sounding happier, breathing in the sudden cold breeze that swooshed in the garden.

“Better, huh?” You mumbled in light amusement.

He smiled, shoving his hidden identity in his pockets.

“Much.” Chan muttered.

His heart beat loudly on his ears. He could feel it pulsating rapidly, waiting for the moment where you would turn to face him.

But you weren’t, just strolling down the stone path, callously ignoring his nervous demeanour.

He was about to stop and move you, but instead, your hand took his again.

And then you squeezed it lightly. Much like he had done a couple of hourse ago.

His breath hitched. He stopped walking.

“Chan?” You smiled.

He felt chaos unravel inside him, his cheeks blushing, his palms getting sweaty, and his heart giddily beating in his chest.

Another rush of soft air crossed through the hotel’s gardens, making your hair move with it. He could smell your light scent, something that felt warm inside him, something that he felt could lull him asleep.

You grinned.

“Hi.”

He chuckled lowly. He hadn’t let go of your hand. A part of him didn’t want to. Not yet.

“Hi.”

He saw you blush under the moonlight, not knowing his red-tinted cheeks were more obvious than yours.

“What’s a boy as pretty as you doing in a place like this?”

…

He blinked, his eyes wide.

As what?

He saw you cheek your tongue, doe eyes looking at him teasingly.

Oh. So you knew what you were doing.

He chuckled, thinking that was going to be all your teasing.

“Judging by how long it took for you to talk, I guess you did mean to keep your end of the deal.”

“Huh?” He inquired softly.

“You know.” You bit your lip and blushed a bit more, making him more interested, taking a step towards you without realizing. “Keeping your mouth shut. Like the obedient boy you are.”

He started breathing heavily, a low laugh rolling off his tone.

“Oh, yeah?” His smirk was only powered by yours. “I must say, I can be quite rebellious.”

“Really?” You snickered, feeling his hand squeeze yours again.

“Very.” He gulped. His bravado only lasted for so much, and deep inside, he was equally scared as curious.

He wanted to keep going. He wanted you to stay.

“Are you trying to prove it?” You mocked cheekily.

He stared at your lips, his breath felt heavy. “Would you like me to prove it?”

His hand threatened to reach for your cheek, but it was you who finally held it and moved it towards your face.

“Bet.” You giggled. “You won’t.”

The night air was crisp as your eyes, deep and expressive, locked with his, inviting and enticing, a secret to be held in them. His hair, often styled with flair, rested curly and messy, but you couldn’t help but get lost in the untamed beauty that he portrayed. Not even his lips gently grazing yours could wipe either of your smiles under the moonlight.

And then, for a moment, it wasn’t gentle.

Maybe it was because he sighed against your lips, or maybe it was because you followed an impulse and bit his lower lip, but then it got twisted. Tongues danced with one another, fighting for dominance in a burst of sudden passion.

“C-chan,” you gulped, arms traveling to his nape, playing with his hair. It made him weak.

“Chris,” he sighed, yearning to taste your lips again. And again. He didn’t want to stop. Not yet. “Call me— call me Chris.”

You chuckled. “Only if you call me…”

You were going to tease him, but your ideas suddenly flew away form your mind when he started peppering kisses on your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth.

“What?” He snickered. “A pet name of sorts?” He was teasing you, and he was so enjoying it, tasting the weirdly sweet and enticing flavour of your skin in his lips. “Would you like that, princess?” God, he needed more.

You bit your lip, holding back sounds behind heavy breaths, and he patted your thighs, making you jump into his arms without hesitation. Quickly, he moved the both of you, pinning you against the wall closest to you.

“C-chan…” He bit your skin slightly harder. “Chris! Ah, Chris…!”

“F-fuck…” He muttered. “I… I can’t…” He leaned his head in the crook of your neck, now covered in small and red lovebites. “You smell so good.”

You pecked his forehead, trying to catch your breath, your hands stroking his soft hair.

“Not here, right?” You smiled, soothing, comprehensive. His heart softened.

He nodded, sighting against your neck. He let go of your legs, allowing you to stand back on your feet tenderly.

“I’m sorry….?” Chan mumbled shyly. You giggled, brushing it off.

You were about to say something, but then the gravel cracked under someone’s weight. One that wasn’t either of you.

He tensed up under your arms.

You sighed. “Move!” You ushered in a whisper.

He frowned, his eyes darting from you and from where the sound had come from.

“But you—”

“Chan!” You pushed him away, hiding him behind another wall, and quickly took your phone from the pocket of your jacket, zipping back up what Chris had lowered.

“Who’s in there?”

Chan’s breath haltered.

You had hid him just a wall more, meaning that if the security guard found any of you, chances were that he wouldn’t be caught. You would.

You both held your breathing, hands interlinked even if your bodies were as far away as they could to do so, your heartbeats quickening in sync.

And then, it was just silence for a minute, the gravel cracked below the security guard’s feet, and he left as sudden as he had arrived.

You legs felt like jelly, and you let your back fall down the wall, ending up sitting on the floor with a huff.

“You were going to get in trouble.” Chris muttered.

You looked at him from the floor. The moonlight highlightened his lean figure and charismatic features.

You nodded. “It wouldn’t be me who’d get in the worst of it.” You smiled softly.

He nodded with you.

“We should go before it gets too late.”

Just before heading back together to the elevators, you looked to the reception, and grinned softly.

The elevator back up felt more silent than usual. And for some reason that could speak and make him blush, Chan missed the sound of your voice.

“Good night, Chris.”

It wasn’t going to be a good night.

Not after that interruption, which not only scared the shit out of him, but also made him rethink everything he was doing with you.

Chan arrived back to his room. After half an hour of mindlessly staring at the nightsky through the window, someone knocked on the door.

Could it be you? Chris blushed at the thought.

He opened the door to find nothing. Then, he looked to the floor, and found a mug of hot chocolate and a small note.

may have taken a peek to your room card before. i had fun tonight! see you tomorrow? xoxo, your princess.

He grinned.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad night after all.

[♦️☆🔓☆♦️]

When he woke up the morning after, his mouth still tasted like chocolate.

There had been nothing that could wipe the silly grin on his face that day. Not his packed schedule, not the knowledge that they had to go back home and it would be his last night there, not the fact that Han had come into his room just to look for his missing sock —which, for obvious reasons, he never found there—, not the fact that Hyunjin was still bitter with him because of what he had named the ‘pretty girl disaster’ —which Chan intended to tell you just to see if you’d laugh like he had imagined.

His mind was filled to the brim with thoughts of you.

Your flavoured chapstick, your sweet scent, the way you mumbled his name —his real one, that is—, how your eyes glowed under the moonlight, how his hands fit perfectly in the curves of your waist.

He sighed happily for the upteenth time that day, coming out of the shower.

But then, Minho came in to his room.

“Hyung.” He started, and his low tone didn’t seem to bring good news.

Chan nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I know I’m not really good at these things, but I think you should see this.”

The dancer handed him the phone, and Chan turned pale.

It was a picture taken from last night. Chan’s silhouette was fairly obvious, slightly pixelated and hidden by his beanie and his mask. And right in front of him, back facing the camera, was you, your hand holding his.

“So it is you. That’s what I thought,” Minho mumbled. “A random number sent it to Hyunjin. He saved the picture and blocked it, but we thought you should know.”

“Did they know it was me?” Chan stuttered.

The cat owner shook his head, and Chan was able to breathe normally again. “They thought it had been me with Jisung.”

It was there when Chan’s daydreaming faltered.

His thoughts started spinning, not knowing how or where to start.

Would you know about this?

What would you do?

“Hyung.” Minho sighed. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

And Chan hadn’t been able to grasp that, but someone did.

The same someone who knocked on his door at night.

“Guys, you have your own cards.” Chan muttered, opening the door.

But it hadn’t been any of the guys.

“Hi.” You let out in a sight, panting.

Had you ran your way there?

“Hi.” He mumbled weakly.

“Can I…?” He opened the door for you, and quickly closed it back. He turned his back to you, his eyes wide and his heart going crazy.

“Chris.” You mumbled.

He turned around to face you.

“You asked me to stay last night and I went with you to the gardens.” You huffed. “But I want to stay here with you tonight.”

He blinked, passing a hand through his wavy hair. You were there. In front of him. Speaking. God, he had to concentrate.

“We’ll make a deal.” You breathed slowly, staring deeply into his eyes, yearning to know the secrets hidden behind them. “I’ll leave this here.”

You gently plopped your phone on the table near the door to his room. He was still standing there, as if frozen, pyjama pants on and only a bathrobe covering his lean and toned chest.

“A pretty man called Hyunjin came to me talking about some picture,” you started softly. “But yesterday didn’t happen so I’d ruin a man’s career.” His eyes followed how you raised your hands and smiled, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“It’s off.” Your voice lowered, and he got slightly closer, as if wanting to hear you better. “The phone, I mean. Feel free to check it.”

Surprisingly, he just stared at it, then smiled cheekily, heading towards you.

Your eyebrows shot up and you felt deliciously small under his new-formed grin, and how his hands cradled your face.

He pecked your lips with a yearning sigh.

“I missed you.”

You blushed.

“You can have me all night.” Your smile made him feel butterflies on his stomach. “Just me and you.”

He kissed you again, longer this time.

His frame slowly caged you against the door, and he broke the kiss, stroking your cheeks. His body was pressed up against yours, his lips parted as he breathed softly, taking you in. He could feel heat running down his body just by the feeling of you back in his arms, and the only thought that he had clear is that he couldn't hold back anymore.

He needed to kiss you, again, and again, and again. He needed to figure out what you tasted like. He needed to have you. Your hands had gone back to where they had been the night before, and the way you stared at his lips threatened to make him fall to his knees.

His eyes were glued on your lips, and not long after, his mouth followed.

Chris’ heart was pounding against his chest, and he knew for a fact that he had never felt this way before. Never in his whole life. The more he tasted your lips, the kiss almost as passionate as your first one, the more you ruined him, claiming him as yours, making him addictied to the way you sighed and grinned as he moved your bodies to the bed, the hotter his body became.

He fell with you on the matress, and much to his surprise, you moved your bodies, sitting on his lap, taking a groan out of him.

“Such a beauty,” you mumbled, almost to yourself rather than him. “All for me, huh?” You smirked.

The whole world was hazy, the only thing that was clear was your body and your words. Just hearing your voice saying those words to him made him shiver, a shiver that he never experienced before.

He smirked too, and sighed when you untied his bathrobe, your hands roaming freely wherever you wanted to, stroking his chest, claiming him with kisses, the soft colour that they left behind, pink due to your lipstick, and the soft scratches of your nails, that made him bite his lip to keep his sounds hidden.

“Nuh-uh.” You tutted at him with a smile.

He snickered. “Oh, princess. Two can play that game.”

His hands pinned you down against the bed, his lips quickly going back to yours.

“You said I needed to keep my tongue to myself, and I promised that I would” He grinned, almost menacingly, lowering himself, trailing kisses down your body, discarding your underwear.

“I intend to break that promise.”

Maybe you and him would be difficult.

But he had asked you to stay, and you did. And he didn’t want to stop trying. Not yet.

[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]

~Kats, who did most of this in a hospital bed (‘m okay now dw) but fell asleep and didn’t publish it, lol. I LOVED THIS IDEA POOKIE TYSM !!

[yandereunsolved]

✗ ❛ Yandere Five Hargreeves (S1) ❜ ✗

Clicking off the last light, you wish the department store a peaceful night. It was your best friend during the weekdays. The boisterous speech of irritated moms and angsty teenagers was replaced with pure silence. No exhausted cashiers or store emergencies due to shoplifters or disgruntled higher-ups.

It was almost daunting. Taking the last shift and closing as the manager made it seem like the world had ended. It was like you got a picture-perfect frame for the all-consuming feeling of being alone. You almost enjoyed it, if it weren't for the reminder that this was real life and tomorrow would be just as noisy as the last.

You take out your extra pair of keys and secure the right one as you walk towards the exit doors.

"Question?" A slightly high-pitched, younger male voice inquires.

You whip your head around to see the outline of a pubescent boy standing near some mannequins.

"Hey, kid. You can't be in here. It's past closing time. Take yourself and whatever other sneaky friends you have and go home." You state dismissively. You really don't want to have to call the cops again because of some moronic teens.

You are frozen for a moment as the kid appears right in front of you. It was like some weird magic trick.

"Damn it. You don't remember me. You haven't met me yet." The kid mutters to himself as he paces around you. "It's me, Five." He urges. "Question, remember. You have to remember me. You have to remember us."

"Hey, we need to get you—"

An unexplainable force pushes you onto the tiled floor. Before you are able to groan, the kid, Five, wraps his arms around you, and suddenly you are halfway across the department store. Not even given a second to process the commotion, you are tugged along by Five. Shots ring out, and you try to pull yourself out of his grasp.

"Wait!" You hiss. "What the hell is happening!?" You snap while crouching beneath the rack.

Five stares back at you incredulously. His expression spells out 'excuse me, dumbass?'

"Shit. We don't have time for this. We're partners, like in the future. Some bad shit happened, and we ended up together. Got that? All caught up? We have to go now."

He yanks you up and tries to do his weird teleporting thing again, but gets hit with some weird bullet. It causes him to seize and fall to his knees. You risk a glance up to see two armed people in masks heading straight towards the both of you. You can't breathe.

"W-What?" You squeak out in panic.

You drop to the ground near him as your breath quickens. The air around you smells so stale, like it's depriving you of oxygen instead of giving it to you. You clutch your chest in a futile attempt to calm yourself. One moment turns into two, and you hear nothing going on around you.

A sneak peek, and the intruders are frozen. You turn your gaze toward the floor and see that Five isn't moving an inch. There are no smells—putrid or refreshing. There seems to be no air, but your chest is still moving. There is nothing but this moment. 

"Completely alone. Frozen in time. I can freeze time!? What the fuck? This is like... I can do this?" You whisper-shout to yourself. Why are you whispering? You can shout as loud as you'd like. "Fuck yeah!"

Another bullet rings out.

Okay, perhaps yelling isn't okay in accordance with freezing time.

The same pair of arms drags you under the check-out counter. You take a moment to catch your breath and smile. Police sirens blare from somewhere outside. You hear the intruders scramble to retreat and escape.

"You haven't gotten any smarter." Five mumbles wistfully as he leans against your shoulder. "I've found you again. Question, my baby. Stay with me a while. Stay."

He finally has you again. Clever darling, thinking you can use your past to hide from him. He'll just have to start all over again. He can do that, and not even time can keep him away from you now.

[snookienthusi4st]

I LOVE UR HCS PLSL MAKE MORE 🗣🙏🙏

i gotchu! lmk if you want the same or different characters bc i was thinking abt doing sm for light

l lawliet x fem! reader hcs

warnings: smut, overstimulation, food play, kind of angsty if you squint, au where he doesn’t die

nsfw under the cut

• yk unlike the other characters i feel like there’s a lot of ways you two could’ve met

• you could’ve been at wammy’s, light’s school, an assistant, etc etc but for plot’s sake, you guys met during the kira case with you as a task force member

• you’re smart but you can tell when an idea needs to be altered, he silently takes notice of that and pays more attention to you

• sometimes you’d catch him just staring at you, but he’s an odd character to begin with so you just brush it off

• when you two miraculously get a second in private, he ends up being the one to ask you out

• not immediately tho, like you have to know the man for at least a year or two before he even considers it

• like it’s dead silent in the room after matsuda and the others head home and he just starts talking and it catches you off guard

“y/n?”

“hm?”

“there’s something i want to discuss with you.”

“what’s that?”

• you’re patient with him, since the man has no idea how to vocalize his thoughts in situations like these

“i think i’m developing feelings for you.”

“oh, me too.”

• the exchange is straightforward and to the point, and he appreciates that you feel the same

• you two agree to keep things private

• less because you guys don’t want people finding out and more for safety concerns

• sometimes it bums you out a bit because you wish the two of you could go out on dates like normal couples do

• but then you get back home and find a bouquet and your fav sweet on the counter and you realize you wouldn’t have it any other way :3

• you’re friends with watari too, and he comes in and checks on you two smtimes when you’re in his office

• he’s a workaholic, but he’s exceptionally good at making time for you as well, considering how smart he is

• sometimes you pick him up a sweet from the store and get to headquarters like an hour early so you have a chance to see him alone before the day starts

• parallel play is a big factor in your relationship, like he’s working while you’re doing something in the same room w some small talk here and there

• and if you ask him to, he’ll always take a quick break and give you some attention

• last thing he’d wanna do as a partner is make you feel neglected, right? he’s so sweet i love him

• kisses are fleeting, kinda like near, but less uncommon

• whenever you two are alone, he’ll always kiss you at least once, whether it’s your hand or your face

• the most emotion you’ll ever see out of him is when you kiss him or hug him

• it’s subtle but his eyes soften a bit, kinda like when misa kissed him in that one episode

• he waits for what feels like forever, but eventually he does tell you his real name

• he just wanted to be sure he really is as in love with you as he feels like he is, since he’s never really been one to put his heart over his head

• would probably still be after the case is over, just to be safe

• sex

• funny enough, i feel like you’d be his first time, which makes him love you even more

• he doesn’t seem like the type to seek that stuff out

• yk until you guys start dating and it kinda hits him that he could literally just ask to have sex with you

• which is what he always does, we love a consensual king

• has a low libido, but one of his favorite things to do if you have a higher libido is overstimulating you

• like he’s fingering you and curling them into that exact same spot, drawing out orgasm after orgasm from your aching body

“i’ve got you, just give me one more..”

• as for oral, he’s 50/50 when it comes to giving or receiving

• well maybe 51/49, he rlly likes eating you out

• will have your legs shaking afterwards every single time guaranteed

• apparently it’s canon he can tie a knot into a cherry stem w his tongue so best believe he WILL get you where you need to be

• he’s really gentle with you, even when he’s overstimulating you, his movements are always soft even when they speed up over time to get you closer

• he rlly is the sweetest, sex with him will make you feel so loved and appreciated, which is exactly what he wants to get across :3

• his words are gentle too, everything he says in that charming fucking voice is just so ughh

“shh, just breathe..”

“that’s my girl, just hold it a little longer. you can do that for me, can’t you?”

• would be into food play on a rare occasion

• definitely a whimperer when you give him head, i don’t make the rules

• overall he’s incredibly careful and shows you just how much he cares about you

• i feel like he’s into reading!

• like you’re asleep with your head on his shoulder, and he has one arm around you and the other’s holding a book and skimming through the pages until he’s ready to sleep too

• plays with your hair

• no matter what length or texture it is, whenever you guys are alone, he’ll js have a hand running through it

• you play with his too, and it’s rlly soft considering how little effort he puts in to actually take care of it

• would be into bands like the cranberries and the sundays

• idk it’s js the style of their music that makes me think of him

• before the case was over, sometimes you’d have nights where you couldn’t sleep from how worried you were

• worried that something would slip up and that kira would get to him, that anytime you’d see him would be the last

• but on nights like those, he was always incredibly reassuring, touched that you even care about him that much

“what are you doing up so late?”

“..i couldn’t sleep, can i stay with you?”

“you don’t have to ask, come here.”

• and he sits you on his lap and plays with your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he works until you fall asleep in his arms

• you’re such a new feeling to him, he’s never wanted to put anything over work before, much less something as unreliable as a person

• but you’ve earned his trust and his love, and he’s never gonna let you forget <3

[norrizzandpia]

Based off of the song bags by Clairo. Lando and y/n are more than friends but less than bf/gf. Super flirty and touchy always. Both in love w the other but don’t want to confess in case the other doesn’t feel the same way. Ending however you want!

I LOVE THIS SONG

Can You See Me Using Everything to Hold back? (LN4)

Summary: Lando and Y/n have always been as close as can be, but unresolved and disregarded feelings threaten everything they thought they once knew.

Warnings: language, angsty but HAPPY ENDING, mentions about Lando’s weight

“Happy birthday to my best friend!” Lando cheered as he let his arm rest firmly on Y/n’s face, a quick kiss to her cheek.

The girl smiled through it. It was her birthday after all, right? No crying this time around.

However, Lando was making that promise to herself extremely hard. The soft fingers dancing along her back, the hugs where he would breathe her perfume in, and the glow to his eyes were just a few of the instances where Y/n felt like keeling over and vomiting all over the pristine marble flooring of the hotel Lando had rented out extravagantly for her. Her glossy eyes, some thought, were just a mixture of the alcohol and the exhaustion of partying until dawn.

Truly, she was grateful for what he had done for her. The surprise party with all her closest friends made it known how much Lando really listened to her. The wish to not spend her day with crowds of people who knew only the shell of her being had been accomplished as she looked on at the room in front of her. Adorned in each corner were people who knew almost exactly what it would be like to live in her skin… and then there was Lando.

Lando, her best friend, knew more than just living in her skin. He knew more than anyone in the room, they both knew that. Nobody knew why she had that random scar on her stomach or why hated blueberries, but he did. Random facts about her that only God would be able to answer, he knew.

…Not to say Lando was God.

Nevertheless, the point was made in her brain. She loved the people here, but she adored Lando. Maybe too much for friends, but, again, no crying on her birthday.

“When everyone leaves and you open your presents, open mine first?” Lando whispered in her ear. Chills down her spine and a flush to her cheeks are not from the drop in the AC.

She turned to him, their faces inches apart as her champagne sloshed over the edge of her glass. Her hair landed over her shoulder, which almost brought Lando to his knees. Her gorgeous hair, beautiful dress, and glowy makeup enhanced every bit of pretty Y/n had to offer. He was breathless at the sight of her. Smiling softly, Y/n tilted her head, “Are you not staying?”

He shook his head and her heart sank, “I want you to open your gift alone. Plus, I have an early flight tomorrow.”

She checked her watch, “Lando, it’s almost 4 AM. What time’s your flight?”

His head dipped down to stare at his shoes, “7 AM.”

Her mouth fell open, “Lando!” She smacked his shoulder as she scolded him, “Why the hell are you here and not sleeping?!”

He pulled her into him, his breath fanning over her nose, “Because I want to celebrate my favorite person.”

She softened, “Fine, I’ll let you get away with it this time.”

—

Can you see me? I’m waiting for the right time. I can’t read you, but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine. Can you see me using everything to hold back? I guess this could be worse; walkin’ out the door with your bags.

The small grouping of gifts sat next to Y/n on her apartment floor, completely alone without the company she craved. As he asked, she fished out the small box from the stack. She shook it around for a moment, a small clanging meeting her ears. Finally deciding the package could be fragile, she unwrapped it.

TWO YEARS BEFORE

“Can we please go in here, Y/n?” Lando pleaded with the girl as they stood on the street, his hand in hers as he pulled her one way. She rolled her eyes at him, “Lando, what are you buying at Van Cleef?”

He stuck his hip out while he let his bottom lip do the same, his usual ‘my way or the highway’ stance. She giggled before relenting, “Fine, but when we walk out empty handed and all the employees give us dirty looks, don’t come crying to me.”

He smiled at her before tugging her through the doors. Immediately, a woman approached them as she began welcoming them to the store. “If you need any help, just let us know.” She smiled and Lando nodded.

When they were alone, he turned to Y/n. She saw that mischievous look from miles away, “Look around, Y/n. Pick out your favorite thing.”

Her eyebrows raised, “You’re not buying me anything, Norris. Especially from Van Cleef.”

Lando’s look challenged her, “Uh huh, for sure.”

Deciding not to argue, Y/n let go of his grasp and let herself wander. Almost to the end of the store, nothing stood out to her. Everything was either quite popular and not something rather unique or not her taste and Lando was beginning to tell. Seemingly quite disappointed in her sudden lack of interest in Van Cleef Jewelry, his face lit up when she suddenly stopped at something.

A little gold necklace laid before with the quaintest red heart charm and there was nothing she loved more. Her eyes sparkled and her fingers ran over it on the glass. Lando loved seeing her fall in love with something beautiful. It paralleled something in his life.

“Like that one?” He whispered, his hands coming up to her waist as his thumbs began rubbing softly.

She twisted her head, “If I say ‘yes’, you can’t buy it for me.”

Lando pouted, “Why not?”

She sighed, “Because, Lan, it’s 2,000 euros. That’s way too much to spend on me.”

“2,000 euros is not enough.” He murmured and she chuckled. Suddenly, his hand tapped on the glass and he moved closer to her, “Tell you what, I won’t buy it for you right now, but I do get to buy it for you at some point.”

“What’s the difference from buying it now to buying it later?” She questioned and Lando’s eyes held hers.

“When I buy and give this to you, whether it’s a month from now or ten years from now, it’ll be my sign to you that I will never let you go. When this necklace ends up in your hands because of me know it is my tangible way of telling you that there is not a day I wish to go by without you.” He gazed upon her face in preparation for any kind of reaction. What he was met with was a slow smile that had his heart beating too fast.

She kissed his cheek, “I think I could get on board with that, Norris.”

PRESENT

On top of the Van Cleef box was a small, folded paper. Y/n let it unravel in her hands and staring back at her was Lando’s messy scribbling, however she could tell he had tried to make it nice.

My love letter to you. You’re better at words than I am. I know you’ll remember. Cheers and a happy birthday to everything you are and everything you will become. I know it’ll be great. You’re meant for something out of this world, Y/n. - L

A small tear ran down her face. She already knew what laid beneath all the ribbon. Her favorite heart necklace rested in her hands as she tried to take it all in. Her hands shook and her brain short circuited.

The only thing she could seem to remember were his words, “it is my tangible way of telling you that there is not a day I wish to go by without you.”

—

Lando cursed quietly to himself when his long awaited slumber had been stolen from him at the hands of his phone. Beside him, the device rang and rang annoyingly until his grogginess finally wore off enough for him to grab it.

Max, on the other side of the table, gave him a death stare. He had fully been asleep and any person knows that waking Max from any type of slumber is catastrophic.

Lando just smiled and shrugged at his best friend before answering the phone.

Crying is all he heard.

Pulling back the phone, he clocked Y/n’s contact. His mind raced. What had happened to her? He had watched her walk through her door the night before and lock it before leaving to get his luggage from his place. There was no time for her to be hurt. She was with him the entire night.

“What’s going on? I’ll kill them, Y/n.” That got Max’s attention.

”No,” She choked out before taking a breath, “It’s you. The necklace. It’s so sweet.”

“Oh,” Lando chuckled and Max continued to eye him weirdly.

“This is so much, Lan. I don’t even- Thank you. I thought you would forget or maybe never end up buying it.” She said, still breathing deeply through her past tears.

At the insinuation, Lando became rather confused, “I was always going to end up feeling this way Y/n. It was only a matter of time. It’s not hard to always want you around. You’re you.”

She was quiet for a moment, “The note, Lan. You say you’re bad at words, but that was perfect.”

He sighed dramatically, “Nothing will ever be as perfect as you. Crazy you don’t understand that yet.”

She smiled, “Still.”

He just shook his head silently and prayed that somewhere something, anything would give him the strength to be just friends with her. “Happy birthday, Y/n. I meant everything I said in that note.”

“Thank you, Lan.” A beat passed, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your flight. Be safe, please.”

He nodded, “Of course. Bye, Y/n. Love you.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. It always did when he said that. She whispered, “Love you too. Bye.”

Max sat with his arms crossed and his eyes trained on Lando. “What was that about?” He asked, although he had a small feeling he knew all too well what had just happened.

Lando coyly grinned, “Her present.”

“Which was what?”

Lando bit his lip, “That Van Cleef heart necklace I told you about like two years ago.”

Max stayed quiet for a moment, keeping his gaze on his best friend, before cocking his head. “Let me get this straight - you bought your best friend, who’s a woman, a Van Cleef necklace so she would know you never wanted to live without her. You got her this for her birthday as well?”

Lando just stared at him.

Max laughed, “Right. So, do you think she knows how in love you are with her now?”

“I hope not.” Lando rolled his eyes and swatted his hand in Max’s direction.

The man huffed, “Lando, sometimes you make me want to claw my eyes out with how stubborn you are.”

“I refuse to put my friendship with someone I cherish in jeopardy for some feelings I have that will surely go away soon.” Lando declared, his tone strong and direct.

But, there was no fooling Max.

“You do realize you just bought her a Van Cleef necklace, right?”

—

A triple-header was never easy. Especially when Y/n wasn’t with him for any of the races. Lando stared longingly at a picture of the two of them in London with chocolate smeared all over their faces, a cup of strawberries in Lando’s hand. They had been out wandering the city with a group of their friends that day and had shoved their faces with the most delicious food that Lando had gained so much weight, Jon had scolded him when he got back. Nonetheless, he adored the memories that came from that day. Which included this picture. Y/n was laughing and he was holding onto her by the waist, smiling at her widely. Lando never let her know this image existed solely because of how obvious his love for her is in it. His eyes twinkle and random dimples he never knew existed pop out and you can practically hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

It was too much for his liking.

In moments like these, when the yearning for her got too strong, Lando likes to think the days of them being friends are over. That they’re more than friends, soulmates or whatever his romantic mind would like to call it. It helps the pain of only being hers secretly subside.

“Are you gonna keep drooling at your phone like that or are you gonna call Y/n?” Oscar chuckled. The fact that the man couldn’t even see his phone yet knew he was looking at Y/n made Lando scream internally. He really needed to be better at not giving away too much.

Lando rolled his eyes, but his thumb was already pressing the call button. His phone rang as he put it up to his ear and Oscar tried to keep his smile unknown. Tried.

“Lando!” Y/n yelped. He could hear the grin in her voice.

He could feel the grin on his face, “Hi, Y/n.”

“What’s going on? What do you need?” She blabbered.

Lando’s eyes shot to Oscar, who was eavesdropping so obviously, and shuffled his body around to gain some sort of privacy. His head tucked down, he whispered, “I miss you.”

Y/n stopped her movements, putting down the yogurt she had been trying to put away. She smiled, “I miss you too.”

“Come here.” He begged, “Please.”

She sighed, “You know I can’t. I’m too busy here.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry, Lan” She whispered, guilt eating at her.

“I’m not mad… or disappointed at you. I just…” I love you.

“I’ll be fine, Y/n. I’ll see you when I come back.”

—

Tell you how I felt, sugar coated melting in your mouth. Pardon my emotions, I should probably keep it all to myself. Know you’d make fun of me.

Drunk was not what Lando should be after begging Y/n to come, practically declaring how much he wanted her, and getting denied. Yet, here he was with tequila sloshing over his glass as he tried to comprehend the words coming out of this woman’s mouth. She was standing in front of him, but all he could focus on was the fact that her hair wasn’t the same as Y/n’s and she didn’t smell the same.

Frustrated, he apologized, albeit slurred, to the woman and left her in the middle of the club. His vision was blurred slightly as he fell outside, the cold air going to his head.

Another call to the girl he’s always wanted. He counted that as two today and mentally scolded himself for being so obvious. At this point, everything he did was obvious. At this point, he couldn’t be just friends.

Y/n picked up, the grogginess in her voice evident. “Lando? Is everything okay? It’s 4 AM.”

“Y/n,” She could almost smell the alcohol on his breath, “I’m sick and tired of this.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Lando, you’re wasted.”

He shushed her before continuing, “Let me finish. I cannot do this with you anymore. It’s killing me.”

“You can’t do what with me anymore?”

“I can’t… I can’t…” Even in his drunken state, he knew it was a bad idea. He knew what was truly at stake. She was at stake. He just couldn’t ever risk that.

“Nevermind. I’m just really…” He tried to finish his sentence. Drunk? Yes. Upset? Yes. Angry? Yes. Annoyed? Yes. It was everything and nothing at the exact same time.

Y/n chuckled, “Drunk, I know. Don’t worry, Lan. You’ll just feel a little sick tomorrow morning.”

She hung up the phone, the last moments of it all being her laughing. His hands pulled at his hair and he couldn’t believe how close he had come to losing it all.

And how she had just laughed.

—

Can you see me? I’m waiting for the right time. I can’t read you, but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine. Can you see me using everything to hold back? I guess this could be worse; walkin’ out the door with your bags.

After his disastrous call, Lando went completely silent on Y/n. To the point that she dropped everything she was doing, at work and in her personal life, to go see him, to make sure he wasn’t dead.

When she showed up to his hotel, the concierge told her that seeing him wouldn’t be possible, no matter how close she said they were. Back and forth with the employee ended when Oscar walked through the lobby, Y/n calling out to him so loudly it earned her a few stares.

He looked at her for a moment, trying to decipher if what he was seeing was real, until concluding the woman screaming at him was in fact Lando’s best friend and the girl he had been trying to hide from all week.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, completely baffled, when he told the front desk she was with him.

Y/n huffed, “Lando’s not answering me and the last time I heard from him, he was absolutely shit faced. I’m worried, so I came to check on him.”

“So, one phone call and a few days without contact and you’re suddenly showing up halfway across the world to check up on him?” Oscar eyed her, his gaze pleading with her to just end this dance between her and Lando.

She coughed, “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” He smirked, “Well, Lando’s on the second floor in room 28. I think he’s there now if you want to go see him. He’s completely fine by the way. You could’ve just called me to ask. You also could’ve called Max… or Jon… or Andrea… or literally anyone because I know you have all their numbers.”

She blushed, “Stop looking at me like that, Piastri.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I’m not looking at you like anything, Y/l/n. I know nothing.” He shook his head and walked away.

Second floor. Room 28.

—

“Can I just be honest?” She blurted out when Lando opened the door. He stood motionlessly, looking her up and down as if he was trying to will her into existence.

“Y/n?” She pushed past him and turned around in a fury.

“Why the fuck have you been dodging me? What the fuck, Lando? You call me wasted and then ghost me for days on end. Did you genuinely think through anything?” She scoffed.

Lando shrugged, “I couldn’t talk to you.”

“Why?”

He couldn’t look at her, “Because.”

She groaned, “Jesus Christ, Lando, again with all the vagueness! Can you tell me anything? What’s going on?”

His head snapped to hers and he let his eyes warn her own. Warn her not to push this topic, not to make him say what he’s worked so hard to keep down. But, when it came to him and his lack of vulnerability, Y/n knew no bounds.

She sat down on the bed, knowing the aggressive approach was never the right call. She looked down and then up at him, “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t, Y/n.” He sat down next to her, taking her hands in his. Everything in him was screeching. He felt like he was being ripped apart by the two, conflicted sides in him. One wanted him so heavily to end the hell of being just her friend by telling her how he felt and the other willed him to remember the privilege of being in her presence, to not fuck that up.

She could see it as well, the quiet war in his mind. In trying to comfort him, running her hand on his back, she triggered him. He sprung from the bed, gaining as much distance from her and letting his head fall in his hands.

“Stop.” He pleaded, “You need to leave, Y/n.”

Her eyes watered, “Why? I don’t understand why you’re pushing me away.”

The waver in her voice made him grip the side table next to him. If he couldn’t hold on mentally, maybe he could physically.

But, no. One look at her defeated face made him lose all composure. And one small whisper of hers, “Please let me in.” became too much.

“I’ve always been so in love with you.” He breathed out. A relief fell over him, a truth that had been eating at him finally said.

Y/n froze, her eyes on her hands in her lap. When she gathered the courage to look up at him, she found the shell of a man.

In thinking he had let go of a truth, he remembered the risk that had been holding him back all this time. Gone was the relief and all that was left was pure terror at what he had just done.

She breathed, “You know when I got here, Oscar looked at me and almost mocked me for the reasons as to why I had come. He told me I had come here because of one drunk call and a few days of no contact. And, you know, I was looking at this necklace the other day,” She touched it as it laid across her neck, “and it almost felt like some sort of declaration of love. I thought I was insane, thinking you would see me that way, but I think it made me more inclined to do my own declaration of love. The whole grand gesture thing was never for me, but I think I’ve found myself there, no? I think this is my declaration of love.”

Lando gapped at her, “What are you saying?”

She smiled, “If you thought I didn’t love you too, then we were both dumb.”

He breathed out then laughed, falling next to her on the bed. She let her hand rest on his next to her and squeezed tightly.

“It sucks we waited so long, but at least it ended in neither of us walking out.” She murmured.

He sat up, letting his arms wrap around her waist, “I was never gonna walk out.”

“Neither was I.”

[hannie-dul-set]

WHAT’S WRONG WITH CEO PARK?

p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — ceo! sunghoon and secretary! reader, humor, romance. w — swearing, sunghoon being a weirdo, a misplaced marriage proposal. 1.3k words.

requested by — anon: menace to everyone but you x the opposite of that.

note — i hate the cold angsty male ceo trope. so instead i turned ceo hoon into a weirdo that's a little bit too in love and doesn’t understand the concept of workplace boundaries which stresses you the fuck out!!

when you got promoted from being assistant secretary thanks to your ceo’s former secretary resigning, your co-workers did not throw you a celebration.

“you called for me, mr. park?”

instead, they threw you an advanced farewell party. it was nice working with you, said the cake dusted with stray confetti on the day of your promotion. they’re celebrating your inevitable resignation. they’re sure you’re going to follow suit after you predecessor within three months max because according to them—

“yes.”

your boss, park sunghoon, is the nastiest fucker in the planet.

“take a seat.”

you gulp, making cautious steps into your ceo’s office. he’s signing a stack of documents while you take your sweet time delaying having to sit in front of his paper-stacked desk, setting them aside the moment you sit down, sharp eyes immediately zeroing into your soul, and you start sweating.

there’s a bet on the line on when you’d eventually quit. today marks your fourth month here, and you’re pretty sure heeseung is going to win because you are in fact this close to sliding your pre-written resignation letter over his desk, adding onto his pile.

not because he’s terrible, like they all say. not because he’s temperamental.

“sunoo told me you were sick,” sunghoon starts. “why did you come to work today?”

but because you fear your boss might be a little bit in love with you.

“is...is that the only reason you asked for me?” you hesitantly say, picking on your cuticles and trying to avoid eye contact because the concern drowning your boss’s expression is just enough to drown you as well.

“you don’t look well,” he avoids your question. of course you don’t look well. you’re very, very uncomfortable right now and the main cause of that discomfort is him. “you should go home. i’ll tell jay to drive you.”

you’re pretty sure jay isn’t going to be happy with that. 

“mr. park—”

“i thought i asked you to call me sunghoon.”

your mouth is left hanging open. you’re flabbergasted. you take a second to recollect your thoughts. “...mr. park. sir,” you emphasize. you should at least be the one reminding him of your hierarchical roles at the moment. sunghoon looks upset that you’re not abiding by his request, but says nothing in protest so you continue. “i ran out of sick leaves. and there’s still so much work to do, i can’t just go home.”

“you ran out? well i’ll just give you more.” sir, that’s not how it works. “and jungwon can take care of your work. you should go home and rest.”

jungwon wouldn’t be too happy with that either. you feel your stress levels rising, headache incoming, because he’s just not listening to you. this crazy bastard, you think to yourself.

but maybe you were thinking a little too loudly.

“can you say that again?”

you slap a hand over your mouth with a gasp.

“say it again.”

you’re fucked. you just called your boss a bastard right to his face. “i’m—i’m so sorry, mr. park, i didn’t mean to—” but maybe that’s a good thing because that means you wouldn’t need to debate about resigning if he’s gonna fire you. “i apologize. i’ll accept any punishment you’ll give me.”

“no, say it again,” he hums, sounding a little too happy after being called crazy and a bastard, and you get a bad feeling. a really bad feeling. “i felt like we just got closer because of that. swear at me again.”

there’s a smile playing on your boss’s face. 

“i— i don’t think that’s appropriate, sir.”

jesus christ, he’s a bit more in love with you than you thought.

“why not?” when sunghoon gets up from behind his seat, circling out from behind his desk to lean back against it right in front of you instead, you start fearing for your life. he looks at you, arms crossed in disappointment, and he looks a little too good with rolled up sleeves and slim-fit slacks. 

crap, were you just checking out your boss?

his crazy is rubbing off on you.

“you have no trouble with swearing at and laughing around with the others,” he says. “why can’t you do the same with me?”

he is not normal, you think. thankfully not out loud this time. “sir, you’re my boss. i’m just your secretary. there’s a big gap there. i can’t just treat you the same way as i do with my co-workers.”

your boss takes in your words. he remains quiet with a stoic face for a few moments, and with each passing second of silence, you feel half a year of your life being shaved off. “ah,” he finally makes a sound after a good minute and a half. “should i give you a promotion, then?”

oh my fucking god, he’s nuts.

“boss, there’s an urgent thing you need to—”

“did i permit you to enter my office?”

your eyes widen, slapped in the face by a whiplash when your fellow secretary jake suddenly pops into the office, only to be cut off by the sharp glare and icy tone of your boss. jake’s hand doesn’t leave the doorknob when he nearly stumbles in shock with a stack of papers pressed to his chest. you see the look on his face. it’s the face of someone who’s about to get royally fucked over.

“n—no, sir. but these documents are—”

“then why are you in my office?” holy shit. so this is what they meant when they said ceo park is a bitchy demon from hell. jake looks like he’s about to piss himself. you’ve never been on the brunt of his temper— likely because he’s biased and has feelings for you, which has always felt burdensome. but now you’re a little thankful because you’d probably cry if he snapped at you like that.

“i’m sorry, i’ll leave now. i apologize.”

with that, jake makes his hasty retreat, and you’re once more left alone with your crazy boss. 

“where were we?” he says. “oh, right. your promotion.”

you’re starting to feel dizzy. 

“i’ve never liked how seojoo handled things. you can take his spot as the sales department head.” you have to stop him. you have to stop him before he actually fires a competent employee and gives you their spot as a courtship gift. “wait. i think you’d prefer working in HR actually. it’s a shame ms. kim is going to lose her position, but i can just—”

“mr. park—”

“sunghoon,” he cuts you off. “call me sunghoon.”

you look at him, exasperated. “sir,” you say. “i don’t think this is right.”

sunghoon raises a brow. “you don’t like HR? which department would you prefer then?”

you can’t. you can’t do this anymore. you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander out of stress, because they inadvertently land on the shiny gold glint of his nameplate, which is a terribly bad move following after his question because sunghoon notices, and sunghoon gets the very, very wrong idea.

oh, no. oh, no no no no no—

“i see.”

he doesn’t! he doesn’t see! you aren’t coveting his seat! you just want to go back to work and stop dealing with your insane and far too in love with you boss!

“i’m afraid i can’t give away my position as ceo,” he tells you. you swallow, shutting your eyes because you don’t want to acknowledge the mess you’ve just accidentally made, but your lack of vision definitely doesn’t interfere with your sense of hearing.

what you hear next sounds clearer than you’d like it to be.

“how about the position of being the ceo’s fiancé instead?”

that’s it.

“i will be getting back to work now, mr. park.”

there is something very wrong with your boss. it’s not in your job description to fix him.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH CEO PARK? © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Boyfriend!Bangchan x F!Reader TW : slight angst ; short but sweet and fluffy at the end ; Word Count : 1.3k Request : @kurolils : I just want something really really angsty w chan. so just maybe like, he's supper stressed and snaps at the reader and yk something very angsty, but obviously with a fluffy ending A/N : THIS TOOK FOREVER TO GET TO AND I'M SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT BUT I"M WRITING IT NOW!!! HIHIHI!!!

Preparing for a world tour, as exciting as it seems, was probably just as stressful, if not more stressful than working on an album, at least for Chan it was. He had to work on remembering all of the dances for the entire setlist, he had to think of what he’d say to all the STAYS, he had to remember all the lyrics to all the songs. There was so much to do, and it felt like there wasn’t enough time to get it all done. 

The date of his departure for the first international part of the tour was quickly closing in, and of course, management was still against you going with him considering the news hadn’t broken yet that the two of you were dating. That was the hardest part of leaving for tours. He was leaving you behind, and while you were an absolute champ about it on the surface, he could read right through you and tell that you were upset. 

That’s why he tried to spend as much time with you as possible before he had to leave, that’s what he usually did. He wasn’t sure why things felt more stressful than usual this time around, he wasn’t sure why it felt like the clock was working against him this entire time. All he did know was that there was so much to get done, and he didn’t need any distractions, he didn’t need anyone getting in his way. 

“Still working, huh?” You said from the doorway, your hands shoved into the pockets of one of Chans oversized hoodies. He hummed in response, his eyes not even glancing up from the laptop screen as he sat at his desk. His headphones were on, but at least he had one ear uncovered so he could hear you. “I know you have to leave in a couple days… I was just wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me or something? I really miss you already and… Just wanted to spend some time with you-” 

“Shut up.” Chan mumbled, and your lips quickly pulled into a thin line, your eyes dropping to the ground, both embarrassed and upset from those two simple words. “As if I don’t have enough on my plate, now I’m expected to stop everything I’m doing to coddle you because you’re going to miss me. I mean… good god, Y/N, grow up. I’m not always going to be here, get used to watching movies by yourself. Damn.” He huffed before adjusting his headphones so that both ears were covered. 

You didn’t even know what to say, you didn’t have anything to say anyway, you were trying not to cry, so you kept your head low and turned around, shutting the door behind you as you made your way to the couch. It’s not like you hadn’t seen Chan stressed before, it’s just that most of the time you were the one that would get him out of his funk. Now it seemed like you were the one stressing him out even more. 

The rest of the day went by without any sort of interaction between the two of you. He’d leave the room to go to the bathroom or grab something to eat or drink, and then he’d quickly retreat back to his desk. You spent the evening sitting on the couch watching movies by yourself and scrolling through your phone to try to keep your mind off of what had happened. 

You had made dinner, and not even the smell of a home-cooked meal had pulled him out from the bedroom, so you made enough for yourself before saving the leftovers in the fridge and eating all alone at the table. You made sure to clean it all before heading to the bathroom and washing up before going to bed. You thought that maybe at some point he would come out and apologize or something, but he didn’t. If it weren’t for the sound of keyboard typing and his mouse clicking rapidly it would feel like he wasn’t there at all. 

The bed didn’t feel as empty as most people would assume it would feel, but that’s only because Chan rarely joined you in bed before you dozed off. The only difference is that this time you wondered if he’d join you at all. Would you feel the bed shift with his weight as he finally got under the covers at the crack of dawn or would he opt to sleep on the couch instead? 

Your mind was full of thoughts, some good, some bad, most of them were bad though, and these were the thoughts that filled your subconscious, the thoughts that fueled your dreams tonight. He was getting tired of you. He thought you were annoying. You were a burden to him. All of these negative emotions played out in the most realistic scenarios in your dreams, and they felt so real in fact, that when you woke up, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. The emotions were overwhelming, that feeling of being unwanted by the only person you wanted was devastating. 

You didn’t know how late it was or how early it was, and you had been sleeping so deeply that you hadn’t even felt Chan come into the room and get into the bed. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He whispered, having not even fallen asleep yet when you jumped up. Your sniffles were quiet, but in the silence of the room they sounded so loud. 

“You don’t love me anymore…” Your whisper was choked out, and the sob that followed was heartbreaking for him to hear. He knew that he had been quite harsh and honestly, rather heartless when he had spoken to you earlier. That’s why he had kept his distance for the remainder of the day. He thought that that was what you’d needed, but he had been horribly wrong. “I’m… I’m annoying… and distracting…” 

“Shh… baby, no…” Chan cooed, sitting up in the bed beside you and wrapping his arm around you to pull you against his side. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I was just stressed… I’ve got so much to do and… I shouldn’t take that out on you. It’s not your fault.” He used his other hand to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and when he did he could see the tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “I’m an asshole, aren’t I?” 

You weakly nodded your head before resting it against his shoulder. “I don’t like watching movies by myself. That’s our thing… It was really lonely without you.” You mumbled, fiddling with the tag that hung off the blanket. “Am I too clingy? Do you want me to leave you alone?” You asked, and your body tensed up just enough for him to notice. You didn’t want to hear the answer, you were scared of it. 

“Of course not! You cling to me just the right amount.” He joked, and he couldn’t help but chuckle when you looked up at him with unamused eyes and a slight pout on your lips. “I love that you always want me around, it makes me feel loved. I don’t ever want you to leave me alone, because I don’t like watching movies by myself either. I’m not mad at you, I never was, and I never could be. So let’s get some sleep, I’ll have Changbin and Ji handle the rest of the setlist for the tour, and we can have a date day, the whole day tomorrow. You get my undivided attention. You deserve it.” His finger slid under your chin to tilt your head up, pressing his lips to yours, just long enough to have you melting against him and your mind clearing of any and every thought. “And just so you know… I already miss you too… And I miss you way more.”

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[alyrasturnz]

you're so good at writing arguements and stuff i just finished reading "but daddy i love him" and oh my GOD. pls write a matt x reader angsty tosotd oneshot with an arguement and an apology

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR

❐ summary » y/n and matt had an anniversary dinner planned, a special evening meant to celebrate their bond. but once again, matt stayed late at work, putting aside their plans. this wasn't the first time—he had done it countless times before, each instance chipping away at y/n's patience. finally, she reached her breaking point. sick and tired of his neglect, she stormed out, calling things off in a fit of frustration. deep down, she hoped he would run after her, show her that she mattered.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » argument (resolved), swearing, lowkey toxic!matt, toxic relationship dynamic

❐ a/n && w/c » here’s something small to keep yall fed while i work on something bigger… •  1.98k

in the dim glow of their intimate living room, the air between you and matt crackled with a palpable intensity, the kind that precedes a storm.

the rain outside mirrored the tempest brewing within, each droplet a thunderous note in the symphony of nature's fury, crashing onto the pavement with a relentless rhythm.

earlier that evening, their argument had been ignited by a matter so seemingly inconsequential, yet it had fanned the flames of discord into a roaring inferno.

matt had neglected the anniversary dinner plans, choosing instead to linger late at the warehouse, an oversight that cast a long shadow over the evening's expectations.

you had devoted the entire day to crafting a special meal, meticulously setting the table with candles and flowers, your heart brimming with anticipation to celebrate your love.

but as the hours slipped away and the food grew cold, your excitement metamorphosed first into disappointment, then hardened into a simmering anger.

and you might have let this transgression slide. but now you found yourself unable to, as this was the third and final strike.

when matt eventually crossed the threshold, exhausted and oblivious to the emotional storm brewing within you, the dam of your restraint finally burst.

"do you even care about us anymore?" you demanded, your voice quivering with the weight of unspoken sorrow and pent-up frustration.

matt, taken aback, attempted to articulate an explanation as he gently closed the door. "y/n, i'm sorry. time slipped away from me."

"lost track of time?" you echoed, your eyes welling up with tears. "do you have any idea how that makes me feel? like i'm not important to you!" you exclaimed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.

matt sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "it's not like that, y/n. things come up and—"

"things come up?" you repeated in disbelief, your voice tinged with incredulity as you grabbed your bag.

"why can't you just listen to me for once?" matt's voice rose, each word laden with frustration and desperation.

you crossed your arms, your eyes blazing with anger. "i have listened, matt! but you never seem to care about what i need," you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and fury.

matt took a step closer, his voice softer but no less intense. "i care, y/n. but you keep pushing me away," he murmured, his eyes searching yours for any glimmer of understanding.

you shook your head, tears beginning to spill from your eyes. "maybe because i'm tired of fighting for something that feels so one-sided," you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions.

an oppressive silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating, as if the very air had thickened with unspoken words and lingering tension.

the silence that hung in the air signaled the breaking point of their relationship, a palpable void filled with the weight of unspoken grievances and shattered dreams.

the silence that ensnared them, coiling around their throats and stifling their breaths, as though the very air conspired to suffocate the remnants of their faltering connection.

finally, you could endure no longer. "this time, i’ve had enough," you declared, your voice trembling with the weight of your resolve. "i’m leaving," you stated, the finality of your words hanging in the air like a solemn decree.

matt’s eyes widened in shock, a mixture of disbelief and desperation flooding his gaze. "y/n, wait—" he stammered, his voice a fragile plea against the impending void.

but you were already at the door, your resolve unyielding to his desperate entreaties. "don't call me," you uttered, your voice quivering with a tumultuous blend of anger and sorrow. "it's over," you declared, the finality of your words echoing with irrevocable certainty.

as the door slammed shut with a resounding finality, matt stood there, stunned into silence. he longed to chase after you, to mend the fractured pieces of their relationship, but his feet felt as though they were anchored to the floor, paralyzed by the weight of his own inaction.

a surge of anger and melancholy surged through matt, the emotions intertwining like a tempest within him. tears streamed down his face, carving silent paths of sorrow, as he ran a trembling hand through his disheveled hair, each motion a testament to his inner turmoil.

"fuck!" he yelled, kicking the door with a force that echoed his frustration.

he let out a series of pathetic sobs, his back desperately seeking support against the unyielding door as he slid down, finally collapsing to the floor. burying his face into his hands, he succumbed to the torrent of despair that engulfed him.

outside, y/n walked into the pouring rain, the heavens weeping in unison with the turmoil within. each step felt like a penance, their heart laden with regret, a sorrow that seemed to seep into the very fabric of the storm around them.

deep down, you harbored a fragile hope that matt would follow, that he would stand beneath your window, the rain mingling with his fervent cries of love, throwing pebbles to capture your attention, a modern-day romeo desperate to mend the rift between you.

but for now, all you had was the relentless rain and the haunting echo of your own words, reverberating through the solitude. you wished with all your heart that matt could see beyond his pride and comprehend that, at the core of it all, your deepest desire was simply to be with him.

the rain soaked through your clothes, each droplet a cold reminder of your solitude, as you sank down onto the porch. hugging your knees to your chest, you leaned your back against the unyielding front door, seeking comfort in its solidity amidst the tempest that raged both outside and within.

tears mingled with the raindrops on your face, indistinguishable in the deluge, as you struggled to stifle your sobs. each breath was a battle, the weight of your sorrow pressing down like the relentless rain, blurring the line between your inner turmoil and the storm around you.

your mind raced with a torrent of memories from happier times, each recollection a bittersweet contrast to the present, intensifying the pain of the argument. the agony grew stronger, like a relentless tide, as the echoes of laughter and love clashed with the harsh reality of discord.

you wished with all your heart that matt would emerge from the shadows, wrap you in his arms, and whisper reassurances that everything would be okay. in that embrace, you longed to find solace, a sanctuary where the storm of emotions would finally subside, leaving only the promise of peace and understanding.

but all you are left with is the cacophony of the rain crashing onto the pavement, each drop a thunderous reminder of his absence, and the echoing thoughts that reverberate through the hollow chambers of your mind.

you had only left because you felt as though his indifference had cast you into the shadows, making you believe you held no significance in the dazzling tapestry of his life.

and watching him run out to you would have mended the fractures in your heart, sealing the fissures with the balm of his presence, but alas, he remained still, leaving those cracks unhealed.

little did you know that he stood just beyond the threshold, separated from you by a mere sliver of space and yet an insurmountable chasm of unspoken words and unfulfilled hopes.

all you’ve ever needed lay just on the other side of the door, concealed within reach yet veiled by the intangible barrier of hesitation and unvoiced desires.

»--•--«

under the cloak of night, matt stood outside your window, the clock striking 3:00 am, as if the very fabric of time conspired to weave an intricate tapestry of suspense and unspoken anticipation.

the rain has ceased, leaving in its wake a profound, quiet stillness that permeates the air, as if the world itself holds its breath in reverent silence, suspended in a moment of tranquil contemplation.

with a trembling hand, he delicately picked up a small pebble and tossed it gently at the window, the soft tap shattering the silence like a whispered secret in the dead of night.

"y/n!" he called out, his voice raw with emotion, each syllable trembling with desperation. "y/n, please come to the window!"

you stirred from your restless sleep, heart pounding as you recognized the voice, each word echoing through the stillness of the night like a haunting melody that refused to be ignored.

you shut your eyes tightly, turning away as you begged for the night to envelop you once more, longing for the embrace of dreams to whisk you away from the waking world.

but another soft tap shattered the fragile silence, compelling you to sit up, your senses heightened and your heart pounding with an unspoken urgency.

you approached the window and peered out, your eyes locking with matt’s desperate gaze, the depth of his anguish reflecting in the moonlit night, creating a silent dialogue of unspoken sorrow and longing.

"i’m so sorry," matt began, his voice cracking under the weight of his remorse. "i messed up. i should’ve been there for you, for us. i let youtube get in the way, and i hurt you. but please, believe me when i say i love you more than anything. you are my world, and i can’t stand the thought of losing you."

tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his heartfelt plea. matt continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. "i know words aren't enough, but i promise to do better. i promise to make you feel loved and cherished every single day. please, give me another chance."

you remained silent, your heart torn between the lingering pain of past wounds and the fragile hope of reconciliation, each beat a testament to the inner turmoil that threatened to overwhelm you.

matt took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "remember when we first met? how we laughed about the silliest things and stayed up all night talking? i want to go back to that. i want to be the person who makes you smile."

he paused, searching for the right words, his gaze steady yet filled with vulnerability. "i know i've been distant, and i know i've hurt you. but i've realized something important: life without you is empty, a hollow echo of what it could be. i can't change the past, but i can promise you a future filled with love, respect, and understanding. i'll listen more, i'll be there more, and i'll never take you for granted again."

your resolve began to waver, the sincerity in matt's voice piercing through your defenses. "i've been talking to my brothers, trying to understand where i went wrong. i know i have a lot to work on, and i'm willing to do whatever it takes. therapy, couples counseling, anything. i just need you to know that i'm committed to making this work."

matt's eyes were pleading, his heart laid bare in a raw display of vulnerability. "please, y/n. give me a chance to prove that i can be the partner you deserve. i love you more than words can express, and i'm ready to fight for us."

your heart softened at his sincerity, the pain of the argument beginning to fade like mist in the morning sun. you opened the window, letting the cool night air rush in, carrying with it a sense of renewal. "matt," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of hope and apprehension. "come inside."

as matt climbed through the window, you felt a glimmer of hope flicker in the depths of your heart. you embraced, holding each other tightly, as if anchoring yourselves in a storm. both knowing that while the road ahead wouldn't be easy, your love was worth fighting for, a beacon guiding you through the darkness.

[azzibuckets]

Paper Rings [Part 1/10 | Paige Bueckers]

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

summary: very angsty friends to enemies to lovers told through flashbacks & current day

a/n: this is my very first fic + i’m still pretty unfamiliar with how to use tumblr so pls forgive me in advance 😭 but lmk what you think!

warnings: drinking, angst, paige as a player

word count: 1.9k

masterlist w/ all parts

FLASHBACK: 1 YEAR & 1 MONTH AGO

It was the night of the Big East championship game, and the entire UConn women’s basketball team was piled into Paige and Azzi’s apartment to celebrate with drinks. At first, you’d been hesitant to come, as you would be the only non-player there. Which usually wouldn’t be a problem, but since it was a celebration for something as special as a tournament win, you wanted to let the team have their moment. But Paige insisted, saying that you were basically one of them at this point, and that everyone loved you and would want you there.

So here you were, sandwiched between Paige and KK on the sofa. There were so many people squeezed onto the sofa, though, that you were basically half in Paige’s lap. She didn’t seem to mind though - one hand was holding a red solo cup filled with dirty Shirley while the other was firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place next to her. Not a typical look for best friends, but both of you attributed this intimate position to physical touch being both of your main love languages.

Paige’s fingers were absentmindedly brushing up and down your hip, alternating between playing with the fray at the end of your shirt and scratching your hip. You tried not to think too much of it. Paige was constantly moving, and she always needed something to play with or else she’d get bored and distracted. She definitely wasn’t touching you because she had feelings for you. Paige made it clear that she wasn’t interested in anyone romantically, with how quickly she moved from woman to woman. But that was how she chose to live her love life, and you respected that! And didn’t care….at all.

KK suddenly lurched up from next to you. “Ayoooo, we should play spin the bottle,” she crowed, as if this was the best idea she’d ever come across.

“Nah, girl, I’m good,” Nika teased, shaking her head at KK’s antics. “Geno said he wants us to be close, but I don’t think he meant that close.”

The rest of the team hooted in laughter. KK pouted. “Well, Azzi just texted the guys’ team to come, and they’ll be here soon. That way I don’t have to kiss any of y’all’s nasty lips.”

At that, Paige sat up a little bit straighter, her grip around my waist tightening. “Ain’t no one playing spin the bottle with the guys. Especially Y/N.”

“Why, Paige? Jealous?” Ice teased. Ice always gave you a hard time about Paige, wiggling her eyebrows at you every time you walked Paige to practice or dropped off food for her during their recovery sessions. You suspected that she was onto you, but you always shrugged off her teasing in order to seem nonchalant.

Paige rolled her eyes, although her grip on you didn’t loosen. “Nah, bro. They’re just weird. They don’t know Y/N like that. She’d be uncomfy.”

You tugged on one of her Dutch braids. You loved whenever she put her hair into two full braids. She looked so cute. Although you’d never tell her that. “What if I wanna play, hmm?” You were testing Paige’s limits, and you knew it. And as much as you wanted to chalk it up to her being jealous, you knew she was probably just being a protective friend.

Paige shook her head. “It’s such a middle school game, Y/N. You don’t wanna do that.” With those words, you felt a surge of drunken defiance rise in your chest. Paige was bossing you around, as if she knew what was best for you. But you refused to be seen as the innocent and meek type. And now you wanted to play. Because if you couldn’t have Paige, you weren’t gonna let her limit you from having someone else.

You raised your chin. “No, I think I’m gonna,” you declared.

Paige’s eyes flashed. There was a hint of surprise in the way she leaned back and studied you. “Okay,” she responded coolly. “Whatever. Do what you want - Imma top up.” She briskly slid the part of me on her thigh off, and got up, disappearing into the kitchen.

Soon, the guys piled in, along with some of their buddies that weren’t on the basketball team. You all agreed to do a mix of spin the bottle or truth or dare. It was either answer the question, or kiss. Except those who were players insisted that teammates were off limit. To be honest, you didn’t wanna play. You, like Paige, thought the game was childish. And more importantly, the only person in the room, or frankly anywhere in the world, whose lips you wanted to kiss was Paige. But Paige didn’t want you, and you had to move on.

Paige returned with a full cup, this time of beer, just in time for the game to start. A couple of the girls had gotten up to sit with the guys on the floor, so there was more room on the sofa now, meaning that Paige and you were no longer touching. Instead, there was a sizable gap between the two of you. The lack of her warmth was upsetting to you, and another reminder that Paige was only touching you because of how crowded the sofa was. Not because she craved your touch the same way you craved hers.

Just your luck, the bottle landed on you the first spin. You vaguely recognized the guy who spun it as one of the players on the basketball team. He had dirty blonde hair and a cocky smile. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and he had a rumpled look about him that would be messily attractive if it weren’t for the fact that you had almost zero interest in guys.

“Which guy on my team looks like he’d be the best in bed?” The guy’s wildly inappropriate question barely registered before Paige leaned forward, sliding her hand protectively over your knee.

“That’s a fucked up question,” she snapped. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that way that happens when she’s really angry, and her cheeks were flushed, likely from the alcohol. Tipsy Paige meant a Paige with much more intense emotions, and you knew now that she would be even more unashamed now than she is sober, which says a lot considering how she’s already pretty free willed sober. “Don’t be an ass. Give her a decent question so she’s not forced to kiss you.” Paige snarled.

The guy’s eyebrows shot up. “Chill out, P. It’s just a game,” he laughed arrogantly.

“Yeah, P.” The words, laced with malice, were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and you wanted to die as soon as they came out. Paige looked like a puppy who was just kicked, confusion and embarrassment in her eyes. Shame rose in your throat like bile - Paige was just trying to protect you from a creepy guy, a guy who you didn’t even want to kiss, and you were taking this random stranger’s side. In front of all these people.

But words kept piling out of your mouth, even though you didn’t mean it. “Stop babying me,” you hissed. This time only Pauge could hear, but you internally kicked myself again for the harshness of your words. It was the alcohol in you, running hot through your veins, exacerbating all the bitterness and jealousy you’ve been feeling towards Paige for so long. You wanted to get back at her…but for what? It wasn’t her fault she didn’t love you back.

You were thrusted back to reality when you realized everyone was staring at you, waiting for you to make a move. It was an almost out of body experience, in the most terrible and awful way possible, watching yourself move like a robot to where the guy was sitting. You kneeled down, planted a kiss on his lips to the cheering of all the people around you, then got back and returned to your seat on the sofa.

And for the rest of the night, Paige didn’t speak to you.

—————————-

“I can’t find them.” You were digging through your purse, trying to find your keys. Paige was standing next to you, her face stone hard.

You were so drunk. After the whole kiss incident, you’d started going wild with the drinks, putting back shots as if your life depended on it. The alcohol made you feel numb, softening the ache you felt whenever you thought back to earlier that night when you had hurt Paige, embarrased her in front of all those people. You felt like the worst person in the world, and the more you drank, the more that guilt disappeared.

And now you were drunk out of your mind. You’d expected Paige to ignore you completely after, and she had, until the celebrations died down and you had to go home. You had walked to the apartment because your dorm was only 10 minutes away, and now with how you couldn’t even walk without staggering, someone needed to escort you back.

You hated how good Paige was. How she immediately got up without hesitation when Nika requested for someone more sober to walk you home. You knew she was angry and hurt, yet like always, she looked out for you first.

“Paige, I can’t find them,” you pouted. Paige exhaled through her nose and grabbed the purse from you, sifting through it before she found your keys, tucked into one of the side pockets. Opening the door, she rested her hand on the small of your back to guide you inside.

Once inside, you grabbed Paige’s hand, tugging her into your room and flopping on the bed. She stood there, still and silently watching you. She was unamused, and rightly so.

“Are you mad?” You giggled, sitting up to poke her in the stomach. When she stared back at you, still in silence, you stopped laughing. Sobering up a bit, you grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. “I’m really sorry,” you said quietly. “I don’t know why I did that earlier.” She was between your legs now. You weren’t thinking straight, your mind a muddled mess, and so you wrapped your calves around her, pulling her in until there was no space between you two. She looked down at you, bringing her hand to lightly touch your jaw.

You both stayed there for a moment, the tip of her finger running back and forth along your jaw. Your eyelids fluttered closed. Paige’s touch was so gentle, and you wanted to lean into it and stay in it forever. You didn’t understand why she was being so kind to you when you had been so cruel to her earlier, especially on a night as important as this.

“I’m sorry. For ruining tonight,” you told her, shifting to lean your forehead against her toned stomach.

“You didn’t ruin anything. But I was trying to look out for you,” she said quietly from above you. Paige. A golden heart, and a reminder of why you didn’t deserve her.

“But you kiss a lot of people. Why do you have an issue when I do it?”

Paige’s hand stuttered. “You should really get some rest,” she said gently instead of answering your question. She backed up, looking at you closely before shutting the light off. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.”

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Pretend It's Someone That Came for You (18+)

pairing: coworker!wonwoo x fem!touch-starved!reader

genre: coworker au, office au, strangers to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), fluffy fluffy fluff fluff

description: you're lonely. you're so lonely you think it might actually kill you. but when wonwoo transfers to your office, he might just change that fact.

warnings: unprotected sex (do NOT pls my babes), soft dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, v loving sex, praise (f. receiving), confession of love, riding, fingering (f. receiving), pussy rubbing tihi, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby, darling, etc), VERY angsty beginning, yn is truly v sad so DO NOT READ THIS if u fear it will make u sad!!, they say i love u unrealistically fast but i had to do it, yn uses sex to feel less lonely/ends up feeling more lonely, relatable yn frs, slightly dramatized symptoms of touch-starvation (?), kinda boring plot but idc bc its CUTE AF

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "finally!!" (she was fed tf up), "stanley is the most stanley man ever. i hate him but i love him.", (more r coming she actually didnt have time 2 read this and i didnt want to wait with posting.)

wordcount: 10.0k

a/n: this story was supposed 2 have more angst, like it was supposed to have this whole misunderstanding, but it just didnt feel right, it made me sad, so instead this is a short n sweet love story xx

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you. 

You weren’t always like this. You remember being a sociable, joyful child; half-broken bikes and teddy bears and booster seats. You remember pigtails and popsicle sticks and Power Rangers, and what came after that? Being a moody teenager, became being a moody adult. High school became college, and college became an office job that served to keep you alive, even if it didn’t feel like being alive. College wasn’t that bad, you remember, so at what point had you mistaken isolation for privilege? And at what point had you gone too far into that tunnel-hole to turn back? 

 You must’ve been cursed, you think, putting on your outfit for work in the deadly still apartment. Dust dares not move, dares not give you hope that you are not alone. 

You must’ve been cursed, you think, coming into work to a string of half-hearted, mumbled greetings. Your office is off-white and black and gray and everyone inhabiting it is also off-white and black and gray, and their skin is faintly oily and sickly and their faces are dragging down as if the very earth was reclaiming them and you think that you fit in here better than anywhere else. 

You must’ve been cursed, you think, when you spend your day writing emails and organizing documents of information into different formats to send to huge corporations. Sometimes you fantasize about the other end of the transaction. Maybe their office is warm and brown with an accent of blue, and maybe people put hands on each other's shoulders, when they tell one another they’ve done a good job. 

Yes, there’s no other explanation, you think, and can’t even muster the energy to feel bad when you blame some old hag from your hometown. You think she must’ve conjured up the worst ingredients, something cartoonishly evil, and a spell befell you, sunk into the crevices of your skin and dug into your pores.

You lie on your couch with a glass of wine and the television going, but you’re not really listening. You don’t think anyone has touched you in six months. You’re not even sure you’re real anymore. You swear, you could live with no one hearing you out, because you’re not sure you’d have anything worthwhile to say, but you just needed someone to touch you. To reach out a hand and confirm, you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips, and I’m squeezing your shoulder, and I see you, and I feel you right here.

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

Lying physically very still, you still feel like you’re scrambling, fighting the clutch of the curse, and tugging on metal chains. Maybe that’s where all your energy goes. 

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

Sometimes you leave open the window, and when the wind tugs at your door, you pretend it’s someone that came for you. 

Tug, tug, tug. The door rattles against its hinges when the fatally empty sky brings to you, in outstretched palms, the wind interlaced with glimmers of hope. 

There’s never anyone at the door.  _____________________________

This particular day starts like any other. You wake to your alarm and you put on clothes and you get ready and brush your teeth. Then you trample down to the bus stop. The sky is smothered by a duvet of heavy rain clouds. The rain hasn't come yet, but you know it will. Your fingers become stiff and hard, where they adhere to the polyester strap of your bag, massaging it. The bag is cold and dead.

The bus ride is by far the greatest part of your day. It’s quiet - early enough that you’re only accompanied by a few other souls. You rest your head on the window, vibrating gently against the curve of your forehead, and watch the people in the street. 

 The bus hums a gentle tune and snakes down the streets. Then you’re there, and whatever solace that it offers you under artificial light and mediocre, felted seats is gone. 

Your office building is maybe the most depressing place on earth. It’s no glamorous feat of architecture. It is but a large, orange-y, puke-y, brick square, and the building is shared between yours and the Forester company. You don’t talk to the Foresters, but you know they eat cream cheese bagels on their breaks and throw birthday parties and once you saw the branch manager squeezing a salesman’s shoulder and telling him he had done a good job. His fingers squeezed down and the movement of the fabric revealed a shoulder pad built into the suit. You remember thinking it was a shame that it blocked the real touch. 

Today, you walk up the stairs with heavy steps and you idle into the office building, eyes cast down to the dirty, gray carpet. You begin the long trek into the back of the building where your desk is located.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute. 

Your greeting falls short. You don’t recognize that voice. Stopping in your tracks, your shoes scratch on the rough carpet, and lift your head to see him. 

The first thing you notice is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He looks like he jumped out of an underwear commercial; he’s all strong jawline, sharp eyes, round glasses on his pretty nose, neatly trimmed, short dark hair stretching down the planes of his face. He’s wearing a button up (usually you wouldn’t even register the clothing your coworkers adorned, but something about how he wore it was noteworthy), a tie draping over the dress shirt, and formal slacks hugging his thighs. 

He smiles at you sheepishly, hands nervously smoothing down his thighs. 

“I’m Wonwoo” he says curtly, nodding to you. “Just transferred from the Wallingset branch.” 

You nod. “Right. Wallingset,” you nod more. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.” 

Something about your name on his lips makes your heart flutter. It’s pathetic, you know, but his peregrine being in his office chair, spilling your name from his pink lips makes you feel a little more real. You look at him and then you nod again-again, kicking your legs into gear again and walking the last stretch to your desk. 

You can see the back of his head from your orange-wood desk. Papers and sticky notes are scattered among the desktop. The monitor watches you accusingly, all big and square and black, waiting for you to open it up and begin working. Your eyes linger on him for a moment. Then you work. 

A few hours pass on emails and translating information from a company into a comprehensive sheet. However, today you’re having a hard time focusing on work. 

This is not new. 

Sometimes you briefly talk to a man at the grocery store, and your mind will wander to him for next week, wondering if he’s thinking about you too, imagining yourself cuddling with him, watching movies, imagining him telling you it’ll all be okay. Sometimes you briefly talk to a man on the street, sometimes it’s even a date, but whatever the case you obsess and you dream and you always end up alone. 

Today the victim of your depraved mind is Wonwoo. The guilt is easy to push away. You feel sorry for yourself. You think you deserve this. You think you can’t survive without this. And so you imagine him hugging you, stroking your hair, and you imagine him falling in love with you, and you imagine not being alone. Your fingers rest on your keyboard. It’s old and mechanical. You think it’s from a yard sale, probably an old woman whose children moved away. It’s plastic, and it curves inwards underneath the pads of your fingertips. The keys are cold and dead. 

You fully zone out, eyes blearing into the back of his head, but you don’t really see it, your mind has traveled elsewhere. You guiltily imagine his hand between your legs, on your chest, straddling him, kissing him. And it’s not rough, it’s loving, because in this world he loves you, and he’d do anything for you, and you don’t have to be alone again.

You don’t love Wonwoo. It’s not some magical love at first sight, it’s not a romance book, it’s real life. You’re lonely. You need this to survive. 

“Hey, Y/n?” 

You snap your head up. Maybe you were still daydreaming. But you recognized the voice well and true, and it was Wonwoo, leaned over your desk, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, uhm, hey-” your voice is shaky and you quickly rush to compose yourself, hands moving frantically and uselessly to glide papers over one another and, then, realizing that there was no point to your movements, stilling and looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “Hey.” 

Wonwoo smiles gently. “Uh, you know, I was wondering,” he looks around the office, as if surveying the area. “If you knew where to get a good lunch? I don’t know this area at all, so..” 

He trails off, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Now that he’s standing before you, it’s much harder to ignore the guilt you feel. You wanna gnaw at your nails until they’re nubs, you want to crawl under your desk and cover your eyes. Does he see how red your cheeks are? 

“Uhm- well- I don’t- I eat a packed lunch, so I’m-” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, no expert,” you giggle awkwardly and watch his gentle smile drop into pursed lips. “But! Uh- I hear the- the hot dog stand, uh, just a little down the street is good!” 

“Really? Maybe I should try it,” he contemplates, smile returning to his lips. “Would you mind showing me this mysterious hot dog stand?” 

“Uh-” 

Just seconds before you were thinking of his fingers in your pussy, and his hands caressing you, and him making you feel loved. He’s standing before you and he’s a totally normal guy, and you feel like shit. You feel like shit for using this fake image of him to comfort yourself. You can’t be around him, can’t convince yourself that maybe this’ll turn into something more - not when you always end up alone. Your brows furrow in determination.

“Actually, I have to, uh, get this done, so-” you gesture vaguely to your monitor. 

“Right! Yeah,” Wonwoo seems embarrassed, biting his lips and nodding. “It’s, uh, just down the street?” 

“Yeah, to the right when you walk out the building.” 

“For sure. Thanks,” he doesn’t even look at you then, just waves you off half-heartedly and starts trailing down the office. His shoulders are incredibly broad and his belt wraps tightly around his small waist.

You feel like shit.  _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed? 

You look out of the window, lying on your bed after work. Everything is very still and unmoving - your whole apartment feels like it’s knotted in strings, tightened until everything is snapped into place, and if you move the wrong muscles, the invisible hands will let go and everything will fly and hurdle through your home, and you can almost hear the sound, like the hard, empty sound of throwing a bowling ball and getting a strike. 

No one else is cursed. People crowd the streets with friends, family, partners, and they’re talking and laughing. You rest your head in the windowsill, a lone spectator in the window. The glass cuts you off from the streets. 

The afternoon after daydreaming the way you did about Wonwoo is always hard. Your apartment seems intent on suffocating you. Your daydreams serve as a reminder that you’re alone, that you truly have no one, and the act itself is so humiliating, you sulk into a glass of red wine and sometimes you cry. What do normal people do when they feel this bad, you wonder again, sobbing in your bed and spilling wine on your nightie. 

Nighttime falls early while you’re crying. You weep on and off, hug your knees, eat a microwave dinner and watch TV, light casting onto your pathetic form on the couch.

And in your most vulnerable state is when you most easily slip into your old habits. 

You press an old contact in your phone, one you’d tried to steer away from recently. You wipe mascara from your reddened cheeks, you wear pretty lingerie, and you lie, completely empty, void of any warmth, on your bed, awaiting.

It’s the first time he touches you in months. When his hand finds your shoulder, you shudder terribly. Sorry, he says, and he seems taken aback. Just ignore it, you plead, just ignore it. He does so, unsurely, and every time his hand grazes over your body you shudder and sob and every time he hesitates, asking if you’re okay, you cry at him to continue.

It feels good while it’s happening. Skin beneath your fingertips, hands on you, a face close to yours. You and him are the only thing moving in the apartment, synergizing on your bed, conjoining and writhing, and for just a moment, you don’t feel so alone. 

When you’re done the anonymous man stands back up, sliding on his pants in the late hour. He says it was great and you hum. But then he looks around, hesitating on every old piece of furniture, on every photo on the walls, and lastly on you.

“What?” you ask, lying naked in your bed. He grimaces at you, as if signaling that he can’t quite figure it out himself. 

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, hands on his newly-clothed hips and surveying the corners of the room, where shadows pool. “It feels haunted in here.” 

He leaves. 

When the warmth is gone, the bile rises in your throat. Old habits die hard, you think, and you feel totally empty. You couldn’t go on like this. It was nights like these you began to feel like a martyr - sacrificing yourself for a brief escape. Because when the door is closed with a click and you’re alone again, you feel yourself trembling and your heart is glowing red in the empty astral plane. Brief, easy forms of pleasure are often the most harmful.

It feels haunted in here. You remember his words, and before you finally fall asleep, you wonder one thing. You wonder if you’re already dead.  _____________________________

The next day is a pain to overcome. You’re slightly hungover, slightly sore, and very uncomfortable. But you comply with your routine, and you enjoy the bus ride, and when you get to the office everyone greets you. 

 “Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

“Morning, Y/n,” Wonwoo says. You look up from the carpet carefully, flashing him an apologetic smile. You hope he can read its intention: Sorry about being weird yesterday. You think he got it.

“Morning, Wonwoo.” 

And then you’re landing yourself at your own desk and beginning work once more. It’s boring, but today you ward off the daydreams and you focus, and you’re getting an exceptional amount done. 

The clock on the wall (off-white, but yellowing near the top) reads 12:28 when your boss, Stan, approaches your table. He’s half bald, and his suit is much too loose, and he has a ladder of wrinkles climbing his larger-than-life forehead. 

“Hey, N/n!” he calls, so loud that a couple of heads turn at the commotion. You’ve asked him several times not to call you that. 

“Stanley,” you breathe, tapping a stack of papers on your desk to neaten the pile. You wonder if you were in trouble, but if his smile is anything to go by, you’d guess not. 

“My favorite woman in accounting!” 

“Hehe,” you laugh half-heartedly. You catch the eye of Wonwoo, glancing over his shoulder with a small, teasing smile. You smile back. 

“I have a big- oh wait, wait, new guy, uhh, Jeon? Come over here real quick!” Suddenly his solid fingers waft the now scared Wonwoo over. The spectacled man’s shoulders hunch up as he moves off the chair, nodding respectfully. Wonwoo stands beside Stanley at your desk, and you focus your attention on Stanley, hoping to not get too lost in the idea of Wonwoo again - you were doing so good today. 

“I have a big job for you, and I thought you could work with Wonwoo on it,” Stan moves his hand up to cup the side of his mouth, as if telling you a big secret, “seeing as he was a bit of a star over in Wallingset.”

Shit. The guy you were daydreaming about was working with you? Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed, but you hardly have time to catch it. You can’t do this. Yesterday you were thinking about him fingering you while looking at you lovingly!

“We have a massive, new client! Just dropped a big competitor of ours, and they want us to do their six month report!” Stanley seems genuinely excited about this, so you can’t help feeling a little guilty that you’ll be a gobbering, slobbering mess, sitting beside Wonwoo on this. 

“That’s great-”

“I know! So, my two star members in accountancy, I’ll hand this off to you. The data should be coming into your emails soon,” without letting either of you react, Stanley hunches over, like a coach does before a little-league baseball game, wrapping his arms around both of you and Wonwoo. “You got this, troopers!” 

Stanley claps his hands on both of your backs, so hard you jerk forward at the movement, and then he bounces off to the elevator at the far end of the room. You sigh heavily from the interaction. It’s quiet for a moment, while you fiddle with the papers in front of you.

“What a guy,” Wonwoo muses finally, thin fingers resting on the edge of your desk. You giggle, unable to look him in the eye for fear that you might remember how you’d thought about starting a family with him. “Yeah.”

You and Wonwoo settle into an unoccupied meeting room, and it’s all very professional. Markers and post-its, trying to find the best way to structure the report, excel sheets to categorize and overlook data, double check numbers. 

However bad you think it’s going to be, you’re wrong. Wonwoo is easy to talk to - he’s quiet, but he’s intelligent, and he understands how to bring on conversation, even when you fold in on yourself like a used napkin. 

“Yeah, we used to steal signs from our neighborhood,” Wonwoo admits halfway into a conversation about your hometowns. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly anymore.” 

“Why stop now? You’re letting societal rules hold you back,” you joke, and the two of you laugh, and it’s so pathetic, you’re certain you haven’t laughed this much in years, and the conversation has lasted maybe 20 minutes. 

“Well, I could show you the craft, you know, it’s a delicate process-” 

While Wonwoo talks your phone buzzes and you absent-mindedly pick it up, reviewing the notification.

Your grin drops. Faintly, you hear Wonwoo stop talking. He tilts his head to study the way you frown at the screen. “What’s up?” he asks. 

It’s the guy from last night and he’s asking if you’ll be available again tonight. 

Maybe it’s how you could almost forget it - how you let yourself into positions that would hurt you, just to feel seen and heard and touched. Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that encounter and now, talking to Wonwoo, and having the laughter steal away the loneliness. But you’re reminded so terribly of your position. You’re reminded that this, too, will end, and that the loneliness will return. You’re reminded that once the shift ends, you’re alone again. 

Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself. 

“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.” 

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?” 

“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.” 

A pause. 

“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand. 

“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self. 

The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you. 

This would be torture.  _____________________________

It is not torture. 

The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage. 

You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic. 

You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room. 

Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.

“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you. 

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.” 

You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-” 

You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.” 

Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life. 

Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office. 

Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats. 

“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly. 

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.” 

There’s a pause.

Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb. 

“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.

“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.” 

Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-” 

“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.

It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you. 

“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling. 

He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing. 

The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder. 

“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.” 

You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier. 

“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down. 

Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning. 

Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay. 

Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you. 

“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you? 

“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?” 

You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe. 

Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms. 

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair. 

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.” 

You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer. 

Eventually, he lets you go. 

You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve. 

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again. 

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Of course.” 

When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real. _____________________________

You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even. 

This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it. 

The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing. 

You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?

Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together. 

You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.

Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares. 

“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again. 

He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs. 

Your eyebrows furrow. 

“Wha-” 

“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?” 

“Cured?”

“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.” 

“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.

“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”

To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert. 

“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?

“We can just hug if you-” 

You feel bold.

Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him. 

Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile. 

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut. 

Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world. 

“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.” 

His hands run up and down your sides. 

“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.

“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”

“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close. 

“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it. 

Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans. 

“Wonwoo,” you pip. 

“Mhm?” 

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.” 

Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him. 

Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here. 

“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.” 

The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position. 

“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly. 

“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.

“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst. 

“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone. 

“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.” 

He does take care of you. 

Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual. 

You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you. 

You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you. 

And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart. 

There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart. _____________________________

“We’re almost done.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!” 

Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm. 

“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..” 

A pause. He tilts his head.

“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy. 

“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.” 

A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.

“We’re not done.” 

“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels. 

“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips. 

There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer. 

He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers. 

“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?” 

At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning. 

Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy. 

“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish. 

“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.” 

The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more. 

Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?” 

He breathes out unsteadily.

“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-” 

He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them. 

“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely. 

You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?” 

He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!” 

You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.

“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.” 

He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly. 

“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?” 

Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips. 

“Please.”

That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting. 

“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.” 

Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?” 

You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.” 

“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.” 

Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?” 

You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs. 

“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table. 

His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.

He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.” 

Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep. 

“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.” 

He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you. 

“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”

“W-What?” 

“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers. 

“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!” 

“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.” 

“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.

“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”

“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.” 

At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.

“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again. 

“God, I think I might fall in love with you.” 

That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek. 

He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.

You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly. 

“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.” 

His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure. 

“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting. 

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?” 

The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips. 

“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you. 

“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy. 

“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?” 

“We don’t have to-” 

“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks. 

“It’s just if you were too tired..-” 

“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods. 

“Okay. C’mere then.” 

You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down. 

His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.

You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly. 

“Come ride me, baby.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin. 

The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation. 

“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile. 

“Can I put it in?” you ask. 

“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?” 

You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat. 

His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest. 

“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them. 

“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce. 

Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability. 

“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”

You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum. 

Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” 

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.” 

“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”

Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold. 

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”

You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet. 

And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses. 

His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love. 

You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him. 

You catch your breaths. 

“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum. 

After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused. 

“Am getting your dick out of me?” 

His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling. 

“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?” 

He tilts his head teasingly. 

“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”

[lcriedlastnight]

lost the breakup | charles leclerc

○tw: alcohol, swears, charles is a proper dick, silly reader, this is the most angsty thing over ever wrote. to celebrate charles win today!○

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c: 4.3k of pure hell.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"this would be so much easier without you!" it felt like those words flitted around your brain in a loop ever since that night in charles' flat. you hadn't intended it to turn into a massive fight, all you said was you couldn't wait for summer break to finally spend some time with your boyfriend. but seemingly that was all it took for charles to go off on one, roaring at you as if you had actually done something wrong.

you had stood, staring at the man after he had stopped ranting about how being with you only brought him down and how life before you was much easier on him. you couldn't believe that was actually what he thought of your relationship. i mean it wasn't perfect, but who's was? all that you thought mattered was that you tried to make each other happy, and up until today you had thought that you were succeeding in that, clearly not.

"do you mean that?" there was an obvious wobble in your voice that you had tried to disguise but it didn't matter, charles didn't care anyways. you knew that now.

all it took for you to scramble to find somewhere new was that singular nod of his head. you knew he wasn't sure if he meant it but he nodded. he fucking nodded. you could've forgiven him if he took it all back then and there, he didn't even have to beg for your forgiveness you would've just given him it. but he didn't. you didn't mean as much to him as he did to you and he had made that oh so clear tonight. so you did what any sane person would do, you grabbed a pair of shoes and a jacket and left. a part of you thought that maybe he had said all that just to get a rise out of you and to create a fight between the two of you, for whatever reason? you didn't know but you had a nagging feeling that was why he did it. or maybe your brain was just trying to soften the blow of your boyfriend secretly despising you for god knows how long.

so yeah, that was how you ended up rotting in your bed. at this point you really shouldn't still care about him anymore but your heart refused to let him go. and it annoyed you so much. how was it fair that you sat here mourning your relationship and what it could've been while he was out there winning grand prix's and clubbing every other night, seen with a different girl every single time. while he was out picking up girls you were picking up your heart, that had gone straight in the journal as soon as you had thought it.

the fans had realised something was up by the second day of your breakup. you hadn't even collected all of your things from his yet and they were already trending you both on twitter. it honestly felt like the last thing you needed right now but you smiled through the pain and tried to make your instagram feel as normal as possible until charles put up a statement about it, so that you could too. then you could finally put this relationship to rest.

being with charles had given you a following of sorts of your own and you felt like you owed them something, seeing as they only liked you because you were dating- used to date charles. your best friend and current roommate (for the time being, seeing as you were living with charles full time before the breakup) jess had told you millions of times that they were just random strangers and you didn't owe them anything. it never eased the weight you felt though.

one night after the third night in a row of summer break (that very same summer break that you were longing to spend with charles) that charles was out and had been pictured taking some random girl home was the night where jess had tried to snap you out of it.

"i think it hurts more that literally none of them look like me? like if any of them resembled me at least i would know that he missed me, even a little bit. even if it was subconscious, you know?" you had ranted, staring holes into your phone that had showed you the dreaded pictures of the three girls who all looked alike in regards to each other but nothing like you. in fact they were the complete opposite of you in every single way.

jess had swiped your phone off of you and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans.

"look, you technically broke up with him but it doesn't matter. he clearly doesn't care so why the fuck should you?" ever so blunt, jess was.

"i don't mean to be mean, you know that. i mean this in the nicest way possible but you have to get over yourself. this isn't the end of the world as much as it feels like it. the world has continued to spin this past week and it will continue to do so no matter what so you need to get up and live your life. you're wasting your emotions on a man who literally doesn't care whether you live or die at this point."

although it was filled to the brim with all the shit you didn't want to hear, jess knew exactly what you needed and she gave you the wake up call you had been needing since that night. that night she helped you wash your bed sheets and tidy your room up, moving the furniture while blasting taylor swift's breakup songs. jess was still letting you grieve the relationship because she knew better than anyone, that you can't just hear one inspiring speech and finally stop caring about him. even though she knew that you would stop caring sooner rather than later with the way he was acting.

★・・・・・・★

"you better not wear that skirt with those heels!" jess' girlfriend, hailey had shouted over the thrumming bass of someone's getting ready playlist. you weren't too sure who's it was but you knew for certain it was not the usual music that was played in the flat.

'the inchident' (which you thought was a particularly cruel play on words) had happened almost a month ago and jess had invited your closest friends for a night out in monaco. as well as her girlfriend, she had also invited sophie, probably your second best friend.

"why?" sophie asked back, brows down as she moves the skirt in her hands, looking for an issue with it. "it looks good, no?". three shakes of heads are her answers.

"soph it looks so fugly." jess said, trying to pull on a pair of doc martens. you had burst out laughing at that and it had set everyone else off too. you knew pre-drinks were a great idea. the group had already taken three shots already and for a lightweight like you, this was the perfect state to go to the club like. drunk enough that the night seemed endless, plus you would save a fortune on drinks while you were there too, seeing as you were almost on your way to being absolutely smashed. exactly what you needed after this past month.

as you all clamber into the taxi to take you to the club, the group chatters with each other while jess is chatting away to the driver. she got so talkative when she had alcohol in her system. the ride to the club wasn't long so when you all arrive and after you had all given about a million thank you's to the driver you head into the club.

you and sophie find a table to sit at while jess and hailey head in the direction of the bar, hailey offering to buy the first round in celebration of you finally going out with them for the first time in months.

in the taxi ride over, sophie was telling you all about the boy she was speaking to and how he may or may not be a famous athlete. after a joke or two from you about watching what she's getting into she tells you that she had been on a few dates with him and they were days away, as she put it, from becoming official. with all of this in mind you still had no idea why, when you were both on the hunt for a free table, scouring around the very back of the club, she suddenly stops in her tracks, grabs your arm and turns to face you. the poor girl looked like she was about to pass out. surely she hadn't had that much to drink already, you had just gotten here, you had thought to yourself before she spoke up.

"that's him! he's here?!" sophie whisper shouts as she kind of just stands there, almost like shes lagging. you look at her, confusion plastered all over your face.

"who? who's here?" you ask her. it's easy to tell she is annoyed at your question but she's much too preoccupied to tell you off for it in her usual sophie manner. like her fight or flight kicks in at that very moment she suddenly pulls you towards the large booth filled with people, seemingly all men but maybe a few girls from what you could make out. it was actually really dark in this part of the club.

"my man." the blonde girl whispers to you like it was obvious, nothing was obvious to you when you were sober never mind this tipsy. you recognise a man at the end of the row but it doesn't sink in your muddled brain until you are standing directly in front of near enough half of the grid.

you stand like a deer in headlights as it clicks in your brain. the weight of a thousand busses suddenly weighing down on your chest. oh this was so not good. you hadn't looked to see if he was here but did you really need to? it seemed like he was going out at any chance he could find since the two of you last spoke. you avert your attention to sophie who was standing very closely to the man at the edge, who you now could see what carlos. you had no idea that was who she was talking about.

you hear someone in front of you call your name, one of the drivers, maybe lando? he had always been nice to you any time you and charles went out together and ran into him. you don't reply, not that you get the chance to because an arm is gripping yours from behind and at first you swear your heart falls right to the ground and is so very close to taking you with it but you look over and see it was only jess and hailey with your drinks. this was not how tonight was supposed to go.

jess says something you can't hear to sophie and the blonde nods back before you feel your best friend pulling you away from the table. you still feel frozen as she drags you to a free table you and sophie must have missed on your own hunt. you felt like you were having an out of body experience. there was no fucking way in hell that just happened. no way he was here. why couldn't he just let you have this one night to yourself without ruining it? he had already ruined your life, what else does he want?

hailey slides you your drink of choice and heads back up to the bar to order another, knowing you'll need it. jess could see the look in your eyes even if you couldn't feel it yet. what stage of grief was this you were in now? because all you wanted to do was to get the ground to swallow you whole. maybe depression. jess' soft voice pulls you out of your daze.

"hey, drink it. i'm not encouraging drinking to numb your feelings but tonight is not the night to deal with whatever the fuck that was." jess says, her voice as comforting as she could make it. you really appreciated it so you downed your drink and waited for hailey to come with your next.

"we'll process this tomorrow but tonight, we drink." hailey says as she returns. you swear you hear her curse sophie under her breath as you drink. you didn't blame sophie though, she didn't know he would be there and clearly didn't think before she acted. you think that maybe hailey and jess are mad at her now. great, another thing in your life falling apart. you were so getting shitfaced tonight.

the drinks blended into one another as you danced with your friends after sophie had joined you, after promising to carlos she would leave with him.

you were swaying to one of your favourite songs when carlos come over to distract sophie, you just smiled at the two 'couples' that surrounded you. even if there was a clear favourite, nothing against carlos but c'mon. it was jess and hailey. speaking of they had signalled to tell you they were off to join the long line for the toilets. they had asked of you wanted to come but you didn't need to pee so you said no. you should've went though, you probably would need to pee by the time you got to the front of the line but your drunk brain was not in the mood for rational thinking.

that's why when a man slides his arms around you don't protest it and instead lean into him. it had nothing to do with the familiar scent flooding your nose or the hums you heard every single night in your sleep, nope. nothing to do with that twat.

"This one is your favourite, no?" his accent fills your ears and you can literally feel the tension from the past month ease out of you. you lean further into charles as you sway a little to the beat. you were far too drunk to dance properly, the way you were when you first stepped foot onto the dance floor.

"mhm." you nod as your hands slide down to rest on his clasped ones, which were holding your stomach to keep you close, you hoped. charles moves his head to right behind your ear, just so you can hear him better. there was no way he didn't hear or even feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his breath on your ear. if you weren't this plastered then you would be so embarrassed at how easily you let charles do this again. you could even hear the rational part of your brain screaming at you, asking you what you were doing but you could barely even see at this point so of course you ignored it in favour of being the girl in his arms again.

"then why'd all your friends leave you, sweetheart?" charles asks, it feels teasing and maybe even a little mocking but there is no way you would be able to tell the difference in this state, so you just respond, dumbly. "they went to pee."

charles laughs in your ear and it sends goosebumps throughout your body and puts a sappy grin on your face. you hadn't heard his laugh in a while and it felt so good to hear it again. it felt like home to you and god had you been homesick.

you would've done anything the man asked you to when you were like this, well maybe sober too but when you were sober you would've definitely put up more of a fight about doing it. maybe charles was taking advantage of this as he practically moves you both to the next song that plays. it's a good job that jess and hailey come back when they do because you would've done anything for him. it felt like he actually wanted you again. you had missed him like this and here he was acting like he couldn't get enough of you. every part of you hoped to remember this in the morning as both girls pulled you away from his grasp (without any fight from charles, which told the girls everything they needed to know) and took you home, without as much as a goodbye to sophie. safe to say she was not going to be invited round again after tonight.

the next morning consisted of waking up at three pm with the sorest headache you think you've ever experienced and a blurry memory. turns out your hoping and praying last night had worked because the only thing you can remember is the way charles held you. the words he said weren't one hundred percent clear but god if this didn't set you back three weeks. jess was furious with sophie and hailey had literally cut her off in every single way possible. jess tells you over dinner that night that hailey had blocked sophie last night when you had gotten home and it did make you laugh but now you had to mourn the end of two relationships. you knew it was for the better but it still killed you, ripped you apart from the inside.

the thing that hurt you most was charles. you reflect on it in the shower after dinner. he knew how drunk you were and he still came over, clearly because he knew it was the only time you would let him back in without any fight. did that mean he missed you like you missed him? or was he just doing it because he could, showing you (a drunk you, mind you but still you nonetheless) that no matter what he still had his claws in you? your questions were answered as you scrolled through a gossip page and seen that charles left with another girl who looked nothing like you last night. you really had to stop looking through those pages, it did nothing but bring you down.

★・・・・・・★

nothing prepared you from the instagram dm from the quiet australian mclaren driver about another month after the club incident. he had never really spoken to oscar a lot before back when you were a regular in the paddock but it was still super nice to hear from him. it didn't mean you were prepared for him to ask you if you wanted paddock passes to be guests of mclaren at the next race. when you had asked what you had done exactly to deserve this gift, oscar had responded with 'i know your birthday is coming up and i also know how much you love f1'. you cried to jess before texting him back that you would take them. he was such a lovely boy.

you knew how bad ferrari were doing because you were an f1 fan way before you had even met charles so you of course kept up with the sport even after the breakup. even though it killed you to see his face on the screen. and you would never admit this to anyone, not even jess but seeing ferrari do so badly did make your heart ache for charles.

a few days before the race jess takes you shopping to find the outfit that makes charles beg for you back just so you can let him down harshly. her words of course, you would never even think that. as much as he's hurt you there wasn't a bone in your body that wanted to hurt him in return.

"i'm not drinking today, or tonight." you inform jess as you enter the paddock, the cameras immediately snapping in your face. you had not been in the eyes of the media for a good few months and now coming back to this made you feel dizzy but you powered through it because you had missed attending races so much. you found yourself beating up past you for not appreciating the privilege you had, getting to attend all those races.

"mhm, sure you aren't." jess doesn't even try and entertain you. you roll your eyes at her words.

"we both know what happened the last time alcohol and a certain ferrari driver mixed and i, for one, don't feel like going back down that road again." you try to make a joke out of it you're sure it would've worked if it was anyone but jess, she knows you far too well.

oscar greets you not long after and has the audacity to thank you for accepting his invite, he was literally the sweetest boy who's ever walked the earth and jess was sure to let him know of that fact. it left him with a big grin and rosy cheeks.

you and jess both cheer on the mclaren cars, which you have to admit, was one of the weirdest things about the full experience. you couldn't help but let your eyes wander to the red of the ferrari cars every now and then. you will your eyes to shift in the opposite direction every time. no way was anyone catching you lacking today, not on jess' watch that was for sure.

lando and oscar end up both on the podium so it was a great finish for the papaya team. oscar comes over with lando this time, after the podium and they both thank you and jess for coming again and this time you give them both swety, champagne covered hugs, unaware of the eyes peering into your soul.

said boy catches you on your way out, again when you're alone while jess makes a quick pitstop at the bathroom. you were hanging around across the hall, waiting for her to come out.

"hey, didn't know you still came to races." charles tries to make casual conversation with you. like the months you two were together didn't mean anything and like he hadn't just used you as a player in his game when you were hammered last month. this man has no dignity you swear. you had thought a few nights after the night out at the club that night.

"oscar asked me." you take a page out if jess' book and stick to the blunt responses. you knew you had moved on from the boy in front of you because as soon as he made his way over you weren't nervous or excited, you were annoyed. it made you feel happy and a little healed. charles seems surprised at your bluntness so he cuts to the chase.

"i miss you." he utters your name. "i miss you so much. i keep dreaming about us, and every morning, it feels like I've lost you all over again." you don't even look in his eyes to see if he's telling the truth. you used to be able to read him for filth, like he was your favourite book that you had read and re-read a million times, a book you had scribbled all your thoughts onto. now he just feels like a book you used to love when you were a child and as much as it helped shape you into the person you are now, you have new favourites now, that you read over and over and write inside, for someone else to read your thoughts and feelings.

you do though, see it hitting charles that you won't let him walk all over the top of you anymore. you see it register on his face and he makes a move to leave you be. maybe the you from a few weeks ago would've cried at the thought of this happening but whatever has happened to you in the past couple week has helped you grow mentally and helped you know your worth. charles walks away without so much as a goodbye, and you hope it kills him.

[caelisblade]

– FORGET ABOUT US | SYLUS

sylus is the god of death, the underworld, hell. as if that wasn‘t enough, he appears to be your husband whom you have forgotten. and as it turns out, there‘s even more to the story — and about you. 

wc; 5.3k

cw; a persephone and hades retelling (kind of), reader is not mc, n/sfw, unprotected s/ex, c/reampie, o/verstimulation, r/iding, a little bit greek mythology inspired, angsty ending

a/n: part of this story was inspired by a fic i read a long time ago. unfortunately, i don‘t remember who it was by, otherwise i‘d obviously give credits. 

something was wrong. 

you felt in your whole body, it felt like someone was watching you but looking around, you simply were unable to spot anybody. it was weird. 

this feeling didn’t leave for days on end. yet, the feeling of being watched, somehow, felt so familiar, too. oddly enough, you didn’t feel like you were in imminent danger. in fact, you felt safer – even slept better at night. 

“hello, sweetheart”, the lurker finally revealed himself. 

you shrieked in shock as someone suddenly stood before you, a gorgeous, strange man. 

“goodness, you scared me. do you normally approach women like this?”, you said, a breathy chuckle leaving you. 

“just the prettiest one. and you are the most gorgeous woman i have met in my entire life”, he replied, a gentle smile dancing around his lips. 

“uh huh… that’s interesting”, you laughed. “now, tell me, how did you even get into my home? isn’t that… creepy?”

“maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. i couldn’t care less. i’ve come to bring you home.”

“what do you mean? i am home”, you laughed, yet the confusion was incredibly evident in your face. 

“this place? no, y/n. this isn’t your home. well, it is for six months of the year but your real home… is someplace else. and i want you back there with me”, he explained, yet so much wasn’t cleared up still. who was he? how did he know your name? he seemed so comfortable just barging in here like… he was someone you had forgotten. 

“with you? you’re a total stranger to me. why would i go anywhere with you?” 

“because you know me. i’m sylus. you always knew me and you always will. yet, there is a bit of a hindrance between us – you always forget me until it’s time for me to bring you back. i promise, sweetheart. you know me. and i know you. better than anyone else in this world and every other world that exists”, he explained. “i swear, it all will make so much more sense once you come home with me.” 

it was weird, but… you felt like he was telling the truth. it was this feeling etched deeply within you, the trust you felt for this man was enchanting and before you even realized it, you were slowly stepping to him. 

“i don’t know why, but… i believe you. i don’t understand, but i do”, you softly said. 

“because deep down here”, he started, slowly closing the distance between you two and pointing at your heart, “you know i’m telling the truth.” 

a loud rumble echoed through your apartment, you looked around in panic as you felt yourself literally being sucked into the ground. “w-what’s going on?!”, you exclaimed, fear enveloping your body. 

“we’re going home, sweetheart”, he said with a chuckle and within the next second, just another blink of your eyes, you were someplace else. 

confused, you looked around, taking in your surroundings and noticing the gorgeous garden. flowers were one of your most favorite things in the world and you quickly went to the garden, taking a breather of the fresh flowers. 

“they’re not real, unfortunately. not a single living thing can survive down here”, sylus explained with a sad tone in his voice. 

“what do you mean with down here?”, you questioned. despite him saying that the flowers were not real, they sure as hell smelled real. 

“hell. hades. whatever you’d like to call it”, he said, shrugging. 

“you brought me to… hell?!”, you asked. “that’s what you called my true home? why would i…?” 

nothing made sense. you felt like, nothing would ever make sense to you right now, no matter how clear and understandable the explanation was. 

“i promise, i will explain everything to you”, sylus said once again. “come with me, sweetheart.” 

he raised his hand, holding it out with an inviting smile. and you took it, curious. 

sylus slowly took you around the area. “this is hell?”, you questioned, confused at how it looked all… normal. although the furniture was mostly in black and red, the area was still… giving a certain happy, exciting energy. it definitely didn’t feel like the burning, scary place you were always told the stories about. 

“well, it’s a part of it. hell is… not as bad as everyone pictures it. most souls finding their ways here are surprised as well – the burning in hell jab was never a thing. i don’t even know where that came from. yes, hell is a place in which you get punished for your wrongdoings. but… in a way, you punish yourself for those. you know that saying ‘your own personal hell’? that’s exactly how it is for the souls that come here. they relive sins over and over again, with the difference that they experience what they made others experience.” 

“that makes sense”, you concluded. 

“and being the god of death and the guardian of hell… of course, i’m going to live a lavish life, am i not?”, he laughed softly. “i can literally just snap with my finger…” a little snap with his fingers, and suddenly, a candle-lit table filled with your most favorite meals and dishes appeared in front of you. “and i will have it. this is my world, after all. well, i took over control of it once my brothers and i banished our parents, the titans, to tartarus.” 

“i’m so sorry to say this, but… this just feels so surreal. deep down, i know you’re telling the truth, yet some part of me is refusing to believe this is real”, you said. 

“as always, sweetheart. you’ll need some time to remember. but that’s okay, i promise”, he comforted you and gently nudged you to take a seat at the couch next to the candlelit dinner table. “take all the time you need, dearest.” 

he snapped with his fingers once again and a little plate with different fruits appeared on his hand. “here, eat a little. you must be starving”, he mumbled, taking a few pomegranate seeds and feeding them to you. 

“how did you know i like pomegranates?”, you asked. 

“i just do. like i said. i know everything about you. and you know everything about me. just give it another two days, maybe three. that’s usually how long i need to feed you pomegranates until you remember. it’s not my first rodeo of this, sweetheart. you’ll understand soon, i promise.” 

you nodded, still confused about everything before you just ate the seeds of the delicious pomegranate with excitement. and sylus watched you munch on the seeds so carelessly, so happily. he was so in love with you, his heart jumped as you licked over his fingertip to taste the delicious juice. 

“you’re so pretty”, he mumbled. “and so, so adorable. let’s see if i can make you remember me faster this time.” 

before you could ask why he kept on repeating that, you suddenly felt his hand on your chin, turning you around before he kissed you. your eyes widened in shock, but you felt yourself melt into it quite fast, eyes slowly fluttering shut and you started to kiss him back. he slowly buried his hand into your hair, his kiss intensifying with every moment. 

an image of this exact thing happening flashed before your eyes for a split second, before it vanished again. 

he broke off the kiss, breathless from how desperate, longing the kiss was. “i missed this in the past six months”, he mumbled softly. “i missed the way you feel against me, the way you taste. i’m going to make you remember everything. just keep on munching those pomegranate seeds, yeah? they always helped you remember.” 

“pomegranate seeds helped me remember? that’s… odd”, you commented, but didn’t complain because you loved them anyway. you grabbed the table with the fresh seeds and kept on eating them, happy about the sweet and sour taste of them. “they’re delicious.” 

“of course they are. i got them for you”, he laughed softly. “you get the best of everything. you deserve it all.” 

the first day spent in hell with sylus passes with you munching all the delicious food he snapped into reality for you and then slowly falling asleep in his arms. 

sylus stayed awake for the entire night. he watched you sleep so comfortably, a soft smile on your lips as you dreamt of various things. he couldn’t know what those things were, but they were beautiful dreams that he knew. that smile on your lips was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. 

slowly, with the comfort of having you in his arms once again, he fell asleep, for the first time in six months, so relaxed and happy. and he actually slept an entire night without being plagued by the memories he had with you before the curse happened. 

you woke up with a sigh, eyes finally opening and you stared right into sylus’ sleeping face. you couldn’t help but look at him, he looked so peaceful, and he was probably the most gorgeous man you had ever met in your entire life. 

“good morning”, sylus grumbled, eyes still closed, yet he was awake. “did you sleep well?” 

“mhm, surprisingly, considering i just spent the night in hell”, you joked, earning yourself a tickle attack from him. 

despite him being a stranger, you had no problem sleeping in the same bed as him. 

though, something has changed now. you were sure you remembered splits and bits of what he was talking — or more like, hinting — about. 

“i remember a few things, i think”, you mumbled. “it’s weird. i remember you and i kissing, every chance we got. i remember you and i sleeping in this bed like tonight. but i can’t remember what our relationship was. were we boyfriend and girlfriend? were we… married?”

“we were — or more like, still are — actually married”, sylus revealed. “we had the most lavish wedding known among every god in our history. you looked so gorgeous in your dress. i remember the night of our wedding day in its greatest detail, too.” a little smirk danced on his lips at that memory. 

“it was probably one of the longest nights we spent entangled in bed together. something i plan to reenact once you remember me”, he laughed softly, and that laugh intensified when he saw how shy you got when you heard that. “and then… followed the war. and the curse.” 

his tone got more serious once he got to that part of the story. 

“the titans – our parents – challenged us olympians. and we did our best to overthrow them, and finally did it. but before it was finally time and we had banished them to tartarus, my father put a curse on us. we are never able to be together as we wished to be. you disappear back to earth like clockwork around april. i will come and bring you back to me in winter. your mother gave me her blessing for it. i get to spend those six months with my wife. though, i have to make you remember every time anew. i have to make you fall back in love with me again. now, i finally figured out how to make you remember the easiest – pomegranate seeds do the trick best. i don’t know why and i can’t explain why, either. it just works.” 

you listen to him intently. he had such a calming storytelling voice. you loved listening to him. 

“i mean, after centuries of doing this, i should know how to make my wife fall in love with me every six months, don’t i?”, he chuckled, but there was no sort of emotion in his laugh. 

“is there no way of getting rid of this curse?”, you asked. he shook his head. 

“not that we know of. nothing we tried ever worked”, he replied. 

“i’m sorry”, you said, choking up on your sobs. “i’m sorry i have to make you feel this lonely for six months every time.” 

“shh, princess, it’s okay. i’m okay. and as long as you are okay, i will be okay.” 

you hugged him immediately, trying to bury your tears. it was clear he loved you and you could feel it by the way he embraced you as well. 

“i still don’t remember everything. but i’m willing to try, sylus. i swear. i want to remember everything. i want to remember you and me”, you whispered against his neck. 

“and you will. i will do anything in my power to help you remember me. and everything about us. like every year. and then we will spend the most amazing six months of our lives once again. you will forget about them but i will lock them in my memories like every year. and then we’ll meet again in six months. i will be yours forever. no matter how much it breaks my heart to know i have to make you fall in love with me again like clockwork.” 

he reached to the nightstand and grabbed a box. as he opened it, he revealed a ring. “this was our wedding ring, sweetheart. i keep it with me. can i put it back on your finger?”

you nodded, your eyes still shimmering from the tears you tried your best to contain as you held out your hand. he carefully slipped the ring onto your ring finger, smiling at you. 

“i love you. you don’t have to say it back. do it when you’re ready, pretty”, he whispered and kissed your forehead gently. 

you nodded only as you inspected the ring, the diamond etched into it shining brightly in the light of the room. “it’s beautiful. thank you, sy.” 

as you called him by your usual nickname, there was yet another memory unlocked. you saying this exact nickname before, sitting in this exact bed before. “i- i remember this exact thing. we did this before, didn’t we?”, you asked. “you give this ring back to me every year. how do you have the patience to wait for me every year, sy?”

“i don’t know. i just do. the thought of being reunited with you at some point gives me the energy to wait and be patient.”

“that must be so painful every time i just… disappear, right?”, you said, hugging him a little tighter. 

“it doesn’t matter. what matters is that you are with me again, sweetheart”, he replied. “i love you. i will love you forever with my immortal life. i don’t care that you will leave me every six months, even if it’s involuntary. i will get you back when i can and have you fall back in love with me every single time.” 

“you must be the most patient man on earth… well- in hell”, you joked, giggling. “this is so weird. i never pictured hell to look this… beautiful.”

“because this isn‘t the part of hell that‘s the horrible one. this is our home. that we built together. i never changed a thing about the furniture you chose.”

“me? choosing black and dark red furniture? i must‘ve been out of my mind”, you grumble. “are you sure?”

he laughed, his laugh so deep and the way you looked at him was the most adorable thing he saw in his life. as you looked at him questioning his sudden burst of laughter, he slowly stopped laughing and started explaining.

“it‘s funny because… you react like this every single year. and once you remember, you also remember why you chose these specific colors.”

“well, then let’s see what my reasons were for these abominations of color schemes”, you giggled and finally stood up from bed, stretching your body to get rid of the last bits of sleep still lingering in your body. 

“i‘m hungry. can you snap your fingers and make me breakfast?”, you yawned, turning back to face him. 

“why don‘t you try it yourself?”

“h-huh? myself?”, you ask, the previous confusion making its way back onto your face. “how am i supposed to-?” 

“just try. you are a goddess, sweetheart. you don‘t remember anything, but i do. i remember it all. just try”, he encouraged you, standing up to go behind you and he took your hand into his, entangling your fingers with his. “just think of the most lavish breakfast table a person could ever prepare. and focus only on that.”

you closed your eyes, picturing a table with your most favorite items to eat for breakfast and within the next second, that exact table appeared in front of you. 

“i did this?”, you asked, looking around and finally looking up to face him. “you‘re not playing around with me, are you?”

“no, of course i‘m not, sweetheart. go on, try making something appear without telling me what it is. go ahead”, he said, letting go of your hand. 

you closed your eyes as you tried to think of a bouquet of white roses and winced as you felt a stinging pain in your hand. you opened your eyes again to see that exact binding of white roses in your hand and dropped it as the thorns stabbed into your fingers. you watched a little bit of blood trail down your skin before it vanished just a second later. 

you looked at sylus who smiled at you proudly. “see? sweetheart, you are the queen of the underworld. you are my queen. you are the goddess of the dead, the underworld and nature. of course, you can do everything i can do, too.”

with that revelation of your true identity, it was like, everything that was locked in the smallest corner of your brain suddenly unlocked. you remembered everything. you remembered him kidnapping you many centuries ago. you remember eating six pomegranate seeds which is the reason you have to stay six months of the year in the underworld. 

you remember the first time you realized you genuinely loved him. 

and you remember the gruesome war. you remember the curse sylus’ father had put on you before he was banished to tartarus. 

“i remember”, you whisper. “i remember it all.” 

“what?”, sylus blurted out, as if in disbelief. 

“i remember everything. i remember the first time you brought me here. i remember how i fell in love with you. i remember how we got married before your father put the curse on me”, you said, eyes tearing up. 

he quickly grabbed your hands and intertwined your fingers. “i think this is the fastest i was able to make you remember”, he laughed, the brightest smile on his face. before you could do or say anything, he kissed you. it was the most intense, passionate and breathtaking kiss you ever shared before. 

your arms wrapped around his neck as he held you tight, and when he broke off the kiss, he didn’t go far away, his forehead pressed against yours. his red eyes bore into yours as you sobbed, tears rolling down your cheeks as he wiped them all off gently. 

“shh, don‘t cry, princess. there‘s nothing to cry about”, he whispered gently, planting a soft kiss on both of your cheeks, tasting the dried up tears on your soft skin. 

“sylus, i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you”, you repeated like a mantra, kissing him over and over again. “i love you. i’m so sorry for making you go through all of this every single year. let’s try to find a remedy, baby. i don’t ever want to see you in pain again.” 

“it’s okay. i promise. it’s okay. i will wait for you every single time”, he replied, hugging you tightly as he comforted you. “don’t cry, my love. don’t cry. let’s just spend these six months together… until it’s time again.” 

just a few more moments later, you slowly calmed down and just stood there in his arms. “i love you”, he whispered before he placed his fingers underneath your chin and lifted your head. “i can’t help but say it over and over again. i missed you so much, baby.” 

you gave no response – instead, you just kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck once again, the kiss slowly turning from tiny, gentle pecks, into something more intense, passionate. 

“missed kissing you like this”, he whispered against your lips. “remember our wedding night?” 

your cheeks heated up and you wanted to turn your face around in embarrassment. “no, no, sweetheart, no need to get shy”, he whispered. “i want you to remember that night. because i swear to you, that is what i’m going to reenact once you give me your okay.” 

you felt something in your stomach turn, in the most positive way possible. the memories were now etched into your brain and although there were thousands of moments you spent with him. 

“sweetheart”, he grumbled, voice having an edge of desperation in it. “you drive me crazy.” 

he slowly leaned down to kiss down your neck, he was leaving soft bites over your skin and you shuddered, a feeling of sudden need surging through your body. “please”, you whined, not even knowing what you were asking for. 

“please, what, sweetheart?”, he grumbled against your neck. “you know i love to hear your words. you remember now. do it, then. tell me what you want.” 

“i want you”, you softly breathed out. “i want you to fuck me.”

“such a dirty mouth. i’ll never tire from hearing you say this, sweetheart”, he chuckled before he kissed you again, this time more desperate, slowly pushing you against the nearest wall and he lifted one of your legs to wrap it around his waist. “i’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll lose your damn mind, sweetie.” 

“i know you will”, you whispered softly with a grin. 

he was about to carry you back to bed before you stopped him. “take me up against the wall first”, you mumbled, cheeks heating up. “i don’t know why. i just want this. you can make love to me later.” 

he chuckled softly before he nodded. “as you wish, milady”, he said with a grin and pulled off your clothes with swift, quick movements. you were unable to move a single muscle, just watching him undress you and looking at you with a hungry gaze. 

he slowly let one of his hands trail down your body and you shivered. before you knew it, you felt his fingers slowly circle your clit. even with the tiniest touch, sparks shot through your body, eyes fluttering shut as the first smallest bits of pleasure coursed through your body. 

“ah- sylus”, you whined, softly. “i- i need more.” 

“you’ll get more, sweetheart. don’t you worry. i’ll take care of you.” 

he pushed a finger inside of you, making you moan softly. that sound was one of his favorite sounds on earth. “you’re so wet already. i bet you could take me without a problem, too.” 

“please, sy, fuck me”, you begged softly. “please.” 

he smirked, his red eyes watched your every move and reaction. “take my clothes off, then, sweetheart.” he pulled out his finger and licked it clean with a smirk. you quickly got to work, pulling off his shirt and the joggers he was wearing. 

“never in my life did i imagine the king of hell would wear joggers to sleep”, you laughed but he cut off that laugh rather quickly by wrapping his hand around your neck. 

“what’s so funny, sweetheart?”, he grunted with a smirk. “am i not just a person, too? can’t i wear joggers just because i���m the king of hell?” 

“of course, you can. i’m just joking around.” 

sylus was a rough man, especially in bed. after all, that was a requirement for being the king of hell, the person who rules over the people who passed and punish themselves for their sins, for their crimes. 

and he showed that roughness through his actions. because the moment he lifted your leg and wrapped your naked body around his body, slowly pushing in his cock inside of you, he was whipped yet again. he loved being buried in you, fucking you until you were a breathless, overstimulated, yet so beautiful mess. 

sylus increased his pace, bouncing you on his cock and making you cry out in pleasure. your body shook, tears slowly forming in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks as you felt your body convulse, a tight knot forming in your tummy. 

“i’m- i’m gonna cum!”, you whined. you shrieked when you felt your back on the bed, he suddenly had you thrown onto the bed. 

“can’t fuck you properly without laying you down on our bed”, he grunted, “need your legs around me, need you as close as possible to me.” 

he fucked you with passion, watching your face contort as the knot in your tummy snapped and you climaxed, back arching into him. you were feeling so great, too, the pleasure making your body tingle and you smiled in your post-orgasmic haze. 

“feels good, sweetie?”, he asked, brushing a strand out of your face. “you sure look like it feels absolutely amazing.” 

“it does. i feel so.. good”, you whispered, looking up at him with teary eyes. “i need you, sy. i need you more.” 

“and you’ll get it all, baby.” 

he was ravaging you in the best way possible – he had you buried in the many pillows on his – your shared – bed, fucking into you, your bodies both covered in sweat and dried up tears were coating your cheeks. 

“ah- sylus! slow down!”, you cried as overstimulation wrecked through your body, but everything in your body screamed that he shouldn’t stop or slow down. the way he was rutting into you like a man starved was turning you on beyond imagination. 

“no, no, no slowing down”, he grunted against your neck, delivering a particularly hard thrust into you, making you jolt up in surprise. “i’m going to fuck you and you’re going to take it all like my good girl.” 

“uh-huh”, you whimpered, nails scratching over his back and leaving all kinds of marks. they would heal in a short time, but sylus loved feeling the slight pain of your nails digging into his skin. 

your cries intensified when you felt his thumb circle over your clit, along with his relentless thrust into your weeping pussy. “come for me, baby. come for me”, he whispered into your ear, his deep voice sending a powerful shudder through your body and you ended up coming just a quick moment later, the post-orgasmic shocks going through your body. 

he held you tight, watching your face contort as your husband gently caressed your skin as he waited for you to calm down. “shh, princess, i’m here. i love you.” 

“i still can’t believe you do this every single year”, you whispered once you calmed down, placing your hand on his cheek. “i hate to break your heart like this.” 

“it’s out of your control, sweetheart. it’s okay. let’s not focus on that, right now. i just want to be buried in your sweet cunt and feel you as close as possible.” 

you laughed softly. “you’re impossible.” 

“you love it”, he smirked before he moved once again, watching your face contorted in pleasure and overstimulation. “you love me anyway.” 

“that i do. that i really do.” 

before you knew it, he turned you around so you were on top of him – he wanted you to watch you on top of him. “ride me, baby. take what you deserve”, he grunted. “let me watch you.” 

“you just want me to do all the work, don’t you? so lazy”, you giggled before you started to move up and down his cock, soft whines and moans escaping your throat. his hands were latched onto your hips, guiding your movements and leaned down, laying on top of him and peppered kisses over his neck. 

“i swear, your sweet pussy is going to kill me one day”, he groaned. “i’m so close, fuck.” 

“then come in me, sy. come in me”, you cried out, overstimulation making your thighs shake but you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop. you just needed to feel this, you needed to feel as close as possible to him. because you wanted to give him all the memories you could until the day you’d be gone again for six months and forget about him once more. 

“fuck, sweetheart”, he grunted into your ear. the noises he let out were like music – and you never wanted it to stop. “you take me so well. i’m so proud of you, baby.” 

sylus knew there was no way in hell he could hold back after feeling you wrapped around him after such a long time. so when you squeezed around his cock once again, close to your own high again, you felt the spurts of his cum burst into you, filling you up in the best way possible. 

he made it to his mission to make you finish again because even though his body was screaming for a break, he had to make you cum so he just guided your hips up and down his cock until you screamed his name and creamed around his cock again, the white ring of your mixed releases so visible on the base of his cock. 

“fuck, baby. i sometimes don’t know how i manage to wait six months to feel this again”, he groaned, keeping you on top of him as he softly brushed through your hair. your body was still buzzing from the constant highs and orgasms and you just lay on his chest, trying to calm yourself down. 

his gentle strokes through your hair, over your back made you so drowsy, sleepy from exhaustion. “i love you, sy.” 

“i love you, too, sweetheart.” 

six months passed with a blink of an eye. you spent most of the time eating all the foods you could think of and just spent the time walking around hell. it was ironically romantic, despite it being literal hell. you’d hold his hand, walk around with him as he showed you the river in the elysian fields, which was the river of happiness. 

he let you taste a little drop and you just felt like you were floating on air. 

you and him spent a lot of time entangled in bed, fucking each other’s brains out, making love, kissing and making out and you just… loved it all. 

the moment you realized that your memory started to blur and you had no idea where you were anymore, you quickly took off the ring on your finger and gave it back to him for safekeeping. 

“i’m so sorry, sy. i’m going to miss you. i love you”, you whispered before you disappeared without being able to hear his ‘i love you, too’. you were unable to watch his eyes tear up in pain, his heart breaking. you were back on earth, not remembering anything that had happened in the past six months. 

“see you in six months, sweetie”, he whispered, holding the ring tight in his hand and sylus cursed out his father for the pain he made his son experience every single time. 

sylus swore that he’d find a remedy one day, but he never was able to. 

until then, he’d spend his six months a year with you in your home and wait until it was time to bring you back home. despite the pain, he was happy he was able to spend time with you at all. 

he carefully placed the ring back into its box and smiled with teary eyes, starting the countdown of days until he’d see you again.

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed this! it was my first time writing after ages so i might be a bit rusty, so sorry about that. this one is one of my most favorite writings in a long time so i really hope you love it just as much as i do!

[goldfades]

evangeline's 2.5k fic rec list + celly information !!

before we get into it, i wanted to get a little sentimental because hitting this amount of followers has always been a dream of mine. i made this blog in august of 2023, in hopes of creating a family whom i can talk to and just... be around. and i did just that!

i love every single one of those 2,500 of you, full heartedly and so genuinely. i may not have interacted with every single one of you, but you are all part of my family here and i really, really do 🫶🏼

if you came for hockey or for women's basketball, i don't care i just love you. you're the best, thank you for supporting me and for making my life so much better and more rewarding!

and to my wonderful moots who always make me feel so loved, I LOVE & SUPPORT YOU SO DAMN MUCH!!!!! it is indescribable how much i love you so much 🩷. every single one of you make me feel so grateful and loved, thank you 🫶🏼

take a shot every time i say "love" in this message... you're gonna be blackout drunk...

FIC REC LIST 2024

bold is nsfw! minors dni!

𝐍𝐇𝐋

⟡ jack hughes ⟡

➜ who's afraid of little old me? @babydollmarauders

➜ i'm no goddess @drysdalesv

⟡ quinn hughes ⟡

➜ a view to remember @sweetestdesire

⟡ luke hughes ⟡

➜ goodbye too soon @sc0tters

⟡ trevor zegras ⟡

➜ just a kiss @sweetestdesire

𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋

⟡ paige bueckers ⟡

➜ seven [series] @iminlovewithpaigebueckers

➜ sometimes home is a person @iminlovewithpaigebueckers

➜ fuck the hurt right outta you @makethemhoesmad

➜ false god @makethemhoesmad

➜ sneaky link w chemistry series @arlertwhore

➜ gf headcanons @euphternal

➜ baby daddy @caitlinbueckers

➜ are you done yet? @girlokwhatever

➜ marks of my love @girlokwhatever

➜ overstim @bueckersstrap

➜ imgonnagetyouback @leilanihours

➜ the ask [series] @sweetbans29

➜ throw away [series] @bueckersstrap

⟡ azzi fudd ⟡

➜ if you think i'm pretty @makethemhoesmad

➜ i need you @makethemhoesmad

➜ gf headcanons @paigebueckersmommy

➜ gf headcanons @pbueckerslover

➜ strap @kamii-2

⟡ kk arnold ⟡

➜ gf headcanons @paigebueckersmommy

➜ gf headcanons @mokassong

➜ lunch @luvzpagie

➜ glitter gloss @luvzpagie

➜ caught @mokassong

➜ locker of petals @patscorner

⟡ nika muhl ⟡

➜ grillz @paigebueckersmommy

➜ gf headcanons @paigebueckersmommy

➜ everything @leilanihours

➜ lunch @jareaul0ver

➜ so high school @jareaul0ver

➜ courtside @lovinpelova

➜ domestic headcanons @mayghosts

⟡ caitlin clark ⟡

➜ fuck it [series?] @caitlinbueckers

➜ so high school @leilanihours

➜ dress @leilanihours

➜ be here @sweetbans29

➜ friendship bracelet @sweetbans29

➜ protector @sweetbans29

⟡ kate martin ⟡

➜ good girl @makethemhoesmad

➜ uh oh @girlokwhatever

➜ gold rush @leilanihours

⟡ emily engstler ⟡

➜ make you feel good @girlokwhatever

➜ end of beginnings @girlokwhatever

➜ coach emily headcanons @euphternal

CELEBRATION (THROUGH FRIDAY 05/30/24 UNTIL MONDAY 06/03/24)

[this celebration is not happening as of right now (may 27), it will be active on friday! please do not send anything until friday!!!! thank you, my loves!!!!]

all requests need to be send with a prompt to make it easier for me! any prompt is okay (whether you made it up or found it online, it's okay!) here is a list of prompts if you can't think of any! also make sure to be specific which exact prompt you want, i would prefer you to copy and paste it!

angsty prompt list #1

angsty prompt list #2

fluffy prompt list #1

fluffy prompt list #2

smutty prompt list #1

smutty prompt list #2

🍀 send this & i will write a short fluffy blurb for you!

🌪️ send this & i will write a short angsty blurb for you!

🥭 send this & i will write a short smutty blurb for you!

🥧 send this & a scenario you've been thinking about, and i'll write some headcanons and/or a blurb!

again, thank you to everyone who has ever supported me in any way, shape or form! i love you so fucking much like genuinely, BUT ANYWAYSSS!!!!!!!!

[zepskies]

OMG I KEED A PART 2 TO SAM HAVING A CRUSH ON DEANS GF

Like idk maybe say Sam didn't listen to Dean and tried making a move on reader? Like ofc he wouldn't ever do that *I don't think* but in this hypothetical scenerio it happens

Hey hun!

Oooof, that's hard. You guys really like this angsty love triangle stuff, huh? 😂 I genuinely think Sam would rather saw off his own hand than hurt Dean that way. But this is like, the only thing I could think of on this one. 😅

See this imagine for context: You are Dean's one exception.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,100

Imagine: Sam crosses the line.

Goddamn witches.

That's the last coherent thought Sam has, before his mind is no longer completely his to control.

Well, it's still his mind. His body. But the careful door in his mind and in his heart, reinforced with steel and chained shut with titanium, combo-coded, locked and loaded, now has broken hinges.

Thoughts he hasn't allowed himself to think for months are pried open, with a sick kind of enjoyment in pain.

You're his brother's girl. Sam can't help but love you. He wants you. And now, he might be able to have you.

The witch is dead, but the spell she just hit Sam with remains. He's not dead, so that's a plus.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, slightly breathless. You're the closest to where he's sprawled on the ground, so you go to him. You touch his arm, and he can't help but clamp down on your hand. He looks at you with the thinly veiled eyes of a hunter as he smiles. Because your concern reaches the deepest parts of him.

"I'm fine," he says.

But Dean reads the hunger in his brother's eyes. He's subtle in the way he grasps your shoulder and Sam's (noticeably tighter).

"But what happened? How do you feel?" you ask, trying to take stock of what you're all dealing with here.

"I uh...feel fine, actually," Sam says. He rolls his shoulders. His gaze focuses on you. Dean holds him back from getting off the ground.

"Get the book. See if there's a way to fix this," Dean tells you without taking his eyes off Sam.

Sam tilts his head at Dean, the beginning of an angry frown on his lip as you rush away to find the witch's spell book.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam asks. He doesn't bother to lower his voice. (He literally doesn't have a filter anymore.) "Afraid of what might happen when she actually has the chance to choose?"

Dean's lips purse as his eyes darken. "This isn't you. And when you wake up from this, you're either gonna hate yourself for even thinkin' what you're thinkin', or you're gonna have one hell of a headache."

Sam stares back incredulously. He scoffs. "What're you gonna do, kill me?" They both know that's not happening.

But that's also when Dean knocks him the hell out.

When Sam wakes, it's to you stuffing tissues in his bloody nose. He groans a bit. He looks at you and still wants. But when he looks down at himself, he's in the bunker, handcuffed to the war room table.

You look worried for him as you go back to your side of the table with the book. Dean is oddly nowhere in sight. Sam thought he'd be watching you (and Sam) like a hawk.

"Dean'll be back in a sec. He's trying to get ahold of Rowena," you supply. "But how're you feeling? What's the spell doing to you exactly?"

Sam rolls the kinks out of his neck and removes the tissues, even though his entire face radiates with pain. His brother once promised to break his nose, and he did just that.

"Basically? I think it took away my inhibitions," he replies. More like threw them in a blender and put his deepest, headiest desires into overdrive.

You frown. "Like a really bad bender, or a truth serum kind of thing? But why would he punch you out for that?"

Your gears are turning rapidly, weighing out all the options. You always were smart. Sam leans forward slowly. Noting your thread of wariness, his face softens. He doesn't want to scare you...

He sighs. "Listen...there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."

He reaches out a hand. You're looking at him in frozen surprise. His curled fingers brush your cheek. He leans in toward your face.

But you flinch and pull away.

"What the hell are you doing?" you ask.

Sam should've known, but it still hurts him. His jaw clenches. The spell takes away his self-preservation, however.

Just as he might've tried with words to finally confess the depths of his heart, the door creaks open.

The sound of Dean's heavy boots approaching makes him flinch. But Sam looks over with an unrepentant stare.

Dean glances at Rowena, nostrils flaring. "Fix him." He gestures at Sam before he joins you on your side of the table, resting a protective hand on your back.

Rowena shoots him a droll look. "Only because you asked so nicely."

"I don't need fixing!" Sam argues, glaring at Dean. His voice echoes on the bunker's walls. "You're just afraid of what happens if she knows the truth!"

Your eyes widen further. You look from Sam, to your boyfriend. Dean's jaw is clenched tight.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?!" you ask in earnest. Dean meets your gaze for a moment, his face tense. His reluctant eyes communicate to you things you never knew. Things that clog emotion in your throat. Dean turns back to Sam.

"Don't do this, Sammy. It don't end well for you," Dean says.

"Like hell," Sam retorts.

"Okay, sleep now, dear," Rowena says. And with a wave of her hand and a haze of violet, Sam's world once again blackens.

When he next wakes, he's in his own bed. Not restrained. He indeed has a massive headache, and it's hard to breathe through his still broken nose. He groans and turns, and his brother is there.

When the overwhelming guilt sets in, Sam knows he's himself again, with all the careful walls around his heart put back in place. Rowena must've broken the spell when he was unconscious. Dean can see the truth in Sam's eyes.

"There he is," Dean remarks dryly. "Our giant Jekyll and Hyde."

Sam inhales deeply. "Dean..." I'm sorry doesn't quite cut it.

"She knows," Dean says, after a moment. "Obviously."

Sam nods, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He hesitates to ask the next burning question, because part of him knows the answer.

"It doesn't change anything."

Sam's head turns at the sound of your voice. You stand in the doorway, with your arms crossed despite the disheartened look on your face. Your eyes meet his, steady and sad, but firm.

"I know," Sam says, with a small, self-deprecating smile. "I'm sorry...for all this."

"It's not your fault," you reply. Spell or no spell, the way he feels is not his fault.

You step into the bedroom and go to Sam's bedside, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. That hand smoothes up his neck, and your fingers briefly thread into his hair. Another silent conversation passes between you and Dean, the way only lovers that close can accomplish.

After a beat, Dean nods and gets up out of his chair. He thumbs at your cheek; it's both an answer to your unspoken request and an endearment. Then he pats Sam's shoulder before he leaves you and Sam alone in the room.

Trust. That's what that is. Dean trusts you, and now that the spell has worn off, he trusts Sam again.

Sam meets your gaze. As awful as he feels, he still loves you. He knows you know by the way your gaze meets his.

All he wants to do is touch you.

To apologize, and to touch you.

He hates himself.

You shake your head. "I love you, Sam. As my friend. My brother."

"I know," he nods. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," you reply. "You just have to respect that."

"'Course, I do," Sam nods again. You would've never known, if not for the damn spell.

You surprise him by taking his hand. Yours is soft and warm and kind.

Always kind...

But never truly his to hold.

AN: GAH! The Angst. You could bottle it. 😩

Want to know what that conversation was like between Dean and the reader after she "found out?"

Read It Here: You and Dean talk about Sam's feelings.

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[luveline]

hi jade! I just want to preface this by saying I hope you’re having a good day. I noticed that you were hoping for some hotch requests and I figured I would send one in. if this is too vague or you just don’t feel inspired I completely understand, but maybe you could do something with a stressed hotch getting a little short with reader? he could be on edge because of a high pressure case, or something along those lines! nothing too angsty just some hurt/comfort, heavy on the comfort towards the end if you like! (p.s. I personally love all the eddie and roan as of late, so don’t let anyone make you feel obligated to write for characters you don’t want to.) <3 -w

hi! that is so so kind!! and please don't worry I feel no obligation for that, honestly!!<3 grumpy hotch x fem!reader

Hotch is in his office, like always. If you can't see him, you only ever need one guess as to where he is. And you haven't seen him for a few days now, which is weird and unlike him. When he's in your home state, he makes an effort to see you, to dote on you. 

You take his stairs slowly. Hotch will know it's you before you so much as knock on his office door. He has a hypervigilance that doesn't switch off —he could probably guess who it was by the sound of your breathing. 

"Hotch?" you ask, knocking his door for politeness' sake. 

He looks up for a split-second and not a moment longer. You're disappointed at his lack of reaction. How many times has he come home from wherever it is he's flown off to and hugged you hard enough to crack your spine? And, what? He doesn't like you anymore? What sort of reaction is that? 

"Um, I texted you. That I was coming by. Did you see?" you ask. 

"I've been preoccupied," he says, staring hard at the papers on his desk. He doesn't sound like himself. 

"It's been, like, four days since I've seen you. Since you've seen me. You don't wanna even look at me?" you ask. You wish it had come out softly, sweetly, but his behaviour (or lack of) has caught you by surprise. You sound as wounded as you feel. 

"If you'd looked at my text, you'd see that I'm busy," he snaps. 

Your lips part in silent shock. You drop your hand from the doorway where it had been resting and take a half step backwards and out of his office. Your movement draws his attention, and he finally sees the look on your face. 

"Are you serious?" you ask. 

He exhales bodily. "No." Hotch closes the folder. "No, I didn't mean that." 

You hover awkwardly. Truth be told, you want to run away from the situation entirely, unused to him being anything but kind. You'd like to turn around and leave before you can further embarrass yourself by showing your affection and having it rejected. He's caught you so off guard. 

"Come in, please. I do want to see you." 

You step inside and close the door behind you. It takes a gap of silence for you to decide on where you're going to stand, but eventually you round his desk and lean against it, forcing him to push his chair back in order to be face to face. 

"Is it a bad one?" you ask. 

He nods. "Right here in Quantico." 

You look at his shoulder rather than his face, worried you'll find more vehemence in his expression. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I did read your text, I know you're busy, but busy doesn't tell me if you ate recently, or if you're tired, and those are the kind of things I worry about." You meet his eyes. They're always sombre, but affection softens his brow. You put your hands between your thighs to stop from touching him. "I worry about you, Aaron." 

He must know what you're doing. Tentative, as though worried he's overstepping, Hotch pulls one of your hands into his. He has very big hands, and they dwarf yours near completely when he sandwiches them together. 

"Don't think I didn't hear you, when you first came in," he says. "Hotch, you called me." 

"That's your name." 

He looks you straight in the eye, unabashed. Love lines his face, and apology, his lips curving slowly upwards in an uncommon smile. "Not to you," he murmurs. 

You're still mad at him for being snippy, but the relief of his fondness can't be understated. Your shoulders sag as you relax, your posture arching forward. Hotch leans upward so he can align your faces. If either of you moved an inch, you could kiss. 

"I spoke to you out of turn because I'm stressed. You didn't deserve it. I'm sorry. And I'm grateful to have you looking out for me." His smile abates. "It won't happen again." 

"It won't?" you ask. 

"I'll try my best not to let it." 

You swallow and lean down like you might kiss him, but in actuality you need a second to collect your thoughts. You try to be objective like he is, and it never works. 

Eyes closed, you say, "You've never snapped at me before." 

"I have no reason to." 

When he speaks, it's warm against your cheek. Hotch pulls your arm in a kind encouragement toward him and you follow blindly, setting as much of your weight as you trust him to take on his thigh. He wraps an arm around your back. His lips touch your forehead. 

"Sorry," he says again, rubbing your back. 

"It's not a big deal," you say. 

"I upset you. You weren't expecting it from me. It makes sense for you to feel disappointed." 

"It's not that," you say, thumbing his tie, anything to keep your fidgeting hands busy. "I'm being silly." 

"You're not." 

You're positioned in a twist on his lap, your leftmost ribs to his stomach. He hugs you to his chest and closes the gap between you, his arm encircling you, his hand stretches out across the space under your breasts. It's a comforting, all-encompassing hold. You basically collapse into him, hands desperate at his sides. 

"I missed you," you confess. 

"I miss you," he says, "I'm sorry for being mean." The hand that isn't stretched out across your front appears. He traces your face with two fingertips from the corner of your eye to your jaw, like he's following the path of an invisible tear. His hand flattens, his marriage and pinky finger weave behind your ear, and his thumb pulls at the corner of your mouth. It's so gentle you question if he's even touching you at all. 

He lifts your face to his and kisses you softly. 

"You're not mean," you whisper. "Just grumpy." 

He huffs a laugh through his nose. "Very grumpy. But two minutes with you is enough to make me feel better." 

You hum, "Mm, you're just saying that 'cos you're still in the doghouse, Hotchner." 

His hand falls to your lap. It isn't especially sexual, more intimate than anything as he eases your legs apart to squeeze the soft fat of your thigh. 

"You won't win me over that easily," you say. 

He smiles at you. "No, I don't think I will." There's a secret promise hiding between his words.