#how to pack clothes so they don’t wrinkle

[pucksandpower]

What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles convinces his unathletic girlfriend to join him for his annual winter training ski trip … what’s the worst that can happen?

Warnings: description of ski injury and mentions of surgery

Based on this request

“Pretty please?” Charles begs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh come on, you know I’m hopeless at anything athletic. I’ll just end up faceplanting in the snow the whole time.”

Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for, to catch you when you fall.”

“Yeah until I drag us both down a mountain,” you retort.

He laughs. “I promise I won’t let that happen. We’ll start nice and easy on the bunny slopes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bunny slopes? Mr. Formula 1 driver wants to ski the bunny slopes with his clumsy girlfriend?”

“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere,” Charles protests. “Even the great Charles Leclerc was once a beginner. And the bunny slopes are the perfect place to learn together.”

You snuggle against his chest, still not convinced. “But it’s so cold there. You know I hate being cold.”

Charles kisses the top of your head. “The hotel has an amazing spa with hot tubs and a sauna. We can warm up in there after skiing. I’ll even give you a massage if you’re sore from falling down too much.”

“Gee thanks,” you laugh. “But what if I really am hopeless at it? I don’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Impossible,” Charles declares. “You could never ruin anything. This is about us having fun together, not about expert skiing. Though I have no doubt you’ll be shredding the black diamonds in no time.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Okay now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

“Never,” Charles gasps in mock offense. “I have complete faith in your yet-to-be-discovered skiing abilities.”

You bite your lip, smiling shyly. His enthusiasm is adorable, even if misplaced. “Well, I guess it could be fun to try something new together ...”

Charles pumps his fist in excitement. “Yes! That’s my girl, up for an adventure!”

You hold up a finger in warning. “But I get to pick my own skis, and a helmet with a cute design on it. If I’m going to be falling a lot, I at least want to look stylish doing it.”

Charles grins. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll take you to the best ski shops in town. You’ll be the most fashionable beginner skier on the mountain.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Most guys wouldn’t want to deal with their girlfriends being accident-prone novices who will just slow them down.”

Charles takes your hands in his, gazing into your eyes earnestly. “Most guys are idiots then. I don’t care if you’re the clumsiest skier ever, I just want to experience new things with you. We’ll take everything slow, stop for plenty of hot chocolate breaks, and I’ll catch you every time you start to slip. The most important thing is being together.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in for a tender kiss. “How did I get so lucky to find a man as sweet and patient as you?”

Charles smiles, pulling you close again. “I’m the lucky one. Now come on, we better start packing if we want to make our flight tomorrow morning!”

You wrinkle your nose. “Tomorrow? As in, the day after today? Don’t you think that’s rushing it a bit?”

“Why wait any longer to start having fun?” Charles counters enthusiastically. “Unless … you’re trying to back out already?” He pouts accusingly.

“No, no, I already agreed!” You insist. “It’s just, my suitcase is a mess and I’ll have to dig through my winter clothes and shop for ski gear and ...” Your protests trail off at the amused look on his face.

“Excuses, excuses,” Charles teases. “Admit it, you’re trying to stall so you can change your mind.”

You smack his shoulder again. “I am not! I promise I’m not backing out. I’m just … nervous. I’ve never skied before, what if I really am a disaster?” You bite your lip anxiously.

Charles tilts your chin up. “Hey, you’re going to do great. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But if you really aren’t comfortable, we can rethink this.” His eyes search yours with concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, even from me. We can pick a different winter trip if you would rather do something else.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, it’ll be fun to try something new together. I’m just psyching myself out cause I’ve never been skiing before. But with you there supporting me … I can do it.”

Charles’s face lights up. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning up on your toes for another lingering kiss. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“You’re the best!” Charles shouts gleefully, lifting you up and spinning you around. You cling to his shoulders, laughing.

“Whoa there, save some of that energy for the slopes,” you tease.

Charles sets you down gently, though his eyes still sparkle with exhilaration. “I’m just excited, that’s all. This is going to be such an amazing trip.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to come. It means the world that you trust me enough to try this with me.”

You smile, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Any chance to spend time with you is worth facing my fears and clumsiness.”

Charles grins. “Remember you said that when I have to stop every ten feet on the bunny slope to help you up.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Hey! I might not be totally hopeless.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Charles says seriously. “For all I know, you could be a secret skiing prodigy.”

You snort. “Yeah right. But I promise I’ll try my best not to plow into too many innocent bystanders.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles encourages. “We’re going to have the best time.”

You smile up at him softly. “I know. Anywhere with you feels like an adventure.”

Charles’s eyes shine with adoration. He leans down for one more lingering kiss. “I love you so much. Now come on, we’ve got packing to do!”

He grabs your hand and you let him lead you excitedly down the hall, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You still feel nervous attempting something so out of your comfort zone. But Charles’s childlike enthusiasm is contagious. And you know without a doubt that by his side, you’re ready to try anything.

What’s the worst that can happen?

***

Famous last words.

This is the only thought running through your head as you stand at the top of the beginner ski slope, knees knocking together nervously. Charles had seemed so confident about this yesterday. But now, staring down the gentle incline covered in packed snow, you’re starting to realize how insane it is to strap slippery sticks to your feet and careen down a mountain.

Beginner slope or not, you’re certain to make a fool of yourself.

Charles must notice your trepidation, because he squeezes your mittened hand gently. “You’ve got this, mon amour. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You smile weakly, comforted by his presence. At least when you inevitably crash and burn, it will be into his strong, steady arms.

Charles grins at you eagerly. “Ready to give it a try?”

You take a deep breath, willing your knees to stop quaking. “As I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles says brightly. He turns to address the small crowd behind you — his performance coach Andrea, best friend Joris, photographer Antoine, trainer Nico, and friend Antonio. “Okay guys, let’s start nice and easy so she can get the hang of it. We’ll take turns skiing slowly beside her.”

You feel a rush of gratitude for Charles’ patience and consideration. The other men cheerfully voice their agreement. With so many experienced skiers guiding you, surely you can handle gently sliding down this minor incline.

Charles volunteers to go first, expertly snapping into his skis and gliding to your side. “Just stay relaxed, bend your knees, and focus on keeping your tips pointing forward. The snow will do most of the work, you just have to guide the direction. I’ll stay right here if you need me.”

You wobble forward, mimicking Charles’ athletic stance as best you can. The slope doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore now that you’re staring down it. But with Charles’ coaxing, you slowly push off.

For a moment, you feel triumphant. The icy wind whips past your face as you coast downhill, skis sliding smoothly. You’re doing it! This isn’t so hard after all.

But your small victory is short-lived. An unexpected bump jolts you, throwing off your tenuous balance. You pinwheel your arms frantically as the ground rushes up to meet you.

Before you can taste snow, Charles’ strong hands grip your waist, stabilizing you back upright. “Whoa there! I’ve got you, just regain your balance.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. But the reassurance in Charles’s voice helps settle your nerves. With his support steadying you, you manage to get both skis back under control.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “That would have been a quick first run.”

Charles grins. “What are ski instructors for? You recovered nicely. Want to keep going to the bottom?”

You eye the remainder of the slope warily. But so far with Charles’ help, you’ve managed not to cause a complete disaster. “Okay, but stay close please.”

“Always,” Charles promises, sticking to your side like glue.

With Charles’ hand hovering protectively behind your back, you make it the rest of the way down the slope with only a few wobbles. At the bottom, you collapse into Charles’ arms, exhilarated.

“I did it!” You cheer. Charles sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“You were amazing!” He proclaims proudly. “A natural.”

You smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, I would have face-planted in two seconds without you.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” Charles insists earnestly. “I told you this would be fun!”

You can’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. As the rest of the group takes their turns skiing slowly beside you for a few more timid runs, you start to relax into the motion. Having skilled athletes guide you step-by-step gives you the confidence to slide a little faster, turn more smoothly, and keep your balance over bumps.

With each successful run, Charles’ grin grows impossibly wider. “Look at you go!” He exclaims after your latest effort. “You’ve gotten so good, I might have some competition soon.”

You snort. “Let’s not get carried away.” But secretly, you’re thrilled by the progress. Maybe you do have some hidden athletic talent after all.

On your next run, you’re feeling confident enough to wave Charles forward. “I think I can make it one time on my own now. Just stay ahead in case I start to wobble.”

“You sure?” Charles checks, poised protectively at your side. At your firm nod, he smiles. “Alright, you’ve got this! I’ll just be a few paces ahead.”

As Charles slides effortlessly downhill, you push off after him, a fierce look of determination on your face. For a few moments, everything goes perfectly. You whoop excitedly as you zip down the slope, wind stinging your cheeks. Charles cheers you on from where he’s stopped halfway down.

But right as you reach him, disaster strikes. Your left ski hits a patch of ice and skids wildly sideways. You flail your arms, trying to stay upright, but it’s too late. Your legs fly out from under you and you’re airborne, the white ground spinning dizzily.

You slam down hard on your bottom with a painful whump. For a second, stunned silence fills the air. Then Charles is at your side, helping you up as raucous laughter echoes from the group gathered at the bottom.

“You okay?” Charles asks, barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

You groan theatrically. “Only my pride is bruised.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, joining in the laughter. “It was an awesome run up until that point!”

You lean your throbbing head against him for support. “Laugh it up, superstar. We can’t all be pros like you.”

Charles presses a quick kiss to your helmet. “Even the pros take spills sometimes. Falling is part of learning. And you really are getting so good!”

From below, Joris cups his hands to shout encouragingly, “We’re proud of you!” The rest of the group gives thumbs up and cheers.

Their support, combined with Charles’ steadfast pride, melts away your embarrassment. This mishap was simply proof you still have more to learn on your journey to skiing mediocrity.

After a few more cautious runs under the wing of Charles’ companions, you regain the courage to try solo again. Each time you stay upright a little longer, recovering from slips with increasing agility. The sun reflects brilliantly off the pristine white slopes, making you squint against the glare. But with the Dolomites rising majestically around you, icy air filling your lungs, and Charles’ voice urging you onward, you feel truly in your element.

By afternoon, the group decides you’re ready for something more challenging. Charles leads everyone to the top of a longer and steeper slope. It’s still rated for beginners, but looking down the incline makes your stomach drop.

“You’ve got this,” Charles says as you stare uncertainly. “It looks scary, but you’ll build up speed gradually. Just remember everything you’ve learned.”

You take a deep breath and nod, encouraged by his vote of confidence. As the others line up to follow behind you, Charles gives your gloved hand one last encouraging squeeze.

“See you at the bottom, mon amour!” He snaps on his own skis and glides smoothly to the base to wait. Heart hammering against your ribs, you push off.

The acceleration down the hill is alarming at first, icy wind biting your cheeks. But focusing on keeping your skis parallel, you manage to control your speed, leaning into smooth turns like Charles taught you.

Halfway down the slope you chance a glance over your shoulder. The group is fanned out behind you, following your path and whooping encouragement. Their cheers on this more difficult hill send a thrill of pride through you. Just wait until you tell your friends back home that you, Miss Uncoordinated Klutz herself, skied down an actual mountain!

But in your moment of distraction, disaster strikes again. Your right ski snags on something, jerking you off balance. Panicked, you spin your arms rapidly to recover. But it’s too late. You’re careening out of control, picking up dangerous speed.

“Look out!” You scream as you zip across the slope sideways. But the ground is racing too fast to stop. Other skiers scatter hastily out of your path as you barrel toward them like a runaway freight train. You slam through their midst in a spray of snow, not even having time to wince apologetically at the curses that follow your wake.

Up ahead, Charles’ figure grows rapidly larger as you hurtle toward him. He holds out his arms bracingly, but the impact when you collide sends you both tumbling head over heels in a tangle of skis and poles. Snow sprays violently in your wake.

When you finally roll to a stop, face down and groaning at the base of the slope, all is silent. Hesitantly you raise your head, blinking snow from your eyelashes. The sight that greets you is one of absolute chaos.

Skiers litter the slope, sprawled in your destructive path like fallen bowling pins. Poles, hats, and gloves are strewn haphazardly across the snow. Fresh scarlet tracks stain the pristine white from ski edges catching on now-shredded pants and jackets. Groans of pain and bewilderment fill the air.

Horrified, your gaze lands on Charles pushing himself up just a few feet away, covered head to toe in snow. He shakes powder from his hair, blinking dazedly. Then his eyes land on you.

“Mon amour, are you okay?” He asks, scrambling over in concern.

Mortified tears prickle your eyes as you stare speechlessly around at the scene of destruction. So much for impressing everyone with your burgeoning ski talents.

Some first day on the slopes this turned out to be.

***

As Charles helps haul you to your feet, pain suddenly explodes in your left knee. You cry out, leg buckling dangerously beneath you. Charles’ arms instantly wrap around your waist, holding you up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow creased in concern.

You grimace, tentatively trying to put weight on your leg again only for searing agony to shoot through your knee joint. “Something’s really wrong,” you gasp through clenched teeth.

Charles’ face pales. He keeps you supported against his side as he quickly unclips your skis so you’re not stuck in them. The moment your left foot touches the snow though, you yell in pain, leg giving out dangerously again.

Charles sweeps you up effortlessly in his arms. “I’ve got you, don’t try to stand on it,” he urges worriedly.

Over Charles’ shoulder, you see his friends weaving through the dispersing crowd of skiers, fetching a medic. As they confer in urgent French and Italian, Charles holds you close, face etched with guilt.

“This is all my fault,” he murmurs, distressed. “I never should have pushed you to try skiing when you weren’t comfortable.”

Despite the fire burning inside your knee, you force a pained smile, touching Charles’ cheek. “Hey, don’t do that. I wanted to try, remember? You didn’t pressure me into anything.”

Charles just shakes his head bitterly. “But look what happened. I’m so sorry, mon amour.”

You open your mouth to protest further, but just then the medic arrives with a toboggan sled. Charles gently sets you down on the padded plastic. You recline back, trying not to jostle your leg as the medic examines your rapidly swelling knee.

At the lightest touch, you flinch away with a sharp cry. The medic frowns. “Possibile lesione al legamento crociato anteriore. Abbiamo bisogno di portarla in ospedale,” he says grimly.

Charles squeezes your hand, face pale. “He thinks you may have torn your ACL. They need to take you to the hospital.”

You blink back panicked tears. You’ve always been prone to clumsiness, but nothing this severe. As the medic gestures ski patrol over to help transport you, the pain throbbing inside your knee seems to mock your brief foray into athleticism. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for winter sports after all.

Charles refuses to leave your side during the bumpy toboggan ride down the mountain. At the base, an ambulance is waiting to take you to the nearest hospital. While the paramedics work swiftly to transfer you into the back, Charles cradles your hand, looking utterly distraught.

“I never should have let this happen,” he berates himself again. “What was I thinking taking an inexperienced skier down that slope?”

Despite your pain-induced haze, you glare sternly at him. “Charles, stop. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine for losing control. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ll make me feel even worse.”

Charles still looks unconvinced. But he forces a tight smile, brushing hair back from your face. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you in pain. Let’s just focus on getting you fixed up. The doctors will know how to help.”

You nod, trying not to let panic overwhelm you. As the ambulance wails toward the hospital, Charles keeps his gaze locked comfortingly on yours.

Once there, nurses whisk you immediately in for x-rays and MRIs. Charles paces the waiting room, refusing offers from his friends to bring him food or drinks. When the doctor finally emerges, Charles springs forward anxiously. “How is she?”

The doctor’s solemn expression says it all. “Your girlfriend has sustained a complete ACL rupture. She will require reconstructive surgery as soon as possible to repair it.”

Charles sags back against the wall, color draining from his face. You fight back tears as the doctor explains your diagnosis — one of the worst knee injuries possible. It will require months of intensive rehab even after the surgery.

When the doctor leaves, Charles returns to sit by your side from where he was pacing back and forth. The pain in your knee has settled into a pervasive throbbing. At the sight of your obvious anguish, Charles’ stoic facade finally crumbles.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, rushing to your side. “This is all my fault.”

You grab his hand fiercely, despite the IV of painkillers tugging at your skin. “Charles, stop. I already told you not to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“An accident I caused by pressuring you to ski,” Charles argues miserably.

You level your most stern glare at him. “Charles Leclerc, you listen to me. I chose to try skiing. Me. Not you.” Your voice softens. “So please stop tormenting yourself over this. It kills me to see you like this.”

Charles searches your face silently for a long moment. Finally he nods, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just hate that you’re hurt. But no more blaming myself, I promise.”

You smile weakly. “Good. Now come here.” Charles leans down and you tug him into a fierce kiss, trying to convey without words that you don’t hold him responsible.

When you pull back, Charles looks significantly less tormented. He caresses your cheek tenderly. “I’ll take care of you, I swear. You’ll get the best care possible and recover even stronger than before.”

You try for a teasing smile. “Guess you’ll have to find a new ski bunny next season.”

Charles shakes his head. “Never. No one could ever replace you.” His voice drops earnestly. “I don’t care if you never ski again, I just want you healthy and happy.”

Before you can reply, the doctor returns with consent forms for surgery. When he mentions performing the operation here, Charles’ brow furrows.

“No, she needs the best surgeon possible for this injury,” he argues. Turning to you, he adds, “I know a specialist at a private clinic in Austria. It’s where all the elite skiers go. I’ll fly us there tonight.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but you know better than to argue once Charles is in protective mode. You have a feeling you’re about to receive world-class medical treatment fit for an Olympian.

Sure enough, Charles arranges for emergency transport to the prestigious clinic. On the flight, he sits vigilantly by your side, holding your hand through every painful bump of turbulence. By the time you’re admitted to the glamorous facility, you’re touched, but not surprised by the lengths he’s gone to in order to help you.

The surgeon Charles selected, Dr. Braun, inspires immediate confidence with his warm bedside manner and decorated credentials. After thoroughly examining your knee, he determines you are indeed a candidate for ACL reconstruction.

Charles listens intently as Dr. Braun explains the procedure, involving grafting tissue to replace your ruptured ligament. Though you try to follow along, exhaustion and pain medication make it hard to focus. All you can register is Charles rubbing your shoulder and reassuring you that Dr. Braun is the best there is. You trust Charles completely, so his confidence in this surgeon is enough.

Too soon, nurses arrive to prep you for surgery. As they wheel your gurney toward the operating room, Charles walks alongside, face etched with worry. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “I love you so much.”

You cling to his hand for as long as possible before the nurses firmly insist he can’t go any further. As the operating room doors swing shut between you, separating you from Charles, your heart clenches anxiously. But Dr. Braun smiles kindly down at you, patting your arm.

“Not to worry, we’ll have that knee fixed up nicely,” he says. “When you wake, you’ll be on the road to recovery.”

As the anesthesia mask descends and your vision fades to black, you cling to the doctor’s reassuring words. Maybe there’s still hope for a somewhat happy ending to this disastrous ski trip after all.

***

As you blearily open your eyes, the first thing you see is Charles’ worried face hovering over you. The moment he notices you stirring, his expression floods with relief.

“Thank god,” he breathes, grasping your hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear the hazy fog of anesthesia from your brain. “Okay I think.” Your voice comes out scratchy. You glance down at the heavy brace immobilizing your knee and the events leading up to surgery come rushing back. “Did it … go alright?”

Charles smoothes your hair back gently. “Everything went perfectly. Dr. Braun said it was a very successful surgery.”

You exhale, tension easing from your shoulders. With the capable doctor and Charles by your side, you’ve made it through the first step.

Right on cue, Dr. Braun enters, smiling when he sees you awake. “Wonderful, you’re up. How is our patient feeling?”

“A little groggy, but not too much pain yet,” you report.

“Excellent. The pain medication should be keeping you comfortable.” Dr. Braun moves to your bedside, examining your knee closely. “Everything continues to look promising in recovery. You’ll need to take it very easy for the next few weeks to protect the graft while it heals. But if all goes smoothly, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”

You nod, stomach swooping anxiously at the thought of the long recovery ahead. Noticing your nervous expression, Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has the best care and recovers properly,” he tells Dr. Braun seriously.

The doctor smiles. “Her rehabilitation will be the most crucial part. I work closely with a wonderful physical therapist, Elisa, who specializes in ACL reconstruction recovery. I highly recommend continuing your physio with her once you return home.”

Your eyes widen, not having considered that aspect yet. But Charles nods without hesitation. “Just tell us where she’s located and I’ll arrange for her to fly out to stay with us as long as needed. Money is no object.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” you interject, head still fuzzy but fairly certain booking a private international physiotherapist is overkill. “That’s incredibly generous, but I’m sure I can find someone local-”

Charles silences you with a stern look. “Not a chance. Dr. Braun said this Elisa is the best. I won’t risk your recovery with anything less.” Turning back to the doctor, he adds, “Just say the word and I’ll have a plane and a place to stay waiting for her.”

You sigh, but can’t help feeling touched at the lengths Charles will go to help you heal. Dr. Braun seems equally unfazed by the bold offer — clearly Charles’ wealth affords certain privileges in care.

“I’ll speak to Elisa immediately and make the arrangements then,” Dr. Braun confirms. “With around the clock support from both her and myself, I’m confident you’ll recover wonderfully.” He gives your other knee an encouraging pat.

Over the next few days in the upscale hospital, you begin to adjust to the restrictive new reality of your injury. While your knee remains heavily braced and immobilized, the rest of your body seems to ache from compensating. But true to his word, Charles sticks to your bedside attentively, keeping you distracted with games and books during the long inactive hours.

When Dr. Braun finally clears you for discharge, you’re armed with piles of post-op instructions, crutches, and medications. As Charles helps you hobble out of the hospital lobby, you eye the crutches nervously.

“I’m not sure I can manage these things along with the brace,” you admit. The awkward metal sticks feel precarious beneath your arms.

Charles frowns, glancing between you and the crutches uncertainly. Then in one swift motion he sweeps you up into his arms instead.

You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Charles! What are you doing?”

“Carrying you, obviously,” he states, as if this were the most natural solution in the world. When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “The doctor said to stay completely off your leg if possible. So no walking for you until it’s healed.”

You know better than to argue with Charles in protective caretaker mode. So you simply chuckle, shaking your head in amusement, and let him carry you like a princess out to the idling car.

At the airport, he again insists on keeping you cradled securely in his arms the entire walk out to the waiting private jet. Normally you’d feel self-conscious being lugged around like this in front of staff. But the utter tenderness in Charles’ hold makes you feel nothing but safe.

Once settled on the plush leather seat, Charles hurriedly arranges pillows under your braced leg. “Here, keep it elevated like Dr. Braun said. Do you need more pain meds? Let me grab you an ice pack ...”

He fusses attentively until you’re thoroughly bundled up with your knee raised and iced. Only once he’s certain you have everything required for the flight does Charles take his own seat, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Get some rest if you can,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we land to carry you home.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “My knight in shining armor.” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into his warmth. The steady rumble of the engines is soothing, and despite your lingering aches, you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Throughout the flight, Charles continues diligently caring for you. He helps you hobble to the restroom with assistance. He ensures you take your next round of medications on schedule. When the flight attendant delivers meals, Charles only picks at his own, too focused on making sure you actually eat to remember his food.

You’re simultaneously touched and exasperated by his hyper-vigilance. But you know it comes from a place of love and residual guilt, so you endure his constant fussing without complaint. If doting on you helps absolve his conscience, then so be it.

By the time the jet begins its descent toward Nice, your eyelids are drooping heavily. Charles lifts the window shade, sunlight streaming over your face. “Almost home,” he says with a tender smile.

You blink groggily, glancing down to make sure your knee is still properly supported. Reassured that Charles hasn’t forgotten a single detail of your care, you nestle back against his chest contentedly.

As the jet coasts down the runway, Charles cradles you close, placing a kiss atop your head. “Get some rest, mon amour. I’ll carry you out and get you settled back home.”

His quiet promise fills you with cozy warmth despite the lingering chill from your ice pack. You let your heavy eyelids fall shut, lulled by the steady thump of Charles’ heart.

Tomorrow your intensive recovery begins. But tonight, safely encircled in your love’s arms thousands of feet in the air, you feel confident you have the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

***

When you wake a few weeks later, pale morning light is just beginning to creep across the blankets. Blearily, you glance over to see Charles already awake beside you, brow furrowed as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You’re up early,” you murmur sleepily. “Everything okay?”

Charles startles slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, just thinking about some things.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, scrutinizing him in concern. His evasive tone is uncharacteristic. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Charles holds your gaze silently for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking about the start of the season coming up so soon.”

Your brow furrows. The opening race in Bahrain is only two weeks away. As the realization hits, your heart sinks. With your still-mending knee, it will be a lot harder to keep up with Charles globetrotting to races worldwide. For the past two seasons of your relationship, you’ve attended every race possible together. The thought of that no longer being the case feels daunting.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Charles’ expression is conflicted. He gently takes your hand, “I just hate the idea of leaving you here alone when you’re still recovering. It doesn’t feel right being apart.”

You force an optimistic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and Elisa will still be here for physical therapy. I’ll be okay.”

But your reassurance doesn’t seem to ease Charles’ frown. “I know, I’m just worried about you re-injuring yourself with no one here. I can get my mother to check on you too ...”

As he spirals back into restless thoughts, you squeeze his hand firmly. “Charles, stop. I’ll be fine, I promise. This isn’t my first time on my own, remember?”

Charles grimaces. “I know, but you’re hurt now. I just hate leaving you when you’re still recovering. If something happened while I was gone ...” He trails off, looking stricken.

Your heart swells at his protectiveness. But you won’t let him torment himself with hypotheticals. Sitting up fully, you level Charles with your most stubborn expression.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t be leaving me here for long, because I’m coming with you just like always.”

Charles gapes. “What? No, you’re injured, there’s no way-”

“Uh uh,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ve been to every race I could since we got together, and I’m not about to miss one now over a bum knee. I’ll agree to skip pre-season testing but then I’m going to Bahrain no matter what.”

Charles' mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he finally manages to argue, “But how will you manage airports and flights and crowded paddocks? You’re still on crutches!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “So I’ll hobble around the paddock looking pathetic, big deal. Better than moping here alone.” Crossing your arms, you fix Charles with your most unyielding stare. “Face it, you’re stuck with me.”

Charles searches your determined expression, clearly trying to formulate another protest. But he knows you too well, can recognize when your mind is made up. With a resigned chuckle, he pulls you against his chest.

“You are the stubbornest person ever, you know that?” He kisses the top of your head, a smile in his voice. “But I really shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing can stop you from being there to cheer me on.”

You grin, basking happily in his embrace. “Damn right. You should know by now that I’m going to be by your side every race, no matter what.”

Charles just shakes his head in amused exasperation, arms tightening around you. “Well in that case, it seems I have some calls to make to arrange for your care in the paddock.”

You kiss his jaw tenderly. “See? Problem solved.” Settling back against the pillows, you add teasingly, “Now stop stressing and let me sleep a little more. Unlike you, I need my beauty rest.”

Charles barks out a laugh, the last tension fading from his frame. As you drift back into cozy slumber cradled against his chest, his steady breathing lulls you like a soothing melody.

Later that morning, it’s time for your daily physical therapy session in the makeshift rehab space set up in your apartment. Elisa guides you through gentle range of motion and strengthening exercises, keeping up cheerful encouragement. The work is grueling, but Elisa’s optimism inspires you to push through the discomfort.

You’ve just finished up with an ice break when hushed voices drift in from the adjacent room. Craning your neck, you glimpse Charles sitting at the kitchen island, phone to his ear as he rifles through an open notebook. Though you can’t make out his full conversation, you catch snippets.

“Need to make sure she has somewhere to rest comfortably ...”

“Don’t want her trying to walk too far ...”

“She says she’ll be fine, but I need to be sure ...”

You muffle a laugh into your hand. Of course Charles is already contacting Ferrari about you joining him in Bahrain, planning every detail to accommodate your injury. Elisa raises a questioning eyebrow but you just shake your head with a smile. Charles’ protectiveness never fails to make your heart melt.

Oblivious to your eavesdropping, Charles continues speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. You can visualize his serious expression pinched with concern, wanting to arrange every detail to ensure your comfort during race weekends.

It’s hopeless trying to curb his caring instincts. So you simply shake your head in amusement and turn back to your exercises, resolved not to override the plans you’re clearly not meant to hear.

After your session concludes, Elisa helps you prop up your leg to ice before gathering her things. “You’re making great progress,” she encourages. “Keep it up and you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

You smile through your fatigue. “Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow?”

Elisa nods, waving farewell as she heads out. Once she’s gone, you eye your crutches propped nearby. Normally you’d use them to hobble around, but mischief sparks inside you. This seems like the perfect time to test your boyfriend’s hovering instincts.

Bracing yourself on the workout table, you carefully rise to your feet, keeping all weight on your good leg. The short hobble to the living room leaves you breathless, but triumphant.

Rounding the corner, you spot Charles sitting on the couch reviewing emails on his tablet. Before he notices your approach, you boldly flop down to sprawl across his lap.

Charles yelps in surprise, tablet clattering away as his arms reflexively cradle you. “What are you doing walking around alone? Where are your crutches?”

You grin up at him impishly. “Must have forgotten them back there. But I managed okay for a short distance.”

Charles gapes, torn between horror at your recklessness and awe at your determination. You take advantage of his stunned silence to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a kiss.

“Have I mentioned how amazing and caring you are?” You murmur when you finally separate for air. “Taking care of me even when you think I don’t notice?”

Understanding flashes across Charles’ face and his cheeks tint pink. “You heard that phone call earlier, didn’t you?” At your smug grin he groans. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “It was very sweet. But you really don’t need to go through so much trouble for me.”

Charles’ eyes lock earnestly on yours. “It’s no trouble at all. I want to make sure your needs are taken care of so you can be comfortable and safe.” He brushes your hair back gently. “I hate the thought of you struggling while supporting me at races.”

Your playful expression softens. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers against your heart. “Do whatever you have to do so that you can focus on driving your best without worrying about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few weeks of long flights and sitting in the back of your garage instead of standing. As long as I’m cheering for you, I’ll be happy.”

Charles searches your face, as if committing every detail to memory. “I don’t deserve you,” he says finally, voice husky.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Sure you do. We take care of each other. It’s what partners do.”

Charles’s eyes shimmer with emotion. He cradles your jaw, kissing you deeply. When he draws back, the anxious creases in his face have smoothed away, leaving only tenderness.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to worry,” he concedes. “Just promise you won’t push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” you agree easily, then smirk. “Now, how about carrying me back to the crutches you claim I so desperately need?”

Charles laughs, once again sweeping you effortlessly into his arms. You cling to his shoulders, perfectly content to let him fuss over you just a little longer.

***

“We should all go skiing together!”

Pierre’s enthusiastic suggestion makes you freeze mid-bite, forkful of pasta suspended comically halfway to your open mouth. Across the table, Charles goes completely still, face draining of color.

Oblivious to your boyfriend’s reaction, Pierre barrels on with growing excitement. “There are some amazing resorts in the Alps we could visit over New Year’s. Epic mountains, fresh powder-”

“No!” Charles interjects forcefully. He looks mildly ill at just the thought. “Absolutely not happening.”

Pierre blinks in surprise at the vehement refusal. Even his girlfriend, Kika, appears confused by Charles’ sudden change in demeanor. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing at their bemused expressions.

“But why?” Pierre asks, brow furrowed. “I thought you loved skiing.”

Charles shudders. “Not anymore. Not after ...” He trails off, eyes darting to you meaningfully.

Understanding dawns on Pierre’s face. “Oh! Right, of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

You wave a hand, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “It’s okay, Pierre. I know you didn’t mean to bring up traumatic memories.” You cast a teasing glance at Charles. “But I think skiing might permanently be off the table for us.”

Charles nods emphatically. “Absolutely. Never again. From now on, we take beach vacations only. Somewhere warm, with no snow, mountains, or treacherous icy slopes.” He shudders again for effect.

By now, you’re laughing so hard you have to set down your water glass to avoid spilling it. You knew Charles was still sensitive about the topic of skiing, but you hadn’t anticipated him having such an extreme reaction tonight. His overprotective dramatics are too adorable.

Still chuckling, you lean over to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You’re being ridiculous, but it’s very sweet that you’re so traumatized on my behalf.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, some tension easing from his shoulders. “After what you went through, can you blame me for swearing off anything to do with skiing forever?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never again. It was the most terrifying experience. I thought I might have permanently damaged the love of my life.”

Your heart melts. “I’m completely fine now, thanks to you. But I can understand preferring to avoid ski trips in the future.” You smile teasingly. “We can find a nice beach to lounge on instead.”

Pierre chuckles. “Yeah, that’s probably smarter. Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” He smiles sheepishly across the table. “A tropical vacation does sound nice though!”

The group dissolves into easy laughter, the awkwardness forgotten. The conversation meanders to warmer destinations and the approaching off-season. Charles eventually relaxes his grip on you, seeming reassured that skiing is off the table.

You make it through the rest of the amicable double date without incident. As you all exit the restaurant into the cool night air, Pierre turns to you and Charles apologetically.

“Really sorry again for that ski trip suggestion earlier. Definitely wasn’t thinking.”

You wave off his concerns with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done.” You pause, then add impishly, “Though from now on, Charles may vet all vacation plans just to be safe.”

Charles nods, face comically serious. “It’s true. I take your physical safety very seriously now.” His grave expression cracks into a grin. “So expect lots of beach vacations in our future together!”

Everyone dissolve into laughter again. After final farewell hugs, you and Charles head to your car, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

Once home, Charles tucks you into bed with an amount of care bordering on reverence. As he curls up behind you, you lace your fingers through his against your heart.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You murmur into the darkness.

You feel Charles smile against your hair. “Maybe, but feel free to say it again.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “You’re pretty much the best boyfriend on the planet. I love how protective you are over me, even when it’s a bit dramatic. It just shows how much you care.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your spine. “Of course I care. You mean everything to me.” His voice drops lower. “I never want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

You roll over to face him, gently cradling his jaw. “You could never hurt me. What happened was an accident, and I recovered just fine. So no more feeling guilty, okay?”

Even in the dim light you can see the sincerity in Charles’ eyes as he searches your face. “You really are too good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll try to stop feeling overly responsible. Though I make no promises on vetoing future ski trip suggestions,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You laugh, snuggling happily against his chest. “Now get some sleep.”

As his breaths deepen into slumber, you reflect on how lucky you are to have found someone so devotedly caring. With Charles’ fiercely protective presence heating the sheets beside you, the future — filled with sandy beaches rather than ski slopes — looks bright indeed.

[luveline]

Hi, love! Hope you’re well <3

Could we perhaps have some more single dad Spencer? I miss him and Amanda so much

tysm lovely❤️❤️ —Spencer misses you when he’s not working, so Amy tries to fix that. fem, 1.8k

Spencer thinks about quitting the BAU, sometimes. It was all he ever knew how to do for a long, long time, and the work is important. He’s not too shy to say they need him. 

When someone else needs you more, you start to wonder if work is all there is. 

“And… kiss!” 

Spencer scrunches his eyes closed as Amy leans across to kiss his cheek. She’s decided that every time they finish a drawing, they should kiss. Spencer’s enjoying it very much. 

“Good job,” he says, “that was your best one yet.” 

“I’m getting good at bugs.” 

To their left, they have opened a huge copy of The Modern Encyclopaedia of Bugs: Insects, Arachnids, and Myriapods. Spencer has purchased many, many books in his life, and this was somehow the fifth most expensive, but it’s worth it, because it’s what Amy likes. She loves laying down on her stomach with a pack of art crayons and drawing the intricate details of each creature. She is, as she said, getting very good at bugs. 

“I meant the kiss,” he says, leaning forward to tuck her hair behind her ears, mousy brown like his, twice as soft. “But the drawings are amazing every time.” 

“If I… if I draw this one for Y/N, do you think she’ll like it?” 

“She loves everything you draw her, baby,” he says softly, stroking another stray hair behind her ears. If she wasn’t so busy colouring the leg of a spider in concentrated strokes, he’d pull her into his lap for a cuddle. 

“I’m not a baby.” 

“You’re my baby,” he says, and she is. Spencer Reid has a kid. Who’d ever think it? 

The older she gets the more right it feels. He’s a dad. He was always meant to be one to Amy. 

“Amy, can I have a cuddle, please?” he asks softly. It’s fine if she says no. 

She throws her nice crayons down immediately. Usually he wouldn’t say anything, but they’re a gift from his mom, so he says, “Be gentle with your things,” as she climbs over her paper pad and the encyclopaedia to land in his lap. 

“So they’ll last longer,” she says.

He wraps his arms around her in a solid hug. “Exactly. The kinder we are to our stuff, the longer it lasts. That’s why–”

“Why you’re nice to your body,” she finishes for him. “Dad, I know.” 

“You know everything.” He closes his eyes and breathes her in. Amy’s hair smells like lavender kids shampoo, her clothes like detergent. They stood in the softener aisle and Spencer, on his knees to match her height, took down bottles for them to smell the caps one at a time until they found the best one, settling on apple blossom and jasmine. “You smell nummy.” 

Amy rubs her face into his chest. “What do I smell like?” 

“Really clean.” 

“So when I’m dirty, I smell yucky.” 

“You don’t ever smell yucky,” he mumbles, relishing the weight of her in his arms. “Oooh,” —he grabs her under the arms and ushers her right into his neck— “my Amy, I’m so happy to be home. I missed you sooo much this week.” 

“But you’re home next week.” 

Spencer has started consulting more and going on cases less. He’s glad to do it, he can afford it, and Amy will never be any younger. He’s never been happier balancing work and family, except… 

He used to see you everyday. It’s fine, he’ll choose Amy every time, but he wishes he didn’t have to, because he’s starting to miss you too. 

“I’m home,” he says. “For the next sixteen days. Maybe longer, if they don’t need me then. Hey, tonight, I was thinking we’d go swimming.” 

Amy makes a strange noise. “Um, well maybe not tonight.” 

“Are you kidding? You love swimming.” 

“I know, but I don’t want to go tonight.” 

“Why not, angel? We can get your pool noodle and the paddle boards.” He lets his nose wrinkle. “Is it your swimsuit? I guess we haven’t got a new one in a long time. We can go shopping first. We can go now, if you want to.” 

“Daddy, I asked Y/N to come over.” 

Spencer laughs. “What?” 

“I texted her.” 

Spencer realises she isn’t joking and holds her away from him. “You what?” 

“You left your phone in the bathroom,” she says defensively, her eyes on his shirt, “and I was washing my hands and it was boring and I thought you maybe missed her.” 

“How could you know that?” Spencer asks. 

“Because you talk about her lots, dad.” She shrugs. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry! No, no, it’s okay, it’s nice of you to think about me. That’s really kind.” Still, his stomach hurts thinking about it. “Did she… text you back?” 

“She said she’s coming over.” 

“She did?” Spencer asks. “Did she say when?” 

“She said five thirty.” 

Spencer checks his watch and feels his heart drop. “Oh my god.” He gets up with Amy in his arms, rushing to the mirror to see them both in their pajama’d disarray. “Oh my god! We need to get dressed. Amy, we need to brush our hair.” 

Spencer panics harder than he needs to, but seeing you in fifteen minutes when he thought he might not for another two weeks is stressful. He decides Amy will have to wear new pyjamas, that he’s going to have to put on jeans, and that both of them could have used a shower to tame the mess of their hair, his curly, hers fine. He sprays hers with detangler generously, brushes gently, and plops her in front of the air conditioning unit plugged into the window to dry. He’s barely raked a hand through his own hair when the door is being knocked. 

He can’t help squinting unhappily at Amy. She’s totally set him up. 

She smiles back, and he feels awful for not smiling too. 

“Amy, can you give me more warning next time?” he asks, crossing their living room to the front door. 

She smiles wider. “Yes!” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

He thinks, Ouch, I’m not very nice, then thinks Why would she do this to me? before settling on, Everything's okay. Amy didn’t really do anything wrong, Spencer isn’t mad at her, and you’re waiting on the other side of the door to see them. 

You smile on the stoop —how lucky is Spencer to have all these pretty girls smiling at him?— and adjust your bag over your shoulder, the cloth tote bag hooked on your elbow slipping and sliding with a rustle. 

“Hello!” you say. “Where’s the little lady?” 

“Hello!” Amy calls. “I’m by the air conditioner trying to get dry!” 

Spencer lets you in. You nod your head gratefully and put your bags on the sideboard, dumping your keys in the bowl beside his, and offering your now empty arms for a hug. “Hello,” you say, “you smell good.” 

Spencer panics. “You smell good.” Your arrival has brought the smell of Chinese food, and your jacket smells like perfume. 

“Dad says I smell good too.” 

You part from Spencer gently to bend down, meeting Amy at her height, arms out to offer a hug. “I bet you do. Hi, lovely girl, I haven’t seen you in too long.” 

You lean into her with care. Spencer suspects you think she’s much more breakable than she is, but you’re sweet about it regardless, giving her back a good rub and humming happily when she hugs you back. She’s way less careful. 

“Don’t strangle her, Amy.”

You pretend to choke. Amy laughs like a fiend. 

“I missed you,” Amy says. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I missed you too.” Spencer knows how good that must feel. “Can I get a good look at you?” 

Amy springs away to pose. Her damp hair kisses her shoulders, her pants hide her dirtied socks. Spencer forgets that he wants to impress you and instead sees how cute she is, laughing to himself as she does a swift spin and slips into the side of the couch. 

“Spence, she looks so much like you,” you say, grinning. “Don’t you think so?” You catch Amy’s eye. “You’re gorgeous! Can I see another one of those spins?” 

Amy spins. You nudge Spencer in the hip. “I brought dinner like you asked.” 

Spencer covers his face. “Was I polite?” he asks cautiously. 

“You said can I please have my favourite Chinese food and can I please have a soda,” you say, laughing, so at least it’s clear who was really texting you, “so yes, you were very polite.” 

“I don’t know what got into me.” 

“Guess you really, really, really missed me or something.” 

He loves Amy, and he wishes the wood floors beneath you would eat him whole; while it may be obvious that Amy’s posed as her father on the phone, it’s also clear that you, as a profiler, seem to have made assumptions as to why Amy would text you in the first place. 

“It’s okay,” you say, watching Amy as she races to her sketching papers and the encyclopaedia, “I really, really, really missed you too. Even though it’s only been two days. Did you get taller?” 

“No.” He gets the distinct sense that he’s getting flirted with, but he also doesn’t understand the compliment. “Same height, why?” 

“Feel like this is taking much more effort than usual,” you say, your hand on his shoulder as you lift your chin to kiss his cheek. 

Spencer follows you on instinct, not to kiss you or anything, but your elbow in his hand, almost begging for another. 

“Oh, no,” Amy says. 

Spencer feels your elbow but remembers himself, and raises his head. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, scouring her for injuries where she stands in front of you both, her drawing in hand. 

“Now you gave Y/N cooties.” 

Spencer blushes worse. “Oh, I didn’t kiss her! And I don’t have cooties, do I? I give you kisses all the time!” 

“You’re my dad,” she says. “But you’re a boy.” 

You pat him on his warm cheek. “He’s a boy, sure, but he’s not gonna give me cooties, don’t worry. I’m not here to see daddy, anyways,” you say, though your hand on his shoulder rubbing softly hints otherwise, “I’m here to see you. Let’s have our spring rolls before they get soggy, yes? Yum!” 

Spencer wants you to stay for much more than dinner, but dinner’s a good start. He swoops Amy up to carry her to the kitchen table —she’s such a babe, she deserves princess treatment only.  

“Kiss?” Amy asks. 

“Thought I had cooties?” he asks.

“Daaaad. I was joking.” And she wasn’t joking, but Amy gets her kiss.

[donatellawritings]

🎀 ྀིྀི

౨ৎ introducing babydoll!reader and dealer!rafe

loud trap music boomed through the speakers, bass echoing through the air of tannyhill as rafe adjusted his hips, throwing his head back with a shit-eating grin, his nostril dusted with a remanence of the finely cut coke that once laid neatly lined up on the coffee table beside his titanium amex card. running a hand through his stringy strands, rafe lets out a relaxed huff as he straightens himself out, bringing his intoxicated gaze to the flimsy wad of cash that rested in his free hand.

you were a bit skittish about trying coke for the first time, let alone purchasing it on your own, so having to do it in the midst of a party left you all shy and timid.

everything about you screamed fabulosity — you always wore the finest of vintage designer clothes, your shiny hair remained in a bouncy bombshell blowout — perfectly trimmed layers framing your face just right, your acrylic nails remained long, the tapered edges sharp and glazed with a glittery polish. you weren’t all that spunky, as some would say, but you packed quite the attitude, if you didn’t get your way. you were doused in the shiniest of jewelry, your fingers covered in dainty diamond bands. and every accessory you owned, just so happened to be a variation of a soft powder pink! i mean, you absolutely loved pink! to the point where even the reusable straw that sat at the bottom of your birkin had to be pink. your volume set of lash extensions always remained filled in and perfectly curled, your filled lips always swelled from the shimmery plumping gloss that you smeared on them every fifteen minutes or so.

so, seeing a dainty little thing like you approaching the coffee table left rafe a bit taken aback, “um, excuse me,” you called out, suddenly too aware of just how high the slits of your baby pink ruffle tube dress sat. forcing a smile, you squirm just a bit at the strong gaze of the young man who sat before you, a joint sat behind his ear as he cocks his head to the side, “i, uh — can i buy some c—” you began, immediately silenced as he looks up at you through lowly hung eyes and a slightly opened mouth.

“y’even old enough to be here, kid?” rafe questions smugly, stealing a quick glance at your nipples that poked through the thing fabric of your dress, money still in-hand as he flicks his eyes back up to meet your shy gaze, “can’t talk now, huh? well, i don’t sell to little girls,” he adds, his pink lips remaining parted as he continues to silently sift through the countless wrinkled dollar bills that sat in his hold.

pursing your sticky swollen lips into a pout, you lightly stomp your miu miu kitten heel into the flooring of the patio, your doe eyes silently pleading with your godbrother who stood leaned against the wall, rolling his eyes knowingly, “yo, country club she’s a’ight — only a line though — s’my godsister,” your godbrother barry tuts at the young man, motioning towards you with a nod.

now still, you watch as the blue eyed man quickly flits a glance between you and barry, a chuckle of disbelief leaving his mouth as he tongues the inside of his cheek, before straightening his posture, “shit — yeah man, let me cut one up for her,” he smiles, carelessly leaving the stack of wilted bills to his side as barry motions for you to take a seat.

“eek! thank you barry, thank you, thank you, thank you!” you shriek excitedly, rushing to swing your arms around your unamused godbrother’s neck as he stiffly pats your back with pursed lips.

“yeah, yeah — one line, don’t get used to this shit either, a’ight?” barry pulls away, pointing a scolding finger at you.

feverishly nodding, you sink your top teeth into your bottom lip, all peppy and anxious as you politely take a seat beside rafe, “this is my first time,” you breathe out with a coy laugh as rafe nods wordlessly, carefully pouring a small pile of coke on the glass table.

carefully slicing into the white mound with his credit card, rafe glances over at you, “yeah? m’surprised barry even allowed you to come here, pretty girls like you shouldn’t be around this, hm?” he questions, sliding his tongue over his lips and he meticulously cuts the coke into three tight lines.

“i just — i wanted to try it, just one time—” you began.

“in your pretty mouth or up your nose?” rafe sighs, leaving you wide eyed and dumbfounded. you were entirely new to this kind of thing — you were always taught that drugs were icky.

parting your lips, you shrug, your glassy eyes darting all around for your godbrother who was nowhere to be found. nervously flipping your hair over your shoulder, you watch as rafe snorts a line clean off of the glass surface, rolling his shoulders back as he swipes his nostril clean of any residue.

“i don’t kn—”

bringing a strong hand to clamp around the back of your neck, rafe smiles, his pupils blown to hell as he carefully looks you over — he could ruin you so easily, but he wouldn’t … not yet, at least.

“open your mouth, kid,” he speaks sternly, stringy strands of fringe covering his eyes as you nod obediently, parting your swollen lips, “atta girl, now this s’gonna be the first and last time y’do this shit, so enjoy it, yeah?” he decides, bringing his hand to lightly grin your chin as two fingers on his free hand gather some of the coke that rested on the table.

forcing your eyes shut, you whimper as rafe’s thick fingers slide underneath your top lip, gently smearing the powder across your gums, “gross,” you whine, your small hand latching on to rafe’s wrist as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, his eyes carefully watching the way your pupils slowly expand.

privy to the way your eyes glaze over, rafe nudges your jaw with a rough knuckle, “gotta keep those pretty eyes open, kid — s’alot the first time but y’can take it,” he tuts, earning a slow nod from you as he makes the bold decision cup a hand under your chin, lightly squeezing your cheeks and ever so gently kneading into the soft skin with his fingers, “better not catch y’doin this shit after today, either — y’got that?” he questions, his bright blue eyes narrowed as you lick over your suddenly dry lips.

“i won’t!” you squeak.

“good, because now y—”

“country club, y’better back the fuck up off my godsister, before i knock y’rich boy ass out,” barry warns, causing rafe to flinch slightly as you gaze up at barry with wet eyes, your heart racing in your chest, “c’mon babydoll, m’takin you home,” barry whistles, your eyes quickly darting to rafe with parted swollen lips as you sent him an apologetic pout.

jumping to stand on your mule-clad feet, you take a steadying breath before sending a perky wave towards rafe, “bye!” you chirp, spinning to follow barry, your dress blowing up to give rafe the quickest peek at the hot pink thong that clung to your plump ass.

rafe was going to get himself killed messing around with you, but fuck, it would be so worth it.

[beesspacedotorg]

Third Leg?

Summary: after spending time with Minho after exams, you remember something he said in the heat of the moment about your packmate Jeongin. You decide to confront Jeongin about it, because after all, what's the worst that can happen?

Warnings: sex. uh. poly ot8 and reader. more omegaverse. continuation of Dibs but can be read on its own. breeding kink?? manhandling ??? reader is lowkey a brat, uh. Jeongin's dick is huge. I actually don't know what else to add, so let me know if there's another thing I should put in here. reader is an omega but gender and genitals are unspecified as always

notes: I got possesed by a demon when I was writing this. I don't even have a breeding kink. Also if the title is bad, no. this is my first time writing Jeongin, so if it's bad no it isn't. this is his very late birthday present. Happy Birthday, King.

to read: Dibs

In most things, you try to be reasonable. It does not come easy to you, it doesn’t come easy to most people. You wish your pack would be more understanding of this sometimes. You know that’s an unfair thing to say about, to say to, your pack, but you can’t help it. You really don’t want to, you really can’t spend Jeongin’s rut with him. It’s the middle of the semester, you’re still convinced the Luna doesn’t like you, and you’d prefer not to think too hard about your relationship with anyone else. You’re comfortable with Hyunjin and you’re comfortable with Changbin. Everyone else, you think, couldn’t care whether you were around or not.

“That’s unfair to think, dove. Of course they want you around. We want you around.” Hyunjin says, he’s holding your face in his palms in a way that he often does when he talks to you.

“I know, but I really don’t feel comfortable yet, it’s only been a couple months, and it took me so long to get used to being around you.” You huff and you can feel a heat forming behind your nose. “I just really- I don’t want to spend Innie’s rut with him. I can’t.” Hyunjin hums affirmingly and swipes a finger under your eye to cut off a tear, but otherwise makes no comment about your crying.

“You want them to stop pushing,” he says, and you nod at him.

“I want them to stop pushing.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. But, please don’t say we don’t want you around. We do. At the very least, I do. Okay?” You nod at him and smile slightly as he kisses your nose, it turns into a laugh when he gets insistent, peppering kisses all over your face until you’re shoving him off and smiling wide at him.

-

“So.” You have a spoonful of cereal halfway to your mouth when he comes into the kitchen. In all reality, you aren’t supposed to be here. You only stopped by for a quick snack before you went to head into work, but then there was something at the shop so your boss told you to stay home. You’d intended to detour to the campus library instead to catch up on some homework, but between your first and second bowls of cereal you had switched out of your outside clothes to sweats and an old t-shirt, and now you’re standing three feet away from Yang Jeongin.

“So?” You set the bowl down on the counter.

“You don’t want to spend my rut with me.” You draw your shoulders up to your ears defensively. You think something in your scent must turn sour because you see Jeongin wrinkle his nose.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not mad or anything. I just wanted to know if you’d tell  me why.” You pause, picking up your spoon and stirring the milk around the bowl, listening to the clink clink clink of metal on ceramic. Something about his question confuses you.

“If?”

“Yeah, ‘if.’ I don’t want to pressure you for information if you’re not ready to give it. If you’re uncomfortable with spending my rut with me, that’s fine. If you don’t want to tell me you’re uncomfortable, that’s also fine.”

“I don’t want to tell you why.” He shrugs. You’re surprised at how easy that was.

“That’s fine. I have another question though.”

“Hmm?”

“Could we hangout, or something? Before you steer clear of the house for a week and a half, I want to spend time with you. Unfortunately,” he rolls his eyes, “I’ve come to enjoy your company and if I don’t spend some time with you I might do something drastic.” He’s slowly approaching you now, crowding you against the counter. He’s given you plenty of time to walk away or move, but you haven’t, so he continues.

“Drastic, you say.” He hums, taking your bowl and putting it in the sink, not bothering to rinse it out.

“Drastic like breaking every single door that separates the two of us just to make sure you’re safe.” He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder, nose against your neck. His hair smells like baby powder, like his shampoo that you and Hyunjin sometimes steal. You can feel him shake with laughter when your scent changes with arousal as he gets in your space.

“You’re easy.” You hit his back slightly.

“You’re mean.”

“Will you hangout with me, though? I was mostly serious.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll hangout with you.”

“Great,” he says, and you let out a small shriek as he drags you in the direction of his room. The door is halfway closed when he yells across the house.

“I call dibs until my rut starts!” You can hear the groans and complaints through his now shut door.

-

So, you spend time with him, both before and after his rut, and nobody comments on how annoying it is that you’re monopolizing his time like you thought they would. There’s a point where Hyunjin interrupts you because he wants Jeongin’s dick in his mouth, and when you move to leave, they both start complaining. (You left anyway, not being ready for that just yet, but the idea made you feel warm regardless.) 

You don’t get to spend much time with him after that though, because then you have Minho and exams flooding your vision and your senses, and while one of those things is enjoyable, the other isn’t and for two seconds you’d like your brain to be off. Just for two. That time comes and it’s as you’re waking up from your post-fuck nap with Minho that it hits you.

“You said Innie was talking about me during rut?”

“What? Sweetheart, we just woke up.” Minho is rubbing his eyes, smacking his mouth, and blinking cutely. You feel the urge to pinch his cheek but worry that would land you in hot water so you just poke it instead.

“Yes, I know, I know, but. You said Jeongin was talking about me during his rut.”

“Yes? Why do you sound so surprised? You’re our Omega after all.” You flush again at his casual claim on you, he keeps catching you off guard with it.

“He never mentioned it to me.” Minho yawns and slings his arm over your waist.

“You were busy, of course he didn’t mention it to you. Besides, you seemed so … hesitant to spend his rut with him in the first place that he probably didn’t want to mention it at all.” You frown, brows furrowing as you think about it. You move to get out of bed when Minho stops you.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To talk to Jeongin.”

“It’s too early for one, and for two. I have some things planned for us.” His hand wanders up your shirt.

“But-”

“I thought you had learned enough to stop arguing with me? Does your mommy need to teach you a lesson?” He says this, but he’s not holding you back. If you wanted to, you could leave this bed and camp outside of Jeongin’s door until he woke up. But you don’t. You don’t even know what you want to say to him, and Minho is tracing soft circles on your skin and you’re struck with undeniable want. You ease yourself back into bed.

“That’s my pretty Omega. So good for me, hmm?”

-

You don’t get to talk to Jeongin until several days later. You’re too busy sleeping like the dead for a day and a half, then Chan steals you away for a celebratory dinner date, then when you finally get the chance to talk to him, you walk into his room and find him and Yongbok making out, so you’ve had to curb the conversation for later, until now.

“Innie!” He’s slipping his shoes on.

“Yeah?” He never ties them, you notice, ties them once and then slips them on and off over and over again.

“Where are you going?”

“On a walk.”

“Great.” You walk over to him and shove his jacket off his shoulders, then kick at his feet until he takes his shoes back off, and start dragging him to his room.

“What.” He’s confused despite the fact that he’s the one who let it get this far.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Okay?” He sits down on his bed, patting the spot next to him so you can sit too.

“Minho mentioned that you talked about me during your rut.” It comes out of you in a rush. Jeongin’s face flushes red. He covers his face with his hands, his huge hands with their stupidly long fingers.

“Ah. Yes. I did. Are you upset?”

“Am I up- Am I upset?” You’re incredulous. “One of the hottest men I’ve ever seen and one of my Alphas wanted me during his rut and you think I’m upset?”

“Okay, to be fair. You didn’t seem too thrilled about the idea of my rut to begin with.”

“I was new to the pack!”

“You’d been with us for three months!”

“Like I said, new!” He huffs and knocks you onto your back, laying across you in the way you’ve seen the others do to him.

“Why did you come to talk to me about it?” You flush at his question and you can hear his little chuckle. The members joke that he learned how to be mischievous from Minho and Seungmin, and you’ve never seen it more than right now.

“Oh? I see.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“Minho hyung says you like when people are mean.”

“Minho said what?!”

“I’m kidding, he refused to tell us what you two got up to, but now I know that I’m not too far off.” You grab a pillow from behind your head and smack him with it. He moves himself until your noses are touching and smiles at you. You smile back and poke around his face until your finger lands in a dimple.

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” His voice is soft, low, because of how close he is to your face and he smirks when your scent fills the room. 

“You do?” You nod at him and he tuts.

“Minho’s taught you better than that.” You huff and pout at him. He laughs and kisses you.

“I’ll let you get away with it because you’re cute.” You beam at him and he smiles back.

He starts with kissing you, because of course he does. It’s soft and sweet and a little hesitant and it’s similar to the way you’ve seen him kiss Yongbok, but different from the way you’ve seen him kiss Seungmin and you’re struck with the realization that he sees you as something soft and precious. That he’ll hold you with the same amount of delicacy he uses to hold Felix and your heart stutters in your chest for a minute.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” He’s pulling away, looking at you with wide eyes as your scent changes. “Did I hurt you?” You shake your head at him, pulling him close for a hug for a minute as you calm yourself down.

You’ve never had a pack before, your culture has moved away from it. You had to move from your family for school and since then you’ve been relatively alone. It’s been a while since you’ve felt loved, and when you’re faced with the sheer amount of it the eight of them have to give it overwhelms you every time. He hasn’t hurt you, it’s the opposite.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Ah, I see. Hyungs’ said you might cry a little. That’s okay. Do you want to stop?” You shake your head at him, answering with a verbal “no” after he stares at you pointedly. You lean in to kiss him again and he responds with the same gentleness he did before and you can feel yourself slicking up in your pants. You hear him take a sharp inhale and then you feel his grip tighten where his hands were resting on the side of your face and neck.

“Jesus, I can see why hyung keeps you to himself all the time. You smell so fucking good.” He stops kissing you to start making out with your neck, you can feel him starting to scent you and you tug at him, whining.

“Innie-”

“Yeah, I know, but-” he cuts himself off with a groan and you can feel his hips press into yours and dear God.

“Is that your leg?”

“No.” You whine again. There’s no fucking way his dick is that big. You tell him so.

“Well. Prepare to eat your words because it is.”

You huff at him again, and really, he should spend less time around the more sarcastic pack members because his attitude is making your eye twitch. He sees it and smiles mischievously at you before landing a soft peck right below the same eye.

“I’d like to see how you handle Hannie or Seungmin hyung. They’re worse than I am.”

“They also probably move faster than you do.” He grumbles at you at that and gets to work undressing the two of you. He’s sliding his hoodie off when you’re filled with the urge to bite his biceps. They’ve gotten bigger since you’ve been introduced to him and you think it’s crazy because you hardly ever see him work out. Suddenly, there’s a large palm against your forehead and any forward movement you had started is quickly stopped.

“What are you doing?” You can feel your teeth click together as your mouth closes and you blink a couple times.

“Nothing.” He squints at you.

“You were going to bite me, weren’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re a liar!” You’re being manhandled now, and you refuse to go down without a fight. You grab a pillow and nail him in the face with it.

“I am not! I’ve never- don’t pull my hair- I’ve never lied!”

“You’re doing it right- why are your nails so fucking long- right now!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Did you just fucking- ow! What the hell?” You finally manage to get your teeth on his arm and it’s just as great as you imagined it would be. Your victory is incredibly short lived because between one second and the next Jeongin has you pinned to the bed. Your cheek is pressed against the mattress and he has your arm twisted in a way that’s mildly uncomfortable, but that’s overshadowed by how you can feel him pressed against you to keep you pinned. He’s all lean muscle and you can feel where his shoulders press against yours and where his cock is pressed against your ass and if you tilt your hips just right, you can feel him brush against your slick hole.

“Oh? Does my pretty Omega want something?” You can hear the laughter in his voice. You can also hear how it’s dropped three octaves and you can feel it rumbling from his chest. You can feel how his cock is starting to leak against your skin.

“Jeongin-”

“I think,” he grabs your other arm, pinning your wrists at the small of your back, “that if you want anything you should beg for it.”

“Innie, you’re not being fair-”

“I’m not being fair? You bit me. I have you pinned. If you want anything from me, you’re going to have to work for it.” You turn your head into the mattress and let out a small sob, wiggling a bit in Jeongin’s hold. His hands loosen on your wrists and he lifts his weight off of you enough that you could get out if you wanted to. Minho did this too, gave you signals with his body to let you know that it was okay to not want it, the problem is that you do. You like how Jeongin has you pinned, and you like the humiliation that’s going to come with begging for it.

He notices you haven’t moved and so his grip tightens on your wrists again. You feel the chuckle he lets out as he presses his weight down onto you again and you know your scent must be doing something because he inhales with his nose pressed straight against your neck.

“Get to begging, baby. I have all night.” You whine at that, wiggling and trying to push your hips back against his to fuck yourself onto his cock, but he pulls his hips back, readjusts until you couldn’t reach his cock unless you dislocated something and he laughs at you.

Jeongin does have all night, it turns out, because you spend a considerable amount of time with your forehead pressed into the mattress trying to will the shame that comes with wanting out of your body. At one point, he asks you if you’re alright, dropping the act for a bit and when you respond he resorts to taunting you.

He’s doing it now, taking his ridiculously large dick in his hand and gathering some of the slick that’s leaked between your legs to jerk it. You can hear the wet noises it’s making and you can’t help but think of how much louder it would be if he were actually fucking you. It turns out that your Alpha was thinking the same thing because he starts talking, and each word chips away at the lump in your throat.

“Fuck, you smell so good, baby. Your slick is so warm, I bet it’d be warmer if I got it straight from the source, yeah? What do you think? You’re leaking so much you’ve made a wet spot on the bed, maybe I should fuck that instead, since you wanna be stubborn.” You whine in response.

“No? You don’t want me to do that? I think I should. Or should I just finish on your back?” Your next answering whine is more of a wail.

“Oh, I see. You’re a little cumwhore is that it? Want me to come inside of you? Hmm? Get our Omega pregnant?” You moan this time, drooling onto the sheets. Jeongin grabs your head and turns it to the side so he can see you better, or so that you can see him and how he’s about to waste his cum on you instead of in you. The drool smears onto your cheek and you can feel your eyes start to well up with tears because you know he’s close.

“Please.” It escapes from you in a pathetic whimper and the hand that was stroking his cock pauses.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you.” You know he did, but you also know that if you don’t repeat yourself and beg good enough he really will make good on his promise to finish on your back and leave you there.

“Innie, Jeonginnie, please. I want- I want-”

“Want what? Hmm? A slice of cake, a new Minecraft update?” You huff at his mocking, but it’s too wet to really hold any weight, and you can feel your lip wobbling, so you’re not surprised when what you say next is more of a sob than anything else.

“Your cock. Jeongin, Alpha, please. You said you wanted me during your rut, don’t you want me now?” It’s a low blow, and even through your desperation you know that, but you’ll do what it takes to get him to finally stick his huge dick in you.

“Oh, baby. I do. Don’t worry.” His fingers are searching for your entrance, stretching you out just enough for it to not burn too bad, but you’re so wet, and both of you are so needy, you know that you’ll just have to deal with the pain of not preparing for his stupid dick later because you want it now.

“Then,” he made the mistake of letting go of your wrists to grab your hip instead, and you ball your hands into fists and hit the bed in frustration, “why aren’t you fucking me?” He huffs a laugh.

“All that and you’re still giving me trouble? You’re lucky you’re cute, Omega. So lucky.” You start to kick your feet at him but you’re stopped by the fact that he’s slowly starting to push into you, making a home for himself inside your body and slowly forcing the breath from your lungs.

It burns, and you expected it to with how unprepared you were, but it feels good and you don’t care so that will have to be a later-you problem.

“Jesus, you feel so good, baby. Better than I imagined.” He starts a rough rhythm right off the bat, and you’re needy enough that it doesn’t bother you, besides, you’re pretty sure he was edging himself earlier, so he’s entitled to this.

“Felix hyung and I talked about it, you know. When I was in rut. You left.” The last part comes out as a soft growl, and he coughs to get himself in check before pressing a soft kiss between your shoulder blades.

“You left and I thought about how warm you’d feel inside. Felix wondered too, said he wanted to know how sweet you were.” You hear him chuckle. “Y’know I got him to come untouched from just talking about you, pretty baby?”

You gasp, letting out a shuddery moan at that, and you hear Jeongin laugh above you. You were already halfway to delirious with how good he was fucking you- hard enough to shake the bed and bang the headboard against the wall- but something about knowing that the pack wants you always makes you just that much wetter, always makes your head that much lighter, so you can’t help but clench down around his cock and get everything around you soaked with more of your slick.

“Jeonginnie, Alpha, I- please- I want to-”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, baby. I won’t make you beg for this one.” He presses himself down against your back, knocking your knees out from under you so you’re flat against the bed and have nowhere to go, nothing to do but take it.

“The next one, though. I make no promises.”

The new angle has you going dumber than you were before and you can feel Jeongin’s breath in puffs of hot air against your neck. You whine at him, moaning as you’re trapped underneath his body and when you come it’s with white spots dancing across your vision. You’re just coming down when you feel him start to pull out and you surprise both yourself and him with the growl that comes out of you.

“Yang Jeongin, so help me God if you do not come inside of me-” He shuts you up by doing just that, bullying his knot into you until it pops and rolling the two of you onto your sides so you’re not laying in the multiple spots of wet that have stained his sheets.

“You’re bossy.” It’s said against your hair while his stupidly big hands come up to massage the crick in your neck that’s finally made itself present. “How do you get away with that when you’re with Minho hyung?”

“I listen to him. Mostly.” He pinches you, you pinch back. You sit in silence for a minute.

“Was it good? Or, as good as you imagined?” You try not to sound insecure as you say it, but you know that you’ve probably missed the mark.

“Better. Way better.” He kisses the spot he was just massaging and winds his arm around your middle. “Nap time. You’ll need your energy when I get you back for being a little shit.”

“I wasn’t.” He scoffs at you.

“Yeah, sure. And my name is Chan.”

“Hi, Chan, how are you?”

“Cancel what I said earlier. The second we aren’t locked together anymore I’m kicking you out.” You laugh at him.

[1d1195]

Most IV

Read Most here | ~ 5.9k words

From me: I wanted this part to be longer but I think you'll like the next part the most.

Warnings: not really anything special about this part. You are going to hear from Lauren again though, lol

Summary: Harry is desperately trying not to scare her away. She is wondering if this was a terrible idea.

The boys were in the living room putting together a bookshelf and a coffee table that she had to buy since the ones in her apartment at school belonged to Addie. It still left no room for anyone to sit but true to their word, they didn’t need it. They sat around chatting and catching up. Making each other laugh. Harry sat beside her and she could feel his gaze on her every time she shifted. Like she was going to disappear.

When all the pizza was gone, the girls had brought empty boxes to the kitchen but again, she didn’t even have a trash can to throw stuff away. “I don’t think I can live three weeks without some stuff,” she admitted wrinkling her nose. The package of water bottles that the boys picked up with the new pizza was already significantly depleted and the empty bottles they had all drank were lining her counter. The boys were going to need trash bags to put the empty boxes and pieces of Styrofoam somewhere too.

She also thought about how she had packed most of her clothing away in the storage pod as well. Underwear was definitely a necessity.

“A good old fashioned shopping trip would do us some good!” Eleanor proclaimed seeing her friend’s frustration grow. Immediately she ushered her towards the door. She glanced back as she grabbed her purse off the counter just in time to see Harry’s head perk up as he looked at her.

It killed her to see the anxiety on Harry’s face as if she was going to disappear again when she walked out that door. She didn’t just ruin the trust between them, she murdered it. “Um...” she swallowed digging in her purse and gently moving away from Eleanor’s hand. “I don’t have any room in my car anyway,” she shrugged and placed her set of keys on the counter. A quiet assurance she would be back. The relief on Harry’s face was almost as painful to see as his anxiety. Both of those sad emotions on his gorgeous face were entirely her fault. “Do you mind driving, Sarah?”

“Of course not,” she shook her head. “El, can you help me move some stuff in the car so there’s room for three of us?”

She figured there was nothing in her car that required two people to move it. But the girls headed out while Mitch and Louis focused intently on the shelf. Niall nudged Harry silently reading the next set of directions on installing the lifting mechanism for the coffee table. Harry got up from the floor and approached her the way a person would approach a deer in the middle of a hike. Terrified that the poor thing would skitter away at the slightest movement. Their friends were still in earshot, and it seemed weird to have a private goodbye when they were only running to get her some necessities. “I’ll be back,” it felt horrible to reassure him of such a fact.

He nodded and forced a smile that tensed on his face a hair too much. It didn’t reach his eyes. Her stomach was in knots at the sight; she felt so horrible. “Do you need anything?” She asked.

He shook his head. “M’good, kitten. Thank you.”

Her heart continued to flutter at the word kitten. Like he didn’t know what else to call her. “Thank you for helping, I’m sure you’re exhausted after your shift, and you probably want to get home or something—”

“No,” he cut her off. “M’happy t’help and be here,” he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. It broke her heart all over again that she betrayed his trust. How was she going to make this right?

“Well, thank you,” she repeated graciously. “Really.”

He glanced back at the living room and the boys and then silently, quietly, pushed her into the hallway. With the door closed, he cleared his throat and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I don’t know how t’say this because I don’t know what the rules are. I don’t know what we’re supposed t’do or feel but I jus’ know m’really jealous of the hugs everyone else got and I know I got t’hold your hand and chat with you for a while on m’own... and I know it’s silly m’so jealous of a hug m’friends—who probably missed you in some ways jus’ as much as I did—but m’incredibly jealous and I jus—”

Her arms were around his neck. Her chest against his, even though there were two layers of clothes between them, she swore she could feel his heartbeat. They fit like puzzle pieces. Because of course they did. If it wasn’t for their words, she wasn’t sure she would know they were ever apart at all. Harry’s arms wound around her waist; he sighed so content. Buried his nose in her hair and breathing quietly beside her ear. He was holding her so close; like she might wriggle out of his arms at any moment. Being this close made her stomach flip. It felt new and familiar at the same time. His body felt so warm and strong but very much the same arms and embrace she was used to from years ago. Her face tucked into the curve of his neck; where his cologne gathered and smelled so intoxicatingly of him, she could have cried. His muscles were more defined, but he was still her Harry.

Except he wasn’t, actually. It reminded her of the final scene of a tragic romance movie where the couple should have been acknowledging how they felt about one another all along. But instead, they moved on.

So, her brain turned on again and slowly, begrudgingly, she pulled away. Slow enough that when she was able to view his face, he was looking at her like she wasn’t going to disappear again. A layer of trust had returned for which she was so grateful it ached like nothing she had felt before in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t want to keep the girls waiting too long,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he nodded and put his hand on her doorknob. “We’ll try not t’trash the place,” he smiled, that dimple making her weak all over. She didn’t even want to go shopping. Not without Harry attached to her hip. But he wasn’t hers anymore and it was her own fault.

So she quietly laughed at his joke and turned to the elevator after her friends.

*

Did you know you owned everything?

I was JUST thinking the same thing about you. Carter had nothing useful either. We’ve been shopping for HOURS.

She smiled at her phone while Eleanor and Sarah pushed the cart and walked through the store like they were the ones moving into a new place. Her phone rang and she was quick to pick it up. “Did you see him?” Addie asked excitedly. “Was he overwhelmed? Did he cry? Did he kiss you immediately?”

She sighed, blushing, grateful her friends were distracted so they didn’t see nor hear Addie nearly shouting her questions. “Yes, probably, no, no.”

Addie blew out an annoyed breath. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Addie,” she groaned with frustration and Eleanor glanced back briefly to see her on the phone. She smiled and then turned her attention back on the array of dishware. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what? If you remember how to kiss?”

“Jesus. Christ.”

“I’m sorry about your storage pod,” Addie tried instead. “I bet you miss your notebooks.”

There was a pang of anxiety about the fate of her notebooks on a trip across the country that she couldn’t control. If something happened to them, it might make her insane. She really should have at least scanned them onto the cloud. At least she would have something to do when she got them back before the semester started and she was alone in her apartment with her thoughts. “It’s alright,” but it reminded her to snag a notebook from the office supplies aisle as they walked by. She tossed it over the side of the cart. “Once it’s here and I’m settled, I hope you’ll come for a visit. I’m going to have this super comfy air mattress you can sleep on since my bed isn’t here either.”

Addie laughed. “Excellent.”

“I miss you,” she admitted.

“Miss you too. But this is good. Because you won’t get rid of me. I’m so proud you jumped.” Her cheeks flushed.

“Thank you.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”  

With her phone back in her pocket she glanced at the items in the car that Eleanor and Sarah had selected. They had similar tastes throughout their lives, so she wasn’t worried about the aspect of overall décor and color; but her budget was a bit depleted without a job lined up and dipping into her savings this much was a little worrisome. “We’ve missed you,” Sarah said softly interrupting her thoughts before they spiraled too far. “Think you balanced out the lot of us.”

“I’m freaking out,” she admitted.

They both stopped their leisurely strolling and looked at her nervously. Because terrifyingly enough, she didn’t look like she was freaking out. So the internal side of things must have been bad and they probably had about as much fear as Harry that she might just leave again without warning. She hated that she did this and part of her thought leaving again might be best. Because why would they trust her? After all that. She left without explanation. “Why?” Eleanor asked.

Her voice broke and she sniffled. “He’s going to hate me,” she whispered.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Sarah rolled her eyes and pushed the cart forward not even bothering to entertain her worries. It wasn’t mean and part of her was glad Sarah wasn’t treating her like she was made of glass—she was treating her the way she always had. As if she had never left.

Eleanor smiled sweetly, put a hand on her back and ushered her after Sarah. “Harry will never hate you,” she promised. The relief she felt released a burst of dopamine and made the anxiety she felt disappear almost instantly.

“I hate me,” she grumbled. Eleanor laughed and squeezed her hip.

“We’re so happy you’re back. I don’t know if you heard everything, but Harry wasn’t himself without you,” she explained.

Her cheeks warmed and she swallowed thickly. “It made sense in my head,” she whispered. “I swear.”

Eleanor looked at her sympathetically, a smile that was warm but full of empathy filled her pretty face and she was overcome with how much she missed her friends. If it wasn’t for Addie, there was a good chance she wouldn’t have survived the last three years. “I know. I know you wouldn’t do that without thinking it through,” Eleanor nodded encouragingly. “I just wish you had told us what you were feeling.”

“Yeah, how did you stay off social media like that? I could use a lesson, honestly. All I do is scroll,” Sarah called from in front of them putting a toilet bowl brush into her growing cart.

She was grateful for the kindness her friends shared. “Thank you,” she smiled at Eleanor and then turned to Sarah. “Both of you.”

The pair of them smiled back. “Anything for you, babe,” Sarah assured her.

*

They returned with the items needed and the boys were waiting, ready to take more bags and boxes than she thought the girls could fit in Sarah’s car with the three of them already inside it. They were like an assembly line of grabbing items and bringing them to her apartment. When everyone else was ahead of her, she grabbed the air mattress box. It was heavy and large enough to make it awkward to carry and Harry frowned watching her struggle to lock her car as she tried to balance it on her hip. All while he carried nothing more than a box of pots and pans that weighed probably a fraction as much.

“Swap with me,” he ordered and placed it on the trunk of Sarah’s car.

“Oh... no, it’s alright. It’s heavy and you’ve already worked and—”

He ignored her, pulling it from her grip as she protested, and he marched toward her building. With a sigh, she grabbed the pots and pans, feeling useless and needy again. The elevator signaled the rest were already on their trip up leaving Harry and her in wait for it to descend again. They stood in silence holding their boxes while waiting patiently. “Thank you,” she said again. It felt like a constant in her mouth as the afternoon progressed. “I can’t imagine how tired you must be.”

“M’fine,” he smiled. “Happy t’see you in exchange of m’nap. Also, would’ve gone home t’Mrs. Peterson asking me t’fix her closet door or check her dryer vent.”

She laughed and Harry thought he won the lottery or was struck by lightning. It was the most beautiful sound in the world, and he felt lucky to hear it. The elevator doors opened, and they reverted back to quiet. Her phone vibrated in her pocket; it was a message from Carter.

Addie misses you so much. I don’t think I’ll ever be as good a roommate as you.

“A friend from school?” Harry asked, unable to keep his interest in who messaged her to himself. Harry never saw himself as jealous. But he never had three years of time without her—a whole college career without him by her side. He didn’t know if she had a relationship and quite frankly she was terrified to ask.

“Yeah, umm... his name’s Carter.”

She was replying to his message reminding him where she kept the emergency chocolate for when Addie spiraled. So at first, she didn’t see the way Harry’s jaw flexed so hard she thought he could have cut the sudden tension in the elevator better than the sharpest knife in the world ever could have. His eyes stared straight ahead as the elevator ascended. Her cheeks heated in the small space, feeling mortified that she made Harry feel jealous. God she couldn’t even come home without making him feel bad.

“I met him at my roommate’s dance recital. You would love him,” she whispered because it was the truth. “He started chatting with me all by myself. He calls me gorgeous when he greets me. But the day I met him, I didn’t want to talk. But he was insistent. It’s why I think you’d like him. He inspired a little thing I wrote, I’ll have to let you read it sometime. But anyway... I showed him a picture of my roommate—Addie—and he fell in love with her. Like right there. In the auditorium right as the curtain was opening for her recital. Just her picture, Harry. It was like when Allie saw the picture of Noah in the newspaper in The Notebook. I watched him fall in love with her. I watched it happen,” she smiled at the memory. “He also calls me my favorite matchmaker. He helped us move three times to two different apartments and he never lets me carry heavy grocery bags even though I’m not his girlfriend,” she explained emphasizing that she was not dating Carter. “And he really liked my writing—thinks I’m going to be an instant cult-classic writer. And he was really excited that I decided to come home—even though Addie is being mean to him now, I guess.”

The little story eased the tension in his jaw. She watched it disappear slowly and she wondered if he was going to develop a TMJ dysfunction from how clenched it was for the last few moments. The elevator stopped and he gestured for her to exit first. Before they opened the door where she could hear the rustling of paper bags and the tearing of boxes.

“Where’s the scissors!?” Louis shouted.

“I told you we needed to buy two,” Sarah said grumpily.

“I didn’t know Niall was going to lose them in the first twenty seconds of opening them!” Eleanor protested.

She turned to face Harry, each had a box in front of them, like armor to protect their hearts, whether they knew it or not. She thought about writing that down as soon as she found her new notebook and a pen. The sadness she felt for making him feel jealous still lingered in her. All of the bad choices she made (even though she loved Addie and Carter and wouldn’t have met them without leaving) made her feel terrible on Harry’s behalf. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” she whispered, shame creeping through her body. Without another word, she turned inside before she could say anything else.

Harry stood in front of the open door, noise and chaos ensuing just five feet from him, he worried she was going to get a noise complaint because of the lot of them. He entered the apartment after a few more seconds of silence on his part and even though the apartment wasn’t all that big, he found her instinctively, dropping the box he held onto the counter. He grabbed her wrist like he had a thousand times before, it made her heart flip and flutter like an acrobat in the circus. Without a care of his friends shouting and creating more commotion he leaned in close, so his lips were so close to her ear, she almost closed her eyes to savor the feel of the moment. It wasn’t even that intimate, but it felt like it was.

“I would like t’take you out t’dinner, kitten,” his voice was low and almost gravelly. It warmed her skin and body like nothing she had ever felt before—except she had. Because he always made her feel like this. Ever since they were young, and she knew they were soulmates—even if he didn’t believe in them.

Silently she nodded, meeting his gaze again and smiling. His soft, answering smile was so beautiful she wanted to scream. Thank God she was home.

She excused herself to her bedroom after that, closed the door, where she slid the notebook from one of the bags, found a pen in her purse and drew a heart on the inside cover, listed two names inside it as she always did.

On the first page she scribbled down some notes about how home wasn’t a place, a town, or a building at all.

It was green eyes and a kind smile that made her feel whole.

*

They hadn’t made it to dinner yet. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Her moving in, especially without all her stuff, took a tremendous effort and amount of time. It took a ton of phone calls to stay on top of it and make sure it didn’t get lost along the way because its destination wasn’t meant for a cross-country road trip or any of the stops along the way back to her. In addition to that, she found a job at one of their local restaurants—Niall was happy to call in a favor to the owner who knew his mum so well, so she began working so much. Mainly because she worried about her savings being dipped into because of the move and missing items.

She also had to visit her own mum now that she was closer to her again. Meanwhile, Harry was still on the schedule to work overtime and all his regular hours as well—at least through the cycle of the schedule he was currently on.

So, two and a half weeks had passed since she moved back. Other than the first day they helped move her in, there had only been a handful of sightings. A few of them visited her while she worked, happy to report back to Harry (even though he insisted it was unnecessary but was nonetheless grateful for their intrusion) she was still in town. When he drove past her apartment building (because he was creepy now and scared beyond belief she would be gone in the middle of the night) and saw her storage pod with her mum’s furniture had been removed he felt a ripple of anxiety course through him. It was only alleviated when he saw her car still parked in the same spot that he relaxed. Their group of friends invited her to their weekly summer bonfire but the first week Harry had to work and the second week she had to work.

There was no time for a dinner date to rekindle the love that never left nor ask questions that Harry needed answered.

By then, everyone outside their circle of friends had heard she was home. People eyed Harry like he was a whole new person. “Ran into her,” Gemma smiled excitedly. “She looks beautiful, college was kind to her.”

Harry nodded, the pair of them in his backyard while his mum was inside cooking for them. They insisted on helping but naturally Gemma told him he was grating cheese the wrong way which resulted in a bickering mess of cheese on Harry’s floor and his mum ushering her grown children outside so she could cook in peace.

They were lying in the grass and Harry sighed feeling like the air had been bogged down with pollutants he didn’t even notice for three years because the air was clean now. “Nearly cried on the elevator when she talked ‘bout her friend Carter. Guess he’s dating her college roommate,” he explained. “He called her gorgeous and I thought I was going t’throw up, Gem,” he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed. “M’crazy, aren’t I?”

“No more than usual,” Gem smiled. “I told you she’d be back.” Part of Harry doubted Gemma. It was small, but gnawed at him late at night when he missed her most and thought about how nice it would be to have her to snuggle with in his bed. It had been ages since he held her like that. They only had a small number of sleepovers at their age. They were very much still under the watchful eye of their parents at that time. He cherished those memories and often looked at the twinkling stars when he thought about how she would feel in his bed when he couldn’t sleep.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled back. “You were right,” he sighed with relief.

“She’s scared Mum is going to hate her.”

Harry rolled his eyes; irritation of the slightest bit filled his body. “Of course she is,” he huffed out another exhausted sigh.

“I told her that was ridiculous.”

Harry didn’t tell Gemma about the dinner date he was waiting for (again) because she already knew. “M’hoping she’ll tell me why.”

“I think we’re all hoping that, Harry,” she reached for his hand and squeezed it. “M’sure if you ask she’ll tell you.”

“Gemma, I hugged her, and I think it cured me,” he swallowed. The way her body fit into the frame of his like they never stopped hugging was so incredible. Gemma smiled fondly at her little brother and nodded. She was certain he was telling the truth. Gemma believed they were made for each other just as much as the rest of everyone else believed. “M’afraid that if I kiss her, I might propose on the spot.”

“Over my dead body,” Gemma laughed. “Mum and I would kill you for not letting us be there,” so Harry couldn’t do anything else but laugh along with her.

*

They were approaching week three and other than run ins as a group and waves as their lives quietly skipped past one another through no fault of their own. But finally, he ran into her at the grocery store. She was in the checkout line waiting and Harry was just grabbing a cart to fill for the week.

“Hey, kitten,” he smiled. She had a basket on her arm that looked like the handles were digging into her skin and he wanted to take it from her but instead she placed it at her feet and smiled back so sweetly as they began chatting.

“Finished with your shift?” She asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. M’gonna go home and take a nap. But m’low on a lot of food.”

“If I were you, I would have bought something to go and went and took that nap.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t have run into you,” he reminded her with a smile that took over his lips before he could stop it. It wasn’t meant to be cute or sweet, but it was anyway. It made her cheeks turn pink and it did feel like fate—even though if this were three years ago, she wouldn’t have even noticed she had run into Harry by chance. It would have seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“That’s true,” she bit the inside of her lip.

“How ‘bout you? Working tonight?” He asked.

She shook her head. “You can go ahead of me,” she said to the woman waiting behind her who smiled kindly in return. “No... I did a double yesterday and I’m awfully tired myself. A nap sounds like the right idea,” she grinned knowingly.

Harry couldn’t help it. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he thought it was now or never because they had been doing some kind of dance that he was certain she would write about. Ships passing in the night and all that. Just missing one another and their free time so he had to ask right then. “Are y’free tonight?” He asked. “Other than napping?” He amended with a tired smile. “For that dinner?” He reminded her.

“Yes,” she nodded quickly, immediately. A relieved sigh fell from his mouth, and he thought it was the best news in the world. Maybe even better than the news she was home. Even though he was there in person to see that for himself. She giggled slightly at his relief. Not because it was funny, but because she was relieved too.

“I’ll pick y’up at six.”

*

She was bubbling with excitement as she left the grocery store. Her heart in her throat and she headed to the coffee shop because if she was going to skip her nap to get ready for her date with her ex-boyfriend but also the very same man she’d been in love with since she understood the emotion, then she was going to need caffeine. And back up. A text to Eleanor and Sarah telling them it was date night set them into motion.

“Hey Lo,” she smiled downright gleefully. A date with Harry. It felt like the very first one. “Can I have my usual?” She asked.

Lauren nodded eagerly, a smile on her lips. Her kind friend chatted with her, asking how her day was going, how her studies were and the like. It was unbelievably nice to have her back in town. It had eaten away at Lauren for what she had insinuated. Keeping it a secret from her friend group was abhorrent. She knew it was and so the fact she was home was a good thing.

She was happy to have her friend back. Even though she knew it was her fault she left in the first place. “Harry and I are going to dinner,” she was smiling the way she used to when Harry texted her asking if they needed anything for their study time.

Just like that a switch went off in the pit of her stomach. The envy she felt was atrocious and she wanted to stop it but it was growing like it had the day she had told her Harry deserved more. “Like a date?” She asked in surprise.

She nodded. “I know. It’s...kinda crazy right?”

“Yeah... yeah it is. I’m surprised... he uh...” Lauren swallowed begging her mouth not to say anything worse than what she had suggested three years prior. She had already lost her friend, she knew it. It was a miracle she was home. She didn’t deserve the heartache at the hands of her jealousy. But the green little monster was vicious. “He doesn’t usually go on dates during the week,” she murmured, putting her drink on the counter. It was horrible, watching the bubbly bright smile fall off her face. Literally slid from her lips to the floor in seconds. Lauren turned to the customer that was next in line. “I’m sure it’s fine,” she said as she made the next drink. “It’ll be a nice date.”

But just like before, she knew she planted a seed of doubt as she left the coffee shop.

*

Eleanor and Sarah were already at her apartment when she got there. They had clothing options that they had scrounged together as well as a plethora of makeup pallets that she didn’t have since most of her stuff was still a day or two out. “At least my stuff will be here soon.”

“I cannot wait to see your shoes,” Sarah sighed dreamily. “You always had the best shoe collection.”

“Do you still have your curling iron?” Eleanor asked. “That thing was the most amazing hair styling tool known to man and I don’t know how I have lived without you and it all these years.”

She giggled, grateful for the distraction from her conversation with Lauren. Because honestly, if they hadn’t already been there, she might have cancelled on Harry and thought about moving back with Addie and Carter. Thinking of Addie made her miss her. “Do you guys mind if I FaceTime Addie? She’ll want to know I’m going on this date.”

“Of course not! We’ll need her opinion too,” Eleanor assured her.

So she rang Addie who picked up on the second ring and was immediately squealing with excitement. “I told you he wouldn’t have moved on!” She shouted.

“Holy shit, did you think he moved on?!” Sarah asked.

“Well... I mean... it was three years.”

Sarah and Eleanor exchanged a look of disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

“I told you,” Addie quipped again. Eleanor was putting eyeshadow on her and her reflection in the mirror suggested she wouldn’t need any of the three cream blushes that Eleanor had laid on the counter. She glared at Addie on her cell phone screen.

“Well...I don’t know. I just figured...”

“Hi Addie,” Carter said. “Wow, aren’t you all dolled up, Gorgeous,” he winked at the screen. Nice to see you.”

“Oh no wonder Harry was jealous of him,” Eleanor whispered delightedly.

“Shut up, he was not,” she gasped.

Addie giggled, pecked Carter’s warm cheek. “Nice to meet you ladies,” he said to Sarah and Eleanor. “Heard tons about you. I’m gonna start dinner, love,” he kissed the top of Addie’s head. “Can’t wait to see the finished product, Gorgeous,” he winked at her again as he left their view.

It was great for her aching heart that her two little families liked each other so quickly. She wanted to ask Eleanor and Sarah about what Lauren had said about him dating but she was scared to know the answer. But if she didn’t know, then it would probably ruin the date. “How... how often does Harry go on dates?” She asked.

“None,” Addie was the one that answered with a shake of her head.

Eleanor snorted. “She’s right,” Sarah nodded. “Harry has been on zero dates. Unless you count Mrs. Peterson needing him all the time to fix something at her house. Then about a thousand, I’d say,” she smiled.

“None?” She asked. “I...” she swallowed. “I thought I heard someone say...he was dating.”

“Who the fuck said that?” Eleanor looked at her in the mirror in absolute shock.

“Oh I just...” she should have told them. They would be able to assuage her worries immediately. “People talk about me pretty loudly; with Harry being a town staple now,” she shrugged. “They think I’m deaf or something,” she explained quietly.

“Harry hasn’t dated anyone,” Sarah stated matter of fact, no room for argument.

“I told you so,” Addie sang through the phone. Eleanor and Sarah smiled sweetly at their new friend within a cellphone screen. “You left your picture here,” Addie said and moved to the kitchen.

“What picture?” Sarah asked.

“Addie...maybe don’t make me look insane?” She suggested and wished she could cover her face with her hands but didn’t want to ruin the makeup.

But Addie was already showing them the picture of her and Harry from their days in school when they first got together. “You had that on the fridge?” Eleanor looked at her with astonishment.

“Yeah, literally from the moment we moved in,” Addie reminded her.

“Harry has the same one on his fridge,” Sarah explained.

“Same what?”

Her head snapped up to the mirror reflection and saw Harry’s frame hovering near the doorway. “Holy shit, sweetie, he’s even hotter in person,” Addie was already swooning.

“Addison!” Carter called from behind the screen.

Harry chuckled, his cheeks the slightest shade pinker. “Hi Addie.”

“Harry,” she smiled unabashedly, unaffected by her compliment. “I can see why she said she would spend thousands of dollars on your calendar.”

He snorted and caught her gaze in the reflection again. He squinted, the screen that showed the picture of the pair of them on the fridge miles and miles away. “That’s on your fridge?” He asked.

“Every morning I stare at it while I drink orange juice from the carton.”

“I told you it was her, Carter,” she said knowingly.

“How did you get in?” Sarah asked.

“Door was unlocked. I heard you guys squealing, so I figured I’d see what you were all up to. Also it’s five fifty five and I said I would be here at six.”

“So punctual,” Addie smiled brightly.

“Well, she’s all set,” Eleanor tapped her shoulder. “Just need to swap out this cute comfy look with a dress.”

“How fancy is the place we’re going?” She frowned.

“It’s not,” he assured her. “You could go like that, honestly. You would still be prettier than everyone else.”

“That’s notebook worthy for sure,” Addie murmured.

“Addison,” this time it wasn’t Carter that said it.

“Have fun, sweetie. Nice meeting you all.”

“Bye Gorgeous!” Carter called as Addie gave a wave and hung up.

Eleanor and Sarah ushered Harry out of the bathroom and she changed quietly. Immediately calling Addie back and pressing the phone to her ear. “Lauren said he’s dating,” she whispered so quietly Addie could barely hear her.

“Lauren can go eat dirt. She’s probably jealous. He asked you on a date.”

She sighed. “This is a horrible idea.”

“No,” Addie was serious, shaking her head even though she couldn’t see. “It’s a wonderful idea. He’s your soulmate who has waited three years for this date. Let him have it,” she whispered. “You deserve this, sweetie. You love him. You just need to jump,” she assured her.

She took a deep breath and looked away from the mirror. “Okay,” she whispered to Addie. “I’ll jump.”

--

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[bettysupremacy]

Your girl

Rockstar!Remus x reader

summary: Remus finds his girl in the backyard of a party, alone.

word count: 1.8k words

a/n I’m not satisfied with this but oh well!

The once bustling, loud, party now seems dimmer and less intense as he cautiously walks away into the silent of the night.  He can hear the wet asphalt crunch beneath his boots, the brushing of wind flowing past his ears. It’s quiet and calm the way it is after a rain, but something sticks in his tummy. A nerve, an upset, a fear, he might find his girl out here alone. 

“Sweetheart?” His voice is louder than he intends in the quiet of this fancy backyard, and it has his nose wrinkling. “Y/N, honey, are you out here?” And god, he prays she isn’t. Alone. Tipsy drunk. He walks on. 

The show before this had been loud and packed. A bustling crowd, bigger than they had anticipated. 

He can’t pretend he hadn’t been aching to see her in the crowd, that sweet longing she pulled from him so many times before, but she hadn’t wanted to accept the tickets initially. Guilt gnawed at her for not paying the 429 pounds other floor guests fought for. But, as Remus had said, special tickets for a special girl.

Here now, he feels the same ache he felt when he couldn’t find her in the crowd. Sick and pounding as he turns the twists and winds of a path through the tall gaudy flowers and statues. It’s a nightmare, really, but finding her on the floor, in her white sundress, unbothered by the way the wet floor stains into the pearly cloth, is even more so.

“What are you doing out here, honey?” 

The party grows louder and Remus prays they don’t bring it outside. It’s private out here and Remus likes that. Quiet of the eyes of fans he’s collected over his hard work and music, private of Sirius who dragged his friends to this after party, and James who’d surely tease. 

She turns, startled at the intrusion, her head spins. Was she supposed to be dizzy whilst sitting? “Doesn’t it just taste fresh out here?” 

He inhales deeply, playing along, though it really does taste fresher out here. “I guess it does.” He takes a moment. The air between them is quiet again. “You’ll stain your pretty dress.” 

She shrugs. He’ll just give her his jacket anyways. “Tired, my feet hurt, want another drink.”

He laughs. “In that order?”

“Tired, cause my feet hurt, ‘nother drink, cause it’ll fix it.” She fixes. He grunts as he sets himself in front of her. She can’t admit how happy this makes her. He takes her arms in his hands. “Liked your set.”

“Yeah?” He tilts his head. His thumbs press right below the crease of her elbows. It has her greedy, selfish for more. She wants more.

“Yeah. You looked hot onstage.”

He laughs a startled laugh, it’s slightly disheveled, but the fact that she made him smile is an accomplishment in itself she thinks. “Thank you.” She looks down at where his fingertips dance over her outstretched arms lightly. Up and down, he traces patterns into her skin.

“Feels good.” She mumbles. 

“I know. Lets get you inside, yeah?” He pauses his ministrations on her arm. “Lily was worried sick when she couldn’t find you.” 

Lily wasn’t the first to notice she’d been missing, but Remus can’t bare to tell her he’d been looking for her in a group of people practically begging to get a word in to him. 

She grabs his wrist, slightly pushing him to keep his gentle rubbing. “You weren’t?”

“Darling, you know I was the most worried.” It’s true.

“Wanna stay out here.” She breathes, almost ignoring his dangerously romantic profession. 

“Why?” 

“S’nice.” Not because this is the first time she’s been alone with him in weeks. Not because when she’s around him it gives her the biggest head rush she’s ever experienced. It mixes with the alcohol and she can’t tell which is which. Is it the tequila shots Mary coaxed her into doing, or is it the 6’3 bassist crouched in front of her like a giant trying to befriend human?

He sighs, shrugging off his jacket. “Can’t let my girl freeze to death.” 

And the thing about it is, it’s so simple to say what you want when you’re not thinking about it. Right? Cause if he had caught himself, If he had thought before his word choice, he wouldn’t have let that Freudian slip, slip.

Her face does something funny as he helps her arms through the arm holes. 

“What’s it?” His eyebrow cocks. 

“Your girl?” 

He scoffs out a disbelieved laugh. “Oh, that you pick up?” He stands up, unable to look at his jeans in fear of the grass stains he’d see on them. She might have his jacket but he surely doesn’t. “Up, lets get you inside.” 

She doesn’t give him her hands. “Your girl, Rem?” 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He gruffs, shaking his hands a little, hoping she’ll catch the memo and use his weight to pull herself up. Except she doesn’t. She grins this big dopey smile, eyes crinkling as she hides her alcohol pink cheeks from Remus. 

“Wanted to be your girl.” 

He feels as if his brain has lagged. “You are my girl, gorgeous.” 

Her chest feels tight with an emotion only he can pull from her. “Am I?” 

“Why’d you think I’ve been calling you every night for months?” 

“Thought you wanted someone to flirt with.” 

“Babe,” he frowns at the admission as he crouches down again, “I’ve been flirting with you because you’re my girl.” 

“Oh.” 

His chest cracks a little. His warm dry hands find their way to her cold cheeks, they’re worn and rough from his bass. “What made you think that?”

“I dunno.” She trails off.

“You didn’t come to that conclusion by yourself.” He shakes his head and she shrugs. “Tell me when you’re sober. Though I fear you’d be more honest with me now.” 

“Mary said something,” she starts, before pausing, letting him use his weight to pull her off the ground. “She said ‘if a boy likes you, you know.’ And I could never tell with you.”

“You couldn’t tell?” 

She huffs a laugh, dramatically putting her body weight on him, hugging his chilly torso. “You’re kinda hard to read, Rem.” 

He stands there as she nuzzles her cheek in his chest. His hands splay on her back and he feels her smile. “We can talk more about this tomorrow.” She nods. She revels in the newness of this level of affection.

“Can I show you a patch of flowers I saw when I fell earlier?” Her head tilts up to look at him.

“You fell?!” 

[tyunkus]

amazon wishlist — kang taehyun

pairing: roommate!kang taehyun x afab!reader summary: your roommate and best friend, taehyun, finds a dildo on your amazon wishlist.

wc: 5.5k

warnings: masturbation, dry humping, dirty talk (praise, some degradation), pet names (princess, angel, baby, pretty), like One spank, teasing/humiliation?, penetrative, safe sex, mention of cunnilingus and handjob, also unrealistic because taehyun games here but. let me live my gamer bf dreams ok?

note: originally wrote this in 3rd person and then had to manually change it to 2nd person so sorry for any mistakes ! also still figuring how this site works so sorry for the plain formatting. i dont actually know if amazon sells dildos, and if they cost $30? probably not but yk... artistic liberty... capitalism...

There’s no chicken.

You notice this one Friday afternoon in the middle of July, while the pavements outside sizzle from the heat and the sun spills through the windows and warms up your back. You’re in the kitchen, sifting through a pathetic heap of frozen food. Usually, you head to the nearby supermarket after pilates class to pick up a pack of bacon; other times, Taehyun comes home after a day with Kai bearing a bag of frozen wedges. Either way, it’s clear that neither of you have bought anything edible since your last grocery run two weeks ago.

Frozen french fries. Korean corndogs. A half-empty pack of fishcakes. No chicken.

You open the fridge, eyes skimming over its meager contents, as if it would be there. It isn’t. You open the freezer again, wondering if the gods above would be so gracious as to summon some chicken breast into your freezer to feed you and your roommate tonight. They don’t.

“Maybe we should go grocery shopping.”

You’re fresh from a long, elaborate shower. Your hair falls in wet tresses over your shoulders and you’re clad in dolphin shorts and a big shirt that might have been Taehyun’s but you borrowed so often and for so long that he probably forgot it ever belonged to him. It’s your turn to cook dinner and you’re grumbling over the fact that Taehyun cooked your only remaining pack of chicken breast last night when you hear his bedroom door click open.

Just in time. A shitty rap song follows the sound of the soft padding of his footsteps against the floor. “Hey, you home?” he calls from halfway down the hallway, but you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“I told you I would cook chicken and you still finished it last night, and now there’s nothing for me to cook, asshole,” you say, more exasperated than angry. You turn around just as he walks in, wearing nothing but black joggers and his obnoxious RGB headset. His eyes are wide and bashful. You wrinkle your nose and turn around again. “What happened to your shirt?”

Taehyun has the decency to sound sheepish. “Sorry, I was playing with the boys,” he mumbles, like that wasn’t painfully obvious already. You have no problem with seeing Taehyun or shirtless guys by themselves, but a shirtless Taehyun has you torn between wanting to throw up and throwing away your clothes. Maybe to other people having a first-class view of his washboard abs sounds like a blessing, but to you, it’s only a level below mental distress.

“Tell Kai I said hi,” you say absently, now going through your drawers for restaurant flyers (if worse comes to worst, you’ll order takeout for tonight). “Anyway, what’d you come outside for?”

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

At this, you peer over your shoulder, studying Taehyun’s face. He doesn’t look particularly upset, just stoic, which is a dangerous sign in itself. Taehyun’s usually calm, but he’s not stoic—at least, not in this stage of your friendship, when Taehyun has known you long enough to stop pretending that he’s some sort of tsundere.

“Is something wrong?” you ask softly, turning around to lean against the counter.

“I saw your wishlist on Amazon. Why do you have a dildo on there?”

The words fall on you like a bucket of hardened cement. You feel your heart rate increase by about a thousand beats.

“I—you what?” you sputter in disbelief. There are a few seconds in-between this moment of horror where you want to scold him, yell at him, do anything, but it’s not like he’s in the wrong. It’s your Amazon wishlist. But why was he snooping around on it? And why did you put a dildo on it? Fuck. Your mind searches for an intelligent response, but all that falls out of your mouth is, “Other people can see that?”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows. “Yes? I hope you didn’t share it with your parents or anything, ‘cause it’s like, the first one on the list.”

You grip the counter, suddenly feeling very ill. “Oh. Shit.” You had not done anything of the sort—you kept your parents away from your online presence for that very reason. But if anyone was to stumble upon your questionable wishlist on Amazon dot com, you weren’t expecting Taehyun of all people. Your best friend? And roommate? Really? Fuck Jeff Bezos, for real.

“But that’s besides the point,” Taehyun says, advancing towards you, and you back up a little. Between his tall, wide-shouldered frame and you being a good bit smaller, you discover that it is very, very easy to feel intimidated, almost trapped, by him. “Why do you need to buy one? You know I got a dick, right?”

It’s like another punch to the stomach, except someone also crushed your head with a boulder. If you weren’t red before, you definitely are now, sweat pooling at your palms at his implication. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

Taehyun shrugs and reaches behind you to grab a glass from the dish holder. “I’m just saying,” he says, making his way over to the sink. “Why waste thirty dollars on some plastic when you can get the real thing for free? And better?”

Are you even hearing him right? “Genuinely what are you on,” you say, still aghast. “I wanted to buy one because—because—I mean, I-I don’t know, it’s normal! Shit, Taehyun, does it really matter? Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

He shrugs again. “Why not?”

You say the first thing that pops into your mind. “What if it sucks?”

Taehyun only laughs. “You really have that little faith in me?”

“I don’t know!” You think briefly on the sex talks you two have had—some you had sprawled over each other on the couch, glasses of soju in hand; others you had during movie nights, clay masks smeared over your faces while you struggled not to laugh too hard. They were fun, sure, but it’s one thing to hear Taehyun talk about fucking other people and another to hear him talk about fucking you. To your knowledge, Taehyun’s pretty good in bed, but… But why are you even considering it? You both have been best friends for years. If you have sex, it’s only going to ruin your friendship. There are other ways for you to feel good—ways that don’t risk a seven-year friendship and getting kicked out of the apartment.

“I don’t know,” you say again, suddenly terrified at yourself for not giving him a straight answer. It should be a hard, flat no! You shouldn’t be considering it all! Yet here you are, your brain suddenly full of the thought of Taehyun and his dick.

“Hey, I’m just saying. Trying to open up some options for you here. I’m one hundred percent willing, but only if you are.” Taehyun puts up his hands like that settles it. He flashes you a smile. “Just tell me, okay? And if you still don’t want to, that’s chill too. We’ll both act like this never happened.”

Is that even possible? “Right,” you say, feeling faint. “Okay, yeah.”

Taehyun’s smile doesn’t fade. You can only watch as he takes a swig of water and shuffles happily to his room.

You think about it. Probably a bit too much.

You have an essay to write for your class, and it’s due in a few hours—but you can’t stop thinking about it. It being Taehyun fucking you. In your defense, you’ve been pent up all week, trying to balance your academics and health and social life and Taehyun all without having any time for yourself, so it makes sense, you think. You hope it makes sense that you’re fantasizing about your roommate, considering everything that’s happening to you.

You shut your laptop and sigh, lying back down on your bed. Taehyun has been acting completely normal in the three days between now and when he had first made his offer, which you are endlessly grateful for, but also bewildered by. He had even paid for takeout that same night, and you had eaten it together on the floor of your living room, and it was like nothing had even happened. Still, you’ve been mulling it over ever since. Pondering it, if you will. And it’s not your first time. Many nights you have found your tired, worn-out brain wandering to your roommate, his pretty face, great body, cute personality… How it would feel. What he would do. Taehyun, leaning over you, kissing you, running his pretty hands up and down your skin. Nipping at your collarbone with his sharp, perfect teeth. Grazing them along your neck, sucking at the soft parts.

Fuck. You’re wet.

You feel crazy.

Your hands slide down your panties, face burning with shame. The only thing you can think of is Taehyun, his soft skin and pretty brown eyes, his lean arms and chest. You picture him above you, caging you between his arms, a glittering smile on his face as he touches you, his back muscles flexing. Do you like that? he whispers, his voice low and raspy. You don’t even have to work hard to imagine what he sounds like during sex—the walls here are awfully thin, he’s a twenty-one-year-old guy, and you’ve thought about it more often than not.

“Fuck,” you keen, your hips rolling up as you dip your finger into your folds. Your free hand trails up your torso and into your mouth; you roll your tongue around your fingers and wish, crazily, that you were sucking on Taehyun’s instead. “Shit, oh f—”

“About your offer.”

You’re sitting at the dining table. Taehyun is halfway through his serving of pancakes that you made for him in a partly-tired, mostly-horny daze. After a particularly busy morning, you can’t remember much of last night other than the fact that you fucked yourself sore and came three times in a row, no refractory period, and now you can barely hold your fork.

Taehyun looks up at you. He’s shirtless again. If you were any crazier you would be disappointed that he never left much room for imagination before your first time together. “My offer,” he echoes.

“From a few days ago,” you clarify, poking your fork through your slice of toast. “The. You-fucking-me thing.”

“Ah.” Taehyun leans back and you can tell he’s fighting down a smile. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well. I’ve been kinda… you know, lately,” you begin, staring hard at your plate, “and I was gonna buy the… you know, but then I realized my shipping address is still at my parents’ house and I really don’t want to wait for another week or pay extra to get it the next day or pay thirty dollars for a plastic dick so—”

“So you want me to fuck you?”

You let out a breath and brave a glance at him. “Yeah,” you mumble.

“That’s all you had to say,” Taehyun says with a smile. He pushes his plate away and fixes you with a look. “When do you want to do it? Kinda weird to be planning this out, no?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do it,” you groan.

Taehyun laughs, reaching over to touch your arm. “Don’t worry about it. What about later tonight? After you’re finished with your homework, I can help you unwind,” he suggests, and he sounds like he’s just telling you about the weather—but his voice has dropped about three octaves and normally you would find this shit cringe, but. Holy fuck.

You aren’t one for slutshaming, but perhaps you are one yourself. You squeeze your thighs together and nod, your gaze falling to the table. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“Good. You can come to my room once you’ve finished. I won’t be playing tonight, so don’t worry about interrupting. Well, you might be interrupting something, but—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Nooo need to elaborate,” you spit, standing up and picking up your plate. Taehyun laughs as you walk over to the sink and put away your dish. When you return back to the dining table, he continues eating like nothing happened. “I’ll go study now.”

“Study well, pretty.”

You make a vague sound of affirmation before slipping inside your room again. You back up against the door and take a second to breathe, then shuffle over to your closet.

Your panties are wet. Again.

“Come in.”

You step inside his room. It’s dark—his lights aren’t on, save for the RGB strips on his setup. He sits on his chair, legs spread, lap looking awfully inviting. For once, he’s wearing a hoodie, and he looks like he just got off a game.

“I expected to catch you at a more… compromising time,” you say, carefully.

“Funny way to say you wanted to see me jerking off.”

“I didn’t say that,” you say with a frown, and you stop walking in front of his chair. Taehyun pats his lap. He’s smiling so, so wide.

“Take a seat.”

You’re grateful when his hands reach up to cup your waist, guiding you as you slide a leg over him and sit down. It’s weird—oddly comfortable, but your tits are pressed up against his chest and your faces are really, really close. Like, close enough you can see each of his eyelashes. He’s so, so pretty.

Taehyun looks you in the eye. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice soft. When you nod, he hums and squeezes your waist. “Alright. Tell me about your day.”

“Huh?”

“Foreplay, baby. That’s like, the whole essence of a hookup.” Taehyun raises his eyebrows at you. “Would you just play along?”

“Fine, fine. I didn’t do mu—oh,” you gasp, as Taehyun’s lips latch onto your neck, pulling you into him. “Ah, fuck. I didn’t do much. I—I woke up early and did some assignments. Got a ninety percent on my mock exams.”

“Woah,” Taehyun says, pulling away. His eyes are bright. “Really?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“Damn. Good job. Sometimes I forget you’re smart and hot,” he murmurs in between kisses. “Perfect girl.”

Holy shit. “Um—and then I went to the gym and this guy asked me for my number,” you continue. Taehyun licks at your throat and bites down hard. “Ow, fuck you. I said no thanks and then went back home and showered.”

“Did you do anything in the shower?”

You scoff as he licks along your jaw. “No. I’m not a perv like you.”

“Not a good idea to make fun of the guy who’s about to fuck you.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“And then what?”

“And then I had breakfast with you and after, I… I fucked myself a little.” Taehyun groans and your breath hitches in your throat. “I thought of you.”

He chuckles. “I would have been a little confused if you hadn’t. You must have been so pent up, baby, huh?”

You grab a fistful of his hair and pulls him away from your neck so your eyes meet. “I’ve been thinking of you. For a long time. Even before you made the offer,” you say, barely breathing. Your grip loosens, and you watch as his eyes grow dark. “Anytime I got h-horny, I—I imagined you. And I… was going to buy the toy ’cause I never thought I’d get the real thing with you.”

Taehyun seems taken aback, but his face of faint surprise melts into his usual cocky smile and he presses his lips against yours.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the real thing is a little bigger than five inches, baby.”

If you weren’t wet before, you’re drenched now. You feel a little bad for his grey sweatpants, the front all smeared with your precum. But knowing Taehyun, he’d probably like that.

You continue kissing for a while, Taehyun’s gaming chair creaking incessantly underneath your weight, but you’re too turned on to be bothered. He’s still playing with your panties, rubbing you over them. You honestly, truly might die.

“Taehyun,” you say, pulling away. He looks like a mess, lipgloss smeared all over his mouth, hair messy from your constant running your hands through them. “Can you touch me?”

“I am touching you, baby.”

You whine. “No, no, like—like inside me, please, fuck.”

“Use your pretty voice to ask me nicely.”

You take a deep breath but it’s let out as a whimper. “Please, Taehyun. Fuck me with your fingers,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “Please, please. Please.”

“Good job, princess. Of course. Anything you want.”

And you—you almost die, and it shows with the way you squeezes your thighs together and nuzzle your face deeper into his shoulder, letting out a soft moan when he finally moves to comply.

Taehyun seems to notice, because something in his eyes shifts and he leans in, kissing your cheek. “Do you like it when I praise you, baby? Come on, tell me everything. Tell me what turns you on. Want to make you feel good.”

“I like praise, yeah,” you say, your voice trembling as he moves his hands down to the hem of your panties. “Praise and… And some degradation, too, but mostly praise. I like pet names and—fuck—biting and spanking and k-kissing, fuck, even just kissing turns me on so much.”

“I can tell, baby.” Taehyun glides a finger over your cunt and smiles. “You’re fucking soaked. So cuuute.” He coos it, like you’re some sort of cute doll and not his fucking roommate whose pussy he’s playing with.

It makes you whimper, your fingers shaking where they should be holding onto Taehyun’s shoulders. “Ugh, fuck,” you squeak. “Fuck you.”

“Let me do it first. Grind down on me, pretty.”

You comply and gasp a little at the hardness underneath you. “Fuck. You’re so—”

Taehyun hums, his hands moving to your waist, helping you rock harder against him. “Just for you. I’ve been hard all day just thinking about you.”

You make a pathetic sound at the back of your throat and kiss him, your mind suddenly flooded with images of him touching himself right here in his chair, the slick sound of his hand wrapped around his cock, all while he thinks of you. Without warning, he reaches up his free hand and lightly taps at your cheek; you don’t even have to think about it before your mouth falls open and his fingers slide in.

“Perfect,” Taehyun breathes, and your heart skips in your chest. “You’re so good, fuck. Didn’t even have to ask, what a good girl.”

You grind down harder. Taehyun throws his head back and lets out something between a sigh and a groan. “Fuck, princess,” he rasps. “You’re so cute.” He reaches up with his other hand to caress your flushed face. “You feel really—ugh—really fucking good.”

“Oh my god, wait, fuck, wait—” You whimper around his fingers and slow to a stop; your hands clutch at the back of his hoodie. You whine into the cloth, breathing him in, feeling him all over you. His hands move down to your waist, squeezing gently. You can hardly breathe. “I… I was getting close. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Taehyun shifts a little under you; you huff when his hands slide under your ass and he moves to stand up, lifting you with him. “Let’s move to the bed, then,” he grunts, and your legs close around his waist as he carries the both of you to his bed.

He preoccupies himself by kissing you—your lips don’t move away from each other’s as you tumble onto the mattress. Your mind is racing. You’ve imagined kissing Taehyun so many times before, fantasized about how it felt, and these past few days it was all you could think about. His lips are so warm, his hands even warmer where they wander on your skin. You want him close, closer. Inside.

You break the kiss. “Taehyun,” you murmur against his lips. “Taehyun, please.”

Thankfully, Taehyun seems to understand what you’re getting at, and doesn’t make you beg for it—he’s shimmied out of his sweats and hoodie in record time, with only boxers and a wife beater left. He smiles down at you, gentle, loving. “Could you undress for me?”

You don’t need to be asked twice. You pull your dolphin shorts down and kick them off your ankles, trying your best to peel off your shirt as you do so. Taehyun is fully shirtless now, shadows cast across his toned muscles, and his hands probe at his boxers, but his eyes are fixed on you.

You have never felt so exposed wearing your favorite set of lingerie—you fight the urge to cover your stomach with your arms and instead opt to look up at Taehyun from under your lashes and hope he’s as horny as you are right now.

It takes a moment for Taehyun to recollect himself, but when he does, his hands are immediately on you, awed at your softness. “Damn,” he breathes.

“How eloquent of you.”

Taehyun laughs, running his hands down your waist. “No, I—” He breathes out another chuckle, his eyes trailing down to your belly. “No, you’re just perfect.”

Your cheeks heat and you feel yourself throb a little at his praise. “Says you. Know how many guys would kill to have your body?”

“Know how many guys would kill to have such a beautiful, sexy, smart girl like you?”

You press your lips together. You can’t help but think about how nice he looks, seated between your legs. “A lot of guys would be after you, it seems.”

“Can’t blame them. Fuck, your thighs,” Taehyun groans, moving his hands over them. Your breath catches in your throat. His hands look—are—huge. “Oh my fucking god. Promise me you’ll let me eat you out.”

You blink. “Of course,” you say. “Could you get to fucking me already?”

Taehyun laughs. “Right, sorry. Let me take my boxers off first.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, it should be in the hoodie pocket.”

You retrieve the hoodie from the other side of the bed and feel around in its pocket before your fingers graze the plastic; you immediately pick it up and throw the hoodie on the floor. Meanwhile, Taehyun is finally fully naked and stroking himself; you turn even redder. Fuck, you want him so bad.

You tell him so. “Hurry, hurry, please,” you gasp, tossing the unopened condom packet to Taehyun, who chuckles.

“On your hands and knees, angel.”

You obey and whimper impatiently as Taehyun opens the condom and puts it on.

“Jesus, baby, you’re such a mess already and I haven’t even put it in,” Taehyun mumbles. You feel the bed dip where he climbs onto it again, and moans when he gives your ass a smack. “Needy. That’s what you are. Needy and impatient.”

You whimper. “Please, pleasepleaseplease, just put it in, put it in—” Taehyun pushes the small of your back so you drop face-first onto the mattress, cheek squished against the blankets. It smells like him. Everything smells like him. For once you fall silent when he announces he’s sliding in and you feels it poking at your entrance. Your eyes squeeze shut.

He slides in the first inch and you can’t help but whine. “Pleeeease, Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice high and reedy. He complies without an answer, sliding in more, slowly, until he’s almost halfway. You let out a squeak.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyun coos. “Don’t think you can take it?”

You make a small, pathetic noise at the back of your throat. “Nonono,” you cry. “You’re just… really big. Bigger than that—that dumb f-fucking dildo.”

“Aw, am I r-r-really?” Taehyun grins and eases another inch into you before you get the chance to retort. You suck in a breath instead, bunching the sheets into your hands. In a moment of guilt, he uses his other hand to give your waist a reassuring squeeze, then leans over to push back your hair for you. “Damn, you’re tight. You can take it, though, can’t you?”

You whimper. “Ah, shit, yes.”

“That’s it. There you go. Doing such a good fucking job, taking my cock.”

Taehyun kisses your shoulder as he slides in the rest, a string of pathetic whimpers and cries leaving your mouth as he bottoms out. Once his thighs touch the back of yours, he stays very still, letting you adjust to the size.

To both your surprise, you are the one who breaks the almost-silence with a short huff as you prop yourself on your elbows. “You… you can move now,” you grit out, sounding almost pained.

Taehyun hums. “Tell me first. Which do you like better? The toy or my cock?”

You’re silent, but he can see your knuckles whitening as you grip the bedsheets. Taehyun scoffs and grabs both your arms with his hand, pulling them behind you with a grunt. You yelp as his cock hits a different angle inside of you.

“Tell me. Which one is better? I won’t move until you tell me.”

You whimper for a few moments, but Taehyun doesn’t let up. You take a shaky breath and let your head hang. “Y-you,” you mumble.

“Louder, pretty.”

“I like your cock better—hmf—better than the toy,” you say. Taehyun can hear the tears in your voice and his belly flip-flops. So fucking hot.

He might have said that out loud—you might have heard him—but he doesn’t have time to think about the possibilities, because at once he’s drawing his hips away from yours and slamming back inside again. The reaction is immediate. You keen, chest heaving at the intensity. 

“Fuck,” you croak, clinging onto the bedsheets.

“God,” Taehyun breathes, holding you up to his chest, “I’m obsessed with you.” He mouths at your neck and you whimper.

“Don’t bite too hard,” you plead. Taehyun bites down harder in response.

“I’ll bite as hard as I want,” he says, but there’s no heat in his words, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder right after. His hands snake up your body, from your hips to your waist until they stop comfortably at your tummy. He thrusts in and out of you at a steady pace, kissing mindlessly at any sliver of skin he can get his lips on. “Been dreaming about this for ages, you know. I’ve been wanting to fill you up for the longest time.”

Fire stirs within the pit of your stomach at the thought. “I do, too. Fingered myself thinking it was your cock,” you mumble back, delirious, and you can feel him smile against your shoulderblades. Suddenly, he slides out, flips you over and enters you once more in a single swift movement. His pace picks up and you exhale slowly, melting into the pleasure, your eyes trained on the array of faces he’s making above you.

“You’re perfect, angel.” Taehyun’s voice drops into a murmur, his bangs falling perfectly around his face. “I’ve always wanted to do this with you, baby. Not only because you’re really hot, but”—he lets out a moan here—“also ’cause I really, really like you, and I don’t wanna fuck the shit out of you for no reason, I—I also wanna take you on dates, and—” He pauses and groans when you squeeze down on him, eyes twisting shut. “Ah, shit, and I wanna fuck you not as a one time thing, but—fuck, but as like, a boyfriend thing—mm—you know?”

You let out a moan, your eyes cracking open incredulously. “You’re telling me this now?” you pant.

Taehyun laughs but goes even faster, his hands still tight around the softness of your waist. You cry out and latch onto his strong arms, wondering if this is happening, if this is real, if Taehyun really just confessed to you in the middle of rearranging your guts. You can’t believe this. Your heart flutters. Your pussy throbs. God, what is wrong with him?

Taehyun’s hand moves up to your jaw. He tilts your chin up and presses your lips together in a slow, slow kiss. “Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. Shit,” he says, kissing you again and again. He looks almost desperate, moving inside you, his entire face flushed red. “I love kissing you. Such a pretty girl, my baby, aren’t you? I—oh, fuck, you feel so good, I like you so much.”

“Shit,” you mewl, reaching up to cup his face. He kisses the corner of your mouth, moving almost desperately now, moaning loudly against your skin. “Fuck, Taehyun, you’re crazy—fuck—”

“Tell me how beautiful you are,” Taehyun rasps, not sounding like himself at all, but he moves his hips impossibly faster, and his hand trails down to your neck. “Tell me how pretty you look while your pussy chokes this dick, fuck.”

You wail, your hands flying up to grasp at his wrists. “I’m—’m a puh-pretty girl, fuck, ’m so pretty—”

“That’s right, princess. Are you close? You wanna come?” he rasps, reaching down now to rub your clit. “Go ahead, baby, come on my cock, please, fuck, come on—”

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your breath hitching, as you feel the waves of your oncoming orgasm. 

“—cream on it, sweet girl, make me proud, wanna feel you coming for me, ’cause of me—”

You cry out from underneath him and you jolt so suddenly it startles him; your back arches off the bed and your thighs clamp around him and you go very, very still. You come for a long time, breathing and whining throughout it; Taehyun keeps moving, easing you out of it, his hands rubbing and squeezing your waist until finally your muscles relax and you go slack, melting back into the mattress.

“That’s it, pretty, good job,” he murmurs, running feather-light touches up and down your torso. “Good job, princess, what a sweet girl.”

He slides out of you after a minute, and you make a noise; you crane your neck to watch as he peels off the condom. “Did you come?” you ask, your voice awfully quiet. He looks up at you and smiles.

“It’s fine, baby.”

You move to sit up. “No, no—”

“Angel, I’m good.”

“You’re still—”

“Shush.” Taehyun scoots closer to you, settling on his elbows between your legs. “I still want to taste you.”

An hour later, you find yourselves lying in bed together. After making you come another time on his tongue and finally coming after the world’s best handjob, Taehyun had scooped you up and seated you in the bathtub, where you took turns washing each other’s hair and giggling deliriously about what had just happened. You smell overwhelmingly like his shitty male body wash, but you find it hard to care that much when he’s buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Seeing that your friendship was effectively ruined in the best way possible, you find it hard not to giggle a little, wrapped in his arms. Taehyun’s hands, sliding smooth and gentle across your torso, stop abruptly.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks, sounding affronted.

“You. You’re ridiculous.”

“What? I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just ask me out on a date? As opposed to offering to fuck me. You came off a little strong with that, you know,” you mumble. “Now that I think about it, it was kind of a dick move.”

“Sorry,” Taehyun grumbles. “I’ve asked you out to dinner multiple times but you kept calling them friend dates so I gave up on that.”

“You were trying to flirt with me? I had no idea.”

“Clearly. That’s why I had to stop trying to make romantic advancements and just settled on asking to fuck you instead. The dildo was the perfect incentive.” His fingers move up to tangle in your hair. “I had—I have, like, the biggest, stupidest crush on you. It’s embarrassing.”

You smile. “Lucky you. I like you, too.”

He breathes out, presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Thank god. I was waiting for you to say it,” he says quietly. “We don’t have to talk about it now, though. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

“Fine with me. Why were you even looking at my Amazon wishlist, anyway?”

“Well.” Taehyun stills his hands and clears his throat. “I was trying… to pick out… a birthday gift for you.”

“A birthday gift?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t laugh.”

You start to laugh. “Oh my god,” you say again, in between giggles. “My birthday isn’t for another two months, dumbass.”

“I wanted to be prepared!” Taehyun protests, pinching lightly at your waist. “I told you, I have the biggest fucking crush on you. I was gonna give you a bunch of little gifts. And actually, I was planning to ask you to be my girlfriend. I was so excited, too. Asked the guys for help and everything. Soobin was going to hold up the sign. And Beomgyu was in charge of finding a nice place.”

You snort, twisting around to kiss him. “Sorry for laughing. You’re just an idiot sometimes,” you mumble, and kiss him again. “If it makes you feel better, I would have said yes. And anyway… I kinda knew you liked me. The walls are very thin, you know.”

Taehyun tenses up behind you. “What?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“I hear you jacking off all the time. I’m sorry to break it to you. At least you sound pretty.”

Taehyun groans and presses his nose between your shoulderblades. “Fuck you,” he says, muffled.

You hum. “We’re even.”

tyun: pussy so good i professed my undying love for her

[rollinouttahere-writes]

platonic yandere shanks and child reader

Better Left Unsaid

Yandere Shanks x GN Child Reader

3k words

“Don’t.”

With one leg still thrown over the side of the ship, you whip around and glare at Yassop. You dropped your head onto the railing and groaned, “Come on! I won’t even leave the docks, please!”

Yassop looked up from the gun that he was polishing, shooting you a weary look, “You know the rules, kid.”

“The rules are stupid!”

“Take that up with Shanks if you think so,” he replied in a bored tone.

You give out the most exasperated sigh and hop down from the railing with a huff. The boards creaked under the impact, more so after you began stomping across the deck. Both of you knew full well that talking to Shanks would get you nowhere. He’s the captain and your dad, he isn’t about to take orders from you.

Using more force than probably necessary, you open and slam the door to the captain’s quarters. It doubled as your bedroom, too. That was fine when you were little, but now you wanted your own space. Every time you tried to tell him this, you would just get waved off and told there was no room. It was either his room or bunking with all the other guys, so you begrudgingly accepted your fate of staying where you were. At least he put up a curtain to give you a little privacy.

After flopping onto your bed, you screamed into your pillow at the top of your lungs while kicking your feet on the bed. This was so unfair!

All you wanted was to leave the damn ship on a populated island. The only times you ever got to set foot on solid land was if they stopped at an uninhabited island, but that wasn’t enough for you anymore. You wanted to see people that weren’t your family, see sights that you don’t usually get to see, and pick out your own damn clothes for once! Was that really so much to ask for?!

Violently, you flipped onto your back and scowled at the ceiling, clutching your screamed-in pillow to your chest.

This was all so frustrating, but you didn’t know how to fix it. Talking to your dad was pointless, he never listened to you when you were complaining. The crew was just as bad, they treated you like a baby. But they were all you had. Shanks didn’t let you see, much less talk, to anyone else.

What you needed was leverage. You needed something that would give you enough of an upperhand to get him to listen to you. In essence, you needed blackmail, and you were in the perfect place to find some.

You grinned maliciously as you sprung out of your bed and marched over to his side of the room. Surely there had to be something in here that would give you some dirt on him! You aren’t sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure you’ll know it when you see it.

First was the bed. You lifted up the mattress to peek under and see if anything was hidden underneath. Nothing.

Next was the bedside table. You opened all of the drawers one by one. While you did find some stuff, it wasn’t anything useful. Some old maps, pens, notebooks with nothing interesting in them, a mostly empty booze bottle. Nothing scandalous enough to get a leg over on him.

There was a clothes dresser, too. At first you hesitated. No one wants to risk seeing their dad’s underwear, but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Pulling open the first drawer, you found a bunch of shirts haphazardly shoved into it. None of them were folded, and it looks like he filled this thing up blindfolded and under intense pressure. No wonder his clothes are so wrinkled. It was a bit of a struggle to close when you were done rifling through it due to how jam-packed it was. Part of a shirt was sticking out after you finally slammed it shut, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. It’s not like you were going to make it look any worse.

The next drawer was similar to the first in terms of how messy it was, but this time with pants. It’s no longer a mystery as to why he perpetually looks like he just rolled out of bed. Whatever, his unfortunate state of fashion is of no real concern to you.

As you dug through the mess of pants, your fingers made contact with something solid. You froze briefly but quickly snapped out of it and grabbed whatever it was you touched. It took a bit of effort, but you freed the object from its tangled up prison. It was a small box. With a lock on it.

Perfect!

This had to be it! If he cared enough to lock it up, then there must be something top secret in here! Giddily, you scurried back to your bed with your findings, not even bothering to kick the dresser shut. You were going to be confronting him with this anyways, no need to be secretive about it.

The box was tossed onto your bed while you dug through your own bedside table, looking for your lockpicking kit. Shanks was about to regret teaching you how to do that. 

You threw the kit next to the box and hopped on the bed. The lock was tiny and appeared to be uncomplicated, you’re betting you’ll have it open in under a minute. Grabbing your slimmest hook, you jammed it into the keyhole.

It unlocked instantly. Damn, you might have to make fun of your dad for using such a useless lock.

The lock was discarded and you opened the box. It was full of pieces of paper and photographs. Interesting. You pick up the first photo you see. It’s facing down, the back of it says ‘Uta - 2’. You flip it over, curious to see what that note on the back means.

It’s a picture of your dad when he was much younger, but that wasn’t what stuck out to you. What really caught your eye was the little girl he was holding. She was very young, and her hair was split down the middle with one side being white and the other red. Both of them were grinning from ear to ear. You can’t remember ever seeing your dad look that happy.

You look at the note again. ‘Uta - 2’. The girl looked to be about two years old, so that was probably her age. Was Uta her name? That made sense.

But who is she? 

No one has ever mentioned someone named Uta being on board. As far as you were aware, you were the only child that’s ever been with them. Maybe this picture was taken before Shanks became a pirate? No, wait, it can’t be that either. He’s never not been a part of a pirate crew.

You need more information. Setting the picture aside, you start pulling more stuff out of the box. There’s some sheet music. The handwriting is somewhat neat, but also big and exaggerated with more loops than necessary and hearts dotting the i’s. Like it was written by a child. On the bottom, the name Uta was signed in large cursive letters.

Another photo is taken out, Shanks isn’t in it, but Uta and other members of his crew are. Uta is standing on a box like some sort of a makeshift stage, and appears to be singing if you had to guess. The others were clapping and cheering her on. This was definitely taken a while ago. Benn’s hair hadn’t even turned gray yet. The back of it said ‘Uta - 5’.

The next picture once again has Uta in it. She’s sitting next to a little boy with black hair and a scar under his eye.

Why does your dad have so many pictures of some girl you’ve never even heard of? This definitely feels like a secret, but you’re so confused about what you’re finding that you can’t bring yourself to feel like this is really a victory for you. You need to dig deeper.

Once again, you reach for another photo, one with three people in it this time. You instantly recognize Shanks and Uta, who you don’t know is the seemingly newborn baby in Shanks’ arms. His expression is nothing but soft and adoring, while Uta’s is a combination of curious but excited.

How many damn kids has your dad taken in and proceeded to just never mention ever?!

You flip over the picture to figure out who this one is supposed to be, but freeze up when you read it.

‘(Y/N) - Just got here!’

That’s… you? You and Uta were here at the same time, but you’re just now finding out about her? What the hell is going on?

Frantically, you unceremoniously dump out the rest of the contents of the box. You’re desperate to find answers, anything that could explain why your dad has this top secret box dedicated to whoever this Uta girl is.

A picture that stands out to you is one of Uta helping the baby- you- stand. You’re a little older here, roughly a year old it would seem. A quick glance at the back confirms your guess as correct, and that Uta is seven. She’s six years older than you. Since you no longer have the squished face of a baby just welcomed into the world, your features are actually recognizable. This is definitely you and not just some other kid named (Y/N).

The mystery unraveling in front of you is so engrossing that you’re deaf to the world around you. That is, until the door to the room is thrown open. Your heart leaps into your throat. Oh shit! Why is he back so soon?! You scramble to quickly but quietly pile your findings back into their box.

“(Y/N), I got you something in-” Shanks voice falls flat and stops abruptly in the middle of the sentence. No, no, no! How does he know something is wrong already?!

You didn’t close the dresser.

Before you can even begin to think of what to do next, Shanks drops whatever he was holding and closes the distance between you two and rips the curtain to the side. All you can do is shrink in on yourself and gawk at his furious expression.

The second his eyes land on the box in your hands, he snatches it into his own. He stomps away and slams it onto the dresser while hastily rifling through it. He hasn’t said a damn thing to you since the realization of what you did. 

Damage control, you need to do damage control, and fast. You move to stand, and utter out a quiet, “Dad?”

“Sit. Down,” his tone was sharp and left zero room for argument. He’s never spoken to you so coldly, even during your worst arguments. 

 All you wanted was to have a chance to explore the town, and now look where that has gotten you. This was a stupid mistake. Shanks and his crew were all you had, and now you’ve made a huge problem of yourself. What would happen to you if he decided you weren’t worth the hassle anymore?

You couldn’t help it. Between all the previous confusion mixed with his harsh treatment broke the dam and tears started to pour down your face. You sniffle loudly while furiously wiping at your face, and force out, “I-I’m sorry.”

With your head being in your hands, and your eyes clouded with tears, you have no hope of being able to gauge his reaction. Or see if he even cares enough to pay you any mind. Probably not, not when he’s this mad at you. 

Your bed dips from the weight of Shanks sitting down next to you. Without hesitation, you latch onto him, burying your face in his coat while sobbing out apologies. Anything to make him stop being so upset with you. Much to your relief, his arm came around your back and held you to him.

“It’s… fine. I wish you wouldn’t have done that, but it’s nothing to cry about,” his voice was strained, but held the warmth that had been previously absent.

Even with that, you needed time to calm down. While your dad being annoyed with your attitude was hardly a new occurrence, him being genuinely upset was. Frankly, you didn’t know how to deal with this, and you were still terrified about how much damage your actions just did.

Shanks didn’t say anything else, instead choosing to sit in silence with you. You couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse. Actually, you could decide. The lack of words was absolutely worse, but you didn’t know what to say right now either.

“Yassop told me you tried to sneak off the ship. Again.”

Nevermind. You wish to go back to silence. All you did in response was bury your face deeper into his coat while mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ for your actions. You were going to dump out that snitch’s booze stash later. 

His chest heaved with the sigh he let out, and his hand came up to pat your head, “I know that you don’t like this, I understand that, but sometimes you have to do things you don’t like.” There was a pause, but when you didn’t respond, he continued, “It’s for your own good. The world is a dangerous place.”

“But… But you’re an emperor. You’re the Red Haired Shanks. What’s the worst that could happen if we just go for a walk in town?” As far as you’re concerned, there’s no threat that your dad can’t handle, not to mention the rest of his crew. Even if someone is stupid enough to try something, they’ll deal with it.

He chuckled, but it was humorless, empty, “Just because I’m an emperor doesn’t mean that bad things won’t still happen. That bad things haven’t already happened.”

“Where is Uta?”

Bringing her up was risky, you knew that, but you need answers. You need to get to the bottom of why Shanks is like this, and this is the closest you feel that you’ve ever come to finding out.

Shanks became rigid at the mention of her name. The hand on your head was now squeezing, bordering on painful from how tight it was. You tried to wiggle away but couldn’t break his hold. 

“She’s gone.”

“She died?!” While you didn’t know what to expect, it certainly wasn’t that.

“No!” Shanks' hand dropped down onto your shoulder and wrenched you away from him. His eyes were wide and wild, “She’s not dead!”

You visibly recoiled from him, you can’t remember a time you’ve ever heard him yell. Once again, you can feel your eyes start to water and your lip tremble. God, what you wouldn’t give for this whole interaction to just be over already. Or for it to have simply never happened in the first place.

His face fell, and he looked away from you with a grimace. Mercifully, his grip had relaxed a bit and no longer felt like a vice on you. “Uta is alive and well, she just isn’t here. Not anymore.”

“Why not? Where is she?” You had more questions with every answer he gave, this wasn’t making any sense. What could have happened to result in her not being here? He wouldn’t just… abandon her. Would he?

“Because I wasn’t able to protect her,” his voice was so quiet that if you were any further away from him you wouldn’t have heard him. “She needed to be left in someone else’s care for her own good. I wasn’t able to keep her safe, and that’s something that I will never let happen again. Not with you.”

“But what happened? I don’t understand,” you felt like you were simultaneously getting closer and also further from the truth. Nothing about this was making sense. There was a bigger story here, but he was seemingly hellbent on keeping his answers to you vague. 

“You don’t need to understand, you’re just a child. Do both of us a favor and forget about what you saw and what’s been said,” Shanks got to his feet, moving to leave not only the conversation, but also the room entirely.

You launched yourself off the bed and grabbed onto his arm, “Wait! You can’t just tell me to forget about this! I want answers!” You weren’t about to let him get out of this discussion so easily.

“Well, (Y/N), sometimes you don’t always get what you want. We’re done talking about this,” the way he spoke to you was slightly condescending. He turned to face you and crouched down to be at eye level, “How about you take a nap? Seems like you need one.”

You were getting on his nerves, that was a given, but you couldn’t up and let this go. Scoffing, you crossed your arms and glared at him, “I don’t need a nap, I’m not a baby.”

Shanks smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, “Could’ve fooled me with the way you’re acting today.”

As much as you wanted to yell and be mad about what he just said, your mind went blank. You felt dizzy and like you couldn’t remember how to control your body. A second later, you stumbled and crashed into Shanks who caught you with ease.

Haki. He used Haki on you. 

Distantly, you registered being lifted off the ground. Your head was pounding and felt like it was packed with cotton to the point of bursting. A few steps later, you were dropped on a bed. You’re so out of it that you can’t even tell if it’s yours or his.

An attempt was made to say something, anything, but your tongue refused to cooperate. All you could do was stare up at the blurring form of Shanks helplessly, wondering why he would go to such an extreme over you asking a few questions. 

The last thing you remember is a blanket being pulled over you before everything fades to black as you’re forcibly thrown into a restless sleep. 

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 8

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, I don’t know how car insurance works sue me, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: This one’s a heavy one…

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Javy hates the way his heart hammers in his chest, to the point that he swears that he can hear the echo in the single-stall bathroom. There isn’t really anywhere to sit and the toilet doesn’t have a lid so he’s planted his back against his wall for support as he squats awkwardly and removes his gear. He’s sweating like a pig at this point. Being in full gear isn’t anything new, but usually, the rink is at least cold and your classroom when packed with two dozen kids and at least half as many parents hasn’t exactly been a picnic. It’s worth it though, for that tiny smile you’ve had on your face since you saw him. Well, he and Jake, but he’s trying not to think too hard about that. You hadn’t corrected him when he called you Meep either. Hope tightens the noose around his heart as he glances at where he’s hung your keys on the hook on the back of the door.

He peels his gear off, wrinkling his nose at the smell and wishing that he had asked if there was a gym locker room he could use so he could jump in the shower but he figured an elementary school probably wouldn’t have those. Once he’s gotten out of his gear and he’s left standing amid the pile like a fool, he’s still hesitating to put on his clean clothes. He knows that hockey players stink. God knows his sisters and mom complained enough growing up. He wants to make a good impression. He steps over the mess on the floor over to the sink. He looks from the paper towel dispenser to the sink before he shrugs. He dampens a folded paper towel and does his best to wipe himself down. It’s not the same as a shower but it's something. He tugs on his clean clothes and sprays himself with a few spritzes of cologne for good measure before he stuffs the sweaty gear into his duffle. When he’s done, he grabs your keys, examining your ID badge. In the picture, you’re smiling at the camera, albeit in that shy way you always do, significantly different than the way you smile around your students. The plastic of your ID is almost completely covered by little stickers that he knows must be your students’ handiwork and he smiles to himself as he leaves the bathroom, and fumbles to find the key you’d taken great effort to make sure he wouldn’t forget, locking the room behind him before he heads back the way you’d gone.

***

When you get back to your classroom, Jake and Josie have fallen into an easy conversation that you’re sure comes from the familiarity of having known each other for the last five months. They both look up when you come in. Jake makes a show of looking around you for Javy before he quirks an eyebrow at you. “You left him there by himself? What if he falls in!” You roll your eyes and don’t miss the way Jake’s smile widens when you do.

“Jake, I teach kindergarteners for a living, and I promise you, no one actually falls in.” He laughs at that and Josie gives you an impressed look as you cross past them to get to your desk and you pull out your lunch before looking at the sandwich that Jake’s eating that looks suspiciously like the one in Josie’s hands. “You packed them lunch?” You ask as Josie reveals a third sandwich, placing it on an empty corner that’s now been silently assigned to Javy. Josie shrugs.

“Call it a motherly instinct. I know what Penny suggests for them since I cook for Reuben so I thought I’d make them something to hold them over until they get back to work.” Jake thanks her through a full mouth and both you and Josie make a face of disgust. “Jake Seresin, you’re a grown man, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Josie admonishes and Jake has the good sense to look chagrinned as he swallows.

“Thanks for coming, by the way.” You speak up before you forget to thank Jake. “It really means a lot to the kids.”

Jake waves your thanks off. “I love visiting schools. It was my favorite thing to do back when I was back in Dallas. I got to go to my old elementary school a few times, and nothing really comes close to that.”

“Says the man who’s won a cup before,” Josie says, arching an eyebrow.

“Well one of the times I went was when I took said cup there, so the joke’s on you, Jo.” She rolls her eyes and goes back to her sandwich. The door opens and Javy comes back into the room. Josie gestures to a chair at the closest desk to yours and Javy pulls it up. When you see him fold his much-too-large body into the tiny chair, you wince as you take your keys back from him.

“Here, Javy, we can switch seats if you want?” You start to stand up but he waves you off.

“Don’t worry about it, Meep.” You see Josie raise an eyebrow at you in response to the nickname but she doesn’t say anything.

“Meep?” Jake says, but his voice is garbled around another bite of sandwich and both you and Josie glare at him.

“JAKE!” He puts a hand up in apology and swallows as Javy grins at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but Meep? What’s that about?”

Javy shrugs as he unwraps his sandwich. “She’s the Roadrunner, right? So, Meep,” he shrugs as he takes a bite of his sandwich as Jake snorts.

“You realize the Roadrunner says ‘beep beep’ right? Not ‘meep meep.’” Javy stops chewing mid-bite. Jake bursts out laughing at Javy’s reaction and you can’t help the smile that twists the edge of your mouth. Javy frowns at Jake but you can tell it’s in a comedic sense.

“How was I supposed to know that!” He complains indignantly when he finishes swallowing. “It’s not like it enunciates!” A giggle rises in your throat at the sight of these two grown men cramped into your students’ chairs bickering about Looney Tunes. Javy turns to you at the sound and opens his mouth presumably to say something but he’s interrupted by your door swinging open without warning. Your expression shutters instantly and your lips purse into a thin line as Jeremy comes in. He’s wearing a chagrinned expression that can’t be good.

“No way, you know Mark said he thought he saw you guys walk by his classroom? But I didn’t believe him.”

“What do you want, Jeremy?” Josie says in a tone that sounds bored. “If you came to bother the ogle hockey players, you’re going to have to buy a ticket.”

“Oh, right.” He shrugs. “When Mark and I were going to lunch, we noticed that it looked like someone had accidentally backed into your car, Roadie.”

“WHAT?” You can’t help the indignant squawk that comes out of your mouth laced with panic as you scramble to your feet, lunch forgotten.

“What’s to say you and Mark didn’t do it?” Josie says cooly, eyes narrowing. Jeremy looks shocked at the suggestion.

“Why would I even bother lying about that? My insurance would cover the damage if I did. My guess is that it was one of the parents who came in for career day.” You shake your head, unable to wrap your head around the news. You grab your keys in a haze, needing to see the proof for yourself.

“Roadie wait!” You hear Josie call out from behind you, but you don’t stop, shoving Jeremy out of the way when you get to the doorway and speedwalking towards the parking lot. When you get outside you all but run to where you park every day and your heart sinks as you look at your car, or at least what’s left of it. Backed into it is an understatement. The extent of the rear damage means that whoever did so was in a hurry and you blink hurriedly to try and stave back tears as you stare at the mess that’s what’s left of your car.

“Fuck…” You turn to see that Javy’s followed you. “Did they leave a note or anything?” Javy crosses over to inspect the windshield of your car. When he comes back empty-handed he shakes his head in disbelief. “Maybe they talked to someone in the front office?”

“Roadie, there you are! SHIT!” Josie and Jake make it to where you’re still frozen, staring at your car. Javy’s saying something to Jake that you can’t hear before Jake nods and heads back toward the building.

“I asked Jake to go see if whoever did this left their information with the office. Shit, Roadie, I’m so sorry.” As Javy apologizes, you feel the first fat traitorous tear escape your eyes.

“Oh honey,” Josie says as she notices the tear carving a line down your face, your lips quivering. She wraps you in her arms and you hide your face in her chest. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” She rubs your back encouragingly. “That poor car was on its last legs as it was. You said you’ve had it since you were in high school?”

“College,” you sniffle. “It was a graduation present from my parents when I moved out to go to college. And she’s not that old, she drove just fine.” Josie gives you a squeeze before letting you go and you wipe furiously at your damp cheeks that you’re sure are already starting to get puffy.

“You should probably call a tow, and then give your insurance a call.” She points out and you wince. You hate making phone calls, even though it’s an important part of your job, and you can’t help the way that you squirm at the idea.

“I’ll call the tow.” Javy pipes up and you look at him, surprised, having forgotten he was still here. “Take some pictures of the damage and we can go from there.” You nod wordlessly. “I can give you a lift home too, if you want?” The sentiment is appreciated but you shake your head.

“That’s okay, Javy, I’ll just get a ride home with Josie,” but Josie shakes her head too.

“Sorry Roadie, I’ve got parent-teacher conferences today, and the kids are just going to hang out with after-school care until I’m done. Go with Javy.”

“But we still have afternoon classes, I can’t leave yet.”

“I’ll come back and pick you up. Just tell me what time.” Javy says like it’s that simple.

“She should be done by 4,” Josie says before you can protest.

“Perfect, I’ll be there,” Javy says. “Now I’m going to call the tow, so I’d take whatever you need to out of the car.” You’ve given up control of the argument at this point so you just do what he asks.

“I’m going to go ask the custodians about getting some stuff to clean up the broken tail lights.” She heads after Jake back into the school, leaving you and Javy alone.

You collect your stuff in silence as Javy makes the phone call a few feet away. He’s finished by the time you’ve stuffed everything in your car into two grocery bags that you found under a seat since your trunk is jammed shut at the moment. You haul the bags around the other side of the car and place them by your feet as Javy gives you a once-over. “You okay, Meep?”

You let your shoulders slump as the exhaustion sets in. “Not really,” you whisper and he nods slowly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shrug and he just waits.

“I just… I just really can’t afford a new car right now.” You whisper. “And I know fixing my car isn’t going to be worth it, and I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“I could buy you a car,” Javy says nonchalantly and you wait for the laugh and when it doesn’t come you turn to gape at him.

“JAVY, I’m not letting you buy me a car!”

“Why not?” He says, cocking his head to the side. “I can afford it. You can’t. And let’s face it, if you’d decided to sue me, maybe you would be able to. So, let me buy you a car.”

“No.” You frown at him. “No, absolutely not, Javy, I can’t let you do that.” You shake your head firmly. He looks like he’s thinking about arguing. “Javy, I mean it. I’m not letting you buy me a car.” You cross your arms across your chest.

“Fine, fine.” He relents. “Then at least let me lend you one of my cars.” You gawk at him.

“Cars? As in plural?” You stammer and he shrugs.

“Yeah, I have three, and as you know, I only really need one.” You shake your head in disbelief.

“Still, I don’t think I could drive any of your cars, Javy… no offense.” He must realize what you mean and he laughs.

“Oh don’t worry, they’re not all like the one you rode in. That one’s mostly for show. It’s the one the press recognizes and the one I usually take girls in. I think I have the perfect one for you, actually.” He must see the skepticism in your eyes so he adds, “I can show you after work if you want? And then you can decide.” You know you’re not exactly in the position to be picky right now so you relent and nod.

“Looking can’t hurt,” you say and he smiles.

“Perfect.”

***

By the time the school day finally comes to an end, you’re exhausted. Javy ended up taking the bags from your car with him so you didn’t have to find space for them in your classroom and Jake and Josie got the front office to see what they can do to try and pull footage from the security tapes in the parking lot to find out who hit your car. You had to make the call to your insurance company while your students took their afternoon nap and you just want to go home and take an early night. You’re packing up your things after helping with pickup duty when a knock at your door makes you look up. Javy waves through the window and you motion for him to come in.

“Hey, you’re early,” you say, looking up at your clock that lets you know he’s fifteen minutes early to be exact.

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t waiting.” He says and you give him a tired smile.

“Thanks again for doing this, and sorry for the inconvenience.” Javy shakes his head as you collect your belongings. He holds out a hand for your backpack and you tentatively hand it to him and he slings it over a shoulder with ease. The floral patterned fabric looks comical against his dark t-shirt and muscled shoulders but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Meep, you’re not an inconvenience.” He says and you can’t help the way your heart flutters at the easy yet sincere way he says it. He reaches a hand out to you and you’re surprised to find that you take it, letting him hold your hand as the two of you walk out.

When you get to the parking lot, Javy leads you toward a forest-green Range Rover SUV. “This is my usual ride.” He explains, before opening the trunk and placing your backpack next to the bags you’d sent with him earlier. As Javy pulls out of the parking lot he turns to you. “I don’t want you to feel like I only offered to drive you because I wanted to get you alone, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Well, more like apologize to you.” You twist the seatbelt nervously as Javy finally addresses the elephant in the room.

“What I did that day wasn’t just shitty, it wasn’t fair to you.”

“I mean it wasn’t really though?” You say, shifting your gaze down to your lap. “Even when we signed the contract, I knew there would be other girls, you know? I mean you have needs and I told you I wouldn’t have sex with you. I just… I guess I expected you to be more private about it since we were supposed to be dating.” When Javy doesn’t say anything you look up to see him gaping at you.

“You thought I’d be seeing other girls while I was dating you?” His voice is touched with disbelief and you try to ignore his word choice.

“I mean there wasn’t exactly a celibacy clause, and sure I never planned on seeing anyone else, but that didn’t mean I expected you not to.” You shrug. “It’s not like your job was on the line.”

“Roadie no… no… I… I never had any intention of seeing other girls when I was with you. I just…” He sighs and you think maybe it sounds a bit shaky. “Hold on,” he makes a turn and you look up in time to see him pull into a fast food parking lot. Once he parks, he turns his attention fully to you. “I mean it. I didn’t plan on seeing anyone else while we were dating.”

“Pretending to date,” you interject and he nods.

“Right, yes,” he says. “Look, I haven’t been in a real relationship in years, Roadie. I just… well I told you some of it already. I’ve had a lot of people leave me in my life: my dad, my uncle, Jake. And I know it’s not a good reason, but I hated how that made me feel. I hated being left alone so I never wanted to feel that way again, and I didn’t want to ever make someone else feel that way, so I decided that casual relationships were the best way to do that. The girls always knew it wasn’t going to turn into anything real, I was always very adamant that they knew that going in, and so they didn’t care if I left, and I didn’t care when I did. And then I met you, and I know it was supposed to be an act, but it, it was the closest thing I’d had to something real in a long time and I got scared. Seeing our pictures in the tabloids, and then meeting people at your job, and meeting your kids, it felt so real and the idea of it ending, knowing it would hurt, freaked me out.”

“I was flirting with those girls before I even fully thought about it. I didn’t even consider that it would hurt you the way it did because I was so busy worrying about how I didn’t want to get hurt, and I’m sorry about that. I really never intended to hurt you. I promised you that I wouldn’t and I broke that promise and I’m so sorry.” When you look up from your hands, you see Javy’s eyes widen in response to the tears tracking down your cheeks.

“When I was a senior in high school,” you whisper and you hate how weak your voice sounds. “This guy on the football team asked me out. He wasn’t the star quarterback or anything but I’d never had a boyfriend before. I’d never even had a boy give me the time of day, and I was so excited that I forgot to be nervous. He wanted me. He actually wanted someone like me.” You smile slightly through the tears as they keep flowing. “He was perfect. He was so sweet and thoughtful. I didn’t really have any friends in high school and for the first time, I wasn’t alone. It felt so nice.” You wrap your arms around yourself to try and keep your hands from shaking. “And then he took me to prom and it was perfect, it felt like a dream come true. Then I went to the bathroom to touch up my makeup and I guess I didn’t take as much time as he expected because when I got back all his friends were high-fiving him and giving him money.” You swallow to try and dispel the lump in your throat but it won’t go away. You shake your head. “Turns out they’d had a bet over it all. It was all just a game to them.” You hate how small you sound but you manage to get the words out. “I felt so stupid that I didn’t see it sooner, you know? But I never once considered it or questioned why he’d want to be with me of all people. It must have been a lot of money if he was willing to put up with me for four whole months.” You’re shaking now. You’ve never told anyone the truth about Andrew. Not even your parents knew, you’d just told them that you’d broken up because you were going separate ways for college.

“Roadie…” You have to force yourself to look up at Javy. You expect pity, second-hand embarrassment maybe, but what you’re met with is white-hot rage. You flinch away on instinct at the intensity in Javy’s eyes. “What’s his name? I’m going to kill him.” You start with surprise at Javy’s words.

“It was over a decade ago, Javy, it doesn’t matter.” You shake your head, trying to talk him down. Javy shakes his head back and then he’s opening his door and getting out of the car. You sit up straighter, trying to see where he’s going and you’re surprised to find he’s coming around to your side. For a second, you consider locking the door in a moment of fear but you leave it. Javy said he wouldn’t hurt you. Javy swings your door open and before you can ask him what’s going on, he wraps you in his arms, pulling you close. You squeak in surprise, your seatbelt digging into your neck at the awkwardness of the position.

“It does matter. It clearly still makes you upset, so yes it does matter. You matter.” He enunciates the last sentence as he squeezes you tight. “And I’m so sorry that that happened to you, and I’m even more sorry if I ever for a single moment made you feel like you were reliving that.” Your heart aches as you lean into Javy’s touch and take a deep breath, breathing in the now-familiar scent of him. There’s a touch of sweat under the usual cloud of cologne but instead of wrinkling your nose at the intrusion, you sink into it, relishing in its familiarity.

***

You’re not sure how long you and Javy stay locked in the embrace but eventually, your neck hurts enough that you pull away. When Javy looks at you he notices the seatbelt digging into your neck and hisses at the sight as he instantly goes to slide his warm hand between your skin and the belt. “Shit, Roadie, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” you reassure him and when he looks at you, you know that he understands that your words are about more than just the seatbelt. He leans his head against the frame of the car and looks down at you for a moment longer before he looks behind him at the fast food place you’ve found yourselves in the parking lot of.

“You hungry?” He asks and you give him a watery smile as you nod.

***

Not long after, Javy’s back on the road and you’re eating fries next to him as San Diego traffic crawls around the car. “Look,” Javy says, breaking the comfortable food-induced silence you’ve descended into. “I know you told Zam you wanted out of the contract, but you still need to make sure you can keep your job, right?” You nod, taking a sip of your drink as you consider what Javy’s proposing.

“We have a better idea of where we’re both coming from now, and I think we could do this right if we tried again, but it’s up to you.” You nod slowly as you take a bite of your burger and hold out the fries to Javy’s outstretched hand.

“I think so,” you say slowly, “everyone already thinks we’re dating, and like you said, I do still need a solution to my job problem.”

“I’d want to propose a few changes to the original plan, though,” Javy speaks up and you nod carefully as he smiles around the fries he tosses into his mouth. “Maybe I’m not your real boyfriend, but I’d like to be your friend if that’s okay with you.” You smile shyly around your straw as you nod.

“I think that could be arranged.” You say and he grins at you.

“Good, and I’m going to be straight up with you. I won’t see other girls. I don’t want to see other girls. And it’s not an inconvenience. You’re not an inconvenience, not to me, and if I ever make you feel like you are? You have full authority to kick my ass.” You giggle and he fixes you with a hard look. “I mean it, Meep, if not you then I suppose Josie can do it, I’m sure she’s dying to at this point.” You make a point to look away with a shy smile when he gives you a knowing look. “And the minute you don’t want to do this anymore? Say the word and we’re done. No fuss, no bus.”

“Okay,” you say and Javy reaches across the console to squeeze your hand in his.

“I’m not very good at this, whether it's real or fake boyfriend stuff, but I’m going to try as hard as I can to do it right this time. I promise I won’t hurt you, and this time I’m going to keep that promise. As the traffic continues to crawl and you listen to Javy chatter on about anything and everything, you wonder if you’re going to be able to keep up your half of the bargain, because while you don’t have much experience in the friend or girlfriend department, you’re sure that what you’re starting to feel for Javy is more than friendship.

A/N: So I know there was a lot in that chapter, but how are we feeling about the big reveal?

[thewriterwhowritesnot]

To Have and To Hold

Warnings: Yandere!Aliucard, SMUT, creampie (wrap it before you tap it my dudes this is FICTION! Kids cost money), slight degradation, a little bit of fluff. A/N: Yall, please don't judge me. I had a hell of a rough time writing this out because I had to take a break every three minutes to BREATHE lol. I hope the smut is okay. I'm not ready to be that explicit just yet. I hope y'all like this. This is another 2k words and is not proofread. If you want to be in the taglist just lmk! Summary: You travel to Dracula's Castle to help the owner get the place registered as a historical landmark and enter into an overwhelming relationship with Alucard.

Masterlist Chap 1.

Chapter Two

 The next morning you awake to an old chest half your size in the middle of your room. On top of it, there’s a note.         “ I was informed this morning that your bag was lost in transit and they’re unable to locate it. I took the liberty of getting you some clothes to wear while you’re here. I hope they fit you and if they don’t we can make adjustments. 

A. “

A bit bummed at the loss of your clothes, you open the chest and immediately forget about what small things you packed in your bag. The first piece of clothing was a soft pink sundress with white flowers on it. The Queen Anne neckline was lined with white lace and you loved it instantly. Setting it aside to wear it for the day. There were multiple sets of silk pajamas. Pretty nightgowns and fluffy slippers and beautiful shoes (that were all your size). You giggled like a child in the long mirror against the wall, swaying this way and that. 

Granted, in your job description you wore clothes that kept your skin safe from poisonous spiders, cobwebs, and splinters. But the knowledge that Adrian had picked these out to lend you made butterflies spring to life in your belly and you couldn’t resist thinking of what he’d think of you in them. 

Deciding to bathe before you start your day, you enter the bathroom and examine the large tub and new shower head. The place was spotless and smelled of lemon. You turned on the faucet and allowed the hot water of the shower to steam up the room before getting in. Being too tired to shower the night before you basked in the warmth of the hot water washing the days of travel off your skin. 

However, your peace was short-lived because a rush of cold air cut across your skin beckoning a wave of gooseflesh. There were no vents or holes near the shower so you shut the water off and peered out of the shower curtain. The bathroom door was open and you struggled to remember if you’d closed it or not. Surely, you would’ve closed it to keep the heat in, right? 

         Stepping out of the shower you wrap yourself in a towel and enter the room to find nothing amiss. 

Strange. 

You searched the chest for the round container of lotion you’d spotted when you were rummaging through it earlier. After getting dressed, you leave your room, notepad in hand, and find your way to the kitchen. 

Marguerite is there and quickly introduces herself and offers you a full breakfast. Shamefully, you find yourself very pleased with the fact that she’s an older woman. Much too old to be romantically involved with your host. Her grey hair is pulled back into one bun, pulled away from her round face which is free of wrinkles. Her eyes are almost catlike which would appear almost frightening if not for their warm disposition and the childish curve of her features. She looks incredibly young and old at the same time. You watch as she pours you both a cup of tea and puts exactly four sugars into your tea. 

“How is your room?” Her voice is warm much like her eyes. Hoping she hadn’t noticed your staring, you mix your oatmeal in an innocuous figure eight. “It’s lovely. Everything is perfect and the bed is quite comfortable.” 

Marguerite hums with approval. “Wonderful. I put everything to right myself. The little prince would have nothing less.” Baffled, you turn to face her. 

“Little prince?” 

Marguerite’s warm eyes all but twinkle in the morning light. She sips her tea once before getting to her feet. “I’ve got some small tasks to finish before the morning ends. Once you’re done eating, you may leave your dishes in the sink. I’ll tend to them.” She doesn’t wait for your answer before she leaves, cup in hand.

Curious but too excited to think about it for too long you hastily finish your breakfast. Now, you have a system. Always begin at the first room you entered when you’re exploring a new place. It’s crucial to start in a familiar place so that each new discovery is easier to document and keep track of. Following this system leads you to head to the foyer. The room looked much the same as it had when you’d first arrived except for the streams of light that were pouring in from all directions. You’d missed the windows behind the humongous curtains that covered them the night before. Some of the windows were stained glass and you took a moment to examine them.

Each picture showed a man with dark hair in battle, covered in the blood of his enemies, and returning to the gothic castle you now stood in. 

“A bit grotesque, is it not?”         You jump and whirl around to find Adrian standing behind you much as he had the first time you met. “Have mercy! You’ve got to stop doing that!” His eyebrows draw together as he laughs lightly. Today his hair is in a messy braid down his back. The button-down white shirt he wears is tucked into the sleek black pants that sway over his sandy brown boots. “My apologies, my dear. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His eyes travel from your face down your body and back up again causing those butterflies to flutter up to your heart. Fingers knotted in the dress you wore, your eyes scanned the room nervously. “Thank you for the clothes and the other things. They’re beautiful.” 

“I’m glad you like them. Does everything fit well?”         “Scarily well,” you joke. “I would’ve thought these clothes had been made for me with how perfectly they fit.” His jaw tensed slightly. Confused once again, you opt to examine the stained glass. You hear him inhale slowly.

“I’m told there’s a book in the library that describes the stories in these windows. Would you like to help me search for it?” 

The doors of the library are large. Just as large as the front doors. He pushes them open with ease and leads you into a room full of one of the largest collections of books you’ve ever seen. There are books on every surface. Lining the walls and stacked spaces all over the tables and desks. It was overwhelmingly massive and you took it all in wonder.         “The place is a mess and I haven’t hired anyone to help me organize it all just yet. It’s such a large collection.” 

“Can I help?” The words come out louder than you expect and you can’t see the smile on his lips as he pulls open the heavy curtains of the room. “If it’s not too much for you. I know you’ve only come here to stay a week. Are you sure you’ve got enough time for this?” 

Already eyeing a ruby-red book covered in dust, you nod vigorously. “I’ve got plenty of time. I’m the youngest historian of my group and I’m pretty sure my boss let me go on this trip because he figured it would keep me busy and out of the way of their more important jobs. Jokes on them though, this place is immaculate! I could write a million books about the architecture alone.” You glance over to see him leaning against a table watching you intently. “That is..if you would consent to that.” 

He sits motionless for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t see why not.” Grinning, you begin sorting through the books nearest to you. Several of them are in languages you’ve never seen and you examine them thoroughly. Organizing this library would not be easy but you were reluctant to think about giving yourself a time limit anyway. Judging by the size of this room alone, there was no way you’d be able to sort through it in a month let alone a week. The next three days, you focused on your task while pondering the idea of staying a little longer. 

During this time, you and Adrian had entered a rhythm. You’d wake up in the morning, he’d meet you in the kitchen and you walk together to the library. You’d spent hours in there reading over ancient stories of witches and vampires. All of them fill you with delight. 

You had become accustomed to Adrian being near you throughout this time. Relishing every moment, his skin brushed yours or he leaned over you to read whatever book you wanted to show him. It was on a late night almost identical to the others that Adrian had left without a word and reappeared with a tray with two cups and hot chocolate. 

“You didn’t have to bring me anything.” You replied after many thanks. He shook his pretty head. “Nonsense. After all you’ve done to help me, I won’t hesitate to do whatever I can for you.” He set a smoking cup in front of you before sliding into the chair closest to yours and sipping from his own cup. You watched him as he took a drink and you absentmindedly did the same. The scalding hot liquid bit at the skin of your bottom lip and tongue. You yelped. 

“Shit!” Adrian grasped your chin in one hand and sat your hot mug to the side.

“It’s smoking hot, Y/N. You can’t just inhale it that way.” He all but whispered as his callused thumb gently rubbed your bottom lip. 

“You did.” You mumble. His frown deepened and you watched his face as you impulsively let your tongue slide over the tip of his thumb. His breath caught in his throat. Less than a second later, he slid his thumb into your mouth and you wrapped your lips around it without a second thought. His pupils dilated as he tilted his head, lips parted. You tasted the cocoa on his skin and sighed breathily. 

Quickly, he moved his hand from your chin and pressed his lips to yours. Tilting your head, you leaned into him as he pulled you to his chest and slid his hands down your throat and shoulders. Past your arms and around your waist. Your arms find their way around his neck as you let him slide his tongue between your lips. The sound of your heartbeat and the noises you couldn’t help but make filled your ears. 

Just when you think you might have to lean back for air he breaks the kiss and presses his lips all over your face. Without a word, he lifts you by your waist and you wrap your legs around him quickly. He kisses you again, rougher this time. You don’t know how and nor do you care but soon your back is against the soft cushion of your bed and Adrian is leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and over your collarbones. 

After a moment, he rises and looks into your eyes. You can tell he’s searching for something but is unsure how to ask. The apprehension and obvious vulnerability tug on your heart and you place your hands on either side of his face. You nod, not waiting for him to ask. “Please.” You whisper. He closes his eyes and kisses you again before leaning back on his knees and pulling his shirt above his head from the hem up. You gasp when you see the long scar across his chest. It’s faded greatly, but the outline is still there and you sit up a little to drag your fingers across it. “What happened?” 

He looks to the right. “It was a long time ago.” He said nothing else and you didn’t press him. Gingerly, you pressed your lips to his chest and he shuttered against your lips. Like he’d never been touched there before. In a rush, he slid his hand through your hair held the back of your skull, and kissed you deeply. It was easier for him to undress and explore you without fear now. Eyes on yours, he pulled your panties from around your hips and slid them off. You giggled as he slid his cool fingertips between your knees and slowly spread them. 

You held your breath as his eyes roamed over your body. “So pretty.” He breathed and you whimpered as his hands slid down your thighs and over your pelvic bone. He kissed the bare skin of your shoulder, your knuckles, your thigh, your ankle. He inhaled your scent and you sighed with each touch. His fingertips found their way to the apex of your thighs and slid between your glistening lips. A shuttered moan falls from your lips and he chuckles. He kisses your temple while rubbing slow circles around your clit. 

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you teeter closer and closer to your orgasm. Without warning, he speeds up the movement, sucking the skin of your neck between his teeth sending shivers down your spine as your hips move against his hand of their own accord. In a burst of feeling you tip over the edge. A sharp shriek escapes your lips and it feels like forever before the shocks of pleasure end. As soon as it stops, you huff impatiently. It certainly wasn’t enough to make the heat of your skin cool down and the way he continued to caress your skin was only making it worse. 

He slid between your thighs and lined himself up with your entrance. “Are you ready?” He whispered in your ears. “Yes.” You reply quickly and he laughs at your eagerness. Then he gently presses the head of his cock into you. Both of you moan in unison. The air in the room thickens as he graciously waits for you to adjust to the intrusion. Slowly he edges himself all the way inside of you to the hilt and you fight to breathe. You had guessed he could fill you up but you hadn’t imagined it would feel like this. Your legs were still vibrating with the aftershocks of your first orgasm and you kiss his shoulder before telling him you’re ready for him to move. And that he does. 

Forehead to yours, he pulls his hips away from yours, leaving just the tip inside you before surging forward. The wind is knocked out of you and you squeeze your eyes shut as sounds you’ve never made before push out of your belly and mingle with his own. You lose yourself in the pressure and the rhythm as his hands bring your wrists together above your head. He holds them there with one hand and uses the other to pull your right thigh up higher on his hips. This allows him to reach deeper inside you and your back arches. 

Breath uneven, you raise your hips to meet his thrusts as your second orgasm oh so slowly gets closer and closer. Unable to see and barely able to hear, you beg him. “P-please. Please. Please.” You chant like a sinner praying for salvation. He presses his lips to your ear. 

“Please what?” 

You whimper. 

“Use your words.” He laughs against your skin as he leaves little bite indents on your forearms. The sound of your wetness echoes throughout the room, egging you on in the most obscene manner. All but screaming, you beg him to let you come. He murmurs “Good girl” in your ear and releases your wrists. He brings both of your knees up even higher and your hands grip his biceps as he plows into you. Almost instantly, your body tightens. Your eyes roll as your orgasm finally hits you, causing every part of your body to shake. This time you scream as he presses his hips into yours a few more times before stilling inside you. You watch as he closes his eyes and your name falls from his lips as he comes inside of you. 

Adrian lets your legs slip from his grip and lays down on you. The room is quiet save from the sound of your breathing. You can feel his heart beating against yours and you wrap your arms around him. Hand in his hair, you press your lips to his temple much like he’d done yours and he sighs into you. A smile dances across your lips as you hold him to you. 

“You’re so perfect.” He whispers. “I was going to say the same thing about you.” You reply. He exhales heavily and places a kiss on the inside of your elbow before getting up and entering your bathroom. You hear the faucet water turn on as he hums a song you’ve never heard before. He returns a moment later with a warm cloth and wipes your skin so gently that you feel your heart swell inside your chest. He continues to hum and the sound of his voice lulls you into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @hoppershoe. @c-crow-chatters

[webslingingslasher]

omg can you do y/n asking peter “can I borrow a hoodie?” “I don’t know, will I get it back this time?” and peter asking y/n “are those my sweatpants?” cause they share clothes hehe 😝🤲🏼

based on this prompt list

someone also requested one so i included it, this is kinda like a timeline of their relationship, can you find the taylor swift lyrics?

contains spicy commentary

“That’s my shirt.” 

Was it impressive? Maybe passive aggressive, no, maybe he was annoyed, or threatened? 

Peter had his finger pointed at your shirt, no hidden tone, just stating a fact. 

You play coy, “oh is it? I found it on my bedroom floor, it seemed out of place.” 

You’d started hooking up a month ago, the first time Peter had actually left proof he had stayed in your bed the night before, he was always gone before you woke up and always cleaned his mess up, like he was never there. If he left it there it was on purpose, it’s not like he had a change of clothes at your place, he left without a shirt and there was no way he didn’t know it. 

“It looks really good on you, you should keep it.” 

You look at your phone, you have ten minutes before your next lecture and it is halfway across campus. You start walking away from him, you shout your words behind you as you leave, you miss the bright flush across his cheeks. 

“The shirt or the guy that left it?” 

—---------------------------------------------

Peter’s apartment was freezing, you figure he does it on purpose, to keep you tucked to his side as much as possible. 

“I promise, baby. I didn’t do it on purpose, the heat went out a few weeks ago and I haven’t called the landlord yet.” 

You whine, “but petey, look,” you cup your hands around your mouth and breathe out, you’re expecting a cloud to appear, it’s that cold. 

Peter rolls his eyes at the dramatics, he starts to stack the plates from the coffee table, he has a whole dinner mess to start packing up before his roommate returns. “I’ve been dating you long enough to know that you can handle things much colder.” 

You follow him to the sink, you speak over the running tap, “do you ever think about the fact that we’ve been fucking longer than we have dated?” 

Peter hands you a cup for you to dry off, “no, do you think about fucking me often?” 

Your nose wrinkles, the chill has made its way up your arms. “Kinda, I mean like, you had a lot of game, but now that I like, know you or whatever,” Peter mumbles, ‘or whatever,’ under his breath and you have to smack him lightly with the back of your hand, “you’re kind of a nerd, and I love that! But seriously, how did you take me home without shitting yourself?” 

Peter’s hands are covered by soap suds, “honey, be honest, does this keep you up at night?” 

You groan, “sometimes! Like, when we finally went from fucking to more,” Peter grunts, he always hates when you say that, “the more I learned about you the more I loved, but it also opened up way more questions.” 

Now he’s curious, “like?” 

Your fingertips are starting to wrinkle, one hand holds the wet plate while the other dries. You look over at him with your tongue poking out the side of cheek. “Oh you like this, don’t you?” 

He shrugs, “maybe. You know, I’ll answer anything you ask.” 

He’s just given you the opportunity of a lifetime. 

“Did you try to hook up that night or did it just happen?” 

“I didn’t have that intention, but when you started flirting I went along with it.” 

“Interesting, have you wanted to hook up with me for a while?” 

Peter looks at you then shies away, eye contact on the dishes. “I always thought you were very pretty.” 

“Did you ever fantasize about me before we got together?” 

Peter stops scrubbing, if you don’t break now he’ll cut the conversation short. 

“Kidding! Just kidding, babe.” He relaxes, and continues to scrub.

“Okay, how did you do it?” 

He looks at you when he hands you the last bowl, “whaddya mean?”  He turns off the tap and tugs the rag from your hands to wipe his dry. “Court me, date me, execute taking me home.”

“What, you wanna know you scared the piss outta me?” 

“You’re just being funny now,” you slap the rag across his lower back. 

Peter pushes you against the counter to cage you in, his arms gripping the countertop on either side. Suddenly you feel like he’s taking the easy way out, trying to seduce you subtly. “You made me nervous, you still make me nervous. How did I do it? Pure adrenaline, probably.” 

“Then why didn’t you ask me out on a date?” 

Offended, “I did.” 

You blow your lips, “after two months.” 

“I had to make sure you’d say yes!” 

You grip his shoulders and feel up the muscle, “babe, I had your balls in my mouth and you questioned if I liked you?” 

“Just because you’re hooking up doesn’t mean you want more, and after the first couple times it happened I felt stuck in the loop.” You pout and run your hands all over his arms, you could’ve had him sooner. “Well, I would’ve said yes. I thought it was obvious after wearing your shirt to school.” 

Peter gasps and whispers your name, “are you trying to tell me you tried to claim me?” 

“Yes, but please tell me everything, one time and I’ll never ask again.” He throws his head back with a groan, “I just told you everything!” You whine, “but there’s not enough detail, I love this so much you little mastermind.” 

He sighs and leans in to kiss your forehead, “I had a thing for you since the group project in english one, you were with Jake-” “Ew,” you gag at the mention, Peter exhales a laugh and continues, “at the time, so the most I did was like your instagram pictures. Then, I may have had a friend with an in, who let me know that you were free game,” 

You clench his shirt, “who?” Peter smirks, “I can’t reveal all my secrets, sweetheart.” You narrowed your eyes and waved to continue him along, “so then I found out that you were going to that party, and I promise I was going anyway, but that just really solidified it. And I saw you and walked up to you,” 

Peter pinches at your hips, it makes you squirm and lean into his chest as he lightly tickles you. 

He speaks louder over your giggles and squeaks, “and my knees were like jelly, and I had no idea how I was going to talk to such a pretty girl, and then she looked at me and I swear the second she saw me it’s like she said, ‘that’s who I’ve been looking for,’” 

Soulmates are real and that just proved it. Because that night you saw Peter, truly saw him, you knew he was it for you. He was home, the person you’ve looked for your whole life, and you didn’t know him that well, but it felt like you’ve known him forever. 

“That’s fucking scary cause I really did.” 

“So, I walked over to this beautiful, gorgeous girl, and she told me, ‘about time,’ and all I could think about was that I needed to keep you looking and laughing at me.” 

“How scared were you when I asked you to take me home?” 

“I nearly pissed myself.” 

You push on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his mouth, “If I could go back to Peter like, six months ago and tell him that I am like, soooo in love with him, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” 

Peter frowns, “you’d terrify him, please don't.” 

You push him away and are met with the wall of cold air, you didn’t realize how much Peter was insulating you until he wasn’t there. Peter slaps your ass and passes in front of you, “wanna watch a movie?” 

“Can I borrow a hoodie?” 

“I don’t know, will I get it back this time?” 

—-------------------------------

You’ve been together long enough that mixed laundry has turned into community laundry. 

It didn’t matter if you took a shirt from Peter or if he took your fuzzy socks, both would end up in the same basket, washed at the same time and put into the same closet. 

Sharing a home with someone you loved was incredibly domestic, even the quiet moments were loud with love. 

Peter was upstairs showering, you were folding laundry while humming, a background show playing on the TV. You purposely move your two favorite shirts of Peter’s into your pile, you wear them as nightshirts most evenings, he never wears them anymore because of that. 

You yawn and finish loading the basket, this time it’s clean and folded. 

Steps echo down the stairs, a towel covers Peter’s waist, “hey, baby?” 

“Yeah?” You call out to him, he’s halfway down the stairs. 

“Have you seen my,” he stops and looks down at your feet kicked up on the coffee table. 

“Are those my sweatpants?” 

[oddinarylani]

epilogues to 'i just wish you cared about me'

pt 1: chan, lee know, changbin, hyunjin

a/n: part twos to continue off of the original post, i'll work on maknae line soon.

𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷.↴

there was a sea of green surrounding you. mountains covered in a wash of evergreens intermingled with low hanging clouds and misty fog surrounded the house. the air smelled different there, the humidity nearly smelling sweet - it was fresh and green and freeing. chan had chosen the vacation spot himself and surprised you with the trip, asking you to pack your things and not ask any questions until you arrived. funny enough, when you both arrived, you were too breathless to speak, instead leaning your cheek into his shoulder with awe, your arm wrapped around his waist as your eyes feasted on the display before you. black detailing accentuated the house against the greenery of the forest, it stood out proudly - strong. nearly every wall was lined with floor to ceiling windows, and a waterfall cascaded on a cliff side just across the second floor balcony. 

“chris…” you turned to him, still sleepy and jet lagged from the flight over, a hat sitting low on your brow. “you-you didn’t have to do this.” he grasps your hand, luggage in the other, and lead you to the front door where he keyed in a code to enter. “of course i did.” he chuckles cheekily, smiling as he pulled you inside and left your bags by the front door. 

inside was just as beautiful as the outside of the house, similar black detailing with dark wood accents. your lips remain permanently parted, eyes wide and agape with awe. “i think i might cry, honestly.” you laugh a bit, your hand coming to cover a small bit of your mouth as your eyes watered with happiness. 

you wouldn’t have guessed that seven months into your relationship with chris that you’d be smitten, head over heels, and everything in between. “no noooo, don’t cry.” he grabs you by the waist to pull you into his arms, swinging you from side to side as giggles fill the room. “this is crazy, no one’s ever done something like this for me before.” you laugh more when you feel the water building in your eyes, feeling beyond happy. 

“well i’ll just have to be the first, hm? you deserve it!” his sweater clad hands find your face and your cheeks squish together a bit as he does so. he’s bare faced and so adorable it makes your heart wrench - everytime he smiles it shows in his eyes and the corners of his mouth smoothly wrinkle. it didn’t matter what he did, what he wore, or how he looked - your heart would soar with adoration every time you looked at him. 

“this is- i can’t- how long are we staying?” you ask, hands still resting around his waist. 

“fourteen days.” it’s followed by an attempt to wipe the smug smile from his face, but the house fills with his laughter anyway when he sees your reaction.

“christopher! oh my gosh!” you bury your hands in your face as you feel the tears will actually spill any moment now. 

“it’s okay, baby, it’s okay. i got off work for youuu and i pushed my deadlines baaack, it’s all good!” he wraps you in his big arms again and you quickly follow, burying your face in his chest. 

seven days on your trip, halfway through, and you never wanted it to end. your home was beautiful but this was different. every morning you woke to rain and the sound of the waterfall on the opposite mountainside waking you from slumber with kisses to your ears. coffee was shared with chris on the balcony, he’d wear a jacket with nothing underneath and shorts and it wasn’t the first time you admired him, no, absolutely not, but this trip brought something different out in him. 

he was effortlessly gorgeous. the milky bathe of his skin against his clothes always made him look the prettiest. in reality, he didn’t have to do much to look beautiful. he just was. it made you want to scream, but also made you long to just stare at him a moment longer. the heart shaped curve of his lips, the darkness of his hair, the spread of his collarbones and chest, the column of his neck - you could go on. 

sleep still weighed on your eyes, but you looked over to him one morning with your head resting on the chair you sat on. mist wafted through the crisp air - you wore only his shirt and underwear so the morning breeze kissed your legs and brought goosebumps in it’s wake. “hey, look at me.” you had said. “hm?” he raises his head and looks at you, really looks at you, and feels a bit of flush creeping up his cheeks at just the sight of you looking at him. 

“you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.” 

and maybe it was the lack of filter you faced in the mornings or it was just the swell of your heart in your chest, but either way you were left with a flustered chris in your hands - his cheeks and ears red and his eyes looking elsewhere. “stop,” he draws out, face in his hands. “i should be telling you that.” 

“oh we can make this a battle, i’ll win for sure.” you’re confident, the rain picks up a little. 

“you think so, huh? bring it on.” 

cue you proving effortlessly that he was prettier - though he argued back easily (still red in the face though) it ended in a draw. the decision never made, and chan now truly puddy in your hands. 

the rain yet again woke you from slumber, your eyes remained closed for a moment more as it bring you from sleep in the quiet haze of your bedroom. chan laid next to you, sprawled though his hand remained on your waist, the other tucked up under his pillow. his hair was curled and sweet and he looked so peaceful. peaceful like you’d never seen him before. he wakes a moment later and you’re already reaching for your camera. 

“noooo, don’t take pictures yet. let me put on makeup or something.” he chuckles, burying his face into his pillow as his bare back was now exposed to you. 

“let me, please? you look so pretty right now, i have to.” 

he let you, only after coffee and when he’d woken up some more. you returned him to the bed with his hand in your own, and you told him to just sit. 

he gets himself comfortable, shaking out his hair some more before covering his legs in the covers and looking at your lense. “there, like that.” you kneel one knee into the bed and snap a photo at the perfect angle. you take some more of him sitting up, a few as he stretched and the light hit his ripple of muscle adoringly. his body was perfect to photograph, all that hard work showed in his muscle pattern, the depth and reaches of his skin as it naturally contoured. 

you order him to lay down now, which he does so on his side with his hand supporting his head. “hey,” he nods his head. “how you doin?” of course, since it’s chris, he can’t finish it without laughing. “you’re a dork.” you smile behind the camera, still snapping one in his ridiculous pose. 

you snap more until you have him lay with his head on the pillows and you swing a leg around to straddle his waist. one hand naturally comes to rest on your hip, the other tucks into the pillow behind his head. “so handsome.” you smile, snapping some before he pauses, smiling softly to himself. you lower your camera a bit as his hand comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb stroking your soft skin. 

“i love you.” he says, suddenly. your cheeks flush, but you have the perfect idea. you bring your camera back up with his hand steady on your face still, and snap a picture. 

“i love you more, baby.” you kiss his palm, sitting back on his lap as he leans back up, now resting on his palms as you look over the last few you’ve snapped. his hand reaches perfectly just out of frame, and you admire the shine of love in his gaze that you’ve managed to capture. 

“you look so sweet here,” you frown, showing him the photo. 

he groans, ever his own worst critic. “show that to no one, please.” you lean forward, pressing a kiss to the side of his face. 

“oh it’s gonna be my lockscreen for sure.”

𝓵𝓮𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀.↴

bathed in warmth, heart pumping, blood rushing, washing over your cheeks with a warm flush - putting pinks in your skin, keeping you warm - minho’s careful sweet gaze flutters over your face with admiration of your existence. you were alive. wildly so. it shows in the cuts in your cuticles, the bruises underneath your skin, the redness under your eyes when you were tired, your need to eat - to bathe - to sleep. minho’s gaze turns somber, looking over your face as if he was thinking (he always was)

he’s positive the last of his humanity has left him. he can’t remember. 

how your hair curled around the pillow, looking up at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky. “what’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the stained pink corner of his mouth, and running your thumb over it. he takes your hand before you can pull it from him, turns it over smoothly to kiss your knuckles. “nothing.” it’s simple, sealed with a smile, and he leans back into his palm to look over you in your bed. 

“you’re thinking.” you note simply, holding onto his hand to feel the ripple of chill off his skin. “i’m always thinking.” his brow raises, ever smug as minho typically was. 

your eyes roll lightheartedly. “that i know.. what i don’t know, is what troubles you.” 

his lips tug to the side, you could see his brain working now, wondering if he should tell you or not, pondering over the possibilities. his brow furrows again, this time he looks over your hand, admiring the shine of gold on your finger, reminding you of your love forever awaiting.

“what you said, a few nights ago. about wanting to be changed. that’s what troubles me.” 

you frown softly, wishing to wipe the concern from his handsome face - worry didn’t suit the gold gleam of his eyes, you liked it better when he was smiling. you push yourself to your elbow, matching his gaze now. “i know it does… but it’s a wish i have to stay by your side.”

“you can live out the rest of your days by my side, grow old and i’d still love you.” he assures. 

even just at the sound your heart breaks. “but i want to live centuries with you, i won’t be beautiful when i’m old.” 

his hands smooth over your cheeks, fingers parting when they meet your ears, and he raises your gaze to look at him. “i’ll always want you, even when you age.” 

you smile softly, leaning forward to press your lips to his own just once before parting. “i still wished to be turned. i think it would be cool.”

“cool? my centuries of torment were cool?” he chuckles, laying beside you now. “i didn’t mean it like that! but we’d be a cool power couple.”

minho yet again is left with the tangle of his feelings, unable to make up his mind, feeling as though he wouldn’t please you no matter the outcome. the reality of becoming a vampire was a death beyond comprehension, he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. yet, the idea of ever having to leave you behind tortures him as well. 

“i wish you saw the value in your life.” his voice is soft, a level of sentimental you rarely saw in him. he always kept composure, always quick with a comeback - fast with wit. but to see him melt in the face of your request, leaves your chest aching a bit. 

you shuffle closer to him, cupping the back of his head to let him roll to rest on your chest. “i do have value, i promise you. but i’ll always want you.” your fingers stroke through his hair. 

“this-” he grabs your hand, admiring the heat coming from your body. “this heat. your heart-” his hand falls to your chest, feeling the beat steady. “blood. and warmth. is what i admire. what i miss.” every bit of you is warm, minho could melt to this heat every time he touched you. 

“there is one thing you’ll want more than me when you become one.” 

your head quirks, looking down to him on your chest until his golden gaze meets yours. “blood.”

you came to an agreement over the following weeks - you’d decided long ago your love for minho, and remained firm in your request. the change would be a few feverish days until your heart would stop and you’d eventually turn, he prepared the castle in that time, and stood by your side from the very moment his fangs sank into your neck. 

the fever was unbearable, a few hours of writhing between sleep which you could barely catch. minho would come in with soft words and glasses of blood to soothe the ache in your bones. 

everything stopped when your heart did, and the fever melted away in a few hours. you stood from the bed in your night dress, hair falling over your neck where your bite seemed to stop throbbing. upon trudging to a mirror - you see the shine of gold in your eyes, the stretch of fangs in your mouth, and the beauty in your frozen complexion. 

“m-minho-” you call weakly on wobbly legs, moving to the door where you nearly collapse into it’s frame. 

he’s there in the blink of an eye, catching you before you can fall. “did you-” when you look up at him, he freezes in the gaze of your eyes, his chest aching in a way he hadn’t felt in years. 

“my god,” his hands find your cheeks, he brings you in, firmly kissing you. “you’re so beautiful, so so beautiful,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you before you both melt to the floor. 

he told you endlessly of your beauty when you were human, but every time he said it you still felt the flutter of butterflies in your chest. maybe it was the phenomenon of vampiric attraction, but you felt like the bond between you was getting stronger by the second - almost leaving you light headed as he cradled you on the red carpet. 

“that was… really hard. glad it’s over.” he sees the lethargic energy of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, and he smooths his hands over your hair, leaning in to kiss you once more. 

“i know, my love. but all is well, you thirsty?” 

“like you could never believe.”

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓲𝓷.↴

changbin had left earlier in the day for a family meeting, and you’d decided to surprise him for your date tonight. your few friends you had in the business had let you know that they were busy, so you were taking off alone with enough savings that a little surge of excitement shot up in your stomach at the thought of your plan. you grabbed a coffee before walking in, pushing your sunglasses up into your hairline, greeting the associate that welcomed you and asked for your card to hold on the back counter. 

“dressing area four is open, an associate will help you with your fitting shortly.” the man had nodded his head in quick thanks as he walked your card to the check out counter. a glass of champagne was offered to you as you sat, waiting for the assistant to bring out a few selections. 

your marriage was changbin was ever impressive in your mind. of course, neglecting the analytical side of you, the one you perfected for your line of work - it was nothing short of a miracle. but he changed. did you ever think it possible? maybe. in some hopeful section of your heart, you longed for the best in him. months and months had gone by since your accident, your wounds turned to scars, your sourness blossomed into something much more beautiful - it was a testament of your own growth. you loved him. truly and terribly. and you wanted nothing more than to continue this journey of life, to see where it would take you. the thought of him made giddiness arise in you, and you weren’t like that. not with anyone. besides him. 

“i’m looking for a nice dress to wear to a date tonight with my husband, i really want to surprise him.” you explained, tucking your hands into your thighs. they asked a few more questions about color, fabric, style, and length of your preferred vision before walking off to bring other suggestions. 

“this is tom ford, spring collection of twenty-nineteen.” the assistant explains, handling the dress with gloves as he holds it by the hanger, giving it a wide birth to feast your gaze upon. your eyes dance over the stretch of fabric, an off-the-shoulder and black velvet masterpiece. 

“i’ll try that.” you nod, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket - quick to pull it out to see your husband’s name across the front. 

“hey!” you say cheerfully, changbin chuckles. “hey, babe. what’re you doing?”

the assistant hangs the dress in the fitting room, you disappear behind it’s curtain after thanking him, putting your phone between your shoulder and cheek to shimmy it off the hanger. “oh nothing, what about you?”

“hmm, i don’t know, sounds like you’re up to something.” he hums, behind the sound of his voice it sounds like he might be in a car - wind rustling and a faint honk in the distance. 

“nothing for you to worry about until our date, now tell me what you’re up to.” he can hear the smile in your voice, completely contagious he catches himself smiling as well, gripping the steering wheel as he weaves through city traffic. 

“ah, i see. i’m on my way to the second meeting, just wanted to call and see what you were up to.” 

you start pulling on the dress past your legs, feeding an arm through with your phone still expertly wedged with your cheek. “ah, how was the first one?” you wonder.

he tells you the first meeting was terribly boring, as the both of you expected. a few updated trials for members who’d been caught, he’d even seen your parents. quite a few operations were changing, and the second meeting was for more exclusive members of the family. you’d finished putting on the dress, even zipping yourself up before walking out of the fitting room, saying your goodbyes and wishing him a well afternoon. 

the assistant has nothing but amazing things to say about the fit of the dress and the way the mid-section compliments the waist accentuation - with that you were sold. all you had to do was go home and prepare for the rest of the date, high on the feeling of your short phone call, anticipating the look on his face when you stepped out in the dress. 

you wore his favorite perfume, the one he always complimented when you wore it, and styled your hair in a loose kind of fashion. “i’m home!” he calls from the entryway, the sound of the closing door behind him alerts you as you finish up on your hair, adding finishing touches to your makeup. “i’m getting ready!” you call back. “the restaurant called, making sure we were good for our reservation.” 

you separately got ready for the date for a moment, music playing quietly from the speaker near your vanity, when changbin stepped out of the shower to dress, you’d slipped into the closet to find your dress, shimmying it on, and stepping out a moment later.

since the neckline cut pretty low, you wore a simple necklace and other dainty type jewelry, your heel was low - changbin was standing in front of the full length mirror in the corner of your bedroom, fixing the collar of his button down before he catches glimpse of you behind him and he turns around, hands still fixated on his collar.

“baby, you look so beautiful.” he’s all smiles, coming up to you to grasp both of your hands. he’s dumbstruck, completely in awe - and holds your hands out to get a good look at you. “prettiest girl in the whole world.” he beams. there’s never been a moment he’s felt quite like this - at nearly every opportunity he looks at you he can’t help but smile. even when it’s five am and he wakes you up accidentally for a job. even when you’re standing in the kitchen with glasses on and your pjs are still on and it’s three pm. he’s never been so sure of something, so sure of you. how lucky he was, and how he’d never stop fighting to remind you you were loved. 

your heart swells with the sweetness in his words and eyes, you let him twirl you when he raises your conjoined hands, and you chuckle at his antics. “i was actually trying this on when you called,” your arms come to circle his shoulders, his own resting at your waist, eyes still dancing over the sight of you. “i knew you were up to something.” he says so positively. 

“finish getting ready, love.” you pat his shoulder, but not before he leans in - his lips pressed to your own for a brief moment before he continues getting ready. your heart beats wildly in your chest at the familiar fiery feeling of his lips, only smiling wider as he parts and walks back to the mirror.

“how’d i get so lucky?” he turns around, fixing a thin bracelet to his wrist. in his eyes in a kind of mischievous glint, you can only guess what he’d say next with a look like that in his eyes. 

“with what?” you ask, legs crossed on the bed, ever awaiting what would come out of his mouth. 

“with you.”

he’d surely be the death of you.

𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓳𝓲𝓷.↴

“i wish to paint you.” his voice left his throat, with it came the soft muffle as not to be heard from others. he was sat on his throne next to your own - his father and mother before him, draped in precarious colors and wraps of fabric, a scepter beside his father’s left hand, his mother’s hands folded curiously in her lap. 

your gaze bats to the sight of his face, how did he look when he said this? you wondered. so you looked. he was focused forward still, as if the sound never left his lips. “you wish to paint me?” you asked, cheeks terribly pink and hands beginning to fidget in your lap. 

“would you let me?” he angles his mouth only a fraction in your direction - the words were in fact spoken to you. you think for a moment, in the quiet of the chamber of the king, in the stillness of your own brain. he watches you blink, once, then twice, before you fully turn to him. 

“if it pleases you, of course.” 

you received what you’d been longing for - a loving husband. there was no one else in the world that you could share the kinds of conversation you could with hyunjin. he was always listening, always there, a promise he’d yet to break. it stole the breath from your lungs, the day and night change he was able to achieve. he’d proven himself time and time again that he did in fact love you - and you only hoped your love could show just as strong. 

in the mornings now, as you awoke from the maids, they’d learn to part after they had ensured the both of you were awake - as now you would dress for the day together. you’d slide his shirts over his shoulders, dressing him only after he had dressed you - that he made a point to do every morning. you button him with a tenderness only you could, drape his shoulder pieces - a half cape only meant to cover his left arm, and tentatively bring his long hair back into a half-up half-down style. this was all after he would slide your stocking’s up your legs, kissing just above your knee as he always did, loosely tying your corset to ensure your comfort, and slide his hands down your shoulders when he was finished, asking if you felt comfortable. 

routine with hyunjin wasn’t just routine or existence, it felt like living. like any moment was one where the excitement of what was to come next was ever waiting. he began contributing more to the communities in the kingdom that needed attention, you both taking time from your schedules to volunteer for those in need, working in the government of the kingdom to ensure everyone had equal opportunity to thrive. he’d also began opening up to you about his love for art - how it was something he’d done since he was young. 

frequently you’d find him on the stair steps of the art school, with children peering over the shoulders of their prince as he’d paint and sketch, teaching the young ones of art. 

“a-ah, hyunjin. is this appropriate?” you asked, your hands quickly darting to push up a loose strap-like sleeve of your corset, pulling down your frilled shorts in fear of them riding up your legs. 

he’s discarded his proper attire, instead wearing a relaxed white button down and brown trousers rolled at the ankle. his fingers carefully set a primed canvas on a stand just before his low sitting stool, his brow is gently lifted at the sound of your worried voice, and he walks to you, sitting down just before you to adjust the straps so that they laid off your shoulders, exposing your decolletage beautifully. 

“you look beautiful.” he promises gently, moving to grasp your hands in his chilly ones. slowly he presses forward to plant a kiss between your brow, and your face warms at the feeling, some of your anxieties soothed. “but are you uncomfortable? do you wish to change?” his thumb strokes over the back side of your hands.

“no, it’s okay. you wanted this outfit, and no one will see it?” the suppleness of your skin is only amplified by the gentle press of your corset, and though he is indeed your husband, and seen much if not all of your skin, the roundness of your legs extended from the shorts makes his heart swell with the sweetness. 

“you’re mine, i am yours,” he promises, his fingers tapping the underside of your chin. “you have only my gaze, no one else's.”

he asks for you to lay on the bed, the palms of your hands holding up your upper half as to accentuate the natural curve of your chest, the bone and muscle that lays beneath it - the softness of your legs, and the intimate draw of your clothing. 

“beautiful,” he says passively, fixing the sheets on the bed to ripple before he sits down to begin painting. 

“i’ll get the outline at least, to not have you sitting there so long. then i can do detail later.” 

“mm.” you nod, looking away as he begins to paint.

ten or so minutes into painting, the soft draw of the paintbrush on the canvas the only sound in the room, he speaks. “would you look at me, love?” he asks. and how were you to deny his request when he asked so sweetly.

“since you asked so nicely.” you smile, turning to face him. 

he smiles, chuckling shortly as he continues. now every time his gaze darts to your form on the bed, your eyes meet. a certain kind of adoration fills you - a love that causes your heart to swell fervently. to be painted by the hands of the man you loved so dearly, the idea itself melts you further to the mattress.

“wait-” he calls, sitting into his spine, looking over his work, then back to you only to get lost in thought.

“what is it, darling?” you ask.

“i have an idea.”

he nears you then, the palette of his paints on his hand - smeared, dried, clumped together from previous projects. only the finest of splatters of blue have tainted his shirt, he sits before you, drawing out his brush. 

“can i paint on you? just a bit.”

you nod, “of course.”

he steadies his first stroke, pinky resting on the skin of your thigh before he paints a long white stripe down the side of your thigh, smooth and straight. the paint is cold, his hands have warmed, he closely focuses, incorporating a swirl of green, and a tiny design of flowers around the white stripe and now what is a vine. you smile as he works, remaining still as ever as he does so. 

next, he leans forward, creating a similar design on the stretch of your neck where muscle runs up your shoulder to the column of your throat - there he paints a similar design. if you were still before, you were ice now, truly frozen as he worked strokes to his idea. 

when he finishes, he leans back and smiles, moving to kiss the side of your head before he moves back to the canvas. “there we go.”

you smile as he sits. “hey,”

his head lifts, looking at you expectedly. 

“i love you.”

shout out to bon iver for this one.

[xxblairexxss]

Hunt Game (Charles Leclerc x reader) (p.4)

Series contain stalking, harrasment, sexual violence.

Word count : 5.9k

Masterlist

What happened when Charles stopped believing in you and you were left all alone.

Chapter 4

"Leave it there, baby. I’ll take care of it.” Charles went to pick up a call that had been ringing for the past few minutes while he was helping you organise your luggage for the holiday. Upon discussions among the group over the past months, they had agreed to go with Greece for this year’s break.

It was their tradition even before you started dating Charles. Though most of them work in different professions now, they were willing to apply for a break weeks prior, adjusting their schedule to match Charles’ just to keep the tradition going, and it was really sweet how strong the friendships were.

The flight was scheduled to be a few hours away, and you still couldn’t make up your mind about which dresses you should opt for. Asking your fiancé wasn’t helping at all because he would always say, "You’ll look great in anything," but that surely wasn’t the answer you were looking for, so you had been staring at your dresses that were draped on the bed. Your white duvet wasn’t even white anymore. It was full of different colours from your colourful summer dresses.

The phone on the bedside table rang as it vibrated. The number alone was enough to send chills. It was the same number that had been bothering you for weeks now. There wasn’t any need to think twice as you rejected the call and diverted your attention back on the clothes. All you had to do is ignore him and think of something else. It will stop one day. You just needed to be patience. The peace didn’t last for long because it rang again the next second, over and over until you set the phone to power off.

"Y/N? Anything wrong?" Charles came in and pulled your attention away from the black screen of your phone that was thrown on the bed.

"N—no, not at all. Who was it?” You looked up as he strode in front of you to stroke his thumb on your cheek.

"Oh, it was the team. I asked them to update my schedule, and they needed to ask for my confirmation. Did Lizzy call you? I thought I heard your phone ring."

"Lizzy? Oh, yeah, she did. Um, she just asked me if I had finished packing my stuff." The dark green and rose floral-printed dresses in front of you didn’t look as exciting as they were when your mind was clouded with the number. What else did he want from you.

"Oh, I bought this on my way home earlier.” A small box of prescription medicine that was left on the dressing table was handed to you, making you stared at it in question.

"This is for...?”

He cackled and leaned in to kiss your hair. "You haven’t been feeling very well, haven’t you? I have been waking up to the sound of you throwing up every morning since a few days ago.” Heaving a sigh, Charles took a seat in front of you as he caressed your thigh. You knew what he was going to suggest, so you shook your head, beaming. "What?" His wrinkles around his eyes became more prominent.

You ended up laughing along with him. "We can’t not go on this trip, honey. They have been very excited about it."

"They’ll understand if I say you haven’t been feeling well.” He squirmed as you pinched on his waist.

"Are you throwing me under the bus?” You gasped dramatically while he tried to get away.

"But it’s the truth, baby! Or could it be food poisoning, no?” He eventually held your hand and brushed his lips along your fingers, stopping you from pinching his body. "Did you eat something wrong?"

"I don’t know! I ate the same thing you did. We should have suffered together.” You pursed your lips and pulled his face closer to peck at his cheek. "Let’s go! We shouldn’t be late."

"Says someone who still had tonnes of clothes here.” He picked up a dress and casually put it in the luggage, thinking he’s lending you a hand.

"I don’t want to wear that one!” You frowned, the white dress was being thrown back on the bed as Charles blinked, confused with how your mind works.

"Then why did you even bring it out?" He asked.

“Because I thought I wanted to wear them!”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

charlesleclerc has added to their story

ynusername has added to their story

The light from the bathroom and the sound of water constantly flowing pulled him from his dream. The empty bedside had given him the answer he needed as he dragged himself off the bed to check on you.

You felt his presence on the door frame before he could take a breath. The first night of the holiday couldn’t be even worse than this. You thought you were feeling better. You could joke around, playing games, laughing around for hours, thinking you could ditch on the medicine but your beauty sleep was cut short when you felt the need to eject all of the contents in your stomach the next morning.

"Sorry for waking you up.” Groaning, you lifted up your head to turn off the faucet as your fiancé stepped in.

"It’s alright." He breathed out and tugged his chin against your head as you leaned against his chest. Your body was definitely hot, even when there were layers of clothes between his skin and yours. "Have you taken the medicine?"

"No, I thought it had stopped.” You were so sleepy, but even when you closed your eyes, the constant feeling of something pushing everything in your stomach up to your throat would just kick the drowsiness away. Laying down made it even worse, and you were so worn out from having to run back to the toilet. Perhaps you could continue the last 2 hours before sunrise by sleeping in the bathtub, that way you wouldn’t have to rush when the nauseous hit again.

"Stay on the bed. I’ll take you a glass of water, alright?"

The hotel room couldn’t be any bigger; it would be a paradise if you were in perfect health, but right now, it was maddening. A walk back to the bed itself felt so far, you just wanted to crawl your way back.

The faint sound of the door knocking halted his movement. A few drops of the plain water dropped to the white, lavish-looking counter as he jumped from the sound with the glass in his hand. The hotel wasn’t an apartment that came with a long hallway. It was designated to give more privacy to the guests, so every unit would be roughly a few metres away from the next one. Though  it wasn’t unusual to hear footsteps or voices passing through as the guests went back to their rooms or went out to enjoy the night, but there surely shouldn’t be a knocking sound.

When he peeked through the peephole, he was a second late, as the person on the other side had turned his back to walk further away. He was wearing a nude-coloured uniform, the same one the bellboy was wearing. Charles walked back to the room, brushing off the knock as a mistake for the room number.

"Baby, here.” He handed you the glass of water.

Your head felt like it weighed the same as a bowling bowl. The nausea was gone now, but you still felt like you got beaten up head to toe. Everything hurt. You took the medicine that Charles had packed with the water he brought for you and scooted further on the bed to make yourself comfortable under the duvet. "I can’t.." You pulled your hand away and shook your head, rejecting his offer to lay down as you remained sitting up with your back against the headboard. "I can’t lay down, Charles. It will make me feel nauseous again, and it’s so uncomfortable. My back hurts."

"Okay, okay, baby. Then we’ll just sleep like this.” The end of the duvet slipped off his body as he sat up and copied your way of sitting while he drew you into his embrace. "Is this okay?"

"But you won’t be comfortable." You dipped your face closer against his neck as you closed your eyes, feeling the drowsiness slowly take over your body again.

"I’m more than comfortable. Go to sleep, honey."

Charles didn’t have to say it twice because the heat from his body with him fondling you acted like a lullaby. It felt like you were being hypnotised because you were gone with just a snap.

You just couldn’t live your life without him.

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"Alone?" Riccardo arched a brow as he saw his friend join the table for breakfast with no sight of his lovely fiancée, whom he was obsessed with.

"Y/N is not feeling well.” Charles replied as he leaned his head to the side while his hand applied some pressure to the spot. He woke up this morning feeling like he had nails hammered around his neck. "My body is sore, dude.” He bent his upper body down on the table and groaned from the pressure. Sleeping upright definitely used every muscle.

His friends started laughing, and he didn’t have to look at their faces to know what it was about. "No, it’s not what you think.” He laughed along, shutting down the thoughts.

"Yeah, right. Thank God our rooms are a few metres away."

"Ah, speaking about that. Did you,” The friends’ gaze went on him. "heard any knocks from the staff last night?"

"I was dead asleep, Charles.” Gabriel, Lizzy’s boyfriend, replied while Lizzy took a seat beside him.

"I heard." Lizzy interrupted. "I even looked at the peephole, but it was just the staff checking something, I guess. Why? It disturbed your little activity with Y/N?”

"Shut up."

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You chuckled as Charles made himself comfortable in your arms right when he came back from breakfast. He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your middle as you played with his hair. Though you woke up this morning feeling all better, you had developed some kind of trauma from eating because you always ended up in the bathroom the next morning so based on your logical way of thinking, if you didn’t eat, there was no way you would get sick again. So your fiancé had to go and have his breakfast alone, not literally because he had his friends but alone in the sense he didn’t have you to keep him accompany. Now that he was back, he had to cling on you to make up for the 2 hours of you leaving him alone.

"They are going to the pool, baby. Do you want to join?"

"Charles, stop. That tickles!" He laughed when you wiggled around as he poked at your waist. "Stop!" You sat up, hands cupping his cheeks while giggling as he stopped poking you.

"Do you want to eat something, baby?"

"I want pancakes.” Your so-called-logical way of thinking were left in the lurch when your stomach growled as if it was put on to speaker so you ended up caving in and requested for your favourite food.

He called for room service as you left the bed to get ready for the day. Just like how hard it was to decide what you should bring, it was equally hard, or maybe even harder, to choose what to wear right now.

"The green is cute, isn’t it? But the red is equally adorable as well!"

"Babe, just wear anything!" Charles was lying down on the bed, scrolling through his Instagram feed with your bikinis draped all around him like some kind of floor art. “Your pancake is here, honey and you still haven’t make a decision.” He stood up and went to get the door as the bell rang while you rushed to pick one out of all outfits because there was no way you had been contemplating this long.

"Room service!"

"Just put it on the table, please.” Charles snaked a few bills from the back of his jeans and handed them to the staff as a tip after he arranged the food. "Thank you so much."

"Honey, look! Oh, sorry."

He pressed his lips to hold his laugh when you scurried to cover up your body with the long white polo shirt that acted as the cardigan so you wouldn’t feel too naked, especially now in front of the hotel staff with the door opened.

"Is there anything else you need help with?"

"No, that’ll be it. Thank you." His body jerked back as you ran to bury your flushed face on his chest while the door closed behind him.

"That was so embarrassing! You should have told me he was still here!"

"You didn’t hear me talking to him?” He cackled even more.

"No?" You then dragged him to the table, where your pancake was beautifully placed with the syrups and honey on the side. "Are you not going to eat it with me?"

"No, honey. I’m full. I’ll go get change while you eat, alright?" He left you alone, enjoying the pancakes all to yourself, while he went to change, which only took less than 5 minutes without having to think about what it would look like in pictures. How easy it was to be a man!

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lizzyusername has added to their story

"Can she swim? Charles clicked his tongue and clapped on his hands as he approached Didi.

"She clearly can’t swim, Charles. She’s 12 months old! But she likes water.” Martha said in response as she handed her little girl to the driver as he carried Didi to the centre of the pool, where you were.

"Oh, she’s so cute!" You squealed when Didi giggled in his arms; the little hands slapped on the surface of the water, which made your fiancé’s face fully decorated from the droplets of water.

"We should definitely get a baby.”

You stopped playing peek-a-boo with the little one as your gaze went to your fiancé. There wasn’t any hint of tease or trick on his face. "Are you having baby fever from carrying her?"

"Yeah." He swayed little Didi in his arms as the little one shook her loaf-like arms in the water. "I can’t wait to build a family with you, love.”

This man in front of you never fail making you fall in love all over again.

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He found you. It was always easy to know where you were because he gave it all away. Just like how Charles’ 11 million followers knew where he was and how open and direct he was about his summer vacation, it only took him a split second to book the same hotel as you were.

It was a bit of a quandary for him to find where your room was. As witless as your companions were, they wouldn’t divulge the room numbers, so he had to take a screenshot of the pictures on their Instagram stories where it could reveal the view from the window and make a rough guess.

"Honey, look!"

Your voice. It was the voice he had been yearning to hear. He liked the way the white cardigan curved around your body. He saw the way Charles took you in his arms and how you hid your cheeks so he would stop kissing you.

Bastard.

It was unfair that he always had to be the one watching. Just like how Charles stole his career away, the chances away, the winning away, and the fame away. He had to have a perfect girl too.

But he had enough watching from the side now. It was too late to take the winning and the chances on the career back now but he could definitely take the girl he wanted.

He could definitely take you from him.

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"If Charles is looking for me, tell him I’m going to the bathroom!"

"What?!" Lizzy yelled straight to your ear; it would have drilled a hole in your eardrum if she went a pitch higher.

"I’m going to the bathroom!” You were so close to scream your lungs out.

"Oh! Okay go!"

Every night, the hotel would hold an event where they would blast a song until nearly sunrise, and people would just get drunk until dawn. Lizzy, her boyfriend, Gabriel, Charles, and you decided to hit it off for a few hours while Riccardo and Martha had to skip for their 12-month-old baby.

Something rough snatched on your wrist while you were on your way back and dragged you to the corner of the area. His gaze pierced straight into your eyes. The same gaze you had been seeing for weeks. The gaze that would always sent cold creeps. The gaze that was full of hatred and anger there was no comfort in it at all.

"Why did you ignore me?”

"What? Let me go!” You tugged on your wrist harshly, nearly punching him in the chin from the force. "I said, let me go! What the fuck do you want from me?”

"I hate it when you ignore me. Why are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong? I—"

"Stop!" You obstructed him from continuing his words, which made him knit his brows together. "I’m not ignoring you! I don’t even know who you are!"

"Liar! You know me. We talked a lot of times. You said we have a lot in common!” He pulled on your wrist towards his chest, which ended you a gap away from him. "I have never met anyone who had so much in common with me. You just need to give me a chance, ba—"

"Baby?" Charles had a scowl on his face as he approached both of you. You were left to keep Lizzy accompany and he didn’t want to bug your girls time with her so he went to stay with Gabriel where he got carried away with the conversations with a few other acquaintance. When he came back to Lizzy, you were gone. He wasn’t expecting to see you in very close proximity to a guy out of anyone’s sight. "What are you doing? Who are you?"

"I’ll take my leave.” Charles saw his face very clearly as he was dressed very casual, like how any other people in this venue would dress. He finally let go of your hand and walked past the driver as you stood there, tongue-tied.

"Wait." Charles called out, and his gaze went on the guy. "We met before, didn’t we?"

"No? You got the wrong guy.”

You saw him quickly leave the area; his pace was fast but not enough to raise suspicion from the rest of the crowd. His hand was fishing out something from his back pocket, and the phone in your hand rang a second later.

"Who’s that guy?"

"He was—he was looking for his friend.” You could finally breathe when you felt Charles’s touch on your waist, full of reassurance and comfort—everything you needed at the moment.

He left a few lingering kisses on the side of your head, murmuring against your hair. "I thought he did something to you, honey. Next time, please let me know if you ever need to go somewhere.”

"I told Lizzy." You tilted your head to find him chuckling.

"She’s wasted. You chose the wrong person to deliver the message. Let’s call it a night."

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marthausername added to their story

tagged ynusername, charlesleclerc

"She opened the door and freaked out because—"

"You guys are so boring.” Martha cut off your storytelling, which made Charles grumble against your middle. He had been laying his head on your stomach while both of you were sprawled on the beach mat with your novel in hand.

Charles was just using an excuse so he could hear you talk while he fell asleep. He loved lying on you and watching how your eyes brightened whenever you told him everything that happened in the chapter. Though it was nearly impossible to understand because he didn’t even know any of the character’s name, the plot, the storyline wasn’t that important. He just wanted to listen.

"Can you leave us alone?” Charles replied, turning his face back to you, but his sight was interfered by little Didi when Martha put her daughter to join the both of you as she walked back to her boyfriend, Riccardo. "I—" He ended up laughing along with you. "I was going to get mad, but she smiled at me."

"We can always be her emergency babysitter." You commented before going back to your book while playing with his hair as he played peek-a-boo with Didi.

"You threw up again this morning, didn’t you?"

"Yeah.."

"We should really get you checked, honey. It’s been nearly a week? Surely the medicine isn’t working.” You glanced down and caught his worried face. It made you feel so bad because regardless how hard you tried to hide it from him, you knew Charles would always be anxious whenever you were sick, especially now when the sickness lasted longer.

"I’m sorry."

"There’s nothing you should be sorry about, love. I’m just worried about you. I’ll set an appointment with my GP, alright?” He assured and took your hand to leave a peck on the back of it before he focused back on Didi.

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ynusername has added to their story

"Are you sure it is okay for you?”

"Of course! I wouldn’t mind it. Just go and enjoy the night, Martha!” You firmly replied as Didi leaned her body towards you when you picked her up. "I’ll spend the rest of the night with this little girl."

"Thank you so much, Y/N. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you. Is Charles coming with us or—“ Martha looked at the driver as she spoke.

"I—"

"He’ll be coming with you! You chirped in before he could say anything. "He just needed to change first, right, honey?"

"Oh, okay! Then we’ll wait for you in the lobby.” The rest of the group left your room as they headed towards the lobby, all of them looking like they were so ready to get wasted.

"Honey, I can’t just leave you alone.” Charles exhaled, clearly looked like he wasn’t pleased with your decision.

"I can take care of myself! You spent this whole vacation worrying about me, honey. Go and enjoy the night. Didi and I will do just fine.” Didi let out a squeal as you cooed her. Despite all the persuasion and coaxing, he wasn’t even budge that you ended up having to turn it into some form of coercion just so he would leave the room by guilt-tripping him about how bad he was to make the friends waiting for this long.

"I’ll be back in an hour or so. Call me if you need anything.” He left after brushing his lips on your forehead, face wasn’t filled with any kind of anticipation. He was just looking like a kid who was forced to go to school.

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You tugged the little girl to sleep right when it hit her sleep time, and it was easier than you expected. Though you didn’t have any experience with kids other than being a part time babysitter back when you were still a teenager, Didi was a very manageable baby. You only had to feed her with the bottle that Martha had prepared beforehand as she played with her feet until her eyes got all droopy and she gave in.

Nothing beat the perfect idea to wind down your day by having little snacks you bought the day before while getting yourself entertained with the movie playing on the screen. 

Then you heard a knock. Talk about man of his words. He really came back an hour after just like how he told you. Giggling, you put the snacks away as you hopped your way to the door, all set to hug him as he walked in.

"Welcome back! Did you have fu—what are you doing here?"

"I missed you. I missed you so much.” He walked in as if it were the most casual thing and started pulling you for a hug, to which you shoved him away.

"What do you want from me?” You tried to scurry your way back to the room, but he tugged on your shirt and held something against your face. It was warm and a little wet. It was cupped harshly on your face that it left you with no chances other than breathing in the chemical, ether-like odor. You tried to pull his hand away, yanking on his shirt—anything that you could grab to free yourself but within every strive, your body started feeling heavier and heavier. Lifting up the arm felt like it needed every vitality, you just wanted to lay down. That was all you remember as your legs gave in as you succumbed to the darkness.

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Charles quickly tapped the access card and walked in when he heard Didi’s crying from outside the room. It was so loud and strained. She sounded as if she had been crying for so long and no one had noticed. He picked her up and swayed her as the wailing started to cease. Her cheeks were red, and her voice sounded sore from the heavy, excessive crying. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep from using her energy to cry, for God knew how long it had been.

"Y/N..?"

Once he put Didi back to sleep, he tread to the bedroom where you were tugged in and sound asleep on the bed, fully naked. Your hair was a mess and sticking all over your face. It was weird for you to be sleeping, ignoring the cries from Didi because you were a light sleeper and everything about it sounded so irresponsible. If Martha had to choose between you and Lizzy to babysit her daughter, it would always be you because she, Charles, and everyone else knew how much you loved kids. It was never like you to ignore a child just so you could sleep. The notification sound coming nonstop from his phone halted his movement as he brought out it out from his pocket to check on it.

It was pictures, and pictures. More than 10 pictures of you naked with a guy who he couldn’t seem to make out the face. The pictures were taken from different angles, and it was clearly something that would give anyone a nightmare to see pictures of their beloved partner under someone else, with no layer of clothes. The phone nearly slipped off his hand as he walked out of the room, feeling himself suffocated. Tonnes of thoughts started popping up in his head, wondering where it all went wrong, what he did to deserve all this, and why this happened when the relationship had been nothing but perfect throughout the years. There was never a big argument; you and he had been giving constant reassurance despite the career difference, with no insecurities or unspoken problems that couldn’t be solved. Why would you do this to him?

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You woke up the next morning and became conscious of your current state when the duvet was lifted off from holding on to your body. The room was silent, and Charles was nowhere to be seen. "Didi." You muttered, as if to remind yourself and got dressed with any clothes you could lay your hands on before hurried out to find the little one, but the baby cot was empty.

"Charles, where’s Didi?” You saw him on the couch playing with his phone. He was still wearing the same outfit from last night. Judging from how languid his actions were, it seemed like he didn’t catch a wink.

"I sent her back to Martha. Get your stuff packed. The flight is in two hours." He stood up and walked past you to get to the room. He was different. There wasn’t a smile or a touch. He wasn’t even looking at you.

"Charles." You grabbed his arm.

"Don’t fucking touch me, Y/N." He yanked his arm away and headed back to the room.

That was all you heard him say before he went mute for the rest of the days. He didn’t touch any of your stuffs. You were left to pick up everything on your own. You weren’t spoil but for more than 5 years, he was the one to help you pack, unpack, keep everything in check. Now that you were suddenly forced to be on your own despite being in the same room with the love of your life, you weren’t prepared for it. You followed him like a lost puppy with your luggage to say goodbye to the rest of the group. The vacation was supposed to end in two days, so you were taken back when he requested that you pack your stuff but obeyed without further questions.

When you met the rest of the friends, they were looking sad because you had to cut the vacation short due to Charles’ sudden call for work, as mentioned by Gabriel. You had to play it off so they wouldn’t feel like some things were off because you had ruined Charles’ vacation; you surely didn’t want to ruin everyone else’s.

"Your hickeys are fresh! No wonder Charles was eager to go back early last night." Lizzy cracked a joke as she hugged you. Your hands went on your neck as you rested it there, feeling your heart beat faster. You had no recollections of last night other than opening the door to the creepy guy, and you woke up this morning completely nude. You wanted to tell Charles about what happened up until what you could remember, but he had been ignoring you. His gaze was cold, and it terrified you to say anything.

Your flight back felt like a going home from a solo trip. He didn’t say anything and you weren’t talking as well so it felt like living in a world where everything was quite and there was no sort communication. When you reached your apartment, Charles helped you bring the luggage all the way up.

But it was just yours.

His luggage was left in the car.

“Where—where are you going?” You called out, grabbing his hand as he tried to walk out after dropping the last baggage inside the house.

"I can’t stay here with you.”He tried to pull his hand away, but your grasp went tighter, as you felt the tightness in your throat.

"No, please don’t do this to me. Please don’t leave me alone. About last night, I—"

"I give no fuck about what happened last night, Y/N." Your body was jerked forward as he pulled his hand away. "I was never enough for you, was it?"

"No, you don’t get it! He tried to—"

"Explain the pictures! He bellowed, full of rage.

“What pictures are you talking about?” You brought your gaze up and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. "Charles, what pictures?"

He let out a chuckle and rolled his eyes. "No one’s going to believe this fucking act you got right here, Y/N. I am done with you.” He started walking to the elevator, leaving you to chase after him.

"Charles! No, please! Please don’t do this to me. What about us.."

"There is no us anymore, Y/N. You should have thought twice before bringing that guy to our bed. It was no wonder you were so eager to ask me to join them instead of accompanying you." He stepped inside the elevator and held down the close-door button, loathing to spend another second seeing your crying act.

"Please hear what I have to say! Charles!" You went down on your knees as the elevator closed. You stayed there, praying the door would open and he would come back, but he didn’t. "I can't—I can’t live without you.” You murmured, sitting on the cold ground for another minutes before picking yourself up as you trudged back to the apartment. The little stones and pebbles felt harsh against the soles of your feet when you didn’t even bother to put on any shoes when you chased after him earlier.

And that was the last time you ever saw him.

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Life was hard without Charles. He had always been the one who helped you with everything. It was as if you had to learn how to live all over again. A week after he left, you got a call this morning reminding you of your appointment. It was an appointment that Charles had made when you were in Greece last week, and he should have accompanied you.

You hadn’t stepped out of the apartment because something about going home to an empty house put you in a misery. You couldn’t even drive so you had to go on Internet to find out how to book a cab. You saw him in his black hoodie, black cap like the one he was wearing when he chased after you in the elevator weeks before. He was leaning against one of the lamp pole, eyes on the entrance of the apartment as if he was waiting for you. Before he could approach and get closer, you dashed to the cab that had been waiting for you from the booking you had set earlier.

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"How long have you been feeling sick?" Your GP, the lovely doctor that had been attending you and Charles for years asked and her gaze went on you. 

"A few weeks ago." You answered, fingers playing with your engagement ring. It was hard to make an eye contact with anyone because you felt horrible. You hadn’t stop crying to you eyes had been puffy for weeks. You had no energy left to put on any makeups so you just went with a tinted lip balm and a sunscreen. You hadn’t been talking to anyone that it felt like you could break down in tears if someone looked at you any longer than a minute.

"What about your period cycle?"

"I—" You pressed your lips into a thin line. You hadn’t been getting your period this month since last month but never bothered to think of anything because you had always had an irregular cycle. A skip for a month and two wasn’t really something that you were unfamiliar with.

Seeing how you were unable to answer the question, she gave a smile and asked the nurse to set up the machine. "How about we get you an ultrasound?”

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You had to lock yourself in one of the cubicles because you couldn’t hold your tears any longer. Back when you and Charles had a conversation about a family, you were actually 7 weeks pregnant.

It was always your dream to have a family with Charles, your dream man, but you never thought you would be walking out from the doctor’s room with a sonogram in hand without him.

You fished out your phone with your shaky hands and tried to call your fiancé, or ex-fiancé, hoping he would pick up this one call. If none of your phone calls were picked up since last week, please let him pick up just this one.

But you were only greeted with long beeps, like every other calls you had tried since he left.

"Charles, it’s me. Please, please call me back. I’m begging you. I have something to tell.” You pleaded, hoping he would listen to this voicemail as you hung up.

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 @vildetry06 @harriesgolden 

✧.* tag list for Hunt Game @livster @sainzluvrr @weaslyswizarding-wheezes @barcagirly @eugene-emt-roe 

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[thefrontofmymind]

surprise? (matty healy x reader drabble)

a/n: this is just a little idea i had, something to tide you all over while i keep working on Might As Well. xxx

SYNOPSIS: you find a ring in Matty's belongings, spoiling a pretty big surprise he had planned

WC: 499

All you were doing was trying to help Matty out. He’d just gotten back from tour and collapsed into bed in the middle of the night. Now at a normal time for a person to be awake, he was still not even stirring as you began a day of housework around him–you checked he was still alive, he was breathing.

You wiped down counters and bathroom tile, you dusted every surface, as well as the intricate details of all Matty’s awards that sat on the shelf in your living room. There was just one last thing to make the place completely spotless, his suitcase at the door of your bedroom, practically burning a hole in your thoughts. You thought you should wait for Matty to sort out his clothes to go in the laundry–what was clean, what wasn’t–but you knew him best by now to know that this job was mostly guesswork for him, so it was easier to just throw it all into the wash and ask for forgiveness later.

You dragged the suitcase into your small laundry room–not easily, he’d packed for over a month away and you know he had to pay extra for heavier luggage on all the flights he took. You opened it and quickly began sorting and organising all his clothes–mostly wrinkled button-ups and socks that you were sure there was an odd number of.

As you pulled out a pair of trousers–plain black, like most of the one Matty owned–you felt something in the front right pocket, some kind of cube. You got your hand on it, it felt soft, like velvet.

A box; red, and velvet like you thought. You opened it and tears sprung to your eyes and your breath caught in your throat. The most beautiful diamond ring you’d ever seen–a blue gem, a sapphire, probably, surrounded by a cluster of small white diamonds on a golden band. You stared at it for a good couple of minutes, just sitting on the floor surrounded by clothes. You didn’t even hear Matty groggily trudge around the house looking for you.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, standing in the doorway. He just about gave you a heart attack.

“I’m sorry…” You couldn’t fight the smile on your face and the layer of tears coating your eyes was getting thicker and thicker.

“I had this whole surprise planned and I was going to ask you all romantically…” He quietly chuckled while kneeling down next to you. “Do you like it, at least? I can get another one if you don’t, anything you want.”

“No! No, I love it,” you reassured him. “It’s gorgeous…”

“Good.” He smiled. “Spent months finding the perfect one…”

“Well it is perfect…” You answered. “So can I wear it now that I’ve found it?”

“No way in hell!” He laughed. “I still have the plan! You just have to wait!”

“Well how long, hmm?” 

“I’m gonna wait extra long now just to make you squirm…”

[lisafrnkenstein]

Steve is thirteen when they send him off to summer camp for the first time. It’s not really a summer camp though, it’s a study camp; a glorified summer school — and in Steve’s mind, a punishment specifically for all the kids who get bad grades.

He drags his suitcase into the door of his cabin, and peeks curiously into the other bed there to see who he’s going to be bunking with for the next two months.

What he’s greeted with is a head of long, curly hair, and a set of big, brown eyes perched over a freckled nose.

Steve swallows thickly in shock. The rooms are co-ed?!

Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair, a habit as much as it is an effort to smooth back his humidity-frazzled do, and he straightens his shoulders.

“Hi,” He says, extending an open palm. “I’m Steve. And you’re…cute.”

Those eyes grow even wider in surprise, but the kid takes his hand and shakes it.

“I really like your hair,” Steve says. “It’s pretty.”

“I, uh - um,” The kid says, throat clearing. “I’m Eddie.”

Steve blinks.

“You’re -“

Eddie takes in his dumbfounded expression, and he throws his head back in a barking laugh.

“Dude! Did you think I was a girl?!”

Steve can feel his cheeks grow warm, and he looks down at his feet, too embarrassed to even make eye contact.

Eddie peers up at him, his mouth still twitching.

“Fine, let’s make it even then. I think you’re cute too.”

That gets Steve to look up, and he catches the playful expression on Eddie’s face, unable to help himself from matching it with a hesitant smile.

“So what are you in here for?” Eddie asks, flopping back on his bed and patting it in signal for Steve to join him.

“Ugh,” Steve pouts, his nose wrinkling as he sits down. “English. Writing and spelling sucks, and I hate reading. How about you?”

“Math,” Eddie sighs. “I’d gladly take writing and spelling and reading over numbers that just get all jumbled up and make no sense.”

“What!” Steve squawks. “But math is the easiest! It always stays the same and you follow the same rules for every problem!”

“Say,” Eddie says, mouth quirking up. “Sounds like we could help each other out.”

Steve looks down where Eddie has jutted his hand out, a mirror to his own earlier greeting.

“Alright,” Steve agrees, shaking it.

Hand in hand, pack made, seals the fate of two boys stuck in camp that summer. They spend their free time from then on bonding, hard and fast.

Skinned knees and swimming lessons. Shared homework, and Eddie reading aloud from all the books he’d brought with him. Sneaking into the kitchens, when all the counselors are turned in, to steal snacks — sweet and salty treats alike, that they giggle over while they construct pillow forts between their sides of the room.

Eddie shows Steve how to strum a few chords on a beat up acoustic that one of the adults brought with them to play around the campfire, and Steve teaches Eddie how to avoid getting tagged in capture the flag.

They swap clothes when they run out of clean things and don’t feel like washing just yet, Steve in Eddie’s flannel one week, and Eddie in Steve’s t-shirts the next.

Steve shows Eddie the best way to capture bugs without hurting them, from butterflies to ants to larger beetles. Eddie shows him the best way to set them loose in other cabins during prank wars.

They take showers at the same time, occupying stalls on opposite sides, both competing to see who can sing the loudest at the top of their lungs while they lather up their hair.

They take canoe trips, with talks of things like birthdays:

“Mine’s on the fourth!”

“No way! Mine is the twenty sixth!”

“That officially makes July the best month.”

And late night conversations, shared after lights out, two boys tucked into the same bed:

“My dad doesn’t care whether or not I pass next year and get into high school,” Eddie whispers. “I think he’s hoping I drop out so I have to come help him run jobs.”

“Mine cares way too much how I do,” Steve whispers back. “Even though he doesn’t really care about anything else. I think I could be dying and he would just ask me how my grades are.”

“Dads are assholes.” Eddie proclaims, and Steve feels a rush of deja-vu out of nowhere.

“Yeah,” he agrees, quietly, his hand slipping into Eddie’s where it rests between their heads. “But who needs ‘em? We got each other now.”

“Forever,” Eddie says back, squeezing his fingers.

Forever, as it turns out, only lasts the duration of camp. They send each other off with tearful goodbyes, promising they’ll see each other in school, their last year together before Eddie graduates up.

But Steve doesn’t see Eddie that year. He tries, again and again, posting himself right beside Eddie’s locker, but the boy never shows himself. If Steve didn’t know any better, he would think it’s because he’s avoiding him.

He asks around, and the teachers all confirm he’s in attendance, at least most of the time. They don’t share any classes though, so it’s hard to catch him when he appears to be taking no extra-curriculars, doesn’t ride the bus, and avoids his locker at all costs. Even lunch he apparently eats in his “secret spot,” which nobody can really tell him the location of, only that it exists.

But Steve’s not one to ever give up on people, so he tries a different approach. He starts writing notes, scribbles of thoughts on scrap pieces of paper that he shoves between the slats of Eddie’s locker. Notes soon graduate to letters, and Steve flexes all the tips Eddie ever gave him on writing; expressing how much he misses him, and still wants to be his friend.

“I’ve never had a friend like you,” He writes. “The only other friend I have is Tommy H. and mostly I’m nice to him because sometimes I think if I didn’t pretend to be his friend, he might get real mean and nasty. But I miss talking to you. I miss telling you secrets. I miss when it was just the two of us in our cabin. I miss you letting me play with your hair, cause honestly it still is the prettiest.”

Steve doesn’t get a reply. He has no way of knowing if Eddie ever got a single thing he wrote, not before the year is up and Eddie is presumably graduated.

The year after Steve spends in a countdown, waiting for the day he gets to the high school. Waiting for a chance to see his friend again, to see if he’s over whatever made him avoid him.

The day rolls around, and Steve sets foot into Hawkins High for the first time, fifteen and just barely grown into his broader shoulders and newly acquired height.

Eddie, on the other hand, is sixteen and still gangly as a newborn colt; all long, skinny legs and knobbly joints, towering over most of the other kids, so Steve spots him easily.

His ears stick off his head like they don’t belong there, no longer hidden by a mass of bushy curls. His hair is shorn short, worse even than a military buzz.

“Eddie!” Steve calls, excited at the sight of him.

Eddie freezes at the sound of his voice, his head turning slowly until he catches Steve down the other end of the hall.

He runs. Books it to the nearest bathroom at a ridiculous speed, and Steve feels his stomach sink as he follows after him, glancing beneath the stall doors until he spies a pair of worn, red sneakers beneath one.

The bell rings and then it’s just them there, late for class.

“Eddie,” Steve says, fighting the hot prick of tears in his eyes. “Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

There’s a pause, and then the stall swings open slowly.

“It’s not you, Stevie,” Eddie’s voice croaks. “Never you.”

“Then what?”

“I didn’t,” Eddie trails off, choked up. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Steve doesn’t know how to translate that for a solid twenty seconds, an awkward silence as he tries to make sense of it. And then it clicks.

“Eddie,” He says softly, “It’s just hair.”

Eddie’s face pinches, and then he crumbles.

It’s not pretty; it’s loud and it’s snotty, and there are a few sobbed “missed you”s smeared into Steve’s shirt as Eddie collapses forward, but he doesn’t care; not with Eddie in his arms.

“No one has ever looked at me like you did before,” Eddie heaves between heavy breaths, clutching either sleeve of Steve’s polo. “You said - my hair - you thought I was pretty. I didn’t want that to change. Dad cut it right after I got back and I thought…I don’t know. I didn’t want you to see.”

Steve takes a steadying breath and pulls back, just enough that he can take Eddie’s face between both of his hands.

He’s lost the freckles mostly, but his eyes are just as big as ever, framed with long, dark eyelashes, tears clinging to them.

“Do you think I spent a year cramming notes in your locker because of your hair?” Steve asks.

“Uh -“ Eddie manages, a little stunned.

“I think,” Steve says, clearing his throat and trying not to sound half as awkward as he feels, “That your hair doesn’t matter, because you’re still pretty.”

Eddie’s eyes refill with fresh tears.

“Really?”

Steve carefully swipes under his eyes with his thumbs.

“Mhm. I think - well, maybe not right now, because you’re a little bit gross, but -“ He breaks off into a bit of watery laughter, “But you’re definitely still the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen. You’ve got the cutest eyes in the whole school, and your dad is a fucking asshole for what he did, but it doesn’t change that you’re my best friend.”

Eddie hugs him tight, burying his face into the now soaked material of Steve’s shirt, like he’s afraid to ever let go of him again. And maybe Steve cries a little too, over spending the last two years thinking his best friend hated him.

They work together that year to help Eddie get on his own feet making money — dealing — and Eddie makes enough to get out from his father’s roof so he can grow his hair out again. His uncle is more than happy to make space for Lila’s kid, and doubly so just to keep him away from Al.

Steve is there to see every stage of growth, from messy curls to a chin length bob, and just as pleased to tell him that he still likes it every step of the way, no matter how it looks.

~~~~~~~~~

Steve opens his eyes to the sun streaming in, and just like that, the dream is gone. Torn away by the light permeating behind his eyelids, even as he groans and tries to go back to sleep, to chase the world where he and Eddie…

Steve pops up, sitting ramrod straight.

Where they had been…what? Best friends? Steve doesn’t think sending a year’s worth of locker notes and calling your friend “pretty” looks so strictly platonic, which only serves to make this new dream even weirder.

Eddie is…is his dead friend who was barely even a friend. His fists clench in his bedspread, and he fights against the lump that lodges in his throat as he tries to convince himself of that fact.

But their closeness, the way they had been with each other…it felt so real. It lingers, in a way that leaves Steve short of breath as it collides with reality, this world where Eddie is gone and was never his.

He lays back down, arm extending over the empty space in his bed. His fingers trace the absence of a body that was never there, the phantom feeling of another hand in his wrenching a tight gasp from his lungs.

He wonders what it was he must have done to earn this, that his brain invents new ways to wallow in a misery he should have never known. It’s the second one now that he's remembered, and he feels daunted by the prospect of what that could mean.

read the fic on ao3

[hypnoneghoul]

Hyp. Your awesome. Your writing is awesome. Could be kinda awesome if you wrote some good ol' RainDrop in a bit of an enemies to lovers or a classic hate fuck situation? Only awesome if ur feeling it, obviously. If not that's cool. Just thought I'd ask to see if your awesome brain came up with anything 🤭

heheh thank you! i had some lore kinda thoughts and it turned into whatever this is. they're not fucking (yet) here, but the enemies to lover vibe is strong. I hope it's okay :3

(and look at my new divider by the amazing @ghuleh-recs!!!)

“What on earth are you doing with that bass?”

Rain jumps at the harsh voice of the other ghoul. He thought he was alone in the practice room—and maybe he was, but obviously not anymore.

“Playing,” he replies, trying his best to sound sure of himself and confident, but it comes out more as a question.

“Making an even bigger idiot out of yourself than you already are is what you’re doing,” Dewdrop scoffs. Rain tries to ignore that pang of hurt in his chest at his words, but it’s hard when every single day for the last weeks all that the fire ghoul’s been doing is showering him in hate. He thinks he may just about have had enough.

Still, he lacks the courage to do anything about it, anyway. When it comes to flight or fight, Rain chooses the former over and over again.

“I’m just gonna go if you need the room,” he says quietly and turns to put his bass away.

“Sure, go abuse that thing somewhere else.” The water ghoul has no idea what Dewdrop is on about. Maybe he is doing something wrong, but how would he know? He doesn’t have a mentor to teach him like all the other ghouls that were summoned to their pack with him.

Rain sighs, packs the bass and turns to leave with his head hung low.

Before he can actually leave, though, Dewdrop stops him. He stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest and he’s glaring up at Rain as if he has expected him to do something else.

“Who told you to pick like that?” he asks. Rain’s eyes are dragged to a wrinkle between his eyebrows. It seems permanent, always there with his frown, but the water ghoul thinks he could actually be really pretty if he just…got rid of that everlasting anger etched in his features.

“No one,” Rain tells him the truth. “I’ve been trying to figure stuff out on my own.”

“Why?” Dewdrop asks, seeming completely oblivious. Rain gets a little confused now, too. He knows the fire ghoul’s history, he knows it should be him teaching him his instrument. Did Dewdrop himself forget?

Suddenly Rain gets bolder.

“Well, I don’t exactly have a teacher,” he says louder, straightening up. “I’m doing my best, unlike someone.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Dewdrop growls and takes a step forward. He’s small—way smaller than Rain—but the pure fire in his eyes can intimidate. Still, the water ghoul doesn’t move.

“You know what! You can’t call me an idiot for not being great at something I have zero idea about just because the person who was supposed to teach me decided to…I don’t know, hate me for no reason!”

Dewdrop’s eyebrows shoot up.

He looks like Rain’s words…got to him and the water ghoul doesn’t know how to feel about it. Is it just a calm moment before the storm, is he about to be burned to the ground with Dewdrop’s anger? His anxious brain manages to come up with a multitude of doomsday scenarios in those short moments.

But what happens is so very different from all of those scenarios.

Dewdrop looks down and scoffs as if he’s regretting what he’s about to do, before he swiftly reaches out and grabs Rain’s arms to keep him close when he stands on his tiptoes and presses his burning lips against the water ghoul’s cold ones.

Rain huffs into the kiss in surprise, but quickly finds it…nice. He relaxes and kisses back and it’s getting more and more heated with every second.

A few moments later it’s Rain who begins to peel the other’s clothes off piece by piece. Neither of them knows what happens, it’s like they black out and in the next moment they’re tumbling on the floor naked.

“Fuck me, Rain,” Dewdrop pants and the water ghoul likes the way his own name falls from his lips. His voice is pretty. “Fuck the hate out of me.”

Well, Rain can’t exactly waste a solution to fixing his own problem?

Can he?