#he only joined in October | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beomiracles · 2 months

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⌞ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 ⌝

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ He pulls away from you with a perplexed expression. Then he laughs, it’s short, cruel, he shakes his head. “Don’t be funny”, he mutters as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “You know I have a girlfriend, nerd.” He spits the words out like the venomous bite of a snake. His gaze drops to your unbuttoned blazer, briefly passing the harsh bruises on your chest. — “Don’t think you’re anything else besides a quick fuck.” ⸝⸝

wc ➘ 26k

pairings popular/bully!yeonjun x nerd!reader(fem) college au ! warnings heavy bullying, violence, exploitation, cheating, drinking, yeonjun is an asshole for 80% of this, redemption arc, some angsty scenes, hurt-comfort sort of? this fic contains 3/4 descriptive smut scenes which include — oral (both f & m), penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, a handjob, lots of degrading (reader receiving) but also a splash of praise, some tit groping, implied marking, very soft sex at the end (yeonjun cries a little), reader is inexperienced = virginity loss, + yeonjun teaching her how to give a blowjob as always lmk if I missed any!

#serene adds ✎ my god this fic has taken literal years off my life. But I could not have been happier with the outcome of it !! It's a long one, but I've tried to keep it interesting throughout it all for a lighter read. I'm not one to beg for feedback, but I will actually get down on my knees this time around. Please please comment/reblog or even send asks with your thoughts on it, I need it to be perceived in any way possible !! hehe please enjoy because I have slaved to get this done (if anyone notices the Skins reference in one scene, lets kiss)

(I was also slightly delirious when I read this through ahem...) anyway, ready, set go !

You don’t exactly know how it started. The cheating, the lying, the sleepless nights, the crying, the heartbreak, Choi Yeonjun. One day he was just…there. You had never met anyone like Yeonjun before yet you knew hundreds of people like him. He was everything, he was the cause of your pain, your tears, your self loathe. — But mostly importantly, Yeonjun was your first love. You would always remember him as that. You suppose it might have started on your first day at that college, back when you were only known as the junior transfer.

He was a senior. Perhaps it was a bit cliché, you don’t know, you didn’t think so. But you remember it clearly, the first time you saw him. — The air was hot, suffocatingly so, despite it being early October. Your palms were sweaty, and you squeezed them together as your hands remained neatly clasped in front of you. The eyes of the other students weighed a ton and you felt your knees buckle under the pressure.

Your professor clears his throat as he steps up beside you, gazing out across the classroom. “We have a new student today”, he announces what was already painfully obvious and you felt your cheeks redden further. Apart from a few sniggers here and there, silence follows. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?” His direct question made you flinch as you quickly glanced up from the floor, your gaze flitting between your professor and the large ocean of heads turned in your direction.

Your introduction was meek, the words getting caught in your throat as you stammered out your name. You could almost hear the smirks plastered on their faces as they drank in your fidgety frame. You jump when you feel your teacher's hand on your shoulder, “your new classmate is a year younger than you guys, but due to her impressive work ethic she has finished the majority of her classes already. She will therefore be joining us for the time being.” — His words of praise felt more like a set up for humiliation and you watched as students leaned over to whisper in each other’s ears, grinning at the words being passed around. You could hear the rumors already.

“Why don’t you take the seat over there?” Your new professor points to an empty desk by the very back and you breathe out a small sigh of relief, glad to be shielded from the peering eyes of your new classmates. But just as you’re about to step down and make your way toward the safe haven, you lock eyes with him. — Part of his face was shielded by his dark hair but you could clearly make out his brown eyes, staring right back at your own. He’s quick to catch on to your stare and you watch as his lips stretch into a menacing smirk.

Forcing yourself to look away, you grab onto your bag as you quietly make your way past the many rows of desks. An outstretched foot makes you stumble forward and you barely manage to catch yourself. “Careful”, one of the girls turns in her seat as she eyes you with a not so friendly smile, “wouldn’t want you to fall.” You give her a small nod as you hurriedly continue toward your own desk.

Thankful to have stepped away from the spotlight, you lean back as you let out a small breath. But it wasn’t enough. As class went on you continued to catch the multiple glances thrown your way, the small chuckles, the papers being passed around. It all felt too familiar, and your heart slowly sank. — You pushed the feeling away, focusing on what you did best, studying. Class was a nice distraction, but after an hour and a half it came to an end. And as soon as your professor had shut the door behind him, chaos erupted.

The scraping of chairs against the stone floor filled the classroom as students turned to get a glimpse of you. It didn’t take long for a small half circle to form around you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“How did you do it?”

The first one to speak up was a lanky guy, he leans closer as he studies your uncertain face. Before you could even process the meaning of his question, a girl interrupted him, the same one who had tried to trip you over at the beginning of class. “I bet she slept with them, I mean, she must have.” — Her statement is followed by laughter as people nod in agreement. “But how did you get them in bed?” Another girl asks as she looks you up and down with distaste, “surely it wasn’t whilst looking like that?” More laughter.

Your face might as well have been on fire as you glanced down toward your notes. “What if she drugged them?” Another guy chimes in as he points an accusing finger toward you. Hurriedly you shake your head as your lips part in a reply, a reply that immediately gets stuck in your throat as you’re interrupted.

“You guys are being too harsh.” Another voice speaks up, everyone falls silent and soon the crowd parts as the guy you had made eye contact with earlier steps through. He’s followed by two of his friends and the small group stops by your desk. “It’s obvious you guys”, he exclaims as he leans down to come eyelevel with you. When this close, his sharp eyes somehow felt like daggers, boring into your soul as his lips curled into a smirk.

“She’s a nerd.” He draws out each syllable like it was his last, his lips stretching wider as he sees your face fall. Small gasps and hums of agreement fill the silent room, as if everyone just instantly agreed with whatever he said. “Don’t think of her as anything else”, he drawls, straightening his back once more as he stares you down.

You soon found out that his name was Choi Yeonjun.

⸝⸝

Your first day had only proven to be a small trial of the school year ahead. Word had quickly spread of the transfer student who took classes with the seniors, and wherever you went, you had eyes on you. — You tried your best to keep to yourself, to focus on your studies. That was how you had made it through your previous schools. But it seemed futile here, because no matter how low of a profile you kept, they always found a reason to pick and pull at you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing nerd?” She yells as she shoves you against the red lockers and you groan in pain. You couldn’t remember her name, but you knew that she was a senior too, she sat two rows ahead of you and to the left. — Confused, you look up only to be met with a harsh slap to your face. “Don’t play stupid, I know that’s the last thing you are.” She sneers and your lips part in objection, though no words come out.

The girl signals for her friends to block either side of you, shutting off any escape routes as she rolls up her sleeves. “You think you can just go through my shit like that? That I wouldn’t know?” Her statement baffles you and your eyes widen, “what?” Another slap to your cheek, “right, come on now. Give it back.”

You frown, “give what back?” Her friends on either side of you grip onto your arms and you wince as they twist your limbs. She scoffs, “my lipstick you idiot, I know it was you. Who else would take it? Besides, I’ve seen the way you eye it whenever I put it on.” — While her words were partly true, you did think that her lipstick was really pretty and often found your gaze lingering whenever she picked it up from her bag, you would never stoop to such a level as stealing.

“I didn't steal your lipstick”, you croak out and she lets out a huff of disbelief. She goes off on yet another rant but you’re suddenly distracted as your eyes land on the small group of students walking by.

After your first day, Yeonjun hadn’t addressed you once. He never picked on you, never engaged in gossip about you, he barely even acknowledged your existence. But you knew that he was behind most of what happened to you, because everyone listened to Choi Yeonjun. If he didn’t like what was going on, he would put an end to it, but he never did.

You often saw him in the halls, he was always followed by his two friends. On your second day you had learned that the three of them were practically inseparable. — To his left was a tall guy, his frame could easily tower over just about anyone, yet he trailed behind his friends quietly with his head hung low. If it wasn’t for the scowl on his face whenever someone dared to glance in his direction, you would have assumed that he was just any other student. His name was Choi Soobin, that much you knew.

To his right, was perhaps Soobin’s opposite. He was shorter than his friends, not by much, but it made him stick out. His hair fell in uneven sections across his face and he often brushed it away with his pinky whilst he spoke. Unlike Soobin, Choi Beomgyu talked almost all the time, with the occasional input from Yeonjun. Though few of his words were kindhearted. He often picked on you, his comments were snarky and mean, you only ever caught a break when Yeonjun got fed up.

Then there was Choi Yeonjun, walking in the middle, he gazed ahead as Beomgyu blabbered nonsense into his ear, Soobin following slightly behind them. The Choi’s, that was what people called them. Something to do with their names all being Choi, you thought it was kind of corny. Yet you couldn’t deny the way your eyes lingered on Yeonjun, just a little longer than the rest.

It wasn’t like you thought that he was handsome or anything, but he was nice to look at…you supposed. And even though you knew better than to pay him any mind, it was hard to tear your gaze away from him. Only when he passed you, did you feel your heart stutter. For the first time since your first day here, he looked at you, if only for a brief moment. His gaze flickered over your practically torn limbs and a small smirk etched its way to his lips. — You felt your knees go weak under his eyes and swallowed hard.

Though his attention soon returned to the girl draped under his arm, the same girl that had tried to trip you over on your first day. You had found out that she was his girlfriend, her name was Mimi. She twirled a strand of her hair as she whispered something in his ear and Yeonjun chuckled. — Their small party continued past you as if nothing was wrong before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you to face the fate before you.

⸝⸝

You convinced yourself that it wasn’t a crush, that you simply found him appealing. The topic of crushes stopped being a thing after middle school, right? You, a twenty year old, have a crush? The thought was ridiculous. But no matter what lies you forced into your brain, your heart still beat a little faster whenever he was present, your eyes drifted in his direction and there was nothing you could do to stop them. — So what if you did have a small crush on Choi Yeonjun? It wasn’t going to harm anyone, it wasn’t like you were going to act on it. He had a girlfriend. Whenever you reminded yourself of said fact, a pang of guilt shot through your chest. You know you shouldn’t feel guilty, but it was hard not to. Most of all you felt guilty toward yourself — guilty for letting yourself sink to such a level.

As October went by, you did your best to stay out of the firing line of your classmates, you kept your head down and did your work. And when there was no work left to do, you spent your time looking at Yeonjun. He really was pretty to look at. — You noted the way he would lean back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before yawning, his eyes momentarily fluttering closed. Usually, he wasted his classes on his phone, or chatting with Beomgyu, it was unusual for him to be doing any of his coursework. Perhaps he didn’t need to, or he simply didn’t care to.

Occasionally, you would catch your name slipping past Beomgyu’s lips, your gaze immediately snapping down to your book as your heart practically beat out of your chest. But no matter how many times he mentioned you, pointed at you, sneered at you, Yeonjun never even as much as turned his head in your direction, simply shrugging along to whatever his friend was saying.

The only time Yeonjun looked at you was when everyone else did. That one time someone poured milk over you in the cafeteria, or when you got a basketball in your face during gym. Only when the whole school pointed and laughed, only then did he spare you a fragment of his attention. And maybe you did like it, maybe you did want him to look at you.

It was kind of pathetic.

What was perhaps even more pathetic was that one offer you hadn’t been able to pass up. It wasn’t like you could say no to your professor either, right? — “I think there are a few students who would benefit from studying together with you.” You blink up at him as you watch your teacher lean back in his chair. This was why he had called you? To be frank you don’t know what you had expected when he asked you to stay behind after class, but this was far from it.

“Studying with me?” You repeat as you point a confused finger toward yourself. Sure you worked hard, but that was because you had your mind set on doing so. You doubted that your classmates would want to spend even a second wasted in your presence.

Your professor sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are a clever girl”, he nods toward your latest test result on his desk and your gaze follows his movement as you swallow. “Not to mention the fact that you are a whole year ahead of your peers.” He then adds with a small smile and you silently thank him, even though you were certain that he could smell the hesitation radiating off of you. “Look, it is not something you have to decide on today”, he begins as he gathers the papers on his desk, “but students like Mr. Choi could definitely use a hand in their studies.”

Your ears perked up at the brief mention of his name, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly your head jerked in the direction of your teacher. Though you did not dare get too ahead of yourself. Shifting on the spot, you softly clear your throat, “Choi…Choi Yeonjun?” Your professor stops to look at you, “why, yes, but you do not have to decide today take the weekend to-”

“I’ll do it.”

⸝⸝

You’ll do it? What a joke.

Your whole weekend was spent pacing back and forth across your room. Teeth gnawing away at your fingernails, your mind wrecked with different scenarios of how that following Monday would play out. What were you honestly thinking, saying yes like that? — With an exasperated groan, you flop down on your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you envision Yeonjun, a furious Yeonjun, or maybe a jeering one, you didn’t know which approach he would take. But surely he wouldn’t be happy once the news reached him, unless they already had?

Briefly you considered calling in sick that Monday. You had never called in sick before, at least you couldn’t remember doing so; recalling the multiple times you had ignored the fever in your body as you marched on to class. Not to mention that time you had the flu and still sat through your three hour long exam. — Were you really considering calling in sick over a mere guy. But it wasn’t just a guy, it was Choi Yeonjun.

Regardless of the situation, you still went to school on Monday. But as soon as you stepped inside the classroom, you could tell that something was different. It was like the air had shifted. And as you made your way to the back of the room, carefully taking your seat, not a single one of your classmates bothered to pick on you. Instead they all occupied themselves with whatever they had in front of them. It was odd to say the least.

In regular fashion, the classroom door swings open during the very last minute as Beomgyu saunters inside. Behind him follows Soobin and Yeonjun, both in the midst of a hushed conversation. You find your gaze instinctively lingering by Yeonjun’s tall frame, fingers twirling your pen mindlessly in your hand. It isn’t until you glance up and find his eyes already boring holes into your own, that you’re suddenly ripped from your trance.

Yeonjun was looking at you. He was actually looking at you, no, he was glaring at you. The realization was enough to send your heart into a frenzy as you swallowed a gulp. His gaze is unwavering as he approaches his desk, still conversing with his friend, but his eyes remain entirely on you. — Sweat builds on your forehead and you grip your pencil tightly. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find yourself to break his gaze. You knew that you were giving him exactly what he wanted by letting his eyes practically tear you apart, so why couldn’t you pull away?

It isn’t until the classroom door opens yet again that he puts out the fire he had momentarily created between the two of you, his eyes shifting toward board as your professor clears his throat, ready to begin today’s lecture. As his monotone voice fills the room, you breathe out a sigh of relief, glad to be out of his sight.

He had to have known by now, the nasty looks he shot you throughout the day were more than telling. For someone who never even paid you as much as a second thought, it was most unusual for Yeonjun’s full attention to be directed toward you. Even during lunch, you could feel his eyes on you as he sat by his usual table. With Mimi on his lap and Beomgyu talking in his ear, his gaze still remained on your slumped figure as you focused on your plate of food.

⸝⸝

Your professor had helped set up today’s session, but after that you would have to schedule them on your own. You were supposed to meet by the library, at 5:15pm that Monday. — You were there by 4:55. It took you about five minutes to pick a suitable table, not too close to the door, not in a corner somewhere, but also not in the center of the room, perhaps you were overthinking it. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Desperately you tried to calm your nerves as your trembling hands brought out your notebook and pencil case.

By 5:15 you were ready, actually you had been ready for the past ten minutes. The small library had been vacant even when you arrived, you didn’t know if you felt relieved at the fact or not. — By 5:25 you started to think that he might not show up. Out of all possible scenarios fabricated in your way too creative brain, the one of him not even bothering to come hadn’t crossed your mind at all. What would you do then? Accept defeat? Tell your professor? Talk to him in class? Neither option seemed too appealing.

It’s 5:32 when the doors creak open. Hesitantly, you lift your gaze as you watch Yeonjun’s eyes wander across the room, finally landing on you. His face morphed into a scowl and you felt your stomach drop. You notice that he hasn’t brought any study materials along with him and you bite the inside of your cheek. The short breath he lets go of echoes out into the silent library and then he marches toward you. — You don’t have time to think before he’s by your table, the palm of his hand slamming against the wood with such force that your pencils rattle, and you flinch.

“Do you think this is some kind of sick joke?” He sounds agitated, his hot breath searing through his gritted teeth as his nostrils flared. Your once tense jaw falls open as your brows draw together in a confused frown. — “I mean, I knew you had a thing for me. But don’t you think this is going too far?” He sounds almost hysterical as a grin spreads across his lips.

You felt color rushing to your cheeks at his words. Did he know? Could he tell by your small glances? But you thought you were being subtle. Yeonjun seems to be reading your mind as he runs a lazy hand through his hair, “oh come on now nerd, for someone so clever you really are quite oblivious.”

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice the way you eye-fucked me every single opportunity you got?” He sneers, tilting his head to the side as he watches you with a cruel look of distaste. Your lips part but no words come out. So you shake your head, you didn’t know who you were trying to convince, him or yourself. “It wasn’t like that…”

He scoffs, “no?” Suddenly his face is only inches from yours, and you had to force your gaze not to stray down to his lips as he spoke. “Then what is it?” He murmurs, so close that you could almost taste his words on your tongue. You swallow, hard. What was it? You didn’t know, you didn’t want to answer, he couldn’t make you answer, could he?

His grin widens as a low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “No way”, he shakes his head as one of his hands grip the backrest of your chair, easily twisting you to face him fully. His previously cocky expression was replaced with a look of sympathy, his voice now laced with pity.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a little crush, nerd.” He spits the words out and you’re quick to shake your head, denying his blunt accusations. “I don’t”, you stammer, leaning back as far as your chair would allow you to. — “You’re telling me you’re doing this out of goodwill?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side. He hardly seems moved by your denial, but when you quietly nod his smug face turns into a snarl. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What? No, no, no that’s not what I-” You stop yourself before getting another word out, it felt like no matter what you said, you only worsened the already sour situation. Yeonjun exhales, his warm breath slamming against your already hot face. He leans back, taking a seat on the edge of the table as his hands dig into the pockets of his uniform. Confused, you watch him as he silently gets comfortable.

“What do you want then?” He finally asks and you blink up at him. “My number? Is that it?” He wonders as he fishes up his phone, unlocking it as he pulls up his contacts. You shake your head and he frowns, “then what?” — Your lips part and you motion toward the books in front of you, “just…”

“Don’t tell me you want me to fuck you, because that would be pathetic, even for you nerd.”

His statement catches you so off guard that you almost hit your leg on the chair opposite your own. “What?” You whisper, unsure of the fact that you had even heard him correct. You knew that there was no such universe in which someone like Choi Yeonjun would ever view you in that way, so it felt almost bizarre to hear those words leave his lips so casually.

He sighs as he gets up from the table, leaning down to become eye level with you once more. “I mean, I get that you’re desperate, believe me”, he lets his gaze drop to your chest for a brief second. “Looking like that, I’m sure it’s hard to get by”, he hums, and in that moment, you wished for the ground to swallow you whole.

It had been a foolish idea to even consider doing this, even more to say yes. If you had only turned your professor’s offer down, none of this would have happened. Because in all honesty, if this was how Yeonjun looked at you, with such menace and fabricated pity, you think you preferred it when he paid your existence no mind.

“But you’re lucky”, he murmurs before leaning even closer, his breath mingling with your own. Lucky? What a joke, you thought. — You flinch when you feel the light caress of his fingers on your shoulder as they slowly entangle themselves in your hair. “I’m feeling particularly nice today”, he smirks and your eyes involuntarily dart down to his perfectly plump and pink lips. “Besides”, he drawls, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

“I’ve never fucked a nerd before.”

You barely get the chance to second guess his words when Yeonjun presses his lips against yours. Immediately you freeze as your shoulders jerk up and your back curls against the chair. The hand on your cheek moves to your chin as he grabs ahold of your face, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and you let out a small shriek. — He hums against you, his eyes fluttering closed, lips moving on top of your unresponsive ones.

A moment later he pulls back. “You kiss like a virgin”, he states as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. As soon as the words left his lips, he grins, “but I bet you are.” — Still too stunned to even speak after his sudden course of action, you merely shake your head as you glance between him and the floor. You weren’t a complete virgin, you did have a boyfriend back in high school. Not that the two of you ever went further than kissing though, and even then, his kisses were nothing like Yeonjun’s.

Hesitantly you meet his gaze, swallowing down the nerves bubbling in your throat. “Come on now nerd”, he murmurs as his hands grip onto the armrests of your chair, large arms entrapping you against the old wood. “You’ve done it now haven’t you?” — “You got me here all to yourself, why don’t you use it to your advantage hm?” His eyes gleamed with mischief and you knew better than to trust his persuasive ways. Still you found it hard to do anything besides gawk at him, in utter disbelief of what was currently happening.

Biting your lip, you let your eyes flit down to his parted lips, focusing a little too long on the sheer layer of saliva that coated them. Yeonjun is quick to pick up on the subtle shift in your focus and he chuckles. You clearly see the way he moves closer, but it still doesn’t register that he’s kissing you again until his tongue molds against your own. Despite your initial shock, you try your best to kiss him back this time. You knew that you were probably horrible, but even then, he didn’t say anything.

Your breath catches in your throat when his hand envelops one of your breasts, groping it softly. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had your tits touched?” He drawls, easily noting your uncertain approach. Your silence is almost deafening and the way you squirm when he pinches one of your nipples tells him everything he needs to know. With a small frown he pulls back, just enough for you to see his face. He looks conflicted, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek as he runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, you really are a virgin aren’t you?” He sounds almost…serious and you find yourself slowly nodding as you grip the hem of your skirt tightly.

Yeonjun sighs and you hear him mutter something under his breath. His gaze snaps back to you and you can see the shift in his eyes once he settles on a decision. “Alright”, he states before quickly dropping to his knees. Baffled you follow his direct movement, shrieking as his hands on your knees part your legs. “We’ll start slow”, he hums as his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your thighs, your weak arms easily giving up when he pushes your skirt up.

“No need to be nervous”, he reassures you as his fingers hook around the hem of your panties, “I’ve done this plenty of times.” With that, he tugs your underwear down, past your knees, letting them pool around your ankles before his attention shifts to your exposed core. Your legs close in an attempt to shield yourself from his invasive stare but Yeonjun only gruffs out a short breath as he breaks your knees apart once more. — When he doesn’t say anything you grow worried, clearing your throat awkwardly as you shift on the chair. You had never done anything like this before so you had no idea if his silence was a good or a bad thing.

You don’t have to ponder for long as his fingers suddenly graze your folds. The touch was unexpected and you jolted forward as you tried to suppress the surprised noise threatening to escape. The smirk stretching across his lips only grows as Yeonjun basks in the way you react to his simple touch, you were far easier than any of the girls he’d been with. — “Ever had anyone touch you like this?” He asks, his voice a low murmur as his attention remains on his fingers sliding against your cunt, gathering the slick that formed as he smeared it all over you.

Meekly you shake your head, breathing out a small “no.” He seems satisfied with your answer, his ego inflating by the minute as he watches you writher under his small touches. Everything still felt so surreal, there was no way that this was actually happening, was it? You’re reminded of all the times you had watched him from afar, sneaking shy glances at him during class, before and after school, in the cafeteria, where he sat with his friends and…and his girlfriend. The reminder is enough to pull you from whatever euphoric state that transpired within your body as you jerked away from his touch.

Yeonjun’s eyes snap to you with a hint of curiosity and you bite the inside of your cheek, drawing in a small breath before daring to speak. “M-Mimi… w-what about her?” — He groans, a frustrated groan, and you wonder if you overstepped. “Nerd, someone like you, doesn’t count as cheating, got it?” He holds your gaze, speaking clearly, as if giving instructions to a toddler. He grins, a menacing grin, “besides, shouldn’t you be happy? I’m giving you what your perverted little mind has craved since you first stepped foot here.” Sheepishly you nod, heat rushing to your cheeks at the blunt statements he made.

Choi Yeonjun was bold, his words were harsh, and a lot of times they hurt. For some reason that made you like him even more.

“Now stop asking obvious questions”, he grunts as his hands trail along your thighs, pulling you forward on the chair, ignoring the way you squeal when he nuzzles his face between your legs. — It felt far from what it looked like in the movies, or even in porn. Yeonjun's hot breath against your core, his tongue dragging across your folds, it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand and you gasped as he flicked your clit.

It was almost impossible to control the way your thighs twitched, squishing either side of his head as you fought to remain composed. A small whine left your lips as he latched on to your sensitive flesh, licking and sucking on it as if it was the only thing he was capable of doing. You barely register the way one of his hands grab onto your trembling ones, guiding them to his hair as he hums against your cunt. “Don’t be so awkward”, he mutters, his tongue dwelling deep inside of you, eliciting a moan from you as your fingers immediately twist in his dark locks.

Never in a million years had you thought that the study session that you had been far too eager to agree to would turn into something like this. And that Choi Yeonjun of all people would be the first one to see such a part of you. — You didn’t know if it was such a good thing. But it was impossible to form a single coherent thought with him between your legs, mouth falling open in surprise as his nose bumps up against your clit. He doesn’t seem to mind when you push yourself further onto his face, practically grinding your hips on his mouth as small noises of pleasure ripped from deep within your throat. You were thankful that the library had been vacant for hours.

“Y-Yeonjun!” His name falls from your lips without registering in your brain beforehand and you almost slap a hand over your mouth as realization washes over you. Yeonjun on the other hand, only chuckles, the sound sending vibrations against your sensitive cunt and you whimper as he withdraws his tongue from within you. — A somewhat familiar sensation bubbled in the depths of your stomach. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had an orgasm before, but the occurrence was rare, you didn’t exactly spend much time with yourself like that.

His name is pulled from your chest once more and his grip on your thighs tighten. “You got something to say, nerd?” He wonders without leaning away from you, hot mouth working against your throbbing core as he draws moans and whines from you. “C-close..” you mumble, feeling your cheeks redden at the small statement, and you were suddenly glad that he was unable to see your flustered face.

“Cum on my face then, bet you’ve never done that before.”

The comment was mean, possibly even degrading, but it still made you clench incoherently around nothing as you released against his waiting lips. To your surprise, he doesn’t immediately pull away, his face remaining between your legs as he laps up the aftermath of your orgasm, drinking in the taste of you with a small satisfied groan. — And when he does finally tear himself from your sore cunt, you can barely look him in the eyes, ashamed at what had just transpired between the two of you. Yeonjun doesn’t seem affected in the slightest, his thumb wiping away the sticky fluids on his chin before popping them in his mouth. The sight should not have made you throb but it did and you bit your lip.

Without warning, he suddenly gets up as he dusts off his pants. “W-where are you going?” You’re unable to stop yourself from asking. He shoots you a glance that says ‘well isn’t it obvious?’ He sighs, frustrated by your blunt obliviousness, “our session is over, isn’t it?”

You blink at him, still recovering from your climax as you pull your panties back on. “But the study-” — “You’ve got what you wanted, haven’t you?” He states as he stares down at you, much like he had on your first day, and your words suddenly fall short as you meet his gaze. Shaking his head, a small chuckle escaped his lips, “I’ll see you tomorrow, nerd.”

The last thing you hear are the library doors slamming shut before the room is enveloped in a deafening silence once more.

⸝⸝

Everything had returned to normal the following Tuesday. You could barely wrap your head around it. The snarky comments were back, the pestering stares, whatever had roamed the air yesterday seemed to have completely vanished and you were left dumbfounded. — There was only one exceptionally different thing. Choi Yeonjun.

Part of you had hoped that he wouldn’t come to class, but that was a foolish thought. You hear him before you see him, or rather, you hear Beomgyu’s obnoxiously loud voice echoing off the hallways as The Choi’s approach. The classroom falls into a hushed murmur as the door swings open and the three of them enter. — You had told yourself that you would avoid him at all costs. That meant not speaking to him, not looking at him, not even glancing in the same direction as him.

You found it to be very hard. But the shame over what had happened not even 24 hours prior kept your gaze trained to the pages of your notebook. Not even as he pulled out his chair, making an agonizingly scraping noise that cut through the otherwise quiet room, did your eyes stray from the words in front of you, rereading them over and over as you tried to get your brain to register them. — You lasted approximately two minutes.

One small peek his way confirmed your every fear. Leaning back in his chair, Yeonjun paid you no mind as he scrolled through his phone, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck as he did. He acted…just like he usually did, as if nothing had happened between the two of you. For a moment you had worried that he would tell everyone, that was a shame you wouldn’t be able to bear. But perhaps he was trying to spare his own reputation, you could only hope he would keep quiet. Did he regret it? Probably. Why wouldn’t he?

What was perhaps even worse than his indifferent mannerism toward you was when Mimi greeted him with a kiss. Flinging her arms around his neck, she pulls him close as she practically shoves her tongue down his throat. Beomgyu makes a vile comment before turning to Soobin but besides that, no one else paid them much mind. Except you. The guilt was eating you alive, and you weren’t even the one who had cheated. What would happen if she found out, would she break up with him? Surely she would find a way to put the entire blame on you. You did not dare think of how miserably you would be treated if she found out. It couldn’t happen. You would have to talk to Yeonjun about it, one way or another.

But how?

You tried approaching him at lunch, but you only managed one step in his direction before you chickened out. Then you tried again before English, this time you made it halfway before Soobin swooped in right in front of you, his tall frame covering Yeonjun completely from view and you sighed. Your last shot was after gym. As everyone ventured toward the locker rooms you trailed behind, Yeonjun had, too, stayed to talk with your professor but just as you were about to approach, a tap on your shoulder freezes you in place.

“The hell are you staring at, nerd?” Beomgyu’s voice is filled with distaste as he eyes your sweaty figure, his nose turning up in disgust. Stunned, you fumble for words as your eyes dart between him and Yeonjun, just a few paces away. “N-nothing I was just…” — “Just leaving, right?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and you quickly nod. “Y-Yeah”, you squeak out before rushing off. Why did his friends never stray from his side? It made things so difficult.

You were always the last one to leave the changing rooms. Hiding away in the bathroom, you waited for the other girls to finish before you dared to venture out and get changed yourself. It had become somewhat of a routine, not that it was particularly comfortable, but as it was your last lesson of the day, you weren't in any rush. — Whilst you get dressed, your mind concludes with a ton of ideas to approach Yeonjun. It would have to be when there was no one else around, before or after school seemed like your best bet. The only remaining problem was his friends, who seemed to be glued to his side.

Grabbing your bag, you walk over to the exit as you think of a way to get him alone. But as the door to the locker room closes behind you, it seems your problems have solved themselves for you.

“What took you so long?”

Yeonjun’s sharp voice startles you and you almost drop the bag in your hands as your head snaps in his direction. Leaning against the wall, his own gym bag swung over his shoulder, Yeonjun studies you with an indifferent expression plastered across his face. Your mouth falls open as you peer down the empty hallway, completely at loss for words. “Y-you waited for me?” You splutter as your attention shifts back to him.

He purses his lips as he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “yes, but I’m starting to regret it.” — “Do you always take this long?” His voice is laced with annoyance and you swallow as you shake your head. “I- I mean I…I didn’t know you were waiting I..”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” He waves your meek explanation off as he shifts against the wall. Still confused on why he was even here in the first place, you bite your tongue as you wait for him to speak first. But out of everything he could’ve said to you, you had not expected the next words that were to come out of his mouth.

“When’s our next study session?”

What? He wanted to have another study session? You had been prepared to confront him about yesterday, to tell him, no beg him, to keep quiet. Yet he was asking for another session? You were sure he could read the bewilderment on your face as his lips drew into a grin. “N-next session?” You gawk out as your mouth repeatedly opens and closes. He rolls his eyes before huffing out a short breath of air, “yes our next session, we never settled on a date.” — Well you didn’t think he wanted to, you had planned on telling your professor that the whole ordeal had been unsuccessful but here he was, asking for a redo?

Was it a good idea to say yes? Considering how last time had played out, the answer was probably not. — “I- I’m free whenever.” But you obviously were very bad at listening to your gut instincts. However the smile that spread across his face made it all worth it, you felt your heart speeding up at the endearing sight. “Perfect”, he chimes, “then we’ll do tomorrow 5:30.” You nod but before you can get another word out he adds, “third floor, room 291.”

Would you guys not be studying in the library? Despite your slight uneasiness, you nod, “alright.” — “Make sure no one sees you on the way there, and don’t be late.” He warns before turning on his heel and walking off. You were left stunned as you leaned against the wall, still gripping your bag tightly in your hands as you tried to process what had just happened.

⸝⸝

Wednesday rolls around, the day progresses just like any other would. But something feels different, you feel different. It’s a different kind of excitement, bubbling in the pits of your stomach. You had barely gotten any sleep last night, which was a warning sign on its own because you always made sure to get 8 hours. But you don’t feel tired, not in the slightest. And as the last bell of the day rings, you hurry to the bathroom.

You never fussed over your appearance, far too busy with having a book stuck under your nose. But today felt different, sure the two of you were just studying, it didn’t mean that you couldn’t make an effort if you wanted to look nice, right?

The sound of bathroom stalls slamming behind you shifts your attention to a group of girls passing by. They all stop as they watch you apply a clear gloss to your lips, their noses scrunching up in disgust. “What’s gotten into that freak?” One of them mutters as she makes a move toward you, only to be stopped by one of her friends. “Don’t, you might get contaminated”, she sneers and the small group burst out into a fit of giggles. — Holding back a small sigh, you ignore them as you wait for them to leave before daring to do the same.

Your shoes echo off the now almost empty hallways, it was late enough to where few students lingered behind. Still unfamiliar with the building, you made your way to the third floor. You took no classes here and you had to rely on the numbered doors in order to find 291. It takes a while but soon you’re standing in front of it.

Your hands tremble as you hurriedly glance down the hallway, making sure no one saw you. When your gaze returns to the door you realize that it was a lot smaller than the others, its red paint standing out amongst the otherwise beige ones. That was odd. Yet you push any concerns aside as you reach out to twist the handle.

Upon stepping inside you quickly realize that this was not a classroom. The room was small, crowded shelves pushed up against all walls, displaying a large range of items, from old books to tools such as screwdrivers and wrenches. Your eyes scan across the multitude of contents as your mind tries to piece together the scene before you.

“You’re awfully punctual”, Yeonjun drawls as he emerges from a shadowed corner. You jump as you turn to him with a confused frown, “what’s this?” — He grins, his hands digging deep into his pockets as he leans against one of the shelves, “this is where our study sessions will be taking place from now on”, he explains as he motions for you to have a look around. From now on? But there was hardly room to study here, was there?

Quickly noting your perplexed expression, Yeonjun’s grin widens. “Well come on now, nerd. You didn’t actually think I was planning on sitting down and doing algebra with you?” Your frown deepens, lips parting as your eyes dart between him and the cramped space. “But what…then why are we here?” You ask as you readjust the rather heavy bag on your shoulder. — He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a step forward, that single step is enough to get him right in front of you, his chest dangerously close to yours. His hand slides up your arm, reaching your shoulder as he hooks two fingers under the strap holding your bag. “Use that clever little brain of yours for something other than your studies, and maybe you will start to see the bigger picture.”

Your bag hits the floor with a thud as Yeonjun’s hand returns to your shoulder, fingers twiddling the collar of your blouse as he waits for the wheels in your head to finally turn. And when they do, you glance up at him, your eyes wide with realization. “Yeonjun I… I don’t know…” Your eyes flit toward the door, mind altering between your options, stay or go, stay or go, stay or–

“Tell me now.”

His voice is calm and his posture remains stoic as he peers down at you. “I’m not about to waste my time on a loser like you if you’re not even into it.” He sneers as his hand lets go of your collar, pushing you back, only slightly, but enough for you to hit the shelf behind you. Was he seriously asking for your opinion right now, for your consent? Choi Yeonjun was willing to spend time on you, with you. The news were hard to melt and you found yourself awkwardly gazing up at him as your mind fumbled for an answer.

“What’s it going to be, nerd?” He tsk’s before leaning forward, one of his hands resting on the shelf next to your face as he cages you against it. Briefly you considered turning back, walking away, to return to your otherwise dull life as you watched him from afar. You remembered Mimi, his girlfriend, the guilt and shame, suddenly it came crashing down all over again. But you also remembered his words: “someone like you, doesn’t count as cheating”. Had he really meant that? If not, why else would he be here right now?

In the end, you nod. “O-Okay”, your voice comes out as a small peep and you curse yourself for not controlling it better. The smug smirk that immediately crawled onto his face should have been a waving warning flag, yet you ignore it, too caught up in the way his eyes darted to your lips, eyeing the clear coat of gloss you’d previously applied. His thumb swipes across the sticky substance. “I was about to tell you not to disappoint me”, he murmurs before pulling your lip down, “but I can already tell that you won’t.”

Your heart swelled at the small praise, and you leaned into his touch. You hear him scoff at your blunt advances, his lips twitching as he eyes your eager figure. “You virgins really are gullible.” — He presses his mouth against yours, making you gasp in surprise as your pupils blow wide. In what you guessed to be an attempt at loosening you up, his hands roam up and down your sides, settling on your waist as he pushes himself closer, grinding his hips against yours.

You had no clue of what to focus on, his tongue in your mouth, his hands on your waist, or the way his thigh pushed between your legs, rubbing against your panties in a way that had you practically squealing. — You knew that he was enjoying the reactions he pulled from you, ever so sensitive to his smallest of touches. It’s not long before his hand is on your thigh, gradually moving along your skin before reaching the hem of your underwear. He pushes the fabric to the side, fingers sliding across your already pathetically wet folds before finding your clit, as if they had done this a hundred times.

The moans you emit are all swallowed by his hungry lips on yours as he lets you grind yourself onto his hand. None of the previous hesitation you had felt during your session in the library was present in your mind, all you could think about was how good he felt, how you didn't want him to stop, and how you wanted more, a lot more.

“More.”

You can feel him smirk against you, your desperate whine ringing out into the hot air. — “Yeah?” He muses before pulling back, his lips are coated in your clear gloss, the sight was strangely enticing and you find yourself nibbling on your own lip as you sheepishly nod. He chuckles, pressing his lips against yours whilst he hikes your leg around his waist, the small adjustment bringing you even closer to him, and as you feel the hard bulge through his pants, reality slowly sets in.

But you can’t stop now, you don’t want to. The sound of him undoing his zipper becomes a muffled noise somewhere in the background as your arms wrap around his neck, clinging to him in every way possible. — He breaks the kiss, confused, your eyes flutter open as you try and peer at him in the dim light of the storage room. You briefly catch him tearing a small package open with his teeth and for a moment you’re left completely dumbfounded before realizing that it must’ve been a condom.

People wore condoms for one of two reasons, either they were avoiding knocking someone up, or they were afraid of catching diseases. But what disease could you possibly be carrying? So that would mean… You don’t have time to ponder on the matter further as you feel the tip of his cock against your folds. Immediately your eyes shoot open as your hands grip onto his shoulders. Suddenly everything seemed very real, perhaps a little too real.

“Tell me if it hurts”, he murmurs, his forehead leaning against your own and you meekly nod. Was it supposed to hurt? You draw in a sharp breath as you feel him slowly push inside, the stretch of his fingers had been nothing compared to this and you felt completely unprepared. His movements come to an abrupt halt as he leans back to gauge your reaction with a wary expression. Quickly nodding, you loosen your grip on his shoulders, breathing out a small “‘m fine.”

“Yeah?” He wonders and you nod once more. Only when he’s fully inside, do you dare let out the breath you had been holding in; feeling your body relax against his. “You feelin’ okay?” His genuine question catches you off guard and you give a small nod of assurance. “Y-Yeah I am..” — He smirks, then he captures your lips in a small kiss, the gesture distracts you from the moment he begins to move, gently rocking his hips into you and you gasp against his mouth.

“Fuck”, he grunts. With one hand around your waist and the other maintaining a steady grip on the shelf behind you, he slowly thrusts inside of you. “Are all virgins this tight?” He murmurs, the question was rhetorical and he doesn’t give you the chance to answer, “or is it just you nerd?” — “I bet it is.” He sounds menacing but his ragged breathing makes it hard for you to tell if he’d really meant it or not.

The items on the shelf rattle as his pace grows quicker, harsher, drawing moans and whimpers from you with every move his hips, cock stretching you wide as you claw against his shoulders. He leans back, enough to where he can watch the way your lips part, your now smudged gloss spread across your cheeks and chin as you whine. His gaze drops to your chest, fingers quickly beginning to work on the buttons that concealed you from him. Flicking them open one by one, Yeonjun’s hand quickly tears your blouse apart, eyes darting to your plump breasts as they bounced in rhythm with his movement.

“You’ve got some nice tits for a nerd”, he muses, his hand groping your chest as his thumb flicks along your covered nipple. Feeling your cheeks redden, you only moan as he draws deeper inside of you, the tip of his cock brushing against parts of you that made you squirm. — Yeonjun made you think of yourself, see yourself, in ways you never had before, and it was exciting.

“Has anyone ever told you that, hm?” He sneers, his hand pushing your breasts together as he watches the flesh squish against one another, groaning at the sight. Unable to form a single coherent thought, much less a full sentence, you merely shake your head. “Well you do. You got some of the nicest tits I’ve ever seen.” He grunts, hips snapping against you. The compliment makes you throb around him, your orgasm approaching at a rapid pace and your fairly short nails dig into his shoulders.

“P-Please”, you wail and Yeonjun rolls his eyes, letting out a gruff sigh. “Thought you would last longer than this, nerd.” — “But don’t worry”, he murmurs, leaning in close as his lips trail the shell of your ear, “it comes with practice.” He moves down your neck, prepping your skin in soft kisses before he pulls it between his teeth.

You whimper when his thumb rubs at your clit, legs trembling around his waist as your hands move to his hair, fingers threading through his dark locks before securely latching on. It doesn’t take much for your high to hit, your cunt clenching down around his cock as it pulls him in further. — Yeonjun curses under his breath as his hips jerk forward before stuttering. In the pure ecstasy of the moment, you roughly pull his face from your neck as you crash your lips against his. You knew that it was messy, sloppy and uncalculated, but you didn’t care as long as you got to feel him this close to you.

You hear him sigh, you can’t tell if he’s content or not. But a moment later he breaks the kiss, gazing at you with a clouded expression as a small grin tugs at his mouth. He bites his lip, eyes dropping to your chest one final time before he pulls out, making you wince at the sudden feel of emptiness. — “Not too bad for a first timer”, he comments as he rids himself off the condom. You open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it.

“Same time Friday, got it?”

⸝⸝

Your study sessions with Yeonjun became a regular thing, and every instance was just like the former. They would take place after school, in room 291, shielded away from prying eyes as he had his way with you. You were there, at his every beck and call, never once showing up late nor canceling. — It was both thrilling and excruciating. You knew that whatever transpired between the two of you was nothing personal and only temporary. Yet you couldn’t help but long for something more; you longed for Yeonjun to like you back.

It was probably a selfish thought, a selfish fantasy. But the images of Mimi flashing before your eyes, which had previously filled you with both dread and guilt, were suddenly replaced with a feeling of superiority. Because even if she didn’t know it, her boyfriend fucked someone else on the side, her boyfriend was cheating on her, with you. And it felt good. Often you had to hold yourself back from letting said fact slip past your lips. The scenarios would sometimes look something like this…

“Watch where you’re going, nerd.” Mimi spits after purposefully crashing into you in an almost empty hallway that provided more than enough room for two parties to pass. Her friends turn to you with a scowl as they fold their arms across their chests. Your eyes dart between them and their vengeful leader before flitting down the long corridor, down to where The Choi’s were hanging out.

Making the mistake of letting your gaze linger, garners her attention as Mimi snaps her fingers in front of your face. “What the fuck are you looking at nerd?” She barks as her eyes follow yours. She scoffs, her lips curling into a smirk, “do you think my boyfriend looks good or something?” Her question rips your attention back as you feverishly shake your head. — Mimi only laughs, her friends quickly joining in as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s okay, I don’t blame you, really.” She tries to appear nice, perhaps even pitiful, but the malicious intent behind her words linger. You shake your head once more, “no I wasn’t I..” She holds up a finger to silence you, “come on now, it’s obvious. Everyone knows you have a thing for him.” She practically giggles as she covers her painted lips with a hand. Your cheeks feel as if they were on fire, your gaze dropping to your shoes as you bite the inside of your cheek.

“But don’t worry”, she leans closer, her breath, which reeked of the strawberry bubblegum she always chewed, fans across your face. “You’re not exactly his type.”

The statement almost made you scoff. Not his type? Was that what it was? You briefly considered telling her, telling her what her boyfriend was doing behind her back, and with the school nerd at that. The one girl she thought she didn’t have to worry about. It was almost a bit comedic. But you held your tongue. No matter how bad you wanted to crush whatever illusion she had going on, you couldn’t. Besides, Yeonjun would probably just deny it, and who would believe you?

Speaking of Choi Yeonjun. — He had become almost insufferable outside of your sessions. From barely looking at you in class to bringing attention to you at almost every possible second, Yeonjun was now the sole epitome of the bullying you endured. Whether it was the nasty and mean comments he shared with Beomgyu, his words echoing out through the classroom as he brought the whole class to laughter. Or the multiple times in which he’d trip you over in the hallways, undoubtedly peeking up your skirt as he did, but of course, no one noticed that, and if they did, they didn’t fault him.

Choi Yeonjun did nothing wrong. He never did. So when he invites you to a party, your very first one, you don't know what to say.

“Think about it”, he huffs as he zips his pants back up. The air in the small storage unit felt hot and stuffy, your clothes sticking to your sweaty body as you pulled your panties on. “I don’t know..” you quietly murmur, glancing down toward the dark floor as you twist your hands behind your back. — Yeonjun sighs, running a hand through his hair before he tries again. “Why not? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

You shake your head. “I’m not. But…I don’t know anyone, I don’t… I can’t just show up there.” You argue before swallowing the lump in your throat. It had been an outright baffling proposal on his side. What would people think if you just turned up? — “Tell them I invited you, they’ll let you in.” You blink up at him, was he being for real right now?

“Y-You?” He nods, as if it was a given. “Make sure to wear something half decent at least.” He says, giving your shoulder a pat before he pushes past you and out of the small room, leaving you in the dark once more.

⸝⸝

Something half decent? What was something, half decent? You didn’t know, and it took you about an hour to pick out a dress you thought would be suitable. It wasn’t particularly short, stopping at your knees, the dark purple complimented your skin nice, you thought. But it felt uncomfortable to walk in, and with one hand wrapped around the fabric, you pull it down as you near the driveway of a large villa.

Your eyes flit across the scenery, it was dark out, but the house remained lit despite the late hour. Music was playing, loud enough to where the beat echoed out across the empty street. Swallowing a gulp, you run a hand through your styled hair one final time before daring to step inside.

Immediately you’re greeted by a large number of perplexed eyes, everyone slowly turning to you as you venture further into the villa, reaching the filled kitchen space. “What’s she doing here?” “Did someone invite her?” “I can’t believe she would actually show up.” — You cringe at their remarks, trying your best to ignore them as your eyes scan for Yeonjun. What if he wasn’t here? What if this had all been a ploy to draw you out and humiliate you further. You shouldn’t have come here, you really should–

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Mimi’s harsh voice snaps you from your small trance as she immediately corners you. Freezing on the spot, your hands curl into fists as you turn to her. Desperate for a way to defend yourself, to explain the situation, or to just escape all together, your mind spirals with excuses. Your lips part but you can’t seem to get a single syllable out. “Come on nerd, I asked you a question.” She huffs, growing impatient as she takes a step forward, her chest almost touching yours.

“I’m…I..” Could you really tell her that her boyfriend invited you? Would she believe you? No, of course not, no one would. You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes flitting across the crowded kitchen. — “Did you come here to make a scene or something? I mean come on, you’re not even a senior.” Her comment makes everyone hum in agreement as they nod, some even sharing a couple of laughs.

She was right, and even if she wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. You stood no chance against anyone in this room. Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes and for the first time since you came here, you actually felt like crying. Taking in a small breath, you slowly exhale again. “Well I…”

“I invited her.”

Your heart practically froze over as Yeonjun’s voice cut through the tense air. Quiet murmurs carry out through the room as everyone redirects their attention. Somewhere in front of you, you can hear Mimi scoff as she takes a small step back. “What?” She questions and you finally dare to lift your gaze, your eyes immediately locking with Yeonjun’s as he leans against the kitchen island, seemingly unbothered by the small uproar taking place.

Mimi on the other hand seemed to be fuming as she glanced between her boyfriend and you. “What do you mean you invited her?” She seethes, her voice laced with hatred and spite. Yeonjun shrugs as he digs his hands into his pockets, an indifferent look on his face. “Come on now, loosen up a little. It’s our responsibility as her seniors to take good care of her, don’t you agree?” He lets his gaze wander across the multiple eyes directed at him, everyone seeming to break under his stare as they quietly nod.

He cocks an eyebrow in the direction of his girlfriend, “then there’s no problem, hm?” Mimi’s mouth had fallen open as she watched him win everyone over within a matter of seconds. Though quickly regaining her composure as she nods, muttering out a quiet, “whatever”, before she pushes past you with such force that you almost lose your balance.

Yeonjun sighs as he moves off the countertop, placing a hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder, “get her something to drink won’t you?” His friend frowns, “why me?” But Yeonjun doesn’t pay him any further mind as he, too, takes his leave, most likely in search of his raging girlfriend.

As soon as he leaves, the previous tension seems to lift as everyone returns to whatever conversation they had been preoccupied with earlier. You breathe out a small sigh as you wrap your arms around you, leaning against the kitchen island as you keep your gaze down. — A drink is shoved in front of you, it’s reddish hue making you frown as you gingerly take it from Beomgyu’s outstretched hand. “T-Thanks”, you mumble as you grip the plastic cup tightly.

You’re surprised when he doesn’t leave, instead he groans as he takes place beside you, resting his hands on the countertop behind him. “Y’know I really don’t understand why he invited you of all people.” He begins and you can feel his eyes roam your body with distaste. Swallowing, you quietly nod as you sip on the drink, it wasn’t at all as bitter as you had expected it to be, rather it tasted kind of sweet.

“I…I don’t know either”, you shyly mumble, keeping the cup to your lips as you occupy yourself with gazing down at the liquid swirling around. Beomgyu scoffs as he shakes his head, “Of course you don’t. No one knows what’s going on in that thick skull of his.” — His words came out…almost insulting, and you wondered why he chose to speak in such a way about his friend.

“You’ve got some guts though, I’ll give you that.” He states, running a hand through his messy hair as his eyes fixate on something in front of him. Surprised at the sudden almost compliment-like statement, you glance up at him in sheer bewilderment. “Not many people in your shoes would’ve come here”, he adds as he gives you a quick one-over. “No offense y’know, but you kinda look…” His nose scrunches up in what you could only guess to be disgust and you bite the inside of your cheek as your gaze drops to your dress.

“O-Oh yeah…I guess.”

Beomgyu chuckles, “My, are you gullible.” You internally wince at his words, a small grimace flickering across your face as you take another sip of your drink. You can feel his eyes on you as Beomgyu studies you closely, a little too close. “Y’know, maybe I do understand why he invited you”, he sniggers, pushing himself off the kitchen island, he leaves without saying another word.

Left confused and yet again, alone, you chew on the plastic of your cup as you wonder how long you would have to stay before it would become appropriate to leave.

⸝⸝

You think an hour had passed, it felt like three. Back pressed against the wall of the open-spaced living room, your eyes roam the makeshift dance floor as you watch the way your classmates enjoy their evening together. Your presence had soon become old news and after your first encounter, Mimi had left you alone, and so did everyone else. You were thankful, you supposed. But you still didn’t know why Yeonjun had invited you, much less why you had even decided to show up. Because right now, he was nowhere to be seen.

You think that you might be able to just sneak out, leave, go home and forget that this evening ever took place. This wasn’t for you, that much you could tell. You would face the embarrassment come Monday, but today, now, all you wanted to do was evaporate.

Standing up a bit straighter, you tug your dress down once more, preparing to leave. It’s only then he makes an appearance. It’s quick, so much so that if it weren’t for the subtle tap to your forearm, you would’ve probably missed him as he passed you by. Your eyes follow Yeonjun’s retreating frame as he aims for the staircase, leading to the second floor. Before climbing the first step, he throws a quick glance over his shoulder, eyes finding yours as he flashes you a small smirk.

You gulp as you watch him disappear again. Nervously chewing on your bottom lip, your gaze flits across the room, no one was looking at you. Still you wait another five minutes before aiming for the stairs as well. Each step forward made your legs feel like jelly and you steadied yourself against the railing.

The second floor consists of a long hallway, with doors either side of it, reaching down to at least four of them. Your heartbeat picks up at the thought of having to push all of them open as you carefully peeked inside. But your attention is drawn to the third one on the right, slightly ajar as a yellow light seeps through its cracks. Hesitantly you venture forward, coming to a halt in front of it as you debate your next move. Did you knock? Call out for him? Was he even there? Maybe you were seeing things. There was only one way to find out was there?

Mustering up whatever courage you have left, you gently push the door open. The room is… a bedroom. A small onesize bed, pushed up against the window alongside the empty bedside table, tells you that it’s most likely a guest room. Your eyes flit to the armchair in the corner, widening as they land on Yeonjun’s figure, sprawled out against the cushion, a hand down his pants as he lazily strokes himself. He watches you with a faint smirk, his head leaning back against the backrest, eyes half lidded as they peer over at you.

What was going on? You glance back and out into the hallway, afraid that someone, anyone, might walk by. What if Mimi came looking for him? But you were almost certain he’d meant for you to follow him. Quickly you shut the door behind you, locking it for good measure. Yeonjun watches your hurried movements with an amused expression, the hand on his cock unwavering.

“W-What’s all this?” You quietly wonder, willing your eyes to look anywhere but him, anywhere but the hand down his trousers. He doesn’t say anything, lifting his free hand, his index finger beckons you over and you hesitantly comply. Stopping by the chair, you awkwardly clasp your hands together in front of you as you wait for him to break the stale silence.

“You look nice tonight.” He finally says, his voice seemingly indifferent as he shamelessly lets his gaze roam your body, stopping at the slight cleavage your dress provided. In the dim light casted by only a small lamp on the drawer next to him, you were unsure if he could make out the blush coating your cheeks or not. “Thank you..”

He hums, readjusting himself on the soft cushions as his legs spread further apart. It takes everything in you not to let your gaze drop. For a moment everything is quiet, and you wonder why he had even bothered to get you up here in the first place. But then he sighs, the small exhale easily garnering your attention as you shift on the spot.

“Have you ever blown someone before?”

He asks the question as if it were any other and you feel the color on your cheeks intensifying. He can’t just ask someone something like that…But then again, there was little Choi Yeonjun couldn’t do. Part of you doesn’t understand why he even bothered to ask, wasn’t it obvious? Another part of you suspects that he wants to hear you admit it, wants to see you get flustered as you shake your head, squeaking out a meek “no, never.”

That’s exactly what you do. — He smirks, a wide smirk, exposing his sharp teeth as his free hand grabs onto one of your own. You let him pull you to your knees, the soft carpet beneath your bare skin felt nice but it was hard to focus on anything but the bulge in front of your face, the movement of his hand visible through the material of his pants.

“I’ll teach you”, he mumbles, letting go of your hand as he pushes your hair back, gaze wandering across the light makeup you had applied, lingering by the cherry red lipstick on your lips. You slowly nod, hands gripping onto the hem of your dress with such force that you’re surprised it doesn’t tear.

Without further warning he leans back, swiftly pulling his cock free from his jeans as he continues to stroke it, now only inches from your face. Sure you and Yeonjun had hooked up before, in the darkness of the small storage unit, in places where you never paid his dick much attention apart from when it was inside of you. This was the first time you actually saw it, you think, and this close too.

Your jaw goes slack as your eyes trail across the large veins climbing up his shaft, coated in a sheer layer of arousal, seeping through his fingers as they wrapped around the length of it. Gulping, you eye the tip, a bright red hue as droplets of precum spilled from the slit. You would be lying if you said that the sight didn’t make your thighs clench together. — Obviously enjoying your stunned response, Yeonjun groans as he gives himself a particularly harsh tug, making your eyes widen further as they flicker from his cock to his face and back again.

“Come here”, he directs you to scoot forward and you do, offering your hand for him to take as he guides it to wrap around his shaft. He felt hard and heavy in your palm, and you bite your lip as you try to gauge his reaction. Letting his hand drop to his sides, Yeonjun sinks back against the cushion as he peers down at you. “Start slow, don’t use too much pressure but don’t be afraid to touch me. I’ll tell you when you can speed up.” He instructs as he lets his head fall back, getting comfortable as he pays you little mind.

Your attention returns to his cock in your hand, doing as he said, you slowly let your palm glide up and down, fingers quickly becoming coated in the shiny layer of his arousal. You can’t tell if he likes it or not, he gives little reaction as he stares up at the ceiling. You want to ask him, you want him to reassure you, but it feels stupid to ask, and you hate feeling stupid.

His hand joins in on top of your own, guiding your fingers to his tip, which you had purposefully avoided as you didn’t know how to approach it. “Flick your wrist like this”, he murmurs, letting your palm glide over the head before returning to stroke him. He only shows you once before his hand moves back to his side. But you can tell that he’s watching you now, eyes tailing your every movement as you repeat what he had just showed you, rolling your hand over his tip, drawing a small huff of air from him.

“Use your thumb”, he breathes, and your gaze flickers to his face in slight confusion before catching on. The next time you twist your wrist over his head, you press the surface of your thumb against the slit. He shudders under you, a small groan passing his lips and your heart speeds up at the small confirmation you just received. It managed to boost your confidence enough to where you gripped him more firmly, experimentally squeezing his cock, just like he had done moments prior, relishing in the way his breath hitched.

“You can go -f-fuck- faster.” He grunts, his hands sliding against the armrests of the chair, fingers digging into the plush cushion. Quickly nodding, you’re happy to oblige, repeating your previous movements but with an increased pace as your eyes dart between his leaking dick and his slightly contorted face.

When he first twitches in your hand, you’re taken back. Surprised by the sudden movement yet you felt yourself throb as you tugged at him even harsher, wanting to pull that very same reaction from him once more. — He’s stopped guiding you, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he tries to muffle whatever noises threaten to escape. You don’t mind, in fact it only spurred you on further as you flicked your wrist over his flushed tip once more.

His hips buck up against your hand as he lets out a strangled noise. His hand quickly finds its way to your hair, brushing it back as he breathes out through his nose. “Fuck, slow down”, he mutters, tugging at your hair as he forces your face up to meet his, “I’ll cum before you’ve even blown me at this rate.” The statement made your chest swell with pride, still, your hand slows down as you settle back into a more languid pace.

He takes a moment to open his eyes, drawing in a few ragged breaths before he does. The hand in your hair moves to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you closer, the tip of his cock merely inches from your lips and you swallow. “Relax”, he says, fingers pulling your mouth open and you let him. “Breathe through your nose, and don’t use your teeth.” — You slowly nod, your hands bracing themselves on his thighs as he taps his cock against your parted lips, smearing his arousal all over your cherry lipstick.

He pushes inside slowly, you wince at the stretch, your mouth widening as much as it allows. The first thing you note is the salty taste, it isn’t particularly strong and you’re relieved. But no matter how hard you tried to relax your jaw, when his cock hit the back of your throat you instinctively pulled back with a small gag. — Yeonjun tsk’s above you, the hand on your cheeks gripping you firmer as he pulls you back onto his dick. “Thought I told you to relax, no?” He murmurs, letting out a breathy moan as you let him slide himself back into your hot mouth.

Your eyes screw shut as you focus on evening out your breathing, taking steady breaths in and out through your nose as you allow your tense frame to relax under him. “Think of it as the same as what you did with your hand.” His fingers relax against your cheek, thumb grazing your skin as he feels the way his cock slides in and out of your pliant lips. — It feels weird at first, uncomfortable too, but after a while you slowly get used to the feeling of him in your mouth.

Hesitantly wrapping your lips around him, you press your tongue flat against him as you carefully bob your head up and down. He groans somewhere above you and your eyes flutter open as you peer up at him through your mascara coated lashes. Yeonjun always looked good, but there was something about him like this, from this view. A sheer layer of sweat that made his dark hair stick to his forehead, his parted lips and furrowed brows, you clenched at the sight, taking him deeper and with much more urgency.

Something about tonight felt…special, perhaps even more intimate than all your past encounters. Maybe it had to do with the change of scenery. The dimly lit bedroom, the plush armchair, the fine carpet, you can’t place it, but something is different. And for the first time, you can only think about Yeonjun, not his girlfriend, his friends or even your classmates. It was only him.

Remembering how you had pressed your thumb against his slit earlier, you pull back to refocus your attention to only his tip, your hand joining in to stroke the rest of him. You press your tongue flat against his head before swirling it to the best of your abilities, watching intently as Yeonjun’s brows drew further together, a breathy moan ripping from deep within his chest.

“F-Fucking hell”, he groans, his head falling back against the cushion. “Fuck ‘m gonna-” His hips jerk forward, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and you pull back with a small wince, unprepared for when his hot cum spurted into your mouth. Not really knowing which approach to take, you continue to suck him off, cum dribbling down your chin as you fought to swallow the rest without losing your breath once more. Yeonjun slumps back against the armchair, his hand releasing its hold on your cheeks as he lets it fall to his side.

Carefully pulling off of him, you sit back as you begin wiping your chin with the back of your hand. You steal a glance at him, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. Yeonjun runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head as a small grin etches its way to his lips. — “Was…was it okay?” Your words are barely above a whisper, and he cocks an eyebrow at you, his grin widening.

“Sure it was, nerd.”

You blink up at him, “really?” — He chuckles, tucking himself back into his pants with a small grimace. “Would I have asked you to do it if I had doubts?” He retorts and you bite your lip, no perhaps not you supposed. “You’ll get even better with a bit of practice”, he reassures you, giving your head a light pat before getting up.

He’s reached the door before he turns back to you, “wait another fifteen minutes or so before leaving, yeah?” Without waiting to hear your answer, he unlocks the door and steps out, slamming it shut behind him.

⸝⸝

You spent another thirty minutes aimlessly wandering around the large villa, astonished by how someone could afford a place this big. You still had no clue whose house this even was, and no one seemed to care for the sake either. — Halfway down a long corridor, filled with what you could only assume to be modern art, you suddenly freeze in your tracks as the voices of someone else joins your quiet footsteps.

After spending a rough minute trying to locate the source of the sound, you finally realize that it’s coming from behind one of the larger pillars a few paces ahead. Debating your choices for a solid ten seconds, you opt to try and eavesdrop, if only for a moment. And as you quietly creep forward, their conversation suddenly becomes a lot more clear. — Shuffling to squeeze yourself behind another pillar, you lean against the cool marble as you try and pick up on what’s being said.

You knew the voices belonged to two of the girls from your class, but you were unable to pair them with any faces. — “Did he really?” One of them asks, her voice is slightly high-pitched, almost a bit squeaky. Her friend’s voice is fairly deeper as she replies, “Yes! And it was a week before her birthday too!” A small gasp. “You don’t mean… But with whom?” The first girl asks.

There’s a brief pause, and you, too, find yourself holding your breath as you await the second girl's answer. “With Hera..” You frown, unable to recognize the name but the other girl seemed more than aware as she let out a small shriek, earning a sharp “hush!” from her friend. — “But that’s…” the first girl begins only to be interrupted by her friend, “her best friend.”

Their conversation made little sense in your ears, and with a small sigh you turned to walk the other way when suddenly, a familiar name surfaced. — “But it was kind of obvious was it not”, the girl with the deeper voice begins, “Yeonjun has cheated on Mimi with practically all of her friends. She’s bound to find out some day, it’s only a matter of time.”

You felt your face fall as your heart plummeted through your stomach. Had you heard them right? You hoped you hadn’t but the first girl quickly butts in as she confirms what you dreaded. “I told her from the start that Yeonjun was promiscuous, but she didn’t listen of course”, the girl huffs as her friend hums in agreement. “Better her than me”, she adds.

You had heard enough. That was it, you were going home. Turning on your heel, you quietly dart down the long corridor. — You knew that you didn't have a reason to be upset, hell he had even cheated on his girlfriend with you. It still didn’t stop the tears that pricked in your eyes as you pushed past the crowd in the kitchen. A small part of you had thought, perhaps even hoped that maybe, maybe what he saw in you was different from what he saw in Mimi. God you’re so stupid. You quietly mutter, reaching the open living room just in time to see who you had hoped you wouldn’t.

Near the front door, leaning against the wall, was Yeonjun, arms wrapped around his girlfriend’s frame as she pressed sloppy kisses to his neck. Your mind flashes with the images of what had taken place between the two of you not even an hour ago. Yet here he was, shamelessly buttering his so-called girlfriend up as if he hadn’t had you on his cock moments prior. And to think that you had allowed yourself to become part of his crowd, it was disgusting.

You finally saw Choi Yeonjun for what he really was. A fucking asshole. And with that clarification in mind, you forcefully push past the pair as you march out of the front door, leaving the still lively party behind as you begin your journey home.

⸝⸝

Monday came all too fast. The aftermath of the party is still fresh in your mind as you rummage through your locker. You had spent the whole weekend reanalyzing your every interaction with Yeonjun; from the day you first met to the thirty minutes spent in the guest bedroom just two days ago. You questioned his true intentions, more than twice. But no matter how many hours you tossed and turned in bed, you got no closer to solving the mystery that was Choi Yeonjun.

Slamming the red steel door shut, you almost drop the books in your arm as you come face to face with the person you least wanted to see. — Yeonjun leans against the locker next to yours as he studies your face intently. Quickly you turn around to see if anyone was watching the two of you before shifting your attention back to him. “What are you doing?” You whisper as you watch him with a wary expression.

He only shrugs, a small grin playing on his lips. “See me after class”, he nods in the direction of the stairs, leading to the third floor and you internally sigh. Still, you should talk to him, you really should, so you nod. “Okay.” — His grin widens as Yeonjun pushes himself off the locker, continuing down the hallway without another word.

You find yourself counting down the hours, lesson after lesson, your eyes remain glued to the clock on the wall. In fact, you’re so focused on the afternoon ahead that the insults thrown your way merely passes over your head. — Then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you find yourself walking up the steps and past the doors as you neared room 291.

He was already there, waiting for you. And as soon as the red door closes behind you, he’s got you pressed up against it, hungry lips on yours within a matter of seconds as his hands roam your body. It was easy to get caught up in his world, his kisses and his touches, you have to remind yourself of why you came here. His name falls from your lips, but it’s not the usual desperate whine, it’s serious, you know that he can tell, humming against your lips yet his hands don’t stray away from wandering beneath your shirt.

"Yeonjun, wait."

He stills, if only for a moment, leaning back slightly as his lips brush against yours. Taking in a deep breath, you prepare yourself for the conversation to come. You had rehearsed it many times in your head, but as you glance up at him in the dim light of the storage unit, you find it hard to even look him in the eyes. “I…I’ve been thinking”, you slowly begin, watching the faint smirk that surfaces on his face. “Don’t you always, nerd.” He mutters, his hands resuming their journey up your chest, flicking the buttons to your shirt open as his mouth leaves hot kisses against your neck.

You try to ignore the burning sensation sparking through your body, forcing yourself to go through with what you wanted to say. “Yes but, I’ve been thinking about…about us.” — Your words make his hands around your breasts stutter and he goes quiet against you. Biting your lip, you hold your breath as you wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t, only humming against your skin as he continues to litter you in red marks.

“What makes you think there is an ‘us’?”

His question makes your composure fall as you let out a shaky exhale. “There isn't?" You hesitantly ask, already anticipating the answer you were bound to receive. — He pulls away from you with a perplexed expression. Then he laughs, it’s short, cruel, he shakes his head. “Don’t be funny”, he mutters as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “You know that I have a girlfriend, nerd.” He spits the words out like the venomous bite of a snake. His gaze drops to your unbuttoned blazer, briefly passing the harsh bruises he’d previously left on your chest.

“Don’t think you’re anything else besides a quick fuck.”

Oh. There it was. He finally said it, he finally confirmed what you had been dreading all along. You weren’t stupid, you knew that whatever the two of you had was nothing romantic. But hearing those words come out of his mouth, it hurt more than you ever thought it would’ve. Still, it was just what you needed. With your palms pressed against his chest, you push him back, as far away from you as the small room allowed.

“I don’t think I want to be that.”

Your voice is trembling as you speak and you have to force your gaze not to drop down to your shoes. Letting your hands fall back against your sides, you draw in a small breath, holding it as you watch Yeonjun’s face form into a confused frown. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He huffs, sounding almost angry as his hands clenched into fists before relaxing again.

You bite the inside of your cheek, giving a meek shrug of your shoulders. “I don’t want to be just a… a quick fuck.” You murmur, unable to maintain his intense gaze, you let your eyes drop to the floor. He scoffs, leaning back against the shelves with such force that the items behind him rattled. “Do you honestly believe that anyone else is even going to consider fucking you, nerd?” He was pissed, that much you could tell.

Shaking your head, you blink away the tears that had managed to form in your eyes. “I don’t care, I just…”, you exhale, praying that your voice wouldn’t break as you continued, “I just don’t think this is for me.” — Yeonjun laughs, the same laugh that echoed off the classroom walls as he made fun of you. You realize then just how fucked up your situation had become. How could you have allowed yourself to stoop to such a level?

“I gave you so much, and you… you don’t think that it’s for you?” He jeers, taking a step forward as he comes face to face with you once more. But now none of the previous lust and desire remained, only fury. All you can do is continuously shake your head, not daring to meet his gaze. “No. It’s not.” You state as you tear your eyes from the floor, it takes everything in you to not have your resolve crumbling as you peer up at him.

“So let’s stop.”

You motion toward the small unit you were currently standing in. “Whatever this is, was, let’s end it now.” You swallow, hard, the sound ringing in your ears. Yeonjun runs a hand through his hair once more, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek as his eyes flit between you and the door. “You want to end things? Fine.” His voice lacks all the anger it previously held, now sounding almost monotone.

“But don’t come crying when you realize just how much you’re about to lose.” He drawls, eyes boring into yours one final time before he pushes past you, knocking you back against the wall as he rips the door open. Darkness envelops you as soon as it's slammed shut behind him, and you finally let out the sob you had been holding in.

⸝⸝

You didn’t go to school that following Tuesday, nor Wednesday. It was the first time you had missed a whole day since your junior year in highschool. Was it pathetic? Probably. Curled up on your bed, you spent the two days in front of your laptop, binging whatever show seemed appealing as you sniffled into a tissue. — You wanted to go back in time, back to when you only knew Yeonjun as the obnoxious leader of bullies from your class, back to when things were simple.

You wondered what he might’ve said about you in your absence. What kind of lies he might’ve conducted, surely he wouldn’t just sit still. You dreaded returning, but you knew that it was inevitable, and as Thursday rolled around, you pulled yourself from bed.

The classroom was empty when you arrived, there was another thirty minutes left but you had chosen to get there earlier to save yourself perhaps at least a few stares as you walked toward your desk. You had missed a lot, you were sure, two days was a long time to be away from school and you worried that you would have a lot of reading to do when you came back home. Though you supposed the distraction of studying would be nice.

It’s about ten minutes left until class when the first few students emerged from the doors, swinging their bags down on their desks as they chatted loudly with one another. “Watch it nerd!” A girl sneers as she gives the leg of your chair a harsh kick, you grip onto the edge of your table as you hang your head low. But beside that, nothing happens, and you frown. You were sure it was going to be worse than this, but it wasn’t. For the first time ever you felt relieved that your classmates were treating you indifferent. Well, all except one.

Yeonjun doesn’t show up to first period. And just as you think he’s about to be absent for the second one as well, the door is pushed open as he walks inside. Yeonjun seldom did what he was supposed to in class, but he always brought his bag, not today though. You tried to not let your eyes linger, inevitably failing as you watched him pull out his chair and sit down, his hands remaining in his pockets as he leaned back to gaze across the board with a lazy expression. In regular fashion, Beomgyu goes off about a random topic next to him as Soobin twirls a pen between his fingers, seemingly bored out of his mind.

Class begins, and ends, and nothing happens. Not even as much as a glare in your direction. It was just like before, before the two of you were ever intimate, Yeonjun acted as if you didn’t exist, and you watched him. But this time, you didn’t feel a sense of longing, honestly, you didn’t know what you felt. Relief, a sense of mourning, regret? You didn’t like the way your stomach felt when you looked at him, so you stopped.

⸝⸝

Weeks went by, the bullying never stopped, why would it? You kept quiet, your gaze downcast as you moved through the hallways. It worked, because you rarely saw him anymore. You didn’t know if he was avoiding you or not, you didn’t care. It felt nice to not care. The only thing tugging away at you now… was the loneliness. It wasn’t like Yeonjun acted friendly with you, especially not during school hours, but he had made you feel less alone. In the most fucked up way possible, he was the only one you had ever had some kind of relationship with since your first day here. And a small part of you missed it.

But even the loneliness would one day stop.

You blink up as a plate is placed opposite yours in the crowded cafeteria. Confused, your eyes darted between the boy before of you and the plenty of empty tables. He doesn’t seem to care as he slides down on the chair in front of yours. “You’re the junior girl who takes classes with the seniors right?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side, studying you with wide and curious eyes. — Still wary of the intentions behind his move to sit with you, you slowly nod, “I am.”

He smiles, it was perhaps one of the first genuine smiles you had received since you started here. Shuffling a bit closer, he offers his hand for you to shake, which you hesitantly do. “I’m Hueningkai, but you can just call me Kai.” He says as you let go of his hand once more. — “I’m a junior too, but I’m stuck with everyone else our age”, he explains with a coy smile.

You nod, taking a small sip of your water. His eyes shift to the book placed next to your tray. “Lord Of The Rings?” He asks and you hum as you turn it around for him to see. “I love those books!” He exclaims as he brings it to his face, studying the back intently. “I’m re-reading them..” You quietly mumble as your gaze flickers between him and the glass in your hand. Kai sets the book down as he turns to you, “you mean you’ve read all this more than once? Sick!”

That was how you met Kai. You don’t know why he approached you, you didn’t care to ask. All you knew was that you had finally found a friend. And though the two of you still took separate classes, you always stayed behind to study together, ate lunch just the two of you, and walked each other to class. It felt nice to have someone to talk to, even though you didn’t tell him about you and Yeonjun, he still listened to you as you explained all of the bullying.

You were amongst the last to return to class after lunch one lousy Tuesday. Kai and you had spent the entire break discussing quantum physics, and you had only realized the time once you went to search something up on your phone, making you rush to class. Not thinking much of the rare occurrence, you make your way over to your desk by the very back of the room, only freezing when one of your classmates addresses you.

“What’s got you coming in so late, nerd?” He sneers as he leans back in his chair to see you better. With the intention of not replying, you take your seat as you begin rummaging through your stuffed bag. But when another girl butts in, you feel yourself go stiff. “Don’t you know?” She drawls, easily garnering the first guy’s attention as well as everyone around her. Even the Choi’s seemed to be listening as Beomgyu put down his phone. You held your breath, anticipating the worst yet it somehow ended up being so far from anything you could’ve ever imagined.

“Nerd’s got a boyfriend.” She exclaims, watching triumphantly as everyone began whispering amongst each other, hushed murmurs carrying around the room. You felt your face burn as you glanced toward Yeonjun’s table. — He was still scrolling absentmindedly on his phone, but the way his jaw clenched, accompanied with the small frown of his brows, made your stomach sink just slightly.

“That’s such bullshit!” Mimi exclaims as she throws you a harsh glare. But the girl who’d announced the news merely shakes her head. “I’ve seen them myself!” She retorts as she folds her arms across her chest. “That junior boy, y’know the blonde one.” — “I’ve seen them too!” Someone else chirps in and the girl is quick to nod.

“They always eat lunch together too”, the girl turns to you with a wide smirk, “isn’t that right nerd?” — Your fingers curled around the pencil in your hand, gripping it with such force that it might break. You don’t look at her, gaze dropping to your table as you merely shook your head, earning a scoff from the girl as she turned back to the rest of the class.

“Shit, are you serious?” Beomgyu wonders as he leans forward in his chair. But before the girl has a chance to reply, Yeonjun cuts her off. “Don’t be stupid”, he mutters as he pulls Beomgyu back by the collar of his shirt. — “What the fuck man, it’s just a question”, he whines as he rubs his now sore neck. Yeonjun huffs as his gaze remains glued to his phone screen, “of course she isn’t serious. Stop believing her bullshit.”

Beomgyu falls silent at his words and so does everyone else. The next few minutes are awkward as everyone scrambles to occupy themselves with whatever they could find, desperately wishing for your professor to walk through the doors.

⸝⸝

The sound of the old library doors being pushed open shifts your focus from the book in your lap as you glance up just in time to see Kai approaching your desk. He smiles, waving his hand enthusiastically and you find yourself reciprocating the small move. — “Sorry I’m late”, he apologizes as he takes the seat next to yours, pulling a few books from his bag. “It’s fine, really”, you assure him as you place your own book down.

It had become routine for the two of you to meet up and study together, well, you often just talked the hours away, but neither of you seemed to mind the lack of work getting done. “Which chapter are you on?” He wonders, and you slide the book over for the two of you to share, “fifteen.” He nods as he scoots closer, your shoulders practically touching as you take turns reading and scribbling down notes.

Usually you didn’t mind the close proximity, but when thinking back of what had transpired after lunch earlier that day, you felt different. Ever since your break up with Yeonjun, if break up was even what you could call it, you had little desire to enter into a new relationship. But the more you mulled over your classmate’s words, the more sense it all seemed to make. — Eating lunch together, walking each other to class, even now, you both sat so close that you could hear the pattern of his breathing.

Kai was cute. He was the type of cute that made you look back twice when you passed him on the street, the type of cute that made you want to revisit the small café because of the waiter that had served you, the type of cute that you wanted to bring home to your parents. — Not only was he cute, he was nice too, you felt happy, comforted, in his presence. Unlike Yeonjun, Kai only made you feel giddy inside as you longed to see him. He never made you second guess his intentions or yourself.

But there was still something missing, something that you couldn’t quite place. Something that Yeonjun had made you feel by just stepping into the same room as you. You hated yourself for comparing your new friend to someone like him, but it felt almost impossible not to. You didn’t care about Choi Yeonjun anymore, so why did he continue to haunt the subconscious parts of your mind?

As if on cue, Kai turns around in his seat, his nose almost grazing your own due to how close you sat. “Hey are you following along?” He wonders, seemingly concerned as a small frown tugs at his brows. Blinking, you shake your head, “sorry no..” — You swallow, willing yourself to be honest with him, you need to be.

“Can I…can I tell you something?” You hesitantly ask, gnawing on your bottom lip as you twirl your pencil anxiously between your fingers. He nods, a small smile painting his lips, “of course!” — Awkwardly clearing your throat, you think of a way to begin the whole thing. “W-Well basically…Everyone in my class they-”

Your words get stuck in your throat, not because you were afraid of uttering them, not because Kai made you in any way feel uneasy. But because the oak doors to the library opened once more, the sound almost deafening to your ears, eyes becoming glued to Yeonjun’s frame as he enters. It doesn’t take him long to spot you, his already spiteful expression seemingly worsening as his gaze locks with yours.

He grasps a book tightly in one hand, walking over to the front desk as he practically slams it on the table, making everyone inside the room jump as their heads turn in his direction. Yeonjun however, pays them little mind, his eyes never straying from yours as the old librarian goes to check out his book. — Even Kai’s attention had shifted toward your classmate, watching as Yeonjun leaned against the desk with a scowl on his face.

“Isn’t he in your class?” He wonders as the frown on his face deepens. You nod, “ignore him”, you mumble as you shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze. “But he’s looking at you..” Kai states and you shake your head again, “please let’s just ignore him.” — Finally, Kai tears his gaze from him as he gives you a small nod, “of course. So what’d you want to tell me?”

Oh right. “Well I… It’s a bit weird, promise you won’t be freaked out.” You begin as you bite your lip, feeling an evident blush rise on your cheeks. Kai nods as he takes your hand, the small action somehow making the whole thing even worse but you couldn’t find it in you to push him off. From the corner of your eye, you can make out Yeonjun’s figure as he watches the two of you, his mere presence made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“My classmates they…they sort of think we’re…well they think we’re dating..” You quietly mumble, the last part becoming nothing more but a faint whisper. You can easily read his surprise as Kai’s eyes widen, his gaze flitting down to his hand on top of yours as he swallows. “Oh.” Is all he says. — “I hope it doesn’t make things weird between us”, you quickly add, your voice near pleading as you search his gaze.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Kai slowly nods as he keeps his eyes on your hands. “No I suppose it doesn’t… I mean, it’s not like it’s true..” He says, offering you a small smile as his gaze returns to your face. You nod, “y-yeah, exactly..” — Daring to steal a glance in the direction of Yeonjun, you barely manage to catch his retreating figure as he exits the library, oak doors slamming shut behind him.

Kai follows your gaze, his hand on top of yours moving back to rest on his lap as his eyes flicker between the spot where Yeonjun just vanished and your almost longing expression. He sighs.

⸝⸝

It’s nearing 6pm when you finally part ways outside the library. And after waving Kai off, you turn to walk up the flight of stairs leading to your locker. The hallways are vacant, your low heel shoes clacking against its floors as you readjust your heavy bag on your shoulder. — Your footsteps come to an abrupt halt about halfway down the long corridor, your eyes spotting a tall figure, leaning against the red lockers by the end of the hall. You swallow, easily recognizing his lean frame. It’s too late to turn back, you know that he’s heard you already.

“Have you been waiting here all along?” You wonder, stopping a few paces from him, maintaining a good distance as you shift your weight over to one leg. Yeonjun’s head, previously leaning against the red steel behind him, lazily turns in your direction as he studies you with a tired expression. “No.” — You knew it was a lie.

“Then why are you here?” For once, it’s your gaze boring into his, and not the other way around. Yeonjun remains silent, his hands digging deep into the pockets of his pants, his eyes roaming your body just like they had so many times before. He doesn’t say anything. You wait for him to speak, you wait for two whole minutes. Nothing.

With a small huff, you give up as you approach your locker. Now only inches from him, you type your code in as the red door clicks open. Pulling your books from your bag, he watches you as you place them neatly inside the small space. You bite your tongue, refraining from saying the many things on your mind. It would only complicate the situation further. — It’s not until you close the locker again, turning around as you get ready to leave, that he finally breaks the silence.

“Is it true?”

You freeze, slowly turning back to face him with a small frown. Still leaning against the lockers, he tilts his head to the side, his expression holds no amusement, not even anger, just…emptiness. You had never seen him like that before. — “What?” The surprise is evident in your voice, and you watch as he pushes himself off the lockers, moving to face you completely. “You and him, is it true?” He repeats his question and your breath gets stuck in your throat at the mention of Kai.

You didn’t want him to become the next affection of Yeonjun’s harsh bullying. More than anything, you wanted to maintain the only friendship you had, you could not have your past mistakes getting in the way of it. — “Does it matter?” Your stance remains guarded as you fold your arms across your chest. He cocks an eyebrow in your direction, his lip twitching, “of course not.”

Confused, you frown, you had forgotten how near impossible he was to read. “Well then there you have your answer.” You firmly state. He shakes his head, and you could’ve sworn you caught the small grin on his face before it vanished again. “So then it is true..” — “Yes.” The small word of confirmation slips from your lips without you even realizing it. But it was too late to take it back now. Yeonjun frowns, he seems almost surprised at your immediate response.

“It’s true that we hang out everyday. It’s true that he makes me smile, and laugh. It’s true that he cares for me and I for him. All of it is true, is that what you wanted to hear?” You’re almost out of breath by the end of your small rant. — Yeonjun’s jaw clenches, hands curling into fists inside his pockets as he draws in a sharp breath through his nose.

“So does it really matter if it’s true or not when he treats me in a way that makes me feel loved and appreciated?” You’re unable to hinder yourself from letting out all the emotions that you had kept pent up during the past weeks. And by the end, your voice sounds as if it’s about to break at any moment. — But he doesn’t say anything. His expression remained as indifferent as possible, watching the way your chest heaved as you caught your breath again.

His silence felt heavier than a thousand words. Part of you wants to swallow your statement again, another part is relieved to finally have gotten it out. You quickly realized that you probably wouldn’t get another response from him, and thus you made your second move to leave. Except this time, he acts faster.

Fingers wrapping around your wrist, Yeonjun prevents you from taking another step away from him. His grip is tight, but not enough to hurt, you can feel the slight tremble to his hand and your gaze dart between his hold on you to his now determined expression.

“I could too.”

His voice is low, yet the sentence echoes off the empty hallway walls. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, blood rushing beneath your skin as your wide eyes meet his. — “I could make you feel like that too.” His voice is clearer now, steadier, and he takes a step forward. You find yourself shaking your head, making him frown. “Why, don’t you believe me?”

The question made you scoff. “Of course I don’t.” You exclaim as you withdraw your arm from his grip, he lets you, briefly glancing down to his now empty hand before letting it fall to his side. “You’ve said it yourself. I’m nothing besides a quick fuck, right?” — He bites the inside of his cheek, your words undoubtedly true.

Maybe three weeks ago, his small statement would’ve been able to sway you, to make your heart beat a little faster. Now it only felt like he was rubbing salt onto your barely healed wounds. Just as you had gotten over him, just as you had finally made a real friend, he had to go and ruin it all again by saying exactly what you both dreaded and longed to hear from him. And you hated him for it. You hated Choi Yeonjun.

Tears stung in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You couldn’t let him see you cry. — He grabs onto you a second time as you turn to leave, pulling you flush against his chest with such haste that you barely have time to register what’s happening before his lips are on yours. “Don’t go”, he breathes into your mouth, kissing you with such urgency that you thought he might just be on the verge of dying.

Your hands are on his chest within seconds as you pry him off. “Stop. Just stop.” Your pleading voice cuts like knives through the air and he pulls back with a stunned expression. Shaking your head, you tear yourself from him as you take a step back. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. But it better stop.” He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. “Don’t let me get my hopes up only to crush them again.”

Refusing to hear him out any longer, you quickly turn on your heel as you hurriedly walk down the hallway, leaving him behind as he runs a hand through his dark hair.

⸝⸝

The next day, Yeonjun doesn’t show up to school. You’re just as confused as everyone else, your eyes darting toward the door every other second, thinking that it might be him, but it never is. — “Is he sick?” Someone asks but Beomgyu only shakes his head, leaning back in his chair with a small huff, “beats me.” Ah, so he didn’t know either. Gnawing on your bottom lip, you’re suddenly filled with worry, was it because of what happened yesterday? Was he actually hurt by it? No, surely not, it was Choi Yeonjun after all.

It’s not until the doors bursts open once more, revealing a disheveled Mimi, that realization slowly starts to set in. Her usually put together face is in ruins as makeup has been smeared across her cheeks. Heads turn in her direction as one of her friends guides her over to her desk. — “What happened?” A guy asks only to be hushed by her friend, quietly mouthing out the words: “he broke up with her.”

Everyone seems to fall silent after that, allowing Mimi’s quiet sobs to fill the room as you wait for class to start. — He broke up with her… You blink, glancing down to the empty page in your notebook as you swallow. Did that also have anything to do with what happened yesterday? Once again you’re left feeling guilty, Yeonjun always seemed to make you feel that way.

When your professor finally arrives, the lecture moves slowly, agonizingly so. And for once, you didn’t find any joy in your studies. Sure it might also have something to do with the persistent feeling of being watched. — Turning your head ever so slightly to the right, you find Soobin’s eyes locked on your unnerved frame. Not even when he knows that you’ve caught him does he turn away.

He continues to watch you throughout the day. Wherever you went, he seemed to be there too. Eyes boring into you at all times, an indifferent expression on his face. He knew something, that much you were sure of.

⸝⸝

Finally, as your last lesson comes to an end, you manage to slip past Soobin’s prying gaze as you hurried down the stairs to meet Kai. The two of you had begun accompanying each other on the way home as you both took the bus from the same station. — You find him waiting by the entrance, a large smile plastered across his face and as soon as your eyes fell on him, all worries were washed away.

“How was class?” He asks as you walk down the courtyard. You shrug, swinging your bag in front of you cheerily, “nothing out of the ordinary.” — “No mean comments, no nothing?” He wonders and you bite the inside of your cheek, “no…actually not.” After the news of Mimi’s breakup, everyone had fallen into this sort of trance where no one seemed to want to bring attention to themselves. Thus you had been left alone all day, which felt both nice and incredibly weird.

Kai hums, the two of you were walking so close that your arms brushed together, but you didn’t mind. Once you reach the large gates leading out onto the streets however, you freeze. Stopping a pace in front of you, Kai turns to you with a small frown, “something wrong?” — You shake your head, “no…I just.. think I left a book behind, you go ahead.”

He opens his mouth, as if to object but you quickly interrupt him, “it’s fine! I wouldn’t want you to miss your bus”, you reassure him as you offer a small smile. “Then what about you?” He wonders but you just wave it off in a disregarding manner, “I’ll take the next one, don’t worry about me.” He doesn’t seem entirely convinced but the small hug you give him makes him nod. “Alright, text me when you get home”, he says and you quickly agree as you send him off.

You watch him disappear down the pavement with a small sigh. Not until he’s completely out of sight do you turn to cross the street. You walk with long and determined strides, not stopping until you reach the large tree by the sidewalk. — Yeonjun isn’t wearing his usual school uniform, instead he’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans, a black jacket wrapped around his torso to prevent the chilly December air from getting to him. He leans against the naked tree trunk, his gaze flickering from the concrete beneath him and over to you as you approach.

Feet planting in front of his, you cross your arms as you peer up at him with an expectant look on your face. He doesn’t say anything, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Unable to bear the silence, you break it. “You didn’t come to school today.” You don’t know why you stated the obvious, perhaps you wanted him to explain himself, but he doesn’t, only nodding silently.

Frustrated, you run a hand through your hair. He wanted to talk to you, right? That’s why he was waiting across the street from your college, openly risking being spotted by your classmates. So why wasn’t he saying anything? — Huffing out a short breath, you part your lips to say something, but he’s quicker than you.

“I broke up with her”, he calmly states. His posture remains relaxed as he speaks but his eyes search yours with something akin to desperation. — “I know.” You mumble, biting the inside of your lip before continuing, “she was crying all day, did you know that?” He scoffs, “so?” His nonchalant approach made you frown, “so? Don’t you care?” Your question is met by the mere shake of his head as he shrugs, “no, do you?”

“I do.”

He hadn’t expected your answer, you could tell by the way his face dropped, if only for a moment. “Why? It’s not exactly like she’s a good person.” He jeers, shoving his hands deeper into the denim pockets of his jeans. “And you are?” Even though your voice remains steady, there’s a linger of hurt between your quiet words. — He goes silent in front of you as his gaze flits between yours and the entrance behind him.

“Why are you even here, Yeonjun?” Your tone is near accusing and he looks almost guilty as his attention shifts back to you. He swallows, rubbing a hand along his neck, as if stalling for time. You bite your tongue, waiting patiently for him to speak. — “Why do you like him?”, he finally asks. It hardly took a genius to guess who he was referring to.

You sigh, observing the way the naked branches of the tree moved against the mild breeze. “I told you, didn’t I?” You drawl, readjusting the bag swung over your shoulder. The corner of his mouth twitches as Yeonjun shakes his head, “that’s not what I wanted to hear.” — “And you think you’re in a position to make demands like that?” You snort, watching as he pushes himself off the tree before taking a step in your direction.

Leaning back to glance up at him, you try your best to hold your ground as he tilts his head to the side, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you. “Then tell me what I need to do.” — Your mouth falls open as you gawk at him, what was he implying? Taking a step back only ends up with him taking yet another forward, his hands coming up from his pockets to rest on your shoulders.

“Tell me how to be like him.”

Slowly you realize just what he was asking of you. Immediately shaking your head, you take yet another step back. “It doesn’t work like that.” You quietly murmur, averting your gaze to avoid looking him in the eyes. He frowns, a confused frown, “sure it does”, he says, sounding almost hopeful as he grips your shoulders tighter. “Just tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”

Did he honestly think that everything could be undone just like that? The pain, the tears, the bullying, that he could take it all back just because he wanted to? Just because he had a change of heart? The thought was almost as ridiculous as his proposal. — This was Choi Yeonjun, he wasn’t about to change his ways just because of you, you should know that. Whatever this was, this moment of confusion, it wouldn’t last, and you had to pull out before you got hurt, again.

“I don’t know what you want from me…” You bite back the harsh insults waiting on your tongue, shaking your head once more. “I don’t know what it is, and I don’t care. Please just stop confusing me”, you almost beg as you try to pry his hands off of you. — Yeonjun looks perplexed as he lets you push him off. “Confusing you? I don’t–”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You retort, your voice growing in intensity as you failed to hold back the anger and resentment you held for him. “I let you screw me over, I let you use me, humiliate me, I put up with all of it, because…” You exhale, taking a step forward as you point an accusing finger to his chest. “Because at one point I thought that I liked you, but I don’t. I know exactly what you are and I know that you won’t change.”

He frowns, his fingers wrapping around your wrist on his chest. “You don’t know the first thing about m-” — “I do.” You cut him off, aware of the way his jaw clenches as his grip on your wrist tightens. “I know that you cheat, you lie, you use people as you please, and worst of all, you don’t even feel guilty about it.”

You tear yourself from his grasp, stumbling backward as you cradle your sore wrist. “I know far from everything about you”, you state, watching him bite the inside of his cheek as he fights off the remark he so desperately wished to fire. — “But I know that I hate you. And that’s enough reason for me to stay as far away from you as possible.”

“So please, leave me the fuck alone.”

As soon as you turn around to dart down the street, the tears spill from your eyes as you sob into your open palm. More than anything, you regret ever becoming infatuated with him.

⸝⸝

Yeonjun didn’t come to school the following day either, nor the day after that. People stopped asking about him, only becoming disregarded by both Beomgyu and Soobin as the two kept to themselves. Yet the taller’s persistent stares remained as Soobin watched your every move, like a hawk stalking its prey. Even now, as you sat by your usual table, listening to Kai as he rambled on about a random topic, did you feel his gaze on you.

“D-Did you hear me?”

Kai’s hesitant voice snaps you from your trance as your eyes shift to his fidgety frame. Nervously twisting the hem of his uniform, he gives you a sheepish smile. You blink, “I…s–sorry what did you say?” You wonder, feeling a bit embarrassed by your lack of engagement as he spoke. But Kai only shakes his head, the tips of his ears turning pink as he clears his throat. “I was wondering if… if you would maybe want to study this weekend a-at my place?”

You could tell that it had taken almost all his courage to ask the simple question. But somehow you find yourself comparing it to how easy such demands had fallen from Yeonjun’s lips as he shamelessly took whatever he wanted. Internally you curse yourself for letting your mind so comfortably shift to the subject of Yeonjun when you had tried so hard to forget about him.

“Sure I would love to!” You smile, heart swelling at the endearing sight before you as Kai’s face practically explodes in an ocean of red. “R-Really?” He asks and you nod, “of course!” — You’re about to ask him what time would be suitable when suddenly a large shadow is casted over your table. Squinting up your eyes lock with none other than Choi Soobin as he peers down at you with a vacant expression.

“I need to talk to you.” He states in a monotone voice, jutting his chin toward the large entryway of the cafeteria. Your gaze flits between him and Kai as your friend shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “O-Okay”, you quietly mumble, giving Kai an apologetic look as you get up to trail after Soobin’s tall frame.

He walks fast, and you almost have to jog in order to keep up. Pushing past the crowded hallways, Soobin doesn’t seem to mind the multiple glances shot his way. The two of you walk for a good five minutes without stopping, and just as you’re about to ask where you’re going, he comes to an abrupt halt, making you almost facepalm against his back.

With the light kick of his foot, the door to a vacant classroom swings open and he steps inside, seemingly waiting for you to do the same. — Once the door is shut behind you, he turns to lean against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. Nervously, you tug at the collar of your blazer as you glance around the dark room.

You don’t think you had been alone with Soobin, ever. Nor did you think that you had ever heard him utter more than two words out loud. And he had never directed a single one to you. So to say that your current situation was surprising, would be a grave understatement. — You think a whole minute must have passed when he finally speaks. But the words coming out of his mouth made you wish for everything to be silent again.

“What’s your deal with Yeonjun?”

His voice is low, barely above a murmur, and deep too. Not at all like his snarky friends whose laughs would echo off the hallways. You swallow, hard, the sound is audible in the otherwise quiet room. Unlike Beomgyu, Soobin never once picked on you, nor did he join in when the others were laughing, at best or worst, he would give a small grin. — If it were Beomgyu you would at least expect him to be mad in a situation like this, but Soobin remains eerily calm as he watches you from a distance, just like he had these past three days.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business”, you stand your ground, despite the fact that it felt as if the floor was literally shaking beneath you. He chuckles, it’s breathy, almost inaudible. “You don’t need to act so prideful, he’s told me everything about you.” — It feels as if all air has been knocked out of your lungs. So he did know something.

“Everything?” You exhale, your breath near trembling. He gives a curt nod, “everything, except for why he isn’t here today”, he mutters, seemingly displeased with the fact. — A small frown etches its way to your face, lips parting in confusion. “I know you’ve got something to do with it.” He states, tilting his head back as he gazes up toward the ceiling. “But he won’t tell me what.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glance down to the floor, the uneven wood planks suddenly seeming very intriguing. “I couldn’t possibly know why he–” — “Don’t bullshit me.” He snaps, his eyes flickering back to you within milliseconds. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you flinch, taking a small step back before your thighs hit the table behind you. Soobin ignores your skittish reactions as he continues. “I don’t know what he’s getting at, going for someone like you.” He says it with such distaste that it makes your skin crawl.

Before you know it, he takes a step forward, then another one, and another one, until he’s got you caged against the desk. He doesn't say anything, one of his hands reaching into his pocket as he rummages through it. Pulling up a folded piece of paper, he shoves it into your open palm. “He asked me to give you this.” — He brushes his hand against his jeans as he takes a step back.

“Fix whatever you caused.” Is all he says before turning on his heel to leave again. Upon yanking the door open, he’s met with Kai’s alarmed frame as he jumps to the side. Sparing him a mere side glance, Soobin shoves past him as he takes off down the hallway. — You shove the small paper in the pocket of your blazer as you walk over to your friend with a sheepish smile. “Hey how long have you been standing-”

“You and Yeonjun?” He asks, almost baffled as he eyes you, full of distrust. The smile immediately vanishes from your face and your throat suddenly goes dry. “W-What?” You ask, still not registering his question fully, hoping that maybe you had heard him wrong. Kai shakes his head, his jaw momentarily clenching. “Just how much exactly did you hear?” You quietly whisper.

He gives you a small shrug, “enough.” — He sighs, looking almost defeated as he runs a hand through his blond hair. “I thought you…I mean the two of you, I never thought…” Frowning, he gives up with a small huff and you bite your lip, reaching out a hesitant hand to place on his shoulder, but he only jerks away from your touch.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounds hurt, you can tell he is. The guilt was slowly seeping back into your veins, Yeonjun always made you feel guilty, but this time…this time it was your own doing. “I’m sorry.” The apology is genuine, you hope he can tell. Because you really are sorry, sorry for not being honest with your only friend.

Kai looks at you, his eyes hold so much pain that you wondered just how deep your lie had stung. “Do you like him?” He asks, his voice sounds strained, as if he was holding back tears. The question catches you off guard and you blink. Did you like him? No, of course not. You hated him. You hated Choi Yeonjun.

“No, nevermind, don’t answer.” He shakes his head, “I don’t care.” — You fumble for words, wanting to say anything that would comfort him. It felt almost impossible. “I- I’m sorry I should’ve told you I–” — “Yeah you should’ve.” He bites back, his unusually harsh tone making you wince. “You should’ve told me a long time ago. Before I..” He cuts himself off, biting his cheek as his gaze drops to the floor.

“Before what?” You quietly wonder, noting the way his shoulders slumped as he exhaled a shaky breath. “Before I liked you.” His voice is merely above a whisper, his attention strained to the floor as he refused to look you in the eyes. Your mouth falls open, it wasn’t like you were completely unaware. Kai’s lingering touches and stares didn’t go unnoticed but you had never imagined that his feelings ran this deep.

“You like me?”

He scoffs, dragging his feet leisurely in front of him. “I thought that was obvious.” He pauses, his gaze briefly meeting yours before fleeting down again, but it was just enough for you to catch the shiny layer of tears coating his lashes. You swallow, it felt almost as if you were about to throw up, the guilt slowly eating away at you.

All you could do was stare at him with a stunned expression, not knowing what you could possibly say to mend the situation. Kai draws in a sharp breath before he wipes his face with the back of his hand. “It’s alright”, he mumbles, “it’s not your fault.” — Your heart might as well just have been ripped out and stepped on at this point. Why was he being so kind to you, when you so obviously didn’t deserve it.

“We’re friends still…aren’t we?” He wonders, looking up from the floor with bloodshot eyes. “T-This doesn’t change anything, right?” — You wanted to tell him that this changed everything, that things might never be the same again. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t hurt him like that. So you shake your head, wrapping your arms around him as you hug him tight. “Of course not, Kai.”

You wondered if things had turned out differently between the two of you, had you never gotten involved with Yeonjun.

⸝⸝

It’s early, earlier than you’d like to admit as you leave your apartment that Sunday morning. The sun has yet to rise and the city is still asleep, but you haven't been able to shut your eyes and relax for the past three days. No, you had waited, dreaded, for this day to come. — The bus is almost empty, save for another young woman, but she looks far more comfortable than you as she rests her head against the window.

The air is cold as you step off, and you hug your coat tighter around your body. You walk for about ten minutes before a large building comes into view. Pulling the small note from your pocket, you glance between the address scribbled down and the number on the building in front of you, they perfectly align. — The note, the one Soobin had so hastily shoved in your hand three days ago, the note you had reread at least a hundred times throughout the weekend. An address, a day, but not a time. — Perhaps you were a bit early, but as you trudged up the stairs, you no longer cared. You had waited for three whole days, you’d had enough.

You take the stairs instead of the elevator. To get some exercise in, you tell yourself. But there was no mistaking the fact that you wanted to prolong the moment for as long as possible, despite your urgency to get here. — Finally, you reach the fifth floor, out of breath, you lean against the wall as you take a moment to gather yourself.

The first time you read the note you had considered not showing up at all. It was a cowardly move to send his friend in his place. But at the same time, your mind longed for answers, answers that you would hopefully get today. — You bring the paper to your face, rereading it one final time. The address, the day, and the small sentence, at the very bottom.

“Let’s talk, please.”

Fine, if he wanted to talk, then you would talk. Your fingers curl into a fist, lightly tapping the dark wood. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve been mindful of the still early hour. But right now your mind was set on one thing alone. — Your heart beats obnoxiously loud in your chest, the wait seemingly eternal.

Then the door creaks open. And as soon as your eyes fall on him, you can tell that he’s had trouble sleeping too. The bags under his eyes were a most unusual look, his hair too, laid messily sprawled on top of his head. He’s still dressed, almost as if he hadn’t gone to bed at all. — “Hi”, his voice is low, raspy, like he hadn’t spoken in days. You give him a small nod of acknowledgement and he steps aside as he lets you in.

Yeonjun’s apartment is clean, minimalistically furnished. It wasn’t like you had ever tried to imagine what his home would look like, but this somehow felt just like him. Your gaze trails across the few paintings on the walls, you can tell that he hadn’t picked them himself, most likely they came with the flat. The white couch, situated by the large windows, catches your eye.

Upon walking over and taking a seat, you find that Yeonjun does the same, maintaining a respectable distance as he glances down towards his hands. For a moment, everything is quiet. Part of you wished to stay like this forever. But that was of course impossible. — He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly on the sofa. “Do you want something to drink?” You bite your lip before nodding, “water’s fine.”

He gets up, walking over to the joint kitchen as he turns on the faucet. You can hear him grabbing glasses, filling them to the brim before returning to place one in front of you on the marbled coffee table. Quietly thanking him, you take the glass, bringing it to your lips as you take a sip. You wait for him to speak first, he was after all, the one who had reached out.

Yeonjun looked very different like this. In the comforts of his own home he resembled little of the person you had grown accustomed to in school. You wondered if he often brought people over, judging by how awkward he was acting, you supposed not. — He draws in a sharp breath, his gaze remaining downcast as he speaks.

“You got my note..” He mumbles as you set your glass down. “I did”, you state, leaning back against the soft cushion as you turn your head in his direction. “Why didn’t you give it to me yourself?” You frown, feeling rather hurt by his choice of using his friend, his friend who definitely didn’t seem to like you. Yeonjun is silent, he’s silent for a good while, fingers intertwined with one another as he bites the inside of his cheek.

“I was scared.” He quietly admits and your eyes widen at the confession. “Y-You were?” You can’t shield the surprise in your voice, Choi Yeonjun, scared? He scoffs, and for a moment, his usual self emerges as his face turns into a small scowl, but the way his eyes flicker as he speaks gives him away. “Of course I fucking was, I still am.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer straight away, as if considering his next words with great care. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he lets out a small almost inaudible exhale. “Because I’m scared that I’ve fucked things up so bad this time… That there’s no going back.” — You uncomfortably shift on the couch as you distract yourself by taking another sip of your water. Yeonjun’s body is taut as his jaw clenches, refusing to even glance in your direction he keeps his gaze steadily fixed on the window in front of him as the darkness outside slowly shifts into a deep blue.

“I want…” He slowly begins, his sentence falling short as he takes another couple of breaths. “I want to apologize.” You blink, your eyes shifting from the water in your glass and over to him, you don’t think you had ever heard him speak with such sincerity. — And for the first time since your arrival, he looks at you. He swallows, adam's apple bobbing as he does.

“I’m sorry.”

When you don’t say anything he hastily continues. “I know that it doesn’t fix shit, but I…I still need to say it. And if I could I would go back and undo all the pain I caused you, I really would. I don’t expect you to forgive me, quite frankly I don’t even expect you to ever talk to me again, I suppose that’s fair. But if I don’t tell you how sorry I am now, I’m afraid that I never will.” He takes a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it go again, his shoulders slumping, almost like a deflating balloon.

“So, I’m sorry…for everything.”

He holds his tongue after that, gaze dropping down to his fingers once more. You don’t know how to feel, much less what to say. It was all so surreal. Hearing those words come out of his mouth felt almost like a fever dream and you wondered if you had perhaps managed to fall asleep after all and that this was just a fragment of your imagination, the universe pulling a sick prank on you.

But then you turn to look at him. He’s nothing like the Yeonjun who had hurt you for so many weeks. Right now he looks small as he sits on the couch, biting the inside of his lip as he nervously rolls his thumbs together. In the end you realize that no matter how you feel, there’s only one thing you can say to him.

“I forgive you.”

He freezes, teeth letting go of his lip as he slowly lifts his head to peer over at you. An almost puzzled look paints his otherwise tired face, “you do?” He sounds almost disbelieving as he studies you with a wary expression. — You slowly nod, watching as his eyes widen with recognition, he swallows. Then everything becomes silent once more. This time it’s a different kind of silence, it’s not comfortable but the air somehow feels lighter, if only a little.

You find yourself staring out the large windows. The sky had turned a deep orange now, shades of pink seeping through the cracks formed by the clouds. The darkness slowly makes way for the light as a new day rises before you. — You want to say something, now feels like a good moment to get things off your chest. But you can’t seem to find the words, your throat feels thick and it becomes hard to swallow.

“Please like me instead.”

At first you thought that you had imagined it. The faint whisper of his lips. But when he shuffles next to you on the couch, turning to face you fully, there’s no doubt about it. You tear your gaze from the warm sky as you glance over at him. In the morning light, Yeonjun looked like he was glowing. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his dry lips, or even his unkempt hair; he looked truly beautiful.

“What?”

Your voice is soft, a low murmur, unsure and hesitant. He scoots closer, your knees touching as he places his hands on the cushion either side of him. “Like me instead. Instead of him.” Instead of Kai. He searches your gaze desperately as he bites his lip, leaning closer. — You don’t say anything, if you do, his statement would become real. You’re scared, you think.

But he doesn’t give up. “I know that you hate me, but please, I can’t stand it when-”

“I don’t hate you, Yeonjun.”

His mouth shuts, and he blinks at you, confused, brows knitting together. “What?” — “But you said..” You shake your head, turning away as you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes. You hated how easily he made you cry, even when he didn’t intend to. “I lied.” You confess, shame and guilt overflowing your senses. “Why?”

“Because I was scared.”

As the words left your lips, you think that the two of you might not be so different after all. Maybe, just maybe. — Yeonjun doesn’t say anything, his attention dropping to your knees, barely grazing one another. His hand on the sofa twitches, as if he held himself back from reaching out, from touching you.

“I was scared of liking you.” Your quiet whisper felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. A small murmur was all it had taken, so why had it seemed so hard? — His gaze shifts back to your face, his eyes wide as his lips part in surprise. “You were right all along”, you give him a half hearted smile, watching as his frown deepened. “I’ve always liked you”, you swallow, “even when I didn't want to.”

A pang of guilt takes over his expression for a moment as he internally cringes at your words, more so his own actions. “I thought it would go away if I told myself that I hated you.” You shake your head, glossy eyes dropping to your hands, the first tears threatening to escape at any moment. “It never did.” Your vision slowly becomes blurred as you blink away the salty droplets that fell down your cheeks.

You can barely see it, but you can feel it, the warm caress of his hand on your cheek. It feels nice, comforting, you don’t push him off, you don’t want to. He wipes your tears, the very same that he had caused. The faint whisper of yet another apology lingering on his lips. — Then he hesitates, you never saw Yeonjun hesitating, he always took what he wanted, did as he pleased. But you can tell that he’s uncertain of his next move. His eyes flickering between your teary eyes and parted lips.

In the end he decides to be brave. Slowly initiating what had been on both of your minds for weeks now. But when his lips meet yours, it feels different, this kiss is nothing like your previous ones. It holds no guilt, no shame, no secrets, it doesn’t feel forced nor desperate. It feels like an apology, remorseful of the past, and like a promise, a vow to the future. You can tell that he expects you to pull back, to tell him off, just like you had days prior.

Instead you cling to him, part of you thinks that this might be just what you need, another part says it’s stupid and reckless. But in the end, you want to be brave too. Even if that meant being stupid and reckless. — The stupid and reckless part of you lets him push you back against the soft cushion, lets him kiss you deeper, lets his hands trail across your body.

“I’m sorry.” He chants it like a prayer, littering your body in the light caress of his lips. You know he means it, every kiss, every touch, every apology. — His hair feels soft between your fingers, you twist the strands lightly, feeling him sigh against your skin. Yeonjun was usually one to talk in moments like these, but today there are no sarcastic remarks on his tongue. He’s quiet, attentively listening to the hitch of your breath, the small moan passing your lips, he doesn’t want to miss a single thing.

He tugs your tights off, his hands immediately soothing the goosebumps erupting on your naked skin. You think he looks pretty like this, basked in the first rays of sunshine, half lidded eyes rapidly moving as he trails them across every inch of your body. — His lips return to yours, fingers sliding between your legs just like they had so many times before, but this time it’s different, everything is.

He touches you slowly, he pays attention, he wants to know exactly how he makes you feel. Treating you as if you were made out of glass, worshiping you as if you were made out of gold. You become hyper aware of the way his body moves against yours, the soft pattern of his fingers sending sparks through your stomach.

You had been intimate with Yeonjun more times than you could remember. Yet as he lines himself up alongside you, it suddenly feels like the first. It feels new, nervous, perhaps even a little scary. But that was okay, you knew that he was scared too. — He goes slow, savoring the moment as his face rests in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry.” He can’t stop saying it, it’s never enough, it never makes up for the damage he’s created, he knows it. But you forgive him, you would continue to forgive him for eternity if he apologized for as long.

He groans against you, his voice is near trembling. Your hands are on his back, feeling the smooth surface of his skin, then they’re tangled in his hair, pulling him to look at you. For the first time it feels as if you’re seeing him clearly. Behind the lying, the cheating, the bullying, it was just him. Just Yeonjun.

As soon as the first tear rolls down his cheek, you kiss him. Tasting the saltiness on your lips, he sobs into your mouth. His chest heaves against yours, his once slow and deliberate thrusts becoming jagged and uneven as he fights to stay composed. You want to say something, but you don’t know what. Instead you pull him closer, so close that you can’t feel anything but his body against yours.

You stay like that, melted against one another. Hours pass, neither of you seem to mind. His breath is warm against your chest, your fingers are soft in his hair. The silence is light, comforting, reassuring. Your mind is filled with him, he’s all you can think about, all you want to think about. You know he feels the same, it’s comforting to know. It’s also scary, you’re not sure if you’re ready. But even then, you’ll at least be scared together, just the two of you.

It’s nice to not be alone.

⸝⸝

Monday morning also feels different. Maybe because you’re walking down the hallway side by side, you and Yeonjun. People stare, he tells you to ignore them, you try, and it works. You glance over at him, he looks happy, his step is light, his arm securely wrapped around your waist. You find yourself smiling, biting the inside of your cheek as you gaze ahead.

It’s not until you reach the all too familiar door, leading into your classroom, that you halt. Confused, Yeonjun stops a pace in front of you. “Is something wrong?” He asks as he studies your nervous posture, your eyes flickering between the now almost empty hallway and the door in front of you. The corridors were one thing, but the classroom held so many memories. Memories that wouldn’t just vanish over a day.

He notices your hesitation, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shakes his head. He reaches out, his warm hand enveloping yours as he grips it firmly. You glance between your interlocked fingers, and the small grin splayed across his face. — “I’ve got you, nerd.”

The small reassurance makes you smile, and you nod, letting him tug you closer as Yeonjun pushes the classroom door open.

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bayjaruchel · 11 months

Text

Underneath The Strobe Light

－－－

Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023

－－－

You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces.

You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie.

He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically.

You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined.

However— needing and wanting are two very different things.

And you want. So, so much.

Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch.

You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel.

World News Now?

Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences.

Yeah, no.

You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way.

It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway.

Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips.

It couldn't be anyone else.

About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly.

The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest.

"Hey," you offer.

"Hi," he obliges.

You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?"

It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes.

"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest."

"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls."

He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously."

"And yet … "

"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

You don't want to let the silence set in.

"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay."

"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you."

"Asshole."

"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?"

His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?

"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too."

"Oh, really?"

Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor."

"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later."

He's almost cheeky when he speaks.

"It's life-changing."

You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict."

Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—"

"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—"

"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder."

You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.

After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh.

"It's getting really late."

You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?"

"Are you gonna head home?"

Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like—

—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you.

"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—"

"It's not."

He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city.

"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual."

"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring.

"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual."

You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before:

"Why don't you stay?"

Your own breath stutters in your chest.

"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself.

"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't."

His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—"

"Why are you here, anyway?"

The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—"

"It's not!" You exclaim.

Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice.

"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—"

You stop yourself.

"And you what?" Mike asks, gently.

Might as well, huh?

"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead.

There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes.

Then:

He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense.

"Feeling's mutual," he mutters.

Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less.

"Yeah?" You dare to ask.

Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes.

"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him.

You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor.

You reach out.

He lets you lace your fingers through his.

Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should.

You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely.

"... Can I?"

His reply is almost instantaneous.

"Please."

You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead.

He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit!

His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere.

You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you.

However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise.

It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips.

He moans.

You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part.

"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—"

"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay."

You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more.

So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his.

Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone.

You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans.

"Should I—"

"Yeah—"

With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least.

All you want to do is keep going.

You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt.

"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—"

"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?"

"Yes —"

"You want me to take 'em off?"

Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure.

He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down.

"Go on," you encourage.

He helps you move so he has easier access, and—

His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.

"Look what you did to me," you murmur.

He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you.

Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—

Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you.

"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—"

"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs.

"Mike —"

He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position.

"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"

"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—"

"Oh —"

The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied.

Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—

Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you.

Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down.

You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand—

"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist.

"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you.

"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now.

You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck.

When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity.

"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck."

You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut—

"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts— you swear you hear him whimper . His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth.

True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him.

He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "

"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum."

Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him.

He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down.

Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face.

"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on."

"Yeah, okay."

When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail.

The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet.

"For what?"

"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess."

The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile.

"You're welcome."

He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut

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loganswdc · 4 months

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every day i learn something new about logan sargeant and his racing career, not just about his performance in f1 but in f2 and previous series, too. and every day i end up so sad because he genuinely has so so much potential and can do so much but he keeps being give a poor hand of cards. this guy out qualified his teammate in f2 TEN TO FOUR. and who was his teammate?? liam lawson. liam joined redbull’s driver academy in february of 2019 while logan only got to join an f1 team’s driver academy in october of 2021. that team was williams. which, as we know, hasn't exactly been the best performing team in recent years. oscar piastri got to join an f1 team’s driver academy in january of 2020 (the renault sport academy, later rebranded as the alpine academy). liam and oscar both got the opportunity to do f1 tests for YEARS prior to their f1 debuts in 2023. liam had 4 and a half years of experience in f1 cars before 2023. oscar had 3 years of experience in f1 cars before 2023. even if it was just testing and practice sessions, it's still something.

what did logan get? one measly fp2 session, post-season testing, and then jumped right in to pre-season testing in 2023. he already had a seat in williams then, so with the experience from before the pre-season testing in 2023 he got to do maybe 800km of testing in an f1 car. the others — in this case i mean oscar, liam, and heck even nyck de vris — had opportunities to drive f1 cars and gain experience for YEARS before logan. if you look at nyck de vris: he got signed to the mclaren young driver programme in 2010. he joined the audi sport racing academy in 2016. granted, he left the mclaren programme in before the 2019 season and left audi after the 2019 season, too. but he then went to mercedes as a reserve driver and tester for 2020 and afterwards. this means he got just about a DECADE AND A HALF of teams putting their time and energy into training him to join f1.

logan got a year. one. single. fucking year. that is entirely incomparable to the other rookies from 2023, who had so much more experience before hand. and yet logan was jumped into f1 and the expectations were so high for a guy who hasn't had the chance to train and learn and gain experience.

and yet when we look at the 2022 f2 season, logan sargeant, a rookie, was 1 point off from his teammate —the one and only liam lawson — scoring p4 in the championship. he outqualified his teammate 10 to 4. he was the first american to win an f2 race (that is, of course, following the rebrand from gp2 to f2, but regardless, that’s still an important thing to note and an achievement of his that should be celebrated).

logan sargeant has so much potential and if only williams would show him a little more faith unlike what they’ve been doing, if only they’d give him the same upgrades as alex, if only they wouldn’t force him to drive a car 15kg overweight from that of his teammate’s car, if only they wouldn’t force him to use outdated rear and front wings from the season prior. then perhaps he would have a chance to show what he can do. perhaps if he wasn’t stuck in a team with a crap car who have shown zero faith (which has been vehemently obvious since the circus in australia) in him and made him absolutely miserable, a shell of himself — which you can clearly see in recent interviews and photos of him — then maybe he’d be able to show how good he really is. and maybe if williams hadn’t been so adamant about taking him out of f2 so quickly and let him develop for one more year, we’d be seeing headlines that say “logan sargeant, first american f1 driver on the podium since michael andretti in 1993.” and perhaps we could even see him winning races.

no matter what someone says about his current f1 performances — though most base that solely off of where he ends up on the grid rather than looking at his actual driving and seeing how good he is as a driver considering the crap circumstances he’s in — logan sargeant is a better driver than what everyone says. he is trying so insanely hard to get a car that is miles off from the rest of the field to place as high as humanly possible. no one can say that if you put another driver in that car that logan is driving they'd be doing better than he is now. the fact is, they wouldn't be. he's been given an absolute tractor and is expected to score points when that car isn't built for getting in the points. and yet logan managed to get p10 in the miami sprint race — which should be recognized and commended. because he was in an awful car and he absolutely shined that day. that was just the start of showing what he could do. but he hasn't been given the same resources as alex, those being the upgrades, so what more can he do compared to what he's doing now?

and i am actually sitting here crying as i type this because this is a driver who is giving it his all even when the entire world is against him, even when his entire TEAM is against him, and he is persevering to the best of his abilities. and i know exactly what it’s like to sit here, wanting to reach for your dreams and show everyone how good you are, but to have only your closest friends and family on your side, rooting for you. what it’s like to look everywhere around you and see everyone calling you crap and saying you should quit and that you aren’t and never will be good enough. to look around and see your closest friends and family cheering for you, yet feeling like crap because you aren't doing as well as you would want, feeling inferior to everyone around you.

news flash: logan sargeant is and will always be good enough. he just needs the opportunity to show it, and williams is ruining that for him.

and yes, i will defend him with my life. people who try to say otherwise can try to do the same hours — the WEEKS — worth of research that i’ve done about logan and his career because he IS a good driver and HE DESERVES BETTER.

any hate comments towards logan will be deleted, because i have neither the time nor the energy to deal with that and argue with logan haters. i've said all of what i know and can remember about him and his career above, and will add what i can as time goes on and i remember something else or learn something new. if you have the time to hate on logan, you have the time to do your research and examine the fact that he has the potential to do well, but is not in a position for that because of the abhorrent circumstances he is currently in.

thank you for coming to my ted talk. edit: i'd also really recommend reading this twitter thread!! it goes into some more depth on logan and his f2 / f1 career, and even a little bit about his f3 career. it's very informative and articulates much of logan's career and why he is a better driver than many believe very well. https://x.com/herrocult/status/1795747913588761027

#logan sargeant #f1 #williams racing #ls2 #logie sargeant #logan sargeant rants #i will actually go to war for him lmao #like genuinely he deserves sm better #and people can't help but look just at the surface level rather than really looking into him and his career and analyzing his driving #it's so ARAGHAGRHAGRHRAGH #i will always defend him.#logiebear #YES I CALL HIM LOGIE BEAR AFFECTIONATELY BECAUSE HE IS SO DEAR TO ME #logie bear #i've literally fought my teacher over him i'm that adamant about defending him

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soon-palestine · 3 months

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The House of Representatives has voted to effectively conceal the death toll from Israel’s war on Gaza.

On Thursday, lawmakers voted 269-144 on an amendment to prohibit the State Department from citing statistics from the Gaza Health Ministry. The measure is part of the annual State Department appropriations bill. It was led by Democratic Reps. Jared Moskowitz, Fla., and Josh Gottheimer, N.J., and Republican Reps. Joe Wilson, S.C.; Mike Lawler, N.Y.; and Carol Miller, W.V.

In total, 62 Democrats joined 207 Republicans in supporting the amendment.Here are the 62 Democrats who joined 207 Republicans to ban giving funds to the State Department to cite the Gaza Health Ministry, undermining the organization’s death & injury figures. https://t.co/n7DveMQaPQ pic.twitter.com/Nas0Fgm4Ag

— Prem Thakker (@prem_thakker) June 27, 2024

While party leaders often push their members to vote “yes” or “no” on any range of proposals, Democratic leadership gave “no recommendation” to its members on how to vote on the amendment. After the House passes the full bill, it will head to the Senate for consideration.

Mohammed Khader, policy manager at the U.S. Campaign for Palestinian Rights Action, told The Intercept that the amendment is part of a trend of anti-Palestinian sentiment in Congress since the start of Israel’s atrocities in Gaza. “By preventing any recognition of the number of Palestinians killed since October, this amendment is a clear example of genocide denial and is no different from what was done towards victims of genocides in Rwanda and Armenia.”

On Wednesday, Rep. Rashida Tlaib, D-Mich., the only Palestinian member of Congress, took to the floor to make a similar argument. “This is genocide denial,” she said.

After reciting the death toll and other statistics about casualties, Tlaib said she intended to introduce the list of Palestinians killed in Gaza to the congressional record. “It is important to note this to everyone here: The list is too long that I can’t even submit it because of the text limit,” she said. “That’s how many have been killed.”

The Ministry of Health is the only official entity tracking the death toll in Gaza; its figures have been cited broadly, including by the U.S. and Israeli governments. Over the last eight months, Israel has killed at least 37,765 people and injured another 86,429, according to the ministry’s latest figures. These numbers are likely an undercount due to the decimated medical infrastructure, killed medical workers, and thousands feared trapped under the rubble in Gaza.

“It’s despicable but not shocking that 62 Democrats joined Republicans to refute the Gaza death toll,” one Democratic staffer told The Intercept. “Democratic leadership should be ashamed for refusing to take a stand and call out the blatant anti-Palestinian racism and genocide denial in our party.”

Moskowitz and Gottheimer are among several Democrats who have repeatedly worked to undermine the movement for Palestinian rights and pro-Palestinian speech.

In April, the pair joined Republicans to lead a resolution condemning the phrase “from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” as antisemitic. In December, the duo joined Republican Reps. Elise Stefanik and Steve Scalise to lead a resolution condemning university presidents and calling for their resignations for allegedly tolerating antisemitism on campus. In November, the two Democrats joined 20 others in censuring Tlaib, for reasons that included posting a video calling for a ceasefire that contained the phrase “from the river to the sea.”

Gottheimer has gone even further, calling Democrats who don’t support Israel a “cancer” and suggesting that Muslims in America are “guilty” of Hamas’s attack on October 7. Along with Lawler, he headlined a call hosted by No Labels, in which he spoke with university trustees about how to push the FBI to take a bigger role in investigating campus protests. During that call, Lawler suggested that student protests for Palestine were the type of activity that inspired the TikTok ban.

The pair also joined 60 other Democrats in expressing their “disgust” at South Africa’s 84-page suit accusing Israel of genocide and praising White House spokesperson John Kirby for calling it “meritless, counterproductive, and completely without any basic in fact whatsoever.” Not long after, the International Court of Justice concluded that Israel is plausibly committing genocide.

#palestine #gaza #free palestine

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tashid4 · 1 month

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Ghostface Sero

This one is really smutty so TW‼️‼️

October 31th. It was your last year at UA and everyone was reunited in the dorm. You all decided to organise an Halloween party. At first, it was supposed to be only your class, 20 people. But over the hours a lot of people decided to join. Now there was at least 50 people dancing in the common room.

You were dancing with your friends, having the time of your life. You were just happy to be with your girls, hyping each other and laughing. It was the middle of the night but you weren't tired at all, you could dance for 10 more hours. Adrenaline coursing through your veins.

At some point you went to grab another drink but after that you couldn't find your friends anymore. Alone in the middle of the crowd. The party was in full swing. You were in full panic. You didn't bring your phone, you had no way to get to them.

That is when you saw him, staring at you from afar. Ghostface. The mask. He was dressed in full black : black pants, black tank top, black shoes and of course the black mask. You felt like he was staring through your soul.

Your eyes locked on him. Getting closer to you. Pushing people around to get to you. Alone surrounded by strangers you felt vulnerable but it was exciting to find out who was hiding behind the mask. He managed to get to you, now that he was close you noticed how tall he really was, towering over you by several feet. Still looking at him, your heart start to pound out of your chest.

"So you got a boyfriend ?" he asked with a familiar voice. It was deep and smooth. Spicy and sweet. Sharp and sugary. You liked it. "Not at all" "Good"

You smiled widely as he grabbed your waist.

"Fuck don't stop" he's been pounding into you for so long now that you couldn't even tell if it was still dark outside or if the sun had risen. His hips rocking against yours. Slapping your skin so good. It was probably red now.

"You like it when I fuck you like this baby" you were a moaning mess, unable to form a correct sentence. Your only response was a loud moan and your pussy squeezing him more. "Such a slut, letting a stranger put his dick in you. Bet you've fantasized about this"

And you actually did. Having a complete stranger ruin you with a mask was at the top of your list. It was one of your darkest secret. The only person you told this was your best friend Sero. He's been your friend since you entered the school, always sticking together. He was the one getting you back on your feet after every single one of your breakups. Wipping away your tears.

Now here he was, secretlly making you cry with pleasure. He was tired of all these guys, breaking your heart, he could take such good care of you. He knew it. Why couldn't you know that too?

"You're so pretty like this" he pulled your hair, making you let out a scream of surprise. "That's it scream for me, let everyone know how good I'm fucking you right now"

He turned you over on the bed and placed your legs on his shoulder. His thumb was drawing circles on your clit. It was so much you couldn't handle it. You were seeing stars now, incoherent thoughts forming in your head. Your name ? Don't remember it. The only thing you could focus on was the delicious feeling of his dick inside of you. Your eyes couldn't stay open, the pleasure was hitting you so harshly. "I want you to fucking look at me." He was being so mean but you honestly found him even sexier like this. Being treated like a bitch was making you so wet.

"Look at me" You wanted to but it was too hard. You were overwhelmed by all the stimulation. Suddenly, he stopped all of his movements. He grabbed your hair and whispered in your ear. "You don't wanna look at me baby? I guess I'll have to teach you a good lesson."

He got dressed and left with your panties. Closing the door, leaving you alone and naked. You were still trying to process what just happened. Did he really left you here, on the verge of your orgasm ?

Part 2 ????

#sero hanta #mha sero #sero smut #sero x reader #mha smut #mha #ghostface #hanta sero #hanta sero x reader #bnha smut

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fangirl-dot-com · 9 months

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Chapter 13 - I-T-G-I-R-L, You Know I am That Girl

So this chapter is a little different. As well all know, the reader is an ICON and no one is near her level and she will do some iconic things in 2024

Look out for the dates to see how the time line goes (its a bit all over the place so I apologize but this will end with the start of the F1 Season with her clip in the Formula One Intro for every race and some other little things.)

And I know most of the pictures I used were Max but we play pretend here :D

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN

February 20, 2024

acrosstheline.podcast we are so privileged to have sat down with y/n.89 for this all exclusive interview where we discussed her opening races, femininity in male-dominant sports, and what it takes to be a racer - read now in our special edition

liked by y/n.89, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 751,836 others

lilymhe is this what you've been working on! so so proud of you

y/n.89 hehe it is! and love you too - tell Alex that I'm taking you alex_albon I'm right here y/n.89 and? lilymhe gagged him

y/n_updates OH MY GOSH OUR GIRL'S FIRST MAGAZINE

y/n_lover and hopefully not the last! y/n.89 definitely not y/n_updates SHE RESPONDED?!

change_ur_f-car the questions were top notch! good to see interviewers who aren't looking to poke and prod for a reaction

y/n.nation favorite quote - "I never thought I'd podium on my first race - let alone finish it in the points. I hope that this means that this season will be good. I've always said that I was born to break records - and I'm glad to see that I wasn't lying."

formula1fanatic this was beautifully written, I was skeptical about her joining - but now I have no doubts. she truly belongs in the car to win

May 15, 2024

duke Y/n L/n has taken the Motor Sport World - and everyone else - by storm. we had the opportunity to sit down with the rookie and discuss the inside feelings that might take over during the pressures of her first year. these are the unfiltered thoughts of y/n l/n.

liked by charles_leclerc, formula1, and 284,937 others

y/n-lover MOMMY, sorry, MOTHER, sorry, MOMMY

maxiel_obsessed glad you put my thoughts into words

y/n'soneandonly can arthur_leclerc fight? post up frenchman

charles_leclerc he's MONEGASQUE

girls4girls this is the moment I became a fan

89_all-the_way "I looked around one time and really thought about how I was the only female racer. I was waiting for the doubts to creep in but instead pride found its way into my soul. I made it and no one can stop me" WHAT AN ICON

box-box literally one of my favorite moments number1y/n-fan I love her so much

maxverstappen1 where is your shirt young lady?

y/n.89 its called fashion - something you haven't heard of mr. I only wear RedBull merchant lewishamilton glad to see you went with my outfit suggestion georgerussell33 what was wrong with my suggestion!? y/n.89 I was not about to wear a Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit

francisca.gomez loml - so proud of you girly

y/n.89 thanks kika! tell pear I want you back

pitstopfailure BARK BARK BARK BARK

October 7, 2024

voguemagazine "I think that I was born for this. there's nothing else I'd rather be doing than getting in my car every weekend and putting my life on the line for the sport I love," says Y/n L/n. Her days are directed by high speeds, training, and breaking records.

liked by kellypiquet, lewishamilton, and 820, 184 others

redbullracing that's our rookie!!

emotionalsupport-rivals and everyone liked that bullsrunred they are everything to me your honor

verstappensfam first kelly, then y/n! now max just needs a vogue addition

y/n.89 oh I'm working on it!

y/n-on-top they hit us with that "no one is on her level. they may be close, but we haven't seen talent like this since Lewis Hamilton's rookie year. even then, it feels different - she's different."

iamred-iamyellow and then they follow up with "her poise and composure are unmatched. she wins and maturely celebrates, she doesn't too well in the race - she takes it to heart and fixes it. she is everything a formula 1 driver aspires to be."

y/n.89 BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER!!!!!!

oscarpias-tree the way her birthday is right in the middle of Max's and Arthur's birthdays y/nxarthur exactly 7 days after max's and 7 days before Arthur's

December 4, 2023

time Y/n L/n (y/n.89) is TIME's 2024 Woman of the Year.

In her freshman season of Formula 1, L/n talks about her phenomenal rookie year, carving her spot into the sport, and the up's and down's of the expectations that were on her shoulders.

liked by taylorswift, zendaya, and 926,824 others

y/n-lover LETS GO!!!!!!!

maxverstappen1 so so proud

taylorswift congratulations y/n.89! you deserve this and everything!

y/n.nation that's our girl right there - woman of the YEAR

y/n.89 why is everyone tagging me in this post??

landonorris uh, did you even look at it??? oscarpiastri you were announced woman of the year? y/n.89 oh. boxbox_nightmare where'd she go logansargeant oh she's screaming right now - I can hear her though the walls y/n.89 LOGAN

y/n_updates everything about this article changed the way I think about life

lestappenlove this is my Roman Empire

December 20, 2024

motorsportsproduction The "Minds of Champions" special issue is out now!

We thank sebastianvettel, maxverstappen1, and y/n.89 for sitting down with us for this exclusive. Inside you will find separate as well as joint interviews from the drivers.

liked by arthur_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 2,947,935 others

lastlaplando the way they had not only y/n and max but SEBASTIAN VETTLE TOO

vettelsvetos this is everything to me, I know y/n isn't a champion yet but the way she talks and acts - she's truly champion material

emotionalsupport-rivals max, y/n, and Sebastian are the perfect trio, I could see them win a Le Mans race one day

box_box oh my gosh yes - they'd be the perfect line-up

redbullracing our three generations: past, present, and future

sebastianvettel thank you for having me - it was a special time

y/n.89 it was so good to see you again seb! planning my Switzerland trip as we speak maxverstappen1 am I invited? charles_leclerc Sebastian's favorites ONLY maxverstappen1 then why are you still here? y/n.89 shots fired (you're all wrong - I'm the favorite) landonorris popcorn is out and the girls are fighting

landonorris sad I wasn't invited for this interview

motorsportsproductions next time mr. Norris, next time

y/n.nation half of these interviews made me cry

y/ndoesiconicshit so, y/n dyed her hair navy and red just for a RedBull commercial? she is COMMITTED - sad that she eventually got back to her blond hair

liked by lastlaplando, maxiel-lover, and 170 others

y/n.nation sorry to tell you but these were wigs, y/n mentioned it once in an interview :(

y/ndoesiconicshit NOOOOOOOOOOO y/n-on-top her hair would have been crispy af if she actually dyed it

formula1fan when I tell you I switched teams because of this commercial

y/ndoesiconicshit y/n put out bts pictures of her first photoshoot and lemme tell you - I am in LOVE

liked by y/n.nation, pitstopfailure, and 239 others

f1-today this photoshoot was everything to me

y/n-loves-me people better be glad that y/n chose to be a driver and not a model

formula_uno the way that half the drivers could be models if they quit their day jobs

y/n_updates those pictures are on my wall

y/ndoesiconicshit apparently y/n wasn't ready when Max came to pick her up before media day - so she got ready in the car (what a queen)

liked by y/n-lover, y/n_fan, and 361 others

piastri_81 the way she's so unbothered, in her vlog from that day she sounded so chill while max was freaking out about being late

icon-y/n I quote "max what would they do? fire us? yagirl89 the follow up "YES" and then the "oh" had me dying

lastlaplando her skin is flawless - she needs to drop that skincare routine asap

y/ndoesiconicshit y/n's birthday was wild - y/n hinted at what happened but nothing was confirmed. all we know is that the wags took her out to celebrate the night of and they all went radio-silent (max and Arthur were panicking)

liked by change_ur_f-car, formula1fanatic, and 613 others

f1_wags apparently they went to a club where phones weren't allowed for privacy reasons

y/ns_oneandonly the leaked videos tho were hilarious

y/n-and-wags but the outside videos of Arthur and Max coming to get her melted my heart

maxiel-lover i NEED the details like water - y/n better drop them

y/ndoesiconicshit y/n at the premier of the Formula 1 film "Can't Catch Me" starring Tom Holland - when she stepped out on the red carpet ALL cameras went to her, like no one else was photographed during this time

liked by y/n.89, arthurxy/n, and 729 others

tomholland-fan DID ANYONE NOTICE Y/NS CAMEO THO

y/n.nation I thought that woman looked familiar! y/n.89-love where was she! I'll go back and watch it just to find her tomholland-fan it was when Tom's character needed to go to the mechanics for his Honda - she was the one he talked to and she was also at the end race as a engineer as well!

RedBull.nation the way everyone held their breaths when she stepped out of the car, the only sound was the clicks of the cameras and then the crowd just erupted in a roar to get her attention

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Start of the actual chapter!

Your sunglasses sat perched on your nose as you sat in the back seat of whatever rental you were in for the day. Your fingers swiped the screen of your iPhone, constantly switching videos before they could even finish. Vito sat next to you, looking out the window as he talked to someone on the phone. Words about contracts, signings, photoshoots, and interviews rattled around in the car. The driver turned the wheel as he pulled up to the studio. The car lurched as it came to a stop.

Vito quickly hung up on the phone with a short goodbye. You turned off your phone before you stepped out of the car.

“What was that all about?” you asked as he guided you to the front of the building.

You heard the click of his phone as he locked it and opened the door. You said a quick thank you as you were blasted with the air conditioning.

“Just some calls I had to make. Lots of people are wanting to interview you kid. I have to make sure that they’re not just using you or plan to ask you stupid questions.” His fingers flew over the screen, probably typing yet another email.

You just nodded. Vito had taken care of you for so long, he’d take care of you now. You knew how dangerous the media was, especially as a woman in your occupation.

The two of you followed a long hallway down to a big room where cameras and other filming equipment were set up. Right now, Max was in the middle in his racing suit working on poses. Since he was the 2023 champion, you guessed he’d be doing what he did last year and the year before. But you’ll have people know you tried to convince him to do an actual pose, but he was resilient against your puppy eyes.

You however had no clue what pose you were going to do. So, you were really hoping that someone would be able to assist you.

Max quickly glanced at you and shot you a smile before being directed to pay attention. His smile melted and his stone-cold façade showed up. You wanted to shiver since you knew that Max was this big softy that had been broken down by the villainous persona that had been built by cut scenes and misplaced wording. You’d rather go back in time to tell little Max that he wasn’t the big monster everyone said he was than win a world championship. But because time travel hasn’t been confirmed – yet, you’d stick with helping present Max and work toward your own championship.

You were ushered to a small changing room where your new race suit was hung up. Your fireproofs were neatly folded and were lying on the small bench. The shoes sat next to them. This year, the suits were a bit different. Max and you had voiced how much you liked the matte gold and navy look. Yes, the navy and red were the big staple colors of Red Bull, but you could do well with a little pizzaz.

So the design team listened and made the red a sub color. The lettering and stripes down the sides were gold. The bulls on the main logos were gold as well. Red lined the seams as well as being the main color for all the sponsorship logos.

The one thing that Max was happy about was that the hats stayed the same. He had too many from the year before to not be able to wear them. You didn’t see the appeal as you were more prone to hat hair than he was.

You put on the all navy fire proofs before stepping into the thicker race suit. You kept the outer layer on your hips as you sat down on the bench to lace your shoes. Standing up, you noticed a mirror. You walked over and just took a moment to look at yourself.

Possibly for once in your life, you liked the way you looked. The once dark circles under your eyes had finally gone away with some good sleep. Your hair looked more shiny and healthy and you had put on some good weight in the form of muscles that were needed to steer the car. Your trainer had put you through vigorous training, but it was all to help you prepare.

A knock on the door let you know that they were ready for you. Vito stood to the side with your 2024 helmet. You were known for switching your helmet almost every other race in Formula 2. Your argument was that you just had too many good ideas not to use them. To keep it simple, you went with a full navy helmet with gold logos to match the suits.

Some of the Red Bull team had mentioned that your helmet looked similar to Sebastian Vettel’s helmet. You only shot them a sly smile, basically telling them everything they needed to know. And it’s not like you didn’t know the German racer, quite the contrary. And did he give you his blessing to take inspiration from his glory days at Red Bull? The probability was huge.

But again, people really didn’t need to know that either.

All you knew was that the helmet matched to a tee, and it would be lucky to be used for more than 10 races. You had a list where you’d use special helmets. Vito was already on it with getting them ordered. You didn’t pay him to not order multiple custom helmets per year. He was already used to your antics.

You shook hands with multiple people before walking over to Max. You took your place next to him.

“So what’s the plan. I go left, you go right, and we leave with a giant explosion behind us? Taylor Swift Bad Blood style?”

Max wheezed through his nose, not expecting your full-proof plan.

From behind, Vito spoke up, “There will be no explosions. Here’s the plan. The producers talked to me and they actually want Y/n’s segment to go last as like a ‘surprise’.”

You interrupted him, “But people already know I’m driving.”

Vito sighed before continuing. “I know. It doesn’t make sense but they’re the bosses for today. So they want Max to hold your helmet, turn to the left and hand it off screen. Then the camera would cut to you ‘taking it,’ you’d look down, and then put it on.”

Your hands flew up. “So I don’t get to do the pose I rehearsed and Max doesn’t get to continue to look dead inside?”

Max looked at you and squinted. “You didn’t have a pose ready. You were just texting me and panicking that you didn’t have one.”

You only pouted after his confession.

Max went ahead and redid his segment. This time, he did manage to do a little smile, just because you were the one taking the helmet and you made a weird face at him.

The film techs said that the last take with the smile was the best one. And to Max’s chagrin, it would be the one to be used in the official video.

You were told to stand on the massive X in the middle of the background. You were looking around at all the lights as someone helped you fix your hair. You hadn’t done anything pretty with it because it wasn’t realistic. You had never curled your hair and done anything special with it on race day. People would always find your hair in a braid, bun, or a Founding Father’s ponytail. And today was no different.

You took a bit of time to actually make a nice braid that sat on your shoulder. Made you feel a bit like Katniss Everdeen.

Speaking of, you wanted to have a little bit of fun. Your nickname wasn’t Kid for a reason.

“And action.”

Your hand scrunched into three fingers that rose to your mouth for a kiss and then was lifted above your head.

“I volunteer as tribute!”

A couple of giggles filled the studio. Max and Vito were trying their best not to laugh out loud too much behind the camera.

“Cut! Let’s try it again!”

Your segment took about three more tries to get correctly. One of them, you accidentally dropped your helmet. Another, the helmet wouldn’t go on properly with your braid on your shoulder so you had to move it and undo it, so that you didn’t look like you didn’t have hair – the ponytail worked better. And then the third take was perfect.

Max had been the one to hand you the helmet off screen and you did the opposite that he had done. You started off with a small smile, before going cold faced when you put the helmet on. You tried not to giggle once the thing was one since it felt weird without the balaclava. But you managed to keep your shoulders still until the man yelled Cut once more.

You, thankfully, were allowed to now go change out of the hot suit. A Red Bull manager was the one to take the suit from you and hold on to it until preseason testing, which was going to be in a few weeks. You knew that when you said goodbye to Max as the place, it wouldn’t be too long until you would see him again.

Wasn’t like you were ten minutes away, or that you didn’t work together, or that you somehow had the same simulator testing times just to catch up on what you missed during the week. But during the last few weeks, you spent more time with Arthur.

He had called you in tears once he finally got confirmation that he was going to be out of Formula 2 and then cried once more when he had to leave the Ferrari Academy program. Your heart just ached and ached for him when you held him.

You remember when he finally opened up a few nights after.

You were bundled up in a giant blanket. He had come over to your apartment since Charles was staying with their mom for a few days while his apartment was being remodeled. Arthur’s head was tucked in your neck as a random movie played on the screen.

He had finally spoken up.

“You know. I really knew from the moment that I couldn’t continue karting all those years ago that racing just wasn’t for me. It never was.”

You looked down at his face that was stained with tears. “Thur, don’t say that.”

He only shrugged. “It’s true. If it wasn’t maybe Papa would have chosen for me to continue racing. And I know I begged Charles to be selfish, but maybe now I’m wishing I hadn’t.”

Your hands grabbed his face and made him look up at you.

“Please don’t say that. Please.”

By now, you had your own tears staining your face.

“Because if you weren’t in Formula 2 this year, I would have never met you.” You took a breath. “My best friend wouldn’t be my best friend without it.”

His eyes closed as he nodded little nods, almost as if he was having a hard time excepting what you called the truth.

“I just feel like I don’t have a purpose anymore. You and Charles have racing, Maman has her store, and Lorenzo has the business. I have nothing.”

Your arms wrapped around his figure. “We’ll find something and figure it out together. If anything, you can follow me to all my races.” You had a shit-eating grin on your face. A small laugh escaped his lips and you took that as a win.

“What, and be your WAG?”

You elbowed the Monegasque. “Sure. That’s exactly what I’m going for. I think I’ll have separation anxiety without you.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Or unless I find something else.”

“That’s all I ask. For you not to give up Thur. We’re in this new world together.”

Arthur, feeling bold, laced his hands with yours. You were thankful for the dark room so he couldn’t see your red cheeks.

“Together.”

And together is what you did for the remaining weeks. You and Arthur scoured every possibility he had to get back into racing. You reached out to many people – people who knew your godfather well and had helped you back with karting. You also reached out to many other people who normal fans didn’t know you knew.

On this list, which Arthur had a hard time believing, were people like Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen, Jensen Button, and Nico Rosberg.

Arthur had tried to persuade you to not go to all your famous connections, but you were on a mission. He even threatened you that he wouldn’t take any offer since he didn’t want you to feel like he was using you. You only threatened him back when you told him that you wanted to do this and didn’t mid at you. You believe that you scared him since he never questioned you again.

It was the day before preseason testing in Bahrain before you got an offer, or actually two, back. Arthur, keeping his promise to follow you until he found something, came with you. He was under the guise of being with his brother for support, but most knew that he was actually there for you.

The first one came from a face time call from four time champion Sebastian Vettel.

“Kind, it’s good to see you!” Sebastian’s voice echoed in your hotel room. Your laptop was on the desk. You sat on the second bed while Arthur sat in the rollie chair. Before, the two of you had argued about who got what seat. You sadly lost the game of rock-paper-scissors and was banished to the bed.

“It’s good to see you too Seb! How are your kids?”

A squeal could be heard from behind his office door. Sebastian smiled at the sound of his children.

“They’re doing just fine. How are you doing Arthur? I know that losing a seat is hard but I was delighted to hear from Y/n when she told me that you weren’t giving up racing entirely.”

You shot Arthur a knowing grin as to say “see, you still have a spot in this world with me.”

Arthur spoke up, “Ah, yes sir. I was a bit discouraged. But she somehow convinced me to not give up.”

Sebastian clapped his hands. “Well I do have an offer for you. However, it wouldn’t be for this year and maybe not the next. There will be a lot of preparation but I know you could handle it.”

Arthur shot him a shy smile. “I’m down for anything at this point.”

“Well, I have been in the talks about endurance racing. And as you know, I am getting a bit older, but I still want to be involved. So I need to come up with a team. I would either be a driver or the team leader, I have yet to decide. But that means I need to start creating a team.”

The young Monegasque took a moment to bring everything in. “So you’re asking me to be on your future team. Even after all the mistakes I made in Formula 2?”

The German winced. “You are just like your brother. A bit too self-deprecating but we can work on that. Like I told Charles, don’t waste it. Don’t waste your talents away by not trying. We will have to do months and months of training as to get over making mistakes, but that’s also part of life. We just need to learn from them. So what do you say?”

The rest of the facetime call was filled with tears, smiles, cheers, and talks of sending over contracts to go over. You and Arthur were over the moon.

He might not be racing in 2024 or even 2025, but he’d be doing something.

Now, the next two offers came during media day when you had testing. Nico Rosberg and Jensen Button had apparently been looking for the two of you the entire day. Thankfully, it was just media and Max was the one to drive the new livery around for everyone to see. You just got to sit back and relax, well, as much as you could when you weren’t discussing data.

Nico and Jensen both cornered you when they had the chance.

“Good to see you again Brittany.” You shot Nico a smirk when you exchanged greetings. Arthur, polite as ever, shook both men’s hands.

You smiled at the two older men. “Now to what do we owe this pleasure of this fine Tuesday?”

The two former drivers looked at each other before they casted their gaze at Arthur.

Jensen spoke first. “We just want to preface about how terrible we feel about you losing your Formula 2 seat. It was your rookie year and you had some pretty bad luck.”

Your eyes rolled. “Way to rub salt in the wound Button.”

He shot you a glare, but Nico spoke next. “However, we have a solution. Y/n here told us about your taken offer from Sebastian. And we know that there are going to be weekends that you won’t have anything to do. So to save you from quote on quote from Miss L/n here ‘separation anxiety from missing your best friend’ we are offering you a type of paid internship at Sky Sports.”

Jensen cut in, “Obviously you would be helping either Nico or I depending on what weekend, but you’d be interviewing, commentating, or taking videos of drivers throughout the race time.”

Arthur had sparkles in his eyes, but you knew they were probably tears. With this offer, he’d be closer to you and his brother. You knew he didn’t want to be alone somewhere while you two were living his old dream. Well, it could still be his dream, but he told you time and time again that it was easier to put the Formula 1 dream in the past so that he could move on.

That day was also filled with smiles and contract talks.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were filled with you in the new RB20. If the fans thought last year was a rocket ship, this one had to be some type of vehicle from a Sci-Fi movie cause you think it was even faster.

But, the Ferraris and McLarens were very close behind. The end of the weekend determined that Red Bull was still on top as you were able to take the fastest time out of the whole weekend, while you and Max did the most laps.

You were practically vibrating in the debrief meeting from excitement. What this year would hold, you didn’t know.

But you couldn’t wait to get started.

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 it's go time

liked by arthur_leclerc, sebastialvettel, box_box_express, and 65,294 others

y/n.nation babygirl's new helmet - I'm in love!

sebastianvettel I see you're coming for my spot as Red Bull's golden child

maxverstappen1 sorry that was me, I have taken the seat y/n.89 sit down max, there's a new golden child

box_box_express middle picture is slaying

y/n-on-top I mean she did graduate from the university of servington with a degree in cuntology and slay sciences y/n.89 PERIOD

arthur_leclerc photo creds would be nice...

y/n.89 sorry ThurThur - EVERYONE ARTHUR TOOK THE MIDDLE PICTURE JUST LETTING YOU KNOW landonorris ok then.

redbullracing rookie of the year right there

y/n.89 I'm the only rookie? but thanks admin :D

iamred_iamyellow everyone was so close with only a few seconds separating the top three

ferrari'slastchamp this year is our year the-bulls sure - you all say that EVERY YEAR

f1 only six more days! see you drivers in the paddock

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httpsserene · 10 months

Note

hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now.

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate.

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental.

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back.

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives.

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed.

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened).

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science.

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline.

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver.

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch.

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed.

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap.

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?”

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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strvberrydoll · 1 month

Text

Rosemary

Summary: Arthur is smacked right in the face with the consequences of his actions as the fate of your relationship is hanging by a thin thread. part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link (a better rewritten version of this fic on ao3)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Content: suggestive, angst, hurt/no comfort (for now) probs grammar errors :/

wc: little under 3k

A/n: before any of you come after me, blame the angst on the bad weather not on me !! (plus we both know you love it <3) anyways reader absolutely eats arthur alive in this chapter so grab your popcorns and tissues !! Next chapter is gonna be the last so it’s gonna take a bit of time to write sorry :(( as always let me know if you like this chapter thank you all for the amazing support you’ve showed for Rosemary <33 gif from pinterest.

The sight of Clemens Point camp emerging from the thick woods surrounding its path, felt strangely like the sight of heaven to Arthur, his muscles aching and screaming at him from the tiring day. Between his visit to Rhodes with Mary and all the manual work Uncle put him under in the morning, the only things he longed for were the softness of his bed and you engulfing him in one of your warm embrace.

Spending three hours chopping wood and gathering whatever material Uncle needed for his mysterious project that supposedly ‘would help a great deal everyone in camp’, proved to be a tiring job even for the camp’s main enforcer, his strength dulled by the biting cold of October and the constant ache of his heart. Each swing of the axe in the air helped Arthur think, his mind consumed by you, trying to figure out what the hell happened for you to act so cold and distant towards him. The image of his darling’s sweet face contorted in an expression of hurt and disappointment at the sole sight of him from this morning hunting his mind, making each swing harsher than the other.

When Uncle decided to call it a day, Arthur internally thanked the maker above as he felt his patience wearing thin every time he called Uncle out for not lifting a finger to help him while the older man comfortably sat under the shade of one of the tall trees near the outskirts of camp complaining about his ‘lumbago’. His relief, though, was short lived as the memory of Mary’s letter flashed in his mind.

Mary had been writing to him almost every two weeks, since her late husband died she had been writing to Arthur asking for help, him being the only male left she knew, after her abusive father went mad, gambling all their possessions away and his brother ran off.

The first letter he received a few months prior left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He was tempted to just throw it in the bin and forget about it. After years of nothing she found the guts to write to him again, asking to save her little brother from a strange cult that apparently worshiped turtles, as Arthur understood. That first letter woke inside him an anger he thought died down. He needed to confront her. So a few days after receiving the first letter, Arthur rode to Valentine, his mind fixed on refusing to help her, yet after hearing her story out he didn’t find it in him to tell her no.

It’ll be just a one time thing, after this he’ll never see her again. He reassured himself.

But then another letter came and then another, and he felt like a fool for helping her every time. Worse yet, he felt like an absolute bastard lying to you each time he went to help Mary out, always finding an excuse as to why he was out late. His conscience shouting at him to tell you the truth each time he looked into your hypnotizing eyes as you both layed naked in the comfort of your tent, but how could he explain it all to you ?

Mary, on the other hand, knew about you, having heard of you once from Arthur when you first joined the gang, but now she knew about your relationship with him. He told her from their first encounter, quick to not let her think he had any other intentions.

He’d help, sure, but only for old time’s sake.

Although Arthur sensed she wasn’t particularly excited about his newfound love, she respected your relationship, often asking him for updates and lending him some advice. It felt strange talking about you to his ex fiancè but she’d ask and he’d talk, never shying away from an opportunity to talk about his darling girl.

Finally free of Uncle’s relentless job, he jumped on his horse, riding into town to meet with Mary.

The town of Rhodes was particularly busy when Arthur arrived, the usually calm town buzzing with life and chatter. Men and women dressed in all kinds of fancy dresses and tall hats adorned with feathers and ribbons, strolled around town. From what Arthur heard from a couple near the saloon, a famous singer from Saint Denis was doing a show in town.

Suddenly conscious about his rugged and worn out attire he quickly made his way toward the general store, where Mary told him to meet her. Something about buying some plumbing tools, she said. Their evening went smoothly, they chatted away as Arthur helped with her shopping advising her which tools to buy and which ones to avoid. As the moon came high in the sky he escorted her to her accommodation before finally riding back to camp.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

“Who goes there!” the shout of Bill’s voice followed by the cock of his shotgun thundering in the night from his usual lookout position.

“It’s Arthur, you moron.”

As the faint chattering of camp filled Arthur’s ears, images of you began to cloud his mind. He needed to find out what was bothering you. He needed to make it right by you, whatever it’ll cost. He hitched his horse, patting his mane a few times whispering sweet praises that made the horse sway its tail before walking towards your shared tent.

The camp was almost empty, being close to midnight the only people up were Javier who sat near the campfire, tuning the guitar in his lap as Reverend Swanson chatted animatedly about his past life experiences with a tired Mister Pearson who looked worse than one of his stews, and then there was Abigail who was chatting with you at the entrance of your shared tent. The both of you dressed in your best dresses, the sight of your body wrapped in the soft cotton and laces of your dress making Arthur’s heart race.

You were one of God’s angels, his sweetest and most beautiful creation, he was sure of it.

As you noticed his presence coming towards you, you hurriedly whispered something to Abigail, making the brunette widen her eyes, before entering your tent, leaving Abigail outside, her eyes finding Arthur’s as he came to an alt before the opening of your shared tent, her expression resembling the ones she had after a fight with John. Anger and care blended together.

After casting a quick confused glance at Abigail, Arthur ducked through the entrance, his broad stature making his action look quite awkward. Letting his eyes adjust to the dim light that shone from the oil lamp on the bedside table, he cautiously sat down his hat, his expression a mix of confusion and wariness as his eyes found your figure, sitting at the edge of your small cot. The skirt of your dress puffy around you making you look like a doll, your head bowed making it impossible to him to read your face and shoulders stiff, toying with something in your hands. You looked up at him, red eyes filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill once again. Something in the pit of his stomach told him this was going to be a long night.

"Darlin’," Arthur began, his voice soft as if not to scare a small deer away.

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me,” you slurred a little. He could smell the faint scent of whiskey on your breath, a sign you’d been hanging out with your girl friends.

“Where were you tonight Arthur ?”

He felt his throat tighten at your question. “I jus’ came back from a job,” he unsteadily replied.

"Right, back from your ‘job’ mhh?" you echoed, your voice tight trying with all your might to keep yourself together. You stood up your wobbly legs almost letting you fall, stepping forward, holding out one of the letters as if it were a weapon. "Or back from meeting her?".

Arthur’s brow furrowed in confusion, and then realization dawned. His stomach dropped as he recognized what you were holding, the sight of you holding one of Mary’s letters felt like a punch to his face.

"Darlin’, it ain’t what you think," he started, his voice filled with urgency.

"Then, please, tell me what the hell it is!" you raised your voice, making it crack under all the weight of your emotions. You didn’t care if you were yelling, if you were to wake everyone in camp. You were tired of all the bullshit.

"I found them, Arthur. A whole fucking drawer full of letters from Mary. I might not be the brightest at reading, but I know her damned name when I see it.” despite all your best efforts to remain strong your eyes betrayed you as fresh warm tears run down the path that your previous ones left.

Arthur moved closer trying to take one of your hands in his, you took a step back, shaking your head. "Don't," you whispered, voice breaking.

“I went to Rhodes today with the girls, ya’know to clear my mind a bit from all your bullshit, and guess who I found having the time of their lives together ? Laughing and what not.”

He paused, his hand hovering in the air between the both of you. He wanted to reach out, to hold you, to dry your tears and comfort you, to explain, but he knew you needed to hear the truth first. "Please darlin’, you’ve got to believe me. Mary’s just, she's just- I’m just helpin’ her out. Her husband died, and she’s got no one else,"

You let out a harsh, humorless laugh at his poor explanation. Did he really take you for this big of a fool ? Was this really what he thought of you ? Tears poured down even more from your eyes at the realization. "And you, what? You swoop in to save her like some kind of hero? What are you mh, tell me Arthur, are you her bitch ready to bark if she told you to ?”

The venom spilling from your words hit Arthur hard, making him physically flinch as your words hit him right into his face. His heart shattering at your sight, you were physically and mentally distraught. All because he didn’t have the courage to tell you everything from the start.

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you? Gosh, all this time, Arthur, all this damn time I’ve just been, what? A distraction? Something to pass the time until you could get her back? Poor silly me, thinking I mattered something to you !" Now you definitely woke someone up, your throat burned as you shouted your whole heart out at Arthur, you felt disgusted, dirty even. The alcohol you previously drowned your sorrows into making you nauseous.

You were ready to give your heart to Arthur, you gave him everything. If he asked you the moon you’d give it to him.

And here you were, the biggest fool in the West, thinking you could have a space in Arthur’s heart.

"What, no!" Arthur’s shout was raw, it definitely hurt his throat, you never heard him shout this way, you never heard him shout at you at all. His voice filled with a mix of frustration and fear. He took another step toward you, stretching his hands out in search of your trembling ones, but you stumbled back, almost tripping over the edge of the cot.

"Darlin’, you’ve got to believe me, I'm beggin’ ya”

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks, Arthur. For weeks you’ve been kissing me, lying in bed with me, you’ve been telling me that you love me while lying to me, for god’s sake ! How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?"

"Because I’m tellin’ you the truth!" Arthur pleaded, his voice thick, cracking with emotion. He could sense your heart getting further and further away from his. He wanted nothing more than to take your pain away seeing the way your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into one of his bear hugs you always loved and make you believe him, but the distance between the both of you felt like a chasm too wide to cross anymore. The only bridge between you deteriorating before his very own eyes.

"Sweetheart, I love you. I always loved you, you’re the only one I care about."

But you shook your head, circling away from him before hitting the cold canvas of the tent wall.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your sobs. "Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that after everything you’ve done to me… after all these lies."

"Darlin’, please…" Arthur broke down, his voice saturated with panic as he saw you back towards the exit of your tent, his eyes desperate as he looked at you. "I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping this from you. I thought- I thought I could handle it on my own, that it would be over before you ever had to know. But I see now I see how big of a moron I was, how fucking wrong I was."

You looked at him, your face twisted in pain, your heart painfully torn between the love you still felt for him and the harsh betrayal you couldn’t shake away. "I can’t do this, Arthur," you meekly said, your voice trembling. "I can’t…I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. Who lies straight to my face as if nothing."

Arthur’s heart shattered at your words. He couldn’t believe this was happening, not again. He was not losing the love of his life again. But unfortunately he could see the resolve slowly hardening in your eyes, the way you were getting yourself ready to walk away. Every cell of his body was screaming at him to find a way to keep you. "Don’t leave me, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything… I’ll tell you everything, from now on. I’ll never see Mary again, just don’t go. Don’t leave me alone." he finished his sentence, his tone slowly going down to a mere whisper. His eyes filling with tears.

But you were already pulling away, turning your back on him as you moved toward the tent flap. Slightly hesitating with your hand on the thick canvas, your body trembling with the force of the decision you were about to make. If you did this there was no turning back. But this wasn’t your fault.

"I need to think," you said emotionless, your voice hollow as your sobs died down, leaving you with a hole in your heart, "I need…I need some time for myself."

"No, please don’t…" Arthur’s voice was choked with tears he wouldn’t let fall from his eyes. But it was too late.

You slipped out of the tent into the cold harsh night, leaving Arthur motionless at the center of the cold emptiness of your shared tent, feeling the walls closing in around him. The crushing realization that he might have just lost the one person who truly meant everything to him came down on him at once making his head spin.

Alone in the darkness, Arthur finally let the tears fall, each one a silent plea for a second chance he wasn’t sure he deserved.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

You needed to get away from him, to get away from everything right now. You felt that if you were just a second more inside that tent you’d take him into your arms, begging him to never let you go. But you couldn’t.

He lied to you, you didn’t care about Mary, about his secret rendezvous with her. He lied to you. That’s all you could think of.

Realizing that Arthur could easily follow you in camp you decided to completely get out of camp. You needed space, from him, from everyone. You just wanted to be alone.

Venturing into the woods at night wasn’t the smartest choice you’ve made per se, but a small ounce of alcohol was running through your veins still and you decided to blame it for your poor choice.

The moonlight shone brightly, illuminating faintly your surroundings, the harsh chill of the midnight weather biting your exposed hands as you once again forgot your gloves.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as more tears threatened to spill from your tired eyes, you were near the clearing you and Arthur found out a few weeks ago, in need of some privacy when your mouths were chasing each other and his hands, warm and calloused, explored your exposed back, your touches burning with raw desire.

The memory of that night burned in your heart when suddenly you heard a twig snap. You turned towards the direction of the sound fear taking over you, shaking every cell in your body. You were physically and emotionally drained, you didn't have a gun with you, not even a knife. The only thing left to do was pray it was just a fox wandering around.

And then you felt it, a sharp burning pain in the back of your head, kicking the air out of your lungs.

The last thing you saw was the forest floor.

Before darkness took over you.

#.rira’s posting ౨ৎ ⋆#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan angst #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fandom

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peppertoastuniverse · 3 months

Text

pep reads: gojo satoru – long fics (pt.2)

Part 1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ ☆ The Theory of Relativity by LuckyGh0st [AO3] [status: ongoing ◦ 11/13 chapters ] #gojo just loves you so much in this one You've lived your life without purpose. It's always been simplicity - sugar, flour, butter, mix, sugar, flour, butter, mix, simplicity, stability.

Everything changes when you find a man, bloody and beaten half to death, laying discarded in the snow.

or, Gojo Satoru is transported into a world where he doesn't exist, where you stand to change the course of everything with nothing but a kind smile and a generous hand.

☆ beyond the unending night by @stellamancer [AO3/tumblr: long one shot] [status: completed ] #the intensity of this fic omg

it is october 31, 2018— halloween in shibuya.

and you are trapped.

(you are unfortunate enough to be trapped in shibuya on october 31, 2018 in more ways in one. after many trials and many errors, you come to the conclusion the only way out is seeking out the man named satoru gojo.)

☆ you are not a god (just the man i love) by haveuseenthis [AO3 ] [status: completed ◦ 2/2 chapters] [slowburn] [tw!ptsd] [friends to lovers] #SUPER SOFT SATORU

they said gojo satoru was a god. unreachable. faraway. meant to be alone. but you knew better.

☆symptoms and causes by @lostfracturess [AO3/tumblr] [status: on going ◦ collection of fics 13/?] [professor gojo x med student reader] [smut!] #pep is OBSESSED wit this AU he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

☆out of the shadows by @extralively [AO3/tumblr] [status: completed ◦ 50/50 chapters + extras! ] [slow burn] [eventual smut!] [original female character] #pep's fav OC character #the CHEMISTRY?

No one had expected Gojo Satoru to form a friendship with the unknown girl that joined school in the same year he did. Not even Gojo Satoru, or Yura herself, especially considering he’d been an asshole to her the first time they met. A complicated friendship was born, one that would last years to come no matter how many headaches the white haired menace would give her – he was like gum in your hair, she mused, too much work to cut it out so why even bother trying?

☆ gods, monsters, monkeys by yuzudrops [AO3: ] [status: completed ◦ 23/23 chapters + extras!] [SUPER slowburn] [eventual smut!] [original female character] [student gojo!teacher reader (but they get together like 10 YEARS after)] [angst] #pep binged this so hard #complex/strong oc

“I thought it’d be you, if I’m being honest.” “It’d be me who what?” “Who’d go mad. Who’d go on a killing spree. Who’d just wake up one day and decide none of us are worth anything.” “Damn, sensei. Didn’t think you thought so little of yourself.” Didn’t think you thought so little of me simmers beneath. She wonders how Gojou, of all people, knows which lines can’t be crossed when his entire Cursed Technique is full of asymptotes.

A grossly under-qualified graduate of Jujutsu High is hired to teach a class of Special Grades. They learn there is more to power than strength. It doesn't end well.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

bonus! satosugu!

☆ to feel is to love by cj_ackerman [AO3: 10/10 chapters] [status: completed] [satoru x suguru] [tw!ptsd] [college!AU] #this was so so so cute #soft sugu x soft toru

In another universe, instead of his eyes being the most powerful asset, Satoru is blind. Because of this, he’s mostly alone, unable to be the star child his high-ranking parents wanted him to be.

It’s Suguru Geto that makes him believe he deserves to be loved, and that he is seen. Suguru learns that to feel, is to love.

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gucciwins · 10 months

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Y/N just wants Harry to like her.

Word count: 5964

A/N: Friends!!!!! I am sorry to have disappeared but I am back. Yes, I am aware this is a Halloween/October story but you're getting it now mid November (that has been going by fast). I won't work on any holiday stories because I have no idea what to write. So if you have an idea and want me to write it feel free to shoot me an ask.

Now happy reading! I love you

Many people go to work ready to return home, but not Y/N. No, she walks in every day with a smile and a pep in her step. She greets her coworkers by name and occasionally brings baked goods she knows everyone will enjoy. Y/N loves her job, and she’s happy to go every day.

Y/N went from working in a job she hated because it was filled with men constantly belittling her and gaslighting her that she was doing her job wrong when she was actually excelling. It all got to be too much, and Y/N decided to quit. Thank goodness she did because soon into her job search, she received an email from Carla Crain asking her if she’d be interested in joining her company. Y/N went to the interview, and after basically being pitched her dream job, she accepted and entered as head engineer.

She’d be lying if she wasn’t nervous starting, but the people Carla had hired all shared the same values on work and life. Y/N knew she’d be in safe hands. The company is small but slowly growing. It allows for every employee to get to know each other and everyone to remember that together, they can be successful. Y/N had been at the job for two years and, with time, brought new coworkers.

There is Estrella, who loves to talk to you about astrology, ironically enough. She states that the invisible string theory is real and that if everyone tracked it, they would notice just how small the world is.

Carmy has a tough exterior, but once anyone gets him talking, he never stops. He loves chatting about his family and his pet Pitbull named Daisy.

Maeve is petite, and every other month comes in with a new color in their hair. Y/N enjoys it when everyone in the office places bets on what it will be.

Tatum is from Scotland and loves to remind everyone when they all go out for drinks on the weekend.

Chessy is the only one who works remotely, but when she comes in, she is always laughing in the office. They also all get a basket of fresh fruit and vegetables from her garden.

Overall, Y/N knows she had the best coworkers and wouldn’t change her job for the world, but as their company grows, so does the need in their team. The newest hire is Harry Styles, who has come in as a computer technician to help develop their website and also help with any internal security. Honestly, all she knew was that it was a complex job.

Harry was on the quiet side. She tried to start conversations with him, but he always seemed to brush her off. At first, Y/N wondered if she should take it personally but soon learned he did that to everyone. Even though he didn’t open up to them, they still invited Harry to join them.

The thing was, he rejected all their dinners. Y/N loved going to a Korean BBQ Maeve introduced them to, and Harry claimed not to eat meat (not that she didn’t think it wasn’t true. Chessy was vegetarian, after all.) They would go to a bar and share a few drinks when they knew they would all be having a long weekend off. Harry always claimed he had an early morning. It didn't matter if they offered to meet earlier. Y/N’s favorite nights were trivia nights that happened at a local brewery. Y/N was a beat, especially in history. Harry declined, and this one hurt her the most.

Everyone would ask Harry to join.

Karaoke. Can’t hold a tune.

Bowling. Too loud.

It seems there was an excuse for everything.

Everyone began to stop inviting him out, and while Y/N didn’t enjoy being told no, she would send notes to the office with the time and place of what they would be doing. She’d always keep an eye on the door, but Y/N went home disappointed each time.

The thing was, Y/N was determined to make a friend out of Harry. She soon learned large public settings must be overwhelming for him and decided to find a new way to approach him. Everyone took lunch at the same time in the office except for Harry. Sometimes, they all ate at the sub shop across the street. Most times, Y/N brought food from home, and she cooked. While she liked eating out, Y/N preferred a home-cooked meal. She caught Harry taking his lunch half an hour later than her and used that to her advantage.

They had a conference that always remained empty as everyone preferred the main lounge. Harry went in there every day for his lunch hour. One day, Y/N walks in, smiles at him, and sits as far away as she can. She made sure to only be there for ten minutes. The next day, she stayed for twenty and wished him a nice lunch when she left.

Slowly, Harry begins to spare her glances, but Y/N keeps to herself until the day she sits across from him.

“Hi, Harry. Is it okay for me to sit here?”

No answer.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

He fidgets with his fork.

“I saw a lime bike out front. Did you ride that today?”

Harry looks at her briefly before staring back at his plate.

“I’ve always wanted to try one, but I’m honestly scared of being hit by a car. Chessy lets me ride hers when I go down to visit her. She’s got beautiful trails. You’d probably enjoy it.”

Y/N thinks that’s enough for today and excuses herself. She doesn’t realize Harry noticed she didn’t take a bite of her lunch. When she goes back to her desk after using the restroom, she finds three chocolate chip cookies sitting on her desk. Y/N rushes to try one, doesn’t even think of who delivered them or that a green-eyed man was standing right outside waiting to hear her reaction.

With time, it seems Harry is coming to appreciate Y/N’s presence. He has never expressed it, but she knows because he nods when he agrees to something she says or tightens the hold on his fork when Y/N shares something upsetting. Y/N had not gotten more than two words out of him. At this point, Y/N felt like Harry knew everything about her; all she knew was that he had the most beautiful eyes, and his hair always looked soft.

One day, after many lunches together, she finds Harry reading a book. Y/N knows he might want quiet, but her curiosity gets the best of her.

“Any good?”

Harry looks up and grimaces. “Think it’s really boring.”

Y/N laughs because she wasn’t expecting that response. “Then put it down.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t like not knowing the ending.”

Y/N shrugs, “if you don’t like a book, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture of it all. Skip to the end if you're curious.” She understands she spoke too much and excuses herself.

The next day, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, but this time, a new book is in his hand. Y/N bites back a smile.

“What’s this one about?”

“My sister recommended it,” he defends.

Y/N isn’t halted by his harsh tone. “What’s it about?”

“Well, it’s Pride and Prejudice.” He shows her the book cover.

“Like the movie?” Y/N asks.

Harry laughs, and Y/N feels successful. His laughter rings in her ears. It’s a lovely sound, and she wishes to hear it more. “Yeah…I like the movie.”

“Me too,” she gushes. “Do you think I’d like the book?”

He frowns, “if you like Jane Austen.”

“Might have to pick it up next time I’m in the shops.”

Their interactions are solely during their lunches but sometimes spills out during work. Y/N seemed to have an issue with her computer and radioed IT. She needed to submit her document, but her desktop appeared to freeze whenever she opened a new file. Harry knocked on her door, and she welcomed him in. Y/N explained the issue, and Harry was quick to get to work. It was only a few minutes when she noticed that her document was open and her computer wasn’t having a meltdown.

“Thank you so much, Harry!” Y/N cheers, knowing he saved her.

Harry shrugs because it’s his job. “You have a nice photo.” He’s pointing to her picture frame on her desk. It’s a picture of her and a dog in Iceland at the end of her hike. It was taken back when she was nineteen years old.

“Thank you. I took that on my first solo trip.” She bites her lip, hoping Harry takes the bait.

“Where to?” He asks curiously.

She silently cheers, “Iceland.”

“Is that your dog?”

“I actually found him mid-hike and took him back with me. I hoped to see his owner on the trail, but there was no luck. He didn’t even seem worried. Once I returned to the car park, his owner was there. After that hike, I decided I liked the company of a dog and returned home to adopt Tutter, a Jack Russel Terrier who loves to play fetch.”

“Why isn’t Tutter on your desk?”

Y/N feels her face flush, “now, don’t be mean. I love my son, but that trip taught me I can do anything I set my mind to, whether alone or with company.”

Harry gives her the slightest smile. “I-I learned Italian because I always dreamed of having an Italian home.”

Y/N’s eyes brighten. Harry is opening up to her, and instead of pushing, she offers more of herself. “I’ve dreamed of visiting. The Amalfi coast is my dream to swim in. Silly, I know,” she brushes off, trying to downplay her excitement.

Harry doesn’t let her. “You’ll make it.”

He finally excuses himself. Y/N is happy for the rest of the day because she realizes Harry is allowing her in.

September means the preparations for Halloween have begun. It starts with little things, from coasters and mugs to the occasional treat. One day, a tiny spider sits on his desk for a second. Harry believed it was real until it began to glow purple. Harry kept it on his desk next to his sticky notes. He doesn't do anything about it; there’s no need. By the second week, the office is entirely decorated. Harry admits a few decorations have scared him, especially the skeleton in the corner of the restroom.

It’s a quiet day when he’s walking by the break room on his way to the secluded office to have lunch when he hears people talking. Harry pauses because he hears Y/N’s voice mixed in with everyone else.

“But it seems like he doesn’t like us,” Harry hears quietly.

“It’s hard,” Y/N defends. “You’re all extroverts. It can be overwhelming.”

Harry knows she’s trying for them to understand.

“But Carla is all about unity in the office. This is a concern.”

“It’s not, Carmy.” Y/N shuts him down, clearly upset she had to defend him.

Harry decides he’s heard enough and decides to eat lunch alone in his car. He’s thankful it was a sandwich and nothing he had to heat up. For the entire lunch and the rest of the day, all he thinks about are the words of his coworkers.

Y/N looked for Harry, excited to talk about a book she started, but Harry was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t have been concerned, but it’s clear no one saw him since before lunch. She wishes Harry could confide in her even if a fraction of what she shares with him/

The next day, everyone walks into the office at their usual time, everyone making their rounds together to the break room to prepare their coffees and store their lunch in the fridge. When Y/N walks in, she sees her coworkers huddled around the table and peeks around them to see what has captured their attention. There on the table is a box of Halloween cookies from a bakery uptown with a note attached.

Enjoy - HS

Y/N lets a smile take over her face. She knew Harry cared about them but understood why he finally did something. She tells her coworkers they owe him an apology, and they all agree. Y/N makes sure to head to Harry’s office and thank him for the cookies. Harry tells her it’s nothing. She bounces away to her office, where Estrella, Carmy, Maeve, and Tatum are standing outside her door.

“Can you come with us? Feel like he likes you.” Tatum tells her.

Y/N sighs and tells them to follow her. Once again, she knocks on his door, and they all file in when he welcomes her in. Harry looks at them confused.

“Uh, is there an issue?” Harry asks, concerned.

Carmy starts, “we want to apologize if you overheard us yesterday.”

“Right,” Harry sighs, knowing it might be a good time to share with them. If he trusted Y/N and she trusted them, he knew he could also start to.

“It was wrong of us,” Maeve continues. “Y/N raves about how smart and nice you are, but we don’t get to see that. We’re sorry.”

Everyone else repeats the sentiment while Harry looks at Y/N, who offers him an encouraging smile. She must know his anxiety is through the roof.

Harry takes a deep breath, “right, uh.” He looks down at his shoes, untied lace on his black Adidas. “I struggle with social anxiety and new environments. It’s better than when I was a kid, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed even more when being the new guy.”

“No worries. We get that,” Tatum expresses. “Estrella gets bad migraines.”

“Don’t air other people’s personal stuff,” Y/N reminds them.

“We’re sorry,” they offered one last time. “Thanks for the cookies.”

After that, they hurried out while Y/N stayed behind.

“I wanted to apologize,” he begins.

“You don’t–” Harry cuts her off. “You’ve made me feel comfortable.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “Not enough, it seems.”

“It can just be too much sometimes.”

“I-I get panic attacks.” Y/N shares, surprising herself. “When I overwhelm myself, it can happen. It’s uncommon and has not happened at work, but I understand.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Harry tells her honestly. “Lunch?”

“See you in a bit then.”

Through September, Y/N and Harry have lunch together every day. They read together, Harry more into classic literature, and Y/N loving to devour a juicy romance that has her pausing every few minutes, trying her best not to scream because the love interest brushed hands. Some days, Y/N will do a sudoku game while Harry does the daily crossword. Y/N likes to solve the Wordle of the day and most times asks Harry for help if she fears she might not get it. Some days, Y/N brings in her laptop during lunch because she is behind and needs to catch up. Harry reminds her to relax. He knows it’s easier said than done, so he tells her about the book he’s reading or asks about her dog and the snacks he eats.

Before she knows if they’ve made it to October. One of the best months of the year. Y/N loves planning events, and this is one she wishes Harry would say yes to. She knocks on his office door, and Harry freezes, staring at his computer screen. He glances at the calendar; it's the first Monday of the month, and Harry knows they’ve planned a fun event.

Harry is practicing his excuse when Y/N walks in with a bright smile, wearing a “Great Pumpkin” shirt with Snoopy and Charlie Brown. She has told him it’s her favorite movie to watch during the month and “The Conjuring” Harry wasn’t sure how the sweetest girl he knew could handle a horror film like that. He had told her she was fearless.

“Hi, Y/N, pretty shirt.”

Y/N looks down at it as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. She beams at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry!”

Harry asks how her day is going and shares how there was traffic on the way down and how she didn’t have time to stop by her favorite coffee shop because there was a line out the door. “Pumpkin spice isn’t even that good, H. I mean, it’s okay, but I wanted my coffee.”

He laughs at her pouting and promises to make her one during lunch. She perks up at his mention of their shared time together.

“Speaking of our time together. We plan to go to a haunted pumpkin patch in the next town over if you want to join us. It’s two weeks from now, so it's the 21st.” Harry could hear the excitement in her voice and didn’t think he could say no to her.

“Everyone is going?”

“We invited everyone, but only Carmy, Estella, Maeve, Tatum, and myself are going. Carla was not for it. Dan is warming up to us but still says no. Though he did agree for trivia next week.”

Before he can stop himself, he says, “yes.”

“You will?” Y/N answers surprised.

“Mhm…uh, it sounds like fun,” he says unconvincingly.

Y/N’s smile brightens, “I’m not hung on haunts, but they’ve got amazing apple cider you’ve got to try with me.”

“Happy to join,” he tells her honestly. “Let me know the ticket cost or if we need to purchase our own.”

She nods eagerly. It’s clear Harry has just made her day.

The day comes faster than he’s ready, and while a part of him is excited, Harry feels his nerves will get the best of him. Y/N had told them no one was dressing up in costume and even went as far as to send him a photo of her outfit to assure him she wasn’t playing a joke with him. She was wearing bell bottoms with a Mickey Mouse in a pumpkin shirt. She told him it was his favorite to wear each year.

Harry knew it would be cold, so he wore a simple Halloween shirt in his closet and loose-fitting jeans. His jacket in his car he knew would keep him warm throughout the night. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone (only Y/N) but also wanted to look nice outside of the office for once. When Harry parked, Y/N told him she’d wait by the entrance for him, and he couldn’t miss her as she had a cute pumpkin headband on.

It seemed Y/N spotted him, too, because she rushed towards him. “Hi, Harry,” she greeted with a cheery smile.

“Hi, you look lovely,” he offered her a small compliment that made his hands sweat.

“You’re too sweet. Come on, we were waiting on you.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along to where everyone else is.

Everyone offers their greeting, and he receives a few compliments on his tame outfit. It’s an old Halloween shirt he got at a vintage shop in New Orleans five years ago. His sister went on a trip and asked him to join. Harry could never say no to her.

Harry notices everyone begins to drift off into conversations, but Y/N stays by his side. He takes the time to admire her as she looks around at all the decorations. There are a lot of people, but it seems they are heading to the pumpkin patch. There are stalls selling sweet treats, and he keeps in mind to buy Y/N a cider, remembering she mentioned loving it. Harry has always thought being in a relationship to be intimidating. He loves love but struggles to put himself out there, to allow someone else to get to know him, but here is Y/N, who managed to worm her way into his life, knocking down all of his walls.

Harry likes Y/N.

It’s something he took a long time to figure out, but when he realized the excitement of seeing her each morning, he looked forward to it. He let it consume him, but he had no idea if she could feel the same way.

“Did you drive here, Harry?” Y/N asks, breaking their silence.

“I did,” he answers.

“Do you think you could maybe take me home?” She brushes her hair out of her face. “I came with Tatum, but she’s been wanting to take the time to connect with Estella, if you know what I mean,” Y/N gestures to them kissing on hay bales.

Harry had no idea that there were feelings between them. “I can do that, Y/N.”

“Great!” She cheers gratefully. “I owe you an apple cider, then.”

Y/N eagerly walks them to the stand, and before she can pay for both, Harry slips the kind older lady a twenty walking away with their drinks. Y/N stays behind, shocked, but quickly catches up, pouting at Harry. “Harry, I was going to pay.”

He shook his head, “my mum would have my head if I let you pay.”

Y/N bends her head, careful to take a sip of the warm drink. “Well, thank you.”

Maeve bounces over to them. “Hi beauties, we’re ready to start if you all are.”

Harry eyes Y/N, waiting to see her response. Y/N offers her friend a large grin, and Harry agrees he’s ready. He throws away their ups, and once he finds Y/N with the group, he slithers to stand behind her. Y/N offers him a tense smile as the group tries to decide who will lead.

“I can go in front,” Harry offers, sensing no one wanting to make the first move. Everyone thanks him and heads to the first maze. Y/N informs him it’s once based on the catacombs in France.

“There’s a movie based on the catacombs,” Y/N shares as they walk together.

“As Above So Below,” Harry says. “It spooked me.”

“You’ve seen it,” she laughs, holding onto his arm for a second, unable to contain her excitement. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s a good one,” he agrees.

They fall into silence as the chatter of their coworker fills the air. Harry sees Y/N get fidgety, but she’s smiling as she leads the way to the short line. “I’m actually really nervous,” she tells Harry.

“We’ll be fine. I got you,” he assures Y/N.

Harry extends his hand, and she accepts it. He intertwines their fingers and pulls her along as the line moves slowly. Y/N does her best not to think about the feeling of his hand, but it fits perfectly between hers. She feels her hand begin to sweat and wants to pull it away, but Harry has a firm grip on her.

“Is it okay?” Harry nods, gesturing to their hands.

“Safe, uh, I feel safe.”

The worker asks how many, and Y/N peeks behind Harry to tell her six. Harry is grateful Y/N knows when to take charge because while he can lead a scary maze and knows everyone is dressed in costumes, he still feels nervous speaking to strangers. Harry squeezes her hand once in thanks. She gives him two quick squeezes in return.

Harry guides them in. Y/N lets go of his hand to hide behind Harry, her hands on his shoulder as she peeks behind him. There is a group ahead where she can hear the people in front screaming, which allows her to prepare for the scare, if that is even possible.

Her eyes widen in amazement as she takes in the darkness of the building. Everything is covered in black cloth. She can see the spots where actors will jump out. Y/N mumbles an apology to Harry for holding on to him tight. Estella is behind her, screaming at everything that moves. Harry steps through the curtain, and she feels her hold on him loosen. As she is stepping closer to reach him, a man screams in her face, making her rush forward and propel Harry into a wall.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Y/N apologized repeatedly as Harry rushed them to finish the maze. She felt her heartbeat in her throat and knew she needed to calm down. One look at Harry, and he rushed her to a dark corner, not concerned about their friends.

“Y/N? I’m okay. You’re okay.” Harry tried assuring her.

She repeated it in her head. They were okay. They got out of the dumb maze, and Harry wasn’t hurt. It took her a few minutes to realize she had a panic attack. Y/N had not even felt it coming and didn’t think a haunted house would trip her into one, but with all the overthinking she had been doing, it made sense it led to this.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Y/N bashfully looks away from him. She can’t believe she embarrassed herself in front of him like this.

“No apologies,” he brushes her off and doesn’t ask her any questions, only to ensure she is okay.

They rejoin the group after ten minutes by the looks of everyone's sympathetic smiles. She knows they saw her freak out, but they’re her friends. She knows she’s in safe hands with everyone, especially Harry.

“What’s the next maze?” Y/N asks cheerfully.

And so they continue on.

The next maze is much smoother than the first. Carmy leads, tucking Harry and Y/N in the middle with Tatum and Estella in the back. That order seems to comfort Y/N for the next few mazes. Each worker makes her scream but then falls into giggles when Harry traces comforting shapes on her hand. It takes her mind off these scarers trying to get her to scream and instead focus on the gentle touches of her crush.

While doing the mazes is fun, Y/N is soaking up talking to Harry in line. They’re in a new environment where they do not need to discuss work. She feels free to ask him anything, but sometimes she is unsure where to start. Y/N doesn’t know if she wants to hear about his weekend plans or ask him about his favorite movie or who his favorite Muppet character is?

Talking to Maeve and everyone else is easy because she’s gone out with them. She knows them personally, but with Harry, he always kept that guard up, and now she’s unsure what to do if he decides to keep it up.

To her surprise, Harry always starts the conversation with her. Harry shares about a new show he started watching and how it makes him anxious for the main character when they do something out of character. When he asks Y/N if there is a show she recommends, her mind goes blank, and the first thing that comes to mind is “Fleabag.”

“It’s the saddest but most comforting show I have ever seen,” Y/N gushes.

“With Phoebe Waller-Bridge?”

“Mhmm…the second season has Andrew Scott. Irish treasure.”

“Paul Mescal,” he adds.

“Hozier.”

“Saoirse Ronan,” they say in unison before falling into fits of giggles.

“You’ve got taste, Styles.”

“As do you.”

The line moves, and they change conversations to talk about the best musicals they’ve seen. Y/N swears “Waitress” is the best thing created, but Harry tells her “Moulin Rouge” is his favorite. Y/N loves how easily the conversation with Harry seems to flow. He feels like a long-lost friend. Someone who once was in her life has now found his way back to her.

Not only is he getting along with her, but everyone is getting to see the Harry she had come to know. The one who makes cheesy jokes and loves to hear every detail of the story being told. It turns out he and Maeve frequent the same record store. There’s a Stevie Nicks vinyl Harry is on the hunt for, and Maeve promised to keep an eye out for him. Tatum learns Harry can play guitar and asks him to show them sometime. Something he agreed to with pink cheeks. Y/N knew tonight was a big step for Harry, and she was glad everyone made him feel comfortable.

As the night was coming to an end, the maze lines got shorter, and the more Y/N screamed. It made her laugh right after, but still not her favorite part of the night. Before the cold can settle in, they all call it a midnight night. Tatum and Estella head out hand in hand. Y/N can’t wait for the details of that on Monday. Carmy is telling Harry a story, so Maeve uses the opportunity to remind Y/N to make a move.

“It’s now or never, girlfriend.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please don’t pressure me on this.”

“Y/N that man is, head over heels for you. If I was antisocial this is not an event I would ever do. Unless someone I fancied asked.”

Y/N toes her food in the sand and, in a low voice, asks, “do you really think he likes me?”

Maeve smiles, brushing Y/N’s hair out of her eyes. “That man lit up every time your eyes were on him. I don’t know Harry as well as you do, but I can notice a guy with a crush from miles away. Trust me on this.”

Y/N backs down, relaxing, “okay.”

“Good. Now text me when you get home. Carmy’s got me.” Maeve gives her a tight hug and then pulls Carmy away from Harry.

He walks over to her with a shy smile on his face. “Have a good time?”

“The best,” she tells him. “Though I might need another apple cider. Think my heart needs it.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

After getting one last warm apple cider, they reach Harry’s car. It’s an electric car because he’s conscious of his environmental impact and knows one person can go a long way into the future. Harry opens Y/N’s car door and waits until he sees her seated and buckled to close her door. As he gets ready to drive off, he turns on the heater, knowing if he’s cold, Y/N must be too.

The car ride starts off quietly, Y/N guiding him every so often when to make a turn. Y/N sees her favorite coffee shop and knows she is almost home. “That was fun,” Harry starts. “I’m happy I went.”

“Mhmm…it was a good time. Glad you joined us,” she tells him honestly.

Harry notices at a red light that she’s fidgeting with her hands and thinks he might still be cold. “Do you need me to turn up the heater?”

Y/N shakes her head, “no, sorry, I’m fine.”

Harry drives down a few more streets when Y/N tells him to turn left. “It’s the third one on the right.”

He parks right outside her driveway. From here, he can see her decorations hung up. It’s decorated charmingly. It’s clear no scaring would happen here. She’s got two pumpkins outside her door. One has stars carved all around; the other is a cat on a witch’s broom. Bat lights are hanging up the railing of the steps. She even has a few inflatables. His favorite has to be the one of Mickey Mouse as a vampire.

“Thank you for driving me home. I appreciated it.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Harry gets out of the car and opens her door.

“Let me walk you up.”

Y/N feels her cheeks burn and leads the way.

“We’re planning trivia soon,” Y/N says, testing the waters.

“Hmm…only if you’re on my team.”

“We would all be on the same team,” his flirting going over her head.

Harry’s face turns pink, “uh, right.”

She laughs, placing her hand on his bicep. “Only joking.”

Y/N pulls him in, whispering good night, except when she pulls away, she locks eyes with his emerald eyes, and it’s like she’s in a trance. She feels herself leaning in closer, and before she knows it, Y/N presses her lips to Harry in an airy kiss.

She pulls back, shocked. “Sorry,” she breathed out. “I-I should have asked.”

“Ask me,” he pleads.

“What?” Y/N isn’t sure if she heard him correctly.

Harry doesn’t care anymore. He raises his hand to rest on her cheeks. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

She feels how close he is. She can feel his breath mixing with hers. “Yes.”

When their lips meet, Y/N swears she feels time stop. Harry is starting slow as he begins to learn what she likes. Y/N places a hand on his chest, needing to have a secure hold as she feels him take her breath away. Her emotions are all over the place. His lips are smooth as they move against hers in a dance that feels like they’ve done a hundred times before. Harry deepens the kiss, pushing her up against the door, making Y/N grab a fistful of his shirt, not wanting him to pull away. Y/N lets herself get wrapped up in all her feelings because she knows that a kiss this special means it won’t be her only one, and she finally allows all her feelings to pour into the kiss.

Y/N isn’t sure how long they spent kissing outside her door. It seems she’s lost track of time since she got a taste of Harry. “I don’t want you to go,” she mutters against his lips when she feels him begin to pull away.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he promises.

“Too far.

Harry laughs, “you can call me tomorrow when you wake up.” Knowing she likes to sleep in, he would rather not wake her up.

“Okay,” she whispers in defeat.

“Good night,” Harry takes a step back.

Y/N bites her lip and gives him a wave. “Do you want a kiss goodbye?”

Harry can’t say no.

Monday morning, Y/N walks in with a large smile. It makes everyone stop and stare. She makes her rounds, wishing everyone a good morning, and saves Harry for last.

“Hi, Harry.” She chirps.

“Morning,” he answers timidly.

Y/N pouts because he didn’t even look at her. She wanted to see his beautiful eyes. “So I was thinking…” she trails off.

Harry turns, giving her his undivided attention, and Y/N’s smile widens. “How does a date sound to you?”

“A date?” He echoes.

“With me,” she giggles.

“Best thing I've heard all day.”

Y/N claps her hands together, “wonderful.”

“How does this weekend sound?”

“Too far,” she teases. “Saturday?”

“I’ll pick you up,” he promises.

“Good. Good.” Y/N lingers by his door.

“Yes, love?”

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but doesn’t look away from him. “Are we still on for lunch?”

Harry gives her a dimpled grin, “I’ve got a new book for us to discuss.”

Y/N tells him she can’t wait and walks away. Harry watches her go, and as if she can feel his stare on her, she turns around and gives him a wink. Harry knows he’s way in over his head with someone as amazing as Y/N, but he can’t wait to prove each day to her how much he deserves to be with her.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles story #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry story #harry fic rec #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles halloween #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #fic rec #harry styles pleasing

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stylespresleyhearted · 5 months

Text

THE MAJOR’S WIFE

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, adultery, nsfw, marital problems, oral (m! receiving), spanking, being turned on even when your brain isn’t in it, bucky in 1x04, bucky married pre-war, slight age gap bc reader can come off slightly immature (i think?) angst, historical inaccuracies, new mediocre writer be nice

summary: John Egan gets to know his wife again

word count: 9.7k

notes: i’m not sure where this came from i wrote it all today and got no part of my research paper done. there’s really no point to it and also irl john egan was actually really close to his mother so i emphasized that here. he wrote to her so much. no disrespect to any of the real people, this is based on the show/show timeline as well.

Lila gets the call on the 2nd of October and her dreams come true.

Not entirely, no. The real dream would be having him home safe and the tragic war being over but she knows how fortunate she is to have the next best thing happen. Her husband’s been granted a few days leave and Colonel Harding believed it would do Major Egan some good to have his sweet, young wife join him during those days overseas. For the good of John’s mental health the Colonel or the President - or whoever was in charge, Lila really had no idea - had agreed to pay for her ticket and their hotel. There was only one thing they asked for in return and although it wasn’t explicitly said, Lila caught their drift: sort your husband out.

Lila knows it would do her no good to sit and wonder how horribly John must be doing in order for them to declare an all expenses paid trip for his spouse. All she does is worry for him anyhow so she forces herself to focus on the one good thing of the entire ordeal - she’s going to see her man.

There’d been letters, although not as many as she liked and she tried not to let it show how it hurt as every other wife received more than one letter at a time. Her John wasn’t the sort, she knew that when she married him. He was the kind of person who needed endless skies and land to maintain his sense of stability. Having him cooped up would do him no good and she partly wondered how much of what he was struggling with was the trauma he witnessed in the air and how much of it was feeling caged on base. At least his plane, good ol’ Mugwump (he wrote about her quite often) offered him the opportunity to head anywhere he wanted.

The only person he wrote consistently and readily to was his mother. It was rare if a week went by and she received no letter. During these instances it was more times than not an issue with the postal service.

Be that as it may, Lila knew who she married and it made her love him no less so she tried not to let it get to her. His mother was a saint. Firm and strong and loving all the same. Lila would have never survived sending John off if his mother wasn’t who and how she was. She held Lila at night when her cries woke her and she let Lila sleep in his old childhood bed. She kept food on their table and ensured everyone got their work done through the worry.

When John first left and Lila was sick to her stomach and vomiting multiple times of the day it was his mother who consoled her through the night when her sheets turned a crimson red and any ideals of having their baby through the war was lost.

Frances Egan was the glue holding them together. All of them, even her son who was an entire ocean way - so no. Lila would not be angry that she was John’s preferred pen-pal.

“You fix him right up,” Mama Egan had said in lieu of goodbye when leaving her at the airport, “you give him the loving he needs as his wife and the smacks he needs from me to get on the straight and narrow before sending him off to continue saving the world. You do it for him, not for any of them war bastards. You hear me?”

All Lila could do was nod. Dropping her bags on the floor and clutching her pseudo mother tightly. She was excited as she was frightened.

They had only gotten two months together before he had been pulled away. She didn’t want to complain, loads of women had gotten less time at all while others had only ever been left with the promise.

But her two months as Mrs. Egan? They’d been a dream. Her man was a romancer. He hadn’t hesitated in introducing her as the newly (and younger) Mrs. Egan, always resulting in an arm slap from his mother, he held open doors and he never stopped courting her; however she thinks the best times were when he was teaching her how to act married.

In their bed, at a home he had spent a year building for them. Using any extra pennies he had to pay off younger boys to help him hurry it along. Giving her the wrap-around porch she had always envisioned.

He showed her how to kiss. How to undress him. He had laid her underneath him, using his large frame to cover her completely, protecting her from the cold as he threw the sheets off them and making her feel tiny compared to him. She had never felt safer.

It had hurt the first time but he had held her through it. Never allowing any inches of space between their bodies; as if telling her they were in it together. She’d always known he was large, everything about him was large in general, but she never thought how much it would hurt to have all of him fit inside her. Lila hadn't wanted to disappoint him so she tried to muffle her tears and whimpers but he had swallowed her cries and gone slow, soft.

“If this is it, it’ll be enough,” he had promised, only about half way inside her and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. As a thank you she had taken that calloused thumb into her mouth and sucked. He allowed her; hiding his face in her neck and pressing wet kisses along there.

And for the first few times that had been it. She couldn’t take all of him and his thrusts couldn’t get too deep so he would only slip inside until her tight hole resisted and pulsed and he’d hump against that spot until reaching his pleasure.

“Do other girls take all of it?” She had asked a couple days later, trying to wrap her head around it.

She was no idiot. John Egan was no virgin.

“Yes.” Lila could always count on him to be honest. At least there was that. Meanwhile she couldn’t even fully pleasure him. She was failing as a wife. “Hey,” he lay facing her and she lay on her back. He tapped her cheek until she turned her face. “You’re my wife. That’s what makes this feel better.”

And she had beamed at his reassurance even though she didn’t feel much better. She knew John would never push her, and he couldn’t stand to see her cry, so if she ever wanted to learn to be a good wife she would have to take it upon herself.

So that’s what she did.

He was always on top and she was always on her back. That’s the first thing she had to change. From her understanding of it, from her talks with friends that always ended in giggles and blushing cheeks and from what she learned from John, it could be done in many different ways.

“I prefer to be in charge,” her school friend, Linda, had admitted to her. “Not like that -” she clarified, cheeks pink, “Just - if I’m gonna take it, I’d rather do it at my pace. Be on top. Some husbands are good like that. They’ll allow it.”

And knowing her husband wasn’t just good, he was great, she knew he would hold no qualms about it. The next time they lay in bed kissing it was easy to turn him over and straddle him. Move her wetness against his belly to let him know there was still more she just needed him to accept it.

Except he thought she was asking him to do it so he flipped her on her back again. And without breaking their kiss, she turned him over again.

It was more like they were wrestling.

Lila pulls away from his mouth, reluctantly, noticing his lips were wet and red and swollen and wondering if hers were much the same. They had been kissing for so long her mouth felt raw.

She loved it.

Straddling him, she reached behind her, feeling him standing straight and hard against her backside in between her cheeks. Sticky.

He gasped, bucking into her fist with a loud, guttural groan. It was so manly she rocked against his stomach again in need.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, “what’re you doing?”

“I want to try it like this,” she breathed, leaning over to whisper in his mouth, her tiny hand still wrapped around him and lining her up to her hole. “I want it all.” Lila clarified.

And John allowed it, like she knew he would. Let her take control and go at her pace. Let her swivel her hips on the way down to help with the tightness of being stretched so wide and thick.

Nothing but curses and promises of love leaving his lips. Gasping mine, mine, mine and my perfect fucking wife and I’m gonna fuck you forever.

He felt large inside of her, like if she was being split in two but it felt so good as the tip of him repeatedly hit a spongy part inside that had her coming with no contact to her clit for the first time.

She was beautiful, red splotches appearing on her body from the heat of their love-making, her hair tangled in his fists, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back - all of it was too much. He was flipping her over and pounding into her trying to chase his peak and a second one from her, their headboard banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.

Things changed from then on. Sexually, that is. Becoming aware of how badly she needed to feel like she was pleasing him, John was not above using it against her. Like letting him lick at her.

“Good wives allow their husbands everything,” he would say, lips wide in a smile and eyes bright at the prospect of getting his way but Lila always knew the choice was really hers. He would respect what she wanted.

He was just too damn addicting. She couldn’t stand to tell him no.

His favorite times were when she allowed him to sit her over his face and let him feast. It drowned the outside world for him and he kept at it even after she had reached multiple orgasms and was pulling on his hair and the only thing keeping her up was his forearms locking around her thighs.

Her favorite was when he allowed her to taste him at the same time he was licking her. It was a tie between those times and when he held her down until all of him was in her mouth and she was spluttering, choking, gagging. Knowing she made a filthy vision and he adored it did something to her.

Now she was in London, closer to him than she had been in years, and all their intimacies were within reach. She could almost taste him, feel him petting back her hair and settling a hand at the low of her back. She still remembers the smell of his after shave and sweat, how he’d come into the kitchen asking for some of her homemade lemonade to help with the heat.

Jack Kidd was tasked with picking up Mrs. Egan from the airport and having her arrive at base with him. She remembers meeting him a couple of times before John shipped out early. Originally she was meant to wait for John at their hotel but there had been an issue when planning her flight and she arrived sooner than intended.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, placing a friendly kiss on her cheeks and taking her bags from her. “Bucky’s gonna be happy as hell to see your face.”

The tone in his voice - relief? alleviation? - had some of her happy wife's facade crumbling. How badly was her Johnny hurting that everyone was looking at her at his only chance to remain sane or alive?

Stop it. Maybe everyone’s just aware Johnny misses you. You’re his wife.

“Not as happy as me, I wager,” she returned with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, Jack. Glad to see you still kicking.”

His shrug didn’t soothe her worry but she saw him try to mask it with a smile.

“All we boys can do is pray.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gathering his attention. “You boys have got the prayers of our entire country protecting you.”

Jack simply nodded in response.

For the most part the ride to base was quiet. Her bags would be kept in the trunk until her and John were ready to drive out to London in a couple of hours and until then, she’d be his surprise at the officer’s club. Silver Wings, Jack called it. Where all the boys gathered and had drinks and celebrated accomplishments. And where some chose to mourn, too.

Her stomach was turning as she neared the hut, following Jack’s footsteps. There was so much that could go wrong and although this was meant to be a surprise, the U.S Army showing their gratitude towards a brave Major, she suddenly wished she would have called John and told him. She wished he knew so that she wouldn’t have to walk in feeling alone and unwanted.

Not that Lila thought John would turn her away, she simply wanted to have him hold her hand as she walked through the threshold.

“Stick close by,” Jack murmured, being respectful of where he touched her before deciding to lead her by her shoulder. “It gets crowded but I’ll take ya to him.”

As she walked through different groups, she felt the offending eyes of men and women alike. Wondering who she was. With a pang in her heart she realized she had met John’s squadrons before but all these crews were new. The boys she met, most of them at least from what she could tell, hadn’t made it. John never wrote about who passed away (except to inform her of Curt) ; most of their letters were him expressing his love and how he missed her so and asking what she got up to.

Having walked around the roundabout bar in the center of the room, her stomach in knots and fingers tangled in front of her - she caught sight of her husband smack middle in the dance floor. Pressed against a beautiful brunette.

Lila caught sight of him before even Jack did. That’s how connected she was to her husband. Jack whistled from beside her to gain Gale’s attention who was resting against the bar holding his signature ginger ale, also watching John Egan chat up the woman he was swaying with with something like disapproval in his eyes.

His large hands were occupying most of the space of her waist, keeping her body tethered to his as she laughed.

“Lila,” he gasped, eyes wide. He was smart enough to not turn and look at his buddy. To act as if nothing was amiss and she expected nothing less from Gale Cleven, “damn it all to hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Egan.”

Because he was close to John, he didn’t hesitate in wrapping her up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her tinted cheeks. He knew John wouldn’t mind.

When he pulled back she patted his chubby cheek in return, “You still shame the rest of us with your good looks, Gale,” she laughed. “I’ll let Marge know when I see her next.”

Lila also knew she would share with Marge that while Gale was being loyal, standing off to the side her husband was exchanging oxygen with a woman on the dance floor.

His cheeks tinted at the mention of his girl. Buck and Bucky were both aware Lila and Marge wrote to one another and visited each other whenever time made it possible.

“Colonel Harding said Major Egan was in need of something from home,” she said, studying his reaction to see what she could read but Gale had always been aloof, cold. He wasn’t close to her like he was with Marge and John.

Gale thought back to a few moments earlier when John had disrespected their Colonel and all his actions before that too - disrespecting superiors, drinking more consistently, becoming angry - hopelessness in his eyes.

“He’s in need of you Lila,” Gale clarified and it wasn’t lost on either one of them that he they were referring to was currently on the floor wooing another woman.

“Holy shit! It’s Mrs. Egan!” Hambone animatedly announced and suddenly it felt like the eyes of everyone in there were on her. Her cheeks tinted pink, never having been one for the spotlight like her husband.

She was greeted with welcoming cheers and hugs.

John, for his part, disentangled from the woman he was holding at the mention of his missus. He was sober enough to appear sheepish and guilty, but in the next second it was gone as he stalked towards her. Determined. Quick. His smile growing the more he neared like he was becoming more aware she was really there and it wasn’t a fucked up scenario in his head.

“God, Lila,” she managed to hear him say before she was elevated in the air, his arms tight around her waist and lifting her high so they were at face level and he could kiss her. Channeling his love and exuberance and aggression into kissing his wife. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s really you,” he was saying in between smooches, “I missed you. So fucking much, doll.”

Basking in his love she didn’t feel the need to mention the woman that was so kindly keeping him preoccupied before she entered.

She couldn’t help the first tear from falling or the rest from following. It was like the tightness in her chest unlocked as she finally got to hold him and feel his heat surround her. He still smelled of after shave and the same hair gel that was kept in their bathroom at home but he tasted strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and strawberry lipstick.

John tucked his face into her neck, setting her down and bending to her level. Sniffling in there as he continued to hold her.

“None of that,” she did her best to stop her voice from wobbling or breaking, “we’re together. That’s all that matters.” She drew his face out from where he had hidden to pepper him with a few more kisses.

None of it was enough.

The rest of the guys were kind enough to return to the dance floor and act like they couldn’t see them.

“Who? What - why? How?” He was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts in between the kisses he continued stealing from her.

She was crying and laughing and trying to return all his touches. It was a terribly difficult ordeal but she had never been happier.

“Colonel Harding called and said you had a weekend leave. He said he talked to some of the higher ups but they couldn’t allow you a leave home so this was the next best thing,” she explained, cupping his cheek as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He had minor scars that weren’t there before.

She wanted to kiss every single one of them.

He was still bent towards her height, taking her in as she was taking him in.

She forgot how blue his eyes were.

He was whole. Complete. Hers.

“You’re here for the entire weekend?” He asked to confirm and she nodded, laughing when he lifted her again with a loud whoop to celebrate. That got a few of the guys to join in although they had no idea what their Major was celebrating.

“I need you,” his voice suddenly dropped, setting her down as he turned to the door. “Let’s go.” He was buckling up her coat to make sure she was protected from the freezing London air. She was lucky he was too far gone to scold her for arriving with it unbuckled in the first place - she could get sick.

“John, John - relax, my sweet man,” she laughed, cupping his cheek to get his attention. “We can stay for a while. We don’t have to go yet.”

It’s why she was at the officer’s club in the first place. She had arrived early.

John turned stiff in her hold, straightening to his full height as he suddenly loomed over her. “I’ve got you in my arms for the first time and you want to stay here?” His voice was tight. His face stern.

“Yes - no, I -” she was unsure of where she went wrong or how to fix it. She clasped his hands in hers but he didn’t allow her to thread their fingers together so it was just her holding on. “I just meant we’ve got time, John.”

The way he was looking at her made her want to cry. She felt her lower lip quivering.

She felt ashamed, whispering, trying to get him to keep his cool.

“Time? Time?” He laughed loudly. She was mildly aware of Gale breaking away from a group of guys to near them, worried but she was mostly focused on John. The tense lines on his face even as he laughed and the quirked eyebrow even though she found no amusement in their situation. “You think I’ve got time? You have no idea what it’s like up there.”

She shook her head but didn’t try to verbally explain herself. She wasn’t sure she could manage a few words before breaking into tears.

“Come on, Bucky,” that was Gale stepping in to save the day. Perhaps the only person who could get John to listen. “When have you ever left before dancing with your girl? You gotta show these rookies how it’s properly done right?”

With Gale slapping a hand to John’s shoulders, he seemed to snap out of it. Releasing a deep breath and seemingly all the tightness in body with it.

He leaned down again, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clasping a hand around her neck so she wouldn’t pull her head back. As their eyes locked she felt a tear fall again and this one wasn’t happy. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. It’s this place. It’s fucking with my head.”

And she chose to believe him, nodding her head in understanding and trying not to think about how she wasn’t his preferred person to write letters to or the one who could clear his head.

Maybe the Colonel should have allowed a weekend pass for Gale and John.

Lila swallowed the thought, allowing John to pull her to the dance floor as he lost all anger and aggression and became charming and loving all over again.

“Everyone, this is my wife!” He bellowed and everyone cheered in response. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and -” he hiccuped and she realized he was drunker than she thought, “and I bet we can out dance any couples here tonight!”

So for the next hour she found herself being twirled around the dance floor by her husband. She almost forgot their prior negative interaction; his love and energy was so infectious. For the slow songs he would hold her close and she would rest her head against his chest, letting it lull her to a relaxing state. He was alive and she was with him. That had to be enough. For the more upbeat songs, he was challenging any couple beside them. Asking those sitting who were better dancers? Who could perform certain dance moves better?

And all throughout, he was like he used to be back home. Loud and happy and the center of attention, keeping everyone entertained. He kept announcing to his boys that his beautiful wife was there and then he’d place a wet kiss on her mouth that had their cheeks (and hers) turning red but all he would do is smile and continue on.

She was finally able to disentangle herself from him when Crosby pulled him in for a conversation. Lila wonders if her state of disheveled hair and panting breaths made him want to aid her in allowing her to sit and grab a refresher.

Once she accepts Crosby’s hug and cheek kiss, she excuses herself to go grab a drink. John only pulls her back once to steal a kiss before she gets too far.

Her lips might be bruised by the time they leave if he kept it up.

She orders a cup of ice water from the man tending the bar, looking back out at her husband as she waits. He’d always been tall and strong, but she notices the change in his posture. The bulges in his arms as he twirled her around and lifted her in the air. His eyes were only bright when he forced it. They had lost their shine and she wishes she brought the picture from back home. Where he looks young and full of life and joyful. Even when he smiles he seems hollow; hopeless.

She’s there but he doesn’t really care because in his head he’s already thinking of when she leaves again.

She wasn’t used to that. Her John only lived in the moment.

“He keepin’ you busy?”

Gale settles up behind her and pushes the glass water towards her. She didn’t even notice when it was put down.

“Dizzy, more like,” she jokes and gets him to crack a smile. She thinks to when she walked in and seen Gale, how he’d been watching the scene unfold but with a disapproving look in his eyes. How he didn’t try to hide the scene from her or excuse it. He let it be. And she knows John has never shied away from attention. He’s always been handsome and charming and girls always swarmed but Lila wasn’t aware she had to be around to keep him loyal. She thought he just was. And she knows it’s not too long before they leave now so she decides to be direct with him. “So, does that happen often?”

She sees Gale’s expression split for a second, like he debates playing dumb before deciding against it and she respects him even more for it.

“I think you should talk to John about it.” He decides on.

“Is it something that needs to be mentioned?” She doesn’t like playing this game with him but she knows at the first words of cheating and adultery Gale is going to excuse himself and her chance will be lost.

She can’t be simple and ask: Does my husband cheat on me?

“Another ginger ale, Marty,” Gale raises two fingers to grab the man’s attention and mutters a thanks as his drink is immediately refilled. He turns his attention back to Lila. “He still loves you, Lila. It’s just - hard. Being out here.”

“You seem to be coping fine.”

She feels bitter. Crazy. There’s a sob she has to choke back.

Lila’s too embarrassed to meet Gale’s gaze. Ashamed that everyone knows what’s been going on and she was the ditzy woman being twirled on the dance floor.

“I think I was used to loneliness. He isn’t.”

And he says nothing else as he leaves her behind heading back to his boys. It’s just Lila and her shattering heart and her husband calling to beckon her back to the dance floor.

Luckily they didn’t stay much longer. She walked over to Bucky but he wasn’t able to pull her back out for a dance - it’s my song, Lila! - because Jack Kidd was approaching, letting them know it was time to leave them at the train station.

Lila waited in the car while Bucky ran into his quarters to pack his bag. He didn’t have many things to take, he would be stuck wearing his uniform anyway. Gale walks him back out to the car and despite the earlier conversation Lila exits the safety of the interior to say her goodbyes.

“Take care of yourself, Major,” she squeezes him, “I need you to stick around after this weekend to look after my man.”

“It’s a hard job but I try,” he replies, both of them ignoring Bucky’s protests.

Besides that, Bucky’s quiet on the ride to the train station. He carries her bag on board but he’s quiet for the duration of the train ride. Lila doesn’t disturb him; he might be tired or hungover or both.

And if she’s honest she’s scared of him snapping at her like the night before.

Instead she takes the time to take him in. He’s handsome in his suit. Tall and big and strong, his sharp jaw and powerful mouth, his eyes blue like a sunny day and his curls coming undone from the gel after all the dancing he did.

Lila doesn’t allow her mind to wander down this path too often but suddenly she can’t help it. Would their baby have looked like him or like her? She wishes more than anything they would have had his ears. She wishes they would have had his heart and his strength - but her loyalty. Her faith in them.

It’s crazy when she stops to think she was nineteen when she married him and now she’s twenty-one. She’s loved him for more than she’s been allowed to have him. She has changed without him like he has without her and it’s frightening to think neither of them could be accepting of those changes. Whatever they may be.

Lila shuts those thoughts out, closing the distance between them to sit on his lap. Passerby’s and his horrible mood and what scares her could be damned to hell - all she wants is her man.

John doesn’t deny her; she admits she was a little scared he would.

“I love you,” she tells him, catching his eyes.

“I know.”

He doesn’t return the words as they continue staring at one another but she refuses to let it get her down. This is her husband. She has the rest of her life to get to know him; new or old habits, she doesn’t care.

So instead, Lila plasters a smile onto her face. “What’re you gonna show me first in London, Major?”

“Well I really wanna show you our hotel room,” he plays along, allowing her to trace the edges of his mustache. She lets out a knowing chortle. “And I really want to show you -” he cuts himself off to look around, making sure no one was near them as he leans in to whisper, “- my cock, Mrs. Egan.”

She turns a bright red, trying to sputter out a proper response for that but all she can do is indignantly scold him. “John Clarence! If your mom were here -” and they both break out in loud laughter at the many possibilities of what his mother would exactly do to him if she heard his wicked mouth.

“Wanna grab some grub first?” He asks instead, knowing she hadn’t eaten at the officers club and before then she had been stuck on a plane. “I know a few places.”

Lila nods happily, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips are warm and as plump as she remembers them. His mustache tickles her.

“Let me feed you first, woman!” He groans, trying to be a gentleman. “When’s the last time you ate?”

She puckers her lips to think about it and that’s the only answer he needs: food is definitely first.

When they arrive at the hotel John enters to check them in but he slips a few bills into the bell boy’s hand with strict instructions to leave the bags in their room before pulling her back out to the London streets.

Lila felt underdressed surrounded by women in diamonds and fancy hats, and it didn’t help that John was beside her in his uniform looking dapper and catching the eye of many. They were stopped multiple times on the way to the diner; men wanting to shake his hand and show their gratitude while the women introduced themselves, uncaring of Lila under his right arm.

As long as he wasn’t ignoring or dismissing her she realized she didn’t really care. It wasn’t much different back home; everyone knew and loved John Egan.

The diner he chose was small and cozy and his legs were too long to fit under their table so his boot and his knee kept bumping into her own and she adored it. She wanted to feel close to him and since sitting on his lap currently wasn’t an option she figured this would have to do.

He tells her many stories but none of them are sad or tragic. He only shares the happy ones. He talks about how he convinced the Colonel to allow Buck, Curt, and himself a London weekend pass one time and they had shoved Gale into a haberdashery where he tried on a multitude of top hats worth more money any of them would ever see combined. But because they were soldiers and majors at that, the owner allowed it. There’s a museum nearby he talks about wanting to take her too, it showcases art from as early as the 1400s and he says he’s gotten lost in there plenty of times and it was lovely.

All the while, she listens without hearing him. Choosing to take him in and letting her mind wander to how it would be if things were different. It pains her to think how much older he looks since she last saw him. Looking more like it was ten years instead of the measly two. John’s always been one to smile freely but the wrinkles by his mouth, eyes, and forehead aren’t from smiling or laughing too much.

Lila knows they’re from worrying and stressing and being scared and she hates that she can’t understand him or be there for him. No matter how hard he tries.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when a sob breaks free. She curls in over the table and John’s reaching over to rub her shoulders. She grabs a hold of her hand in his. “I just missed you so much.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t think I know how to not miss you.”

John doesn’t say anything but he motions a server over to settle the bill and once that’s done, he’s taking her hand and pulling her out the chair.

“You got enough food in you?”

All she can do is nod.

Her body feels electric on the short walk back to the hotel. He doesn’t do more than hold her hand and she thinks that is what has her nerves jittery, his palm in her hand sets her alight. She can feel his rough skin and the calluses on his fingers and the fingertips he runs over her skin and she bites back a moan.

Moaning in the middle of a bustling London street? She’d be thrown into an asylum she’s sure.

Beside her he’s quiet but his steps are quick. She has to lightly jog to keep up with long strides. He pulls on her hand to help her keep pace. It makes her think he’s as impatient for it as she is so she was surprised when upon closing the hotel room behind him he stays by the door. Not nearing or touching or kissing.

Just - nothing.

Her throat becomes tight again as she remembers the girl from the night before and her conversation with Gale. Is that the reason why?

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before she can spiral any further. Approaching her and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss, wasting no time in sliding his tongue alongside hers.

“I love you,” she responds and once again he doesn’t say it back. She figured he wouldn’t but she wanted to try. He takes her mouth in his again.

She gets irrationally angry, suddenly feeling the need to claim him so she bites at his bottom lip. He pulls back to press a finger to his lip, wiping the blood there.

Lila pulls on his belt, dropping to her knees right there in the middle of the room.

Mine. He’s mine.

“Make me your wife again,” she’s not sure but it sounds like she’s begging as she manages to unbuckle his belt and pull them around his strong thighs.

“God,” he breathed, “fuck. Look at you.”

Swollen lips parted for him to put to use. John wrapped his fist around her long hair to maintain a good grip, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat. There was no resistance, no gag, her body remembering how it was taught to take all of him even though time had passed. John loved that fucking mouth and he found himself angry as thoughts entered his mind - if anyone had fucked her mouth while he’d been away - and he jerks his hips more forcefully. Rough.

This time Lila does gag. Her hand goes to push against his hip but he doesn’t allow her to pull away.

“Did anyone else do this?”

She splutters, eyes on him and confused with a mouthful of cock, unable to talk.

“Did you suck someone else’s cock? This is mine, Lila. Mine.”

He holds her down for a couple of more seconds before allowing her reprieve. She sputters and coughs, looking at him the entire time.

His dick is still hard and long, standing to attention, and he’s not sure whether he should apologize before she’s taking his bobbing dick back into her mouth. To the back of her throat and gulping and fondling his balls. Her nose kissing the coarse hairs on his belly trail and although it feels fucking amazing - he can feel the anger too. Her anger.

How dare he accuse her.

When she pulls off there’s a strand of saliva connecting his prick to her tongue. She has half a mind to go back for more but he’s pulling her back by her hair.

“I’m so lucky to have a wife who’s cock hungry,” he groans, pulling her to her feet by her hair and connecting their mouths in a rough kiss. Their teeths crash and tongues wrestly and he feels fucking crazy that she tastes like him. Simultaneously ripping each other’s clothes off.

Lila didn’t have any warning. One second she was kissing him and ripping open his shirt and the next she was bent over the bed with her ass in the air. John ran a finger over the wet patch on her underwear. The bite on her cheek was also unexpected and she clawed at the sheets, sure she could come from the feeling alone.

“This is mine, Lila,” he leaned in close, burying his face in her underwear. “Mine.”

All she could do was whimper and agree.

John smacked her ass so hard it jiggled. Lila yelled and after the pain ceded, time seemed to stop. Nothing but their rough breathing filling the room. John had never done that before.

She wasn’t sobbing but there were tears escaping. She was sure he didn’t know. He was waiting for a reaction.

Lila wasn’t sure where this side of her husband came from. Had he held back those two months? Did he learn it in Europe? Was that why there was another woman - because she couldn’t satisfy him?

She can’t lose him.

“Please,” she begs, hiding tears in the duvet, “do it again.”

Lies. It was all lies but John believes her and he strikes again. She yelps, fisiting the sheets. He believes it’s in pleasure.

Ten slaps. That’s how many she endures before he begins shushing and petting her again. He runs his fingers through her folds and although she didn’t enjoy the punishment mentally - she did nothing wrong, he was the liar - her body certainly did. She’s sopping wet, she’s gonna have to throw out her underwear because they’re destroyed.

“Did you enjoy that?” He grabs a fistful of her hair to sit her up, her back against his sweaty, matter chest. “You like being spanked, baby?”

“Yes.” It’s only half of a lie.

“Now - now, I’m going to fuck you. Nice and hard, just how you like it,” she wants to scream at him. She wants to hit him. When did she ever like it hard? When was hard ever nice? Who was he thinking about because it wasn’t her.

But at the same time she rocks back against him to feel his cock hard between her cheeks. She can’t say she doesn’t want it. Him. This.

He pushes her back down at her teasing, using his now free hands to spread her cheeks and show her tight asshole. Untouched and pure. He presses the tip of his cock against it but he doesn’t push. He doesn’t move.

She jerks at the pressure. Drools on the mattress as she tries to bite down to temper her screams.

Do it.

No, don’t.

“One day,” he promises, pressing deeper so her hole opens but not deep enough to push. “But today, today I want this.” And without any prepping like she’s used to, without any more warning, he’s sliding down and pushing into her. Hard. Deep.

She screams, can’t help it, claws at the mattress in an attempt to crawl away.

It hurt but it felt so good.

Who was she?

“You think you can go be with other men? Let them use the holes I trained? The ones that belong to me?” He pumps into her deep. Once, twice. She’s so wet the noises filling the room are pornographic, her yelling and his panting and her sopping wet vagina smacking against his thighs and taking his cock so well. “You like it like this, Lila? Like when I fucking own you?”

“Yes, yes,” she swears and this time she isn’t lying. It’s all she can manage; she thinks she’s gone cock dumb. There are no words, no feelings, just the feeling of him filling her.

She clenches tight when he slides out. She wants him inside her forever.

He releases his hold of her hair, stepping away. He’s tired of muffling her moans and words. He’s tired of not being able to see her beautiful face.

John’s favorite face in the entire world.

“Turn around,” he commands.

Lila kneels on wobbly legs as she turns over, having little to no energy and bouncing as her body lands with no grace on the mattress. John grabs one of her jiggling breasts in his large hand, squeezing tightly.

“I fucking missed these.” He takes one in his mouth, biting down on her nipple hard. She shrieks but holds his head to pull him closer.

Her thighs are forced open by his hand and then he’s taking hold of himself and thrusting in deep again. Releasing her breasts from his mouth in order to look at her mouth. Lila’s face when he’s fucking her is as close to heaven as he thinks he’ll ever get. She’s incoherent but she’s begging for more - that much he can make out. She manages to gather the strength to grab hold of him and pull him down, clawing at his back.

He hisses at the pain and bites on her collarbone to reciprocate it.

When she grabs the nape of his neck, the cool touch of her wedding ring against his skin, it gives him pause. This was his wife. His wife.

John has been gone so long he thinks he forgot he was married.

“I love you,” he finally says it, pressing his forehead against hers as he slows down. He sniffles then, leaning down to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against hers and swallow her moans. John can’t believe he forgot he had this; can’t believe he forgot for a minute how lucky he was. She’s gorgeous (and not just externally) and he’s quite sure he somehow managed to dream her up. “I love you,” he swears again.

This time she’s the one who doesn’t say it.

She clutches at neck and pulls him down to take a boob in his mouth. Looking him in the eye hurts too damn much. Why did he have to do this now? She was lost in the pain; she had been taking her punishment.

Lila squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly as she thrashed around the bed. Her orgasm taking over her body. She wrapped both legs tighter around John, squeezing and pulsing around him and dragging him to the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck,” he roared, “so damn tight. Yes, Lila. My perfect wife.”

For a couple of seconds, they lay in the aftermath. Lila could feel the heat of John’s breath against her neck. She counted how many breaths they shared in between one another as they recuperated.

Forty-seven that’s how many breaths they shared as they stayed connected.

Forty-eight that’s when John managed to lift his head and place a peck against her mouth. One she didn’t return.

Forty-nine that’s when John pulled back in concern. Lila was so still.

Fifty. That’s the breath she used to say, “you cheated on me,” looking him right in the eyes as she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.

She cried and cried underneath him. Unable to move because her legs felt like jello and they held no power. Unable to push him off because she didn’t want to let him go. Unable to speak because she was suffocating in her heartbreak.

John watched her until he couldn’t, until he was afraid she was going to choke on her own tears and then he was sitting her up, trying to ignore the way she fought against his touch.

I’m sorry, I’m here, he kept saying.

I hate you, she thought but didn’t say.

Until finally, “don’t touch me!” She yelled when he got too close and made to wrap her up in a hug. “Get away from me, John. Stay away.” She crawled to the edge of the bed and curled herself into a tiny ball. Aware she was fully naked and he was still leaking out of her but she couldn’t find it in herself to do anything except cry.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t open her lungs and get any air in. She slapped at the headboard, aware that she was having a panic attack as suddenly everything hit her all at once. It was entirely consuming and she couldn’t do anything to fight against it except cry. All the feelings rushed her at once.

This was going to be it. The weekend of two lovers reunited was the weekend from hell and this was going to be it. She was going to return home in a day and he would stay in Europe and continue to fight the war and seek out other girls and when he returned she wouldn’t be his wife anymore.

Lila would be scornful and full of resentment and miserable and he would leave her. This last time was going to be all she had and she hated him for ruining it.

Why couldn’t he hide his affairs better?

Why did she have to surprise him?

She was perfectly happy not knowing. She was worried and stressed to hell and crying every night missing him but, oh God, all that was better than this.

Lila isn’t sure how long it’s been since she last took a breath but she feels herself fading. She’s shivering and naked in their bed and she can only slightly take in that John’s wrapping her up in the duvet and curling himself around her to warm her up. She’s trying to tell him she can’t breathe, she’s suffocating, at the same time he’s blowing air in her face.

She’s fading when she feels it. A sting on the left side of her face. Hard and sharp and enough to have her gasping for a deep breath.

“Baby, please, wake up,” he’s crying over her, his head on her chest, “wake up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her chest aches. She coughs.

He whips his head up so fast she almost laughs. Almost.

“Lila,” he holds her against his chest, rocking them back and forth on the bed as she takes in her surroundings. She isn’t sure how long she was out or how long she was panicking for. Had the sun been setting while she lost her shit? It was dark outside now. “Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. Please.”

She taps at his arms to get him to release. She doesn’t think she can talk.

John allows her the space but he doesn’t remove himself from the bed. He stays kneeling, watching her. His hands keep twitching like he wants to reach out and touch her but he’s trying to respect her wishes of not being touched.

She doesn’t lay back down, she stays resting against the headboard. Breathing hurts. She’s scared of suffocating once more. Her left cheek begins burning and she wishes she had the strength to go look in the mirror. Did he mark her? She hopes he did.

Lila’s glad he made it hurt.

“You need to go,” she finally manages to say, ignoring the way he’s already shaking his head in defiance. “Leave me here, John. I want you to go. Get another room.” Find another woman. “I leave in a day.” She wishes she never came to stupid London. She wishes she could forget this entire trip.

“Lila it’s the war,” he starts, shaking in his own tears. “It’s all the shit I see, baby. None of it was because of you okay? None. You don’t fucking know what it’s like up there for us but I stay alive in hopes of coming home to you.” He promises.

She shakes her head, fighting back any more tears. How the hell could she still have any tears left?

“But Gale didn’t cheat,” it bursts out of her before she can stop it and she knows it’s the wrong thing to say entirely.

John stops his apologies, clearing his throat as he gets up and begins dressing into his suit. She doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t take back any of what she said. She gets tired of sitting so she lays on her side, staring out the window and noticing London doesn’t have many stars. Is that why it’s so horrible here? Because there were no stars to wish upon.

She could hear his boots stomping on the ground as he reached the door. “Maybe you should have married Gale fucking Cleven then.” And the door slams shut behind him.

She wonders if he’s angry enough to find a girl and sleep with her. Her eyes blur. The time on the clock is six p.m and London’s already dark. She realizes she hasn’t slept since her plane ride. About 19 hours awake - her and John.

Lila allows her eyes to close, hoping when she wakes everything will be better.

Shadows over her eyelids wake her up. Lila finds she hasn’t moved. She’s in the same position facing the window. Facing London, only now bombs are dropping over it. The prettiest colors burst forward in the window but she knows it's truly only tragedy and loss. Murder.

She recognizes John sitting in the arm chair and she wonders when he got back. He isn’t facing her, he’s watching bomb after bomb drop and land no more than mere miles away from them. He’s holding a whiskey on ice, twirling the ice so it hits against the glass.

Lila wonders then if it was the shadows or the noise that woke her up.

“I must have punched in my card a long time ago,” his voice is strong in the dead of the night, seemingly even louder than when he’s singing in the pub. “It must be the reason for all of this. Karma.” He scoffs.

I deserve this, is what he’s trying to say.

Lila feels her stomach twist and spin and there’s bile sitting in her throat. She closes her eyes to stop herself from imagining John in a plane, dropping a bomb that lands on children. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the hurt sitting on his shoulders.

She remembers how angry she was when he first signed up. Before they were married. They had been dating for over a month, barely, and she already scribbled ‘Mrs. Egan’ over her notebooks. She’d heard it from his younger sister, Eileen, and she felt her world stop. She hadn’t hesitated to run to the stables he worked at and confront him in front of all the men.

“You’re leaving me,” she had accused him. “You’re gonna leave! I’ll never forgive you, John Egan.”

And in front of everyone he’d knelt down and produced a ring, the one his father had given his mother and said, “Marry me.” He didn’t ask because they both knew it wasn’t a question.

She was already his.

And he was hers.

Lila had forgiven him and promised to love, honor, and obey for the rest of her life.

She doesn’t have the strength to stand so even though her throat burns she speaks. “Lay with me,” she croaks. Her voice is raspy and broken and even clearing it aches.

John shakes his head. “You don’t want me to.”

“Lay with me,” she repeats, firm. “I just want to fall asleep with you.”

He looks at her like he's scared to believe. Trying to figure out whether she’s simply being cruel and going to kick him out in her next breath. Or more likely, he’s scared she’ll lose her shit being near him again.

John, hopeful and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, sets his drink down and nears the bed. Lila keeps her eyes locked on his and he does the same. Their moves and tension resemble a game of chicken, one of them afraid any sudden change can have the other running off.

“Take off your uniform,” she says when he pushes back the covers while still fully dressed. He jerks his head in confusion and she bites her lip to contain a laugh at his dirty mind. Sex is the last thing on her mind. “I want to feel you, that’s all.”

John does as she asks, setting his cap down and shredding every layer before he’s naked and gorgeous and sliding in beside her. She doesn’t allow herself to think about what it means when she immediately slides closer.

Lila’s the one to wrap her arms around him.

Lila’s the one to intertwine their legs.

John follows her lead, lifting an arm so she can raise her head and use it as a pillow. She scoots her face closer and she nuzzles into her armpit, smelling his deodorant and feeling his hairs poke at her nose. She moves further along, escaping the cocoon of his armpit to press her cheek against his chest. She clutches his dog tags in her palm, tight, so he can’t get up in the middle of the night.

“Can we fall asleep together?” She asks, but when she looks up John’s already there.

The next time Lila wakes up her palm aches. She releases what she’s gripping, remembering how she clung to John’s dog tags when he slid into bed beside her. She lifts her head and finds John already looking at her.

He’s got the saddest eyes she’s ever seen and she hates that she’s partly why.

“We should talk,” her voice is low and cracks from not being used. John nods his head but makes no move to begin.

Lila lays her head back on his chest, lightly picking at his matted, curly chest hair. She presses her lips to a freckle near his nipple and his intake of breath lets her know he felt it,

“I’m not the one you write the most letters too,” she starts, finding it easier to not have to look him in the eye. “You write the most to your mom. And I’m not the one who can calm you down when your anger gets the best of you,” she’s so tired of crying, “that’s Gale. “And I can’t even be here for you at the end of a mission to console you or kiss you or help you forget,” she chokes on a sob. “That’s whoever else.”

I couldn’t even keep our baby healthy, she leaves out.

“What’s your point with all this, Lila?”

Lila lifts her head from his chest, “My point is I’m a horrible wife. I - I don’t know if it was too soon or just not thought out but this - I- ” she can’t get the rest of the words out.

“Don’t say that,” John sits up against the headboard, forcing her up as well. He grabs both her wrists in one of his hands to pull her closer and grab her attention. “Don’t fucking tell me that, Lila.”

“I don’t make you happy,” she shakes her head.

“You do. Everything I do, everything I’m doing - it’s for you Lila.”

“I don’t want to marry Gale. Or someone like him. I love you. Only you. But I’m scared that I don’t make you happy. You deserve better.”

“Oh you dumbass,” John coos, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing. He pulls her in for a hug. “You’re my entire fucking heart, Lila Egan. You don’t think you make me happy? You’re the only thing in my life, in my head, that makes me happy.”

She pulls away to hold his face. “If you’re gonna leave me John you need to tell me now. I don’t care about the girls if all they are is to pass the time. And I don’t care that you write to your mom more than me and I don’t care that Gale is the one you listen to but I just need to be the one you love the most. I need to know I’m making you happy.”

His heart aches at the fact that he made her feel she was ever anything less than the most important person in his life. “Lila,” he presses a kiss to her lips, “Rose,” another kiss, “Egan,” another. “Are my only reason for staying alive.”

#mota fic #mota fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #bucky x oc #bucky egan x reader #bucky egan fanfiction #bucky egan fanfic #john egan fanfic #john egan fanfiction #*made by me

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