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heart2beom · 1 year

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a lost bet!

pairing: frenemy!beomgyu x reader

genre: fluff, comedy

summary: you lose a bet to beomgyu and out of everything you'd think he'd ask of you -- money, to pour freezing water on yourself out in the snow, hell, you thought it'd be more likely for him to ask you to jump off a cliff and survive than telling you to take him out on a date.

word count: 2.2k

notes: cheesy stuff but if you read it till the end, a heart is always appreciated :') if you read it and liked it, please reblog ˃̵ᴗ˂̵

there are people who would be described as two peas in a pot, the half of the other, siblings from another mother -- the idea that they complete each other, that they work so well together that they must be of the same thread.

to describe your relationship with beomgyu, those metaphors would never even have came up in the light of day because you guys just don't work. you like what he likes and he likes what you like. you do what he does, and he does what you do. for heavensake, you've known each other since highschool and you still ended up in the same dream university, in the same dream careers, in the same fast food job! and that is exactly why you don't work. the arguments that fester from being just a little too similar got extreme back when you were teenagers, terribly extreme you couldn't even blame it on hormones.

girls who'd be interested in beomgyu every three weeks would come up to you at the randomest times to ask if there was anything going on between you two and the first couple girls, your friends would die of laughter because of how inaccurate the assumption was. "her and beomgyu? beomgyu with the long hair? him and y/n? the y/n that's standing next to us right now?"

it was safe to say that after a while, the entire engineering major knew you and beomgyu would never happen. and you were content with that.

that is until that day happened, the day you lost the bet.

you were feeling lots of things before he'd decide on a what you'd do - fear, fear was a big one.

"hey, go easy on me." you reluctantly said quietly.

"huh?" he put a hand behind his ear, "what'd you say?"

it was embarrassing enough that you couldn't complete the software in time when you're known in the major for being the fastest, but it was even worse to give beomgyu the satisfaction of you being scared. you already caught a smirk on his face, fucker.

"i said...go easy on me you prick."

"okay okay here, since you're begging, i'll give you a deal." he folded his arms, acting like he was thinking of this on the spot. "i'll go easy on you if you don't ask any questions about my dare." and that was when you knew that he had this planned out - you took the bait anyway, just of the small chance you might avoid jumping off a cliff.

"okay, i accept the deal, whats the dare?"

"take me, choi beomgyu..." he was elongating every vowel and you'd hate to admit it but every time he does it, as annoying as it is, it does manage to do its job and keeps you on your toes to want to know what he'd say next.

but the long pause that day was way more annoying than usual.

"just say it!", you yelled.

"on a date!" he yelled immediately in response. "jesus christ you're so impatient."

beomgyu saw you open your mouth to say something and he anticipated it so he quickly shut you up with a finger on your lips.

"no questions, remember?", you rolled your eyes and snatched his finger off your lip. "here are the rules. one, you're paying for everything-"

"broke ass." you cursed under your breath and he caught it.

"who's working three shifts again?" well, that got you quiet. "two, it has to be the best date i've ever been on. like spectacular, jaw dropping, 5 star restaurant. you know i'm a wanted, highly desirable man. and three, if you break the rules, you'll have to try again. but hey, i trust you'll get it on the first try. i'm going to go easy on you."

and that is how you find yourself on the 9th try of trying to woo beomgyu with a date and finally get the dare over with. i'm going to go easy on you? bullshit.

the first three times, it was aggravating to know that you failed and had to go on another date. the next four to eight times, you viewed it as another assignment to overcome - like a game? that period was ambitious (hello, you literally drove four hours for one of the dates once) so when even those failed, you entered your nine times to how many the fuck you know times. you've never went on this many dates with someone you weren't even in a relationship with.

and by now you'd figured that beomgyu was just freeloading off of you. that asshole. you would totally do something like that..

like it was the devil's calling, beomgyu came through the door of the desserted cafe that you part timed at.

"hey! welcome to bist-- beomgyu." you said his name grimly, staring at him walk over to your register.

"oh my god, i did not know you worked here! fancy seeing you partner!"

"beomgyu, you literally used to work with me-- you know what? no. i just took the last order. we're closing the store."

he looked at his wrist, like he was reading a watch but when he dropped his hand down, there was indeed, no real watch.

"it's seven on a thursday, you aren't fooling me."

you groan dramatically like a child, frustrated. "what do you want beomgyu? i can't afford to hear your voice one more time this week, i'm serious i think i need to get myself checked out before i'm driven to insanity." you mumbled as he looked up at the menu, his iris going left and right trying to decipher which one would be the cheapest, and not taste like total shit. "can i get a...hmm...this is a lot of options..."

"a triple shot soy decaf vanilla latte with whipped cream?", you filled in.

"no not--wait, hold on. that sounds really good."

"because it is good." you said rolling your eyes playfully, this time.

"is it cheap?"

"the cheapest." you said, cracking a smirk. it was times like these where you remember that you and beomgyu are still the friends part of the frenemy title you both chose to adopt.

a more genuine fond smile warmed up on beomgyu's face, because he had the same exact thought.

"well its not technically the cheapest--" he started.

"don't ruin the moment beomgyu." you said heading to the backroom.

"i'm just saying, you were being deceitful! also there was no moment!" you heard beomgyu call out. secretly, you let out a quick chuckle to that.

when you finally got him his order, you expected him to leave...but of course, you thought too highly of him. because there he was, elbows on the counter, sipping his coffee (milkshake) really..really loudly. it was like his sole purpose was to annoy the fuck out of you.

"do you want me to direct you to a table mr. choi?" you said in your fake nice voice sarcastically as your back was turned from him to wash the tools that you used.

"y/n i have a question."

"answer mines first."

"when is the next date--i mean, like, your next, um..attempt? try? what are we calling it?"

you exhale, you knew he was going to mention it.

"it's today. surprise!" you turned around with a terrifying toothy smile, doing jazz hands.

"you just decided this last minute didn't you?" you shook your head, still keeping up a smile. "also stop smiling like that oh my god."

and the smile was dropped. "okay, so what if i decided just now? you know, the cheapest dates are the best dates."

"literally nobody has ever said that." he said, taking another sip of his drink, shaking his head slowly disapprovingly.

"no, yeah you're right i don't know why i just did." you said, very much perplexed those words came out of your mouth -- you'll call it your first stage of insanity.

"look, i'm going to be completely honest, i don't think you'll ever top the paris hot balloon date with that cute foreign chick."

you scoffed, coming closer to the counter with your arms crossed. "um pfft, i thought we collectively, we as in the whole world by the way, agreed that you made that date up."

"you're the only one who thinks it didn't happen, i literally showed you pictures! and it's not that hard to believe, i am universally hot stuff." he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. "wait hey, i think i still have the pictures, let me show you."

his eyes were narrowed, scrolling on his phone.

"okay okay, enough. also don't call yourself hot stuff again." you covered his phone screen and he looks up at you confused. "lets say it did happen.."

"it did happen!"

"...if you knew i wasn't going to top your extravagant paris date, why'd you even add the second rule?"

for the first time, beomgyu didn't have an immediate response. he was quiet, way too quiet.

"look, you can just tell me you were trying to freeload off of me." beomgyu looks taken back, his face scrunched up, so you add more to clarify, "i would be pissed but you don't have to be all secretive about it. i can get over it if you pay me four hundred dollars in cash--"

"let's say i was freeloading off you, which by the way, i should've thought of that--"

"correction, you were freeloading off of me."

beomgyu ignores you. "you know what, i just thought of something. there is one way you could top the hot balloon paris date."

your interest was piqued but you try not to show how your ears perked up, and clear your throat. "what is it?"

despite your attempt to seem disinterested, when beomgyu motions to bring your head closer so he can whisper something, you don't hesitate.

"i don't know, maybe it'll be too hard on you...like it takes a lot of courage--"

"just say it!" you yelled impatiently.

"say i liiike you beomgyu-ah~" he said with what you think is a pout, and top of that you'd bet a hundred bucks that he was fluttering his long lashes too.

you pull your head away. "beomgyu."

he shrugged. "i'm giving you a very easy task, take it or leave it."

you exhale, its true. it isn't that bad. "i'm not doing the aegyo though."

"thats the entire point! just don't do it at all then."

"oh, okay. bye, it wasn't pleasant seeing you beomgyu, as always." you waved him away and start untying your apron to leave your shift, but beomgyu was still there. because you've heard the third groan in a row.

you, however, didn't notice that he came to the back in the register area until you felt his hand touching your struggling ones that were trying to untie your apron for the past..three minutes now.

you dropped them to your sides, feeling a little awkward at the sudden proximity.

"were you actually going to close?" he asked as you felt beomgyu trying to untangle the knot.

"no that was a lie, i'm leaving because my shift ended."

"huh. you know i was about to apologize for bothering you. and i never apologize."

"who said you weren't bothering me anyway? in fact, you've been bothering me this whole month more than normal."

you looked back to beomgyu, "why'd you stop? can you try to untie it faster?"

"alright alright, jesus."

the rest of the time that he spent untying the knot, it was quiet. oddly.

"done. i have to go now though, homework and stuff." he said backing away.

you stopped him by holding his wrist back. "hey, are you mad? it's kind of weird, i've never seen you mad."

he looked back at you with a raised brow. you rolled your eyes, correcting yourself. "okay, well i've never seen you mad this month"

you let go of his wrist because hes fully turned to face you, with his arm crossed.

"maybe, maybe i wasn't mad because i didn't see hanging out with you to be the biggest nuisance in the world."

"well..you're mad now."

"say i like you."

"huh?"

"you don't have to do the aegyo, i'm exempting it because i am a very nice friend."

okay, so now you're lost. you don't know what's going on, at all. but hey at least you'll get a perk of ending the dare!

do you...want to end the dare?

okay, what the actual fuck. why are you having that thought?

"i like you beomgyu-ah." you mumbled reluctantly in the most monotone, robotic voice ever. and his previous sorta serious face morphs into a fit of laughter.. KNEE slapping laughter.

"god you should've--you should've seen your face!" he said pointing at you while he uses his other hand to hold his stomach. like an elementary bully ad.

and the fit of laughter continued.

"was that whole im mad act fake? you're...ugh." you groaned. another day, another beomgyu being a total dick.

you took beomgyu by the wrist again to push him out of the back. "bye! it's time for you to leave!" you said loudly.

"alright alright i'm leaving--ow!"

you had to go through seeing him laughing all the way to the exit door, but hey, at least he was gone. you sigh, relieved.

but then you hear the ding again.

"i like you too by the way" beomgyu shouted out. and then left again.

typical annoying, irritating, choi beomgyu. leaving you to make an analysis of what he meant by saying that... for the entire night.

#txt x reader #txt fluff #txt oneshots #txt fanfic #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu #soobin #yeonjun #taehyun #hueningkai #txt fics #beomgyu drabbles #txt drabbles

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chimchiri · 7 months

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Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner

Index | [prev] - Part 04 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for putting out the great writing

Previous Poll:

~~~

“What did you have in mind?”

“Orchard’s a bit of a wreck this time of year,” AJ says, glancing out the window at the apple trees lining the hills and hanging heavy with fruit. Not too far off, Big Mac’s standing on a ladder situated under a tree; she can see Apple Bloom yelling up at him from below, barrels full of apples at her feet. She says something with that adorable, sometimes annoying little smug spark in her eye, and Big Mac shakes his head with a laugh before tossing an apple down to her. She lunges for it with her hands clasped behind her back, letting it smack her right in the face as she tries to grab it with the few front teeth she hasn’t lost to the tooth fairy yet.

Yeah. Definitely somewhere else. AJ loves her family more than anything, but—Rarity deserves to go somewhere nice. Across the house and through the open front door, she can hear Granny belting out an old song about pigs in mud—

“I’m thinkin’ we go out. You know the restaurant in town? Haven’t been in a while, and I heard there’s a new menu. How’s Saturday?”

“That sounds simply divine, darling, and I would love to…but I can’t commit to this weekend,” Rarity says regretfully, and AJ nearly drops her phone, “I’m in Manehattan the rest of the week for my new line. It is critical that I’m here to make the finishing touches. Fancy Pants is personally endorsing the reveal and there cannot be a single mishap, not one.”

“Oh—“

“Please don’t think I’m avoiding you, darling. Perhaps we can schedule something for the same time next week?”

“No!” AJ begins rather forcefully, and she clears her throat so she won’t say something else before thinking, “I meant…no big deal. How about I come to you instead? I’m sure I can find somewhere good for you—for…us.”

There’s a short pause before Rarity responds.

“Applejack, are you sure, darling? Of course I’d love to have you here…but only if it wouldn’t be too much for you. If you aren’t busy with your duties on the farm, as well. I know that the big city isn’t exactly your cup of…cider.”

“Nothin’s too much for me when it comes to you, sugar.”

AJ’s heart flutters when she hears the soft, breathy laughter of her crush over the phone.

“If you insist,” Rarity says, the smile evident in her voice, “There are a few places I could call. I’m friends with practically everyone here, you know.”

AJ shakes her head. “You just rest up and let me do the work. I’ll get everything together.”

This isn’t up for debate—she’s dead set on being a gentlewoman. If this is going to be a real date then she’ll make sure it’s a damn good one. Which includes making sure that Rarity can just enjoy the evening and not have to worry about anything.

Rarity lets out a sweet laugh, which pitches high at the end, a little too strained.

“Oh, no, there will be no resting for me. After I finish this job, I need to come up with something spectacular to wear for our date. Now that we’re going out on the town, I need something divine—something fabulous…” she trails off before continuing, “But I’ll be ready. Just let me know. Oh! When will you arrive, dear? I’m not sure I can make it to the train station to greet you…I’ll be so busy…but you know where the boutique is.”

“I’ll find you. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Not to worry, darling. I doubt I could ever work nearly as hard as you do.”

AJ rubs the back of her neck, her face hot. “Psshaw, I’m not sure about that…”

The toe of her boot scuffs the wooden floor and she stares down at it, grinning like an idiot in the silence.

“Well…shall I see you Saturday, then?” Rarity posits.

“Yeah, Saturday.”

“Alright, darling, I’ll see you then,” Rarity says softly.

“Bye Rarity.” She sounds almost shy when she says her name.

There’s a click and then the call is over. AJ swears her heart skips a beat as she stares down at her phone. This is actually happening.

It still feels like a dream, and she hopes to never wake up.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling. She could run a marathon with all the energy tingling up her spine.

But—

It already looks like she’s been running at full speed—she’s drenched in sweat. Well…no surprise there.

“Ugh…I should shower,” she murmurs upon noticing the stains under her arms.

~~~~

AJ thought she’d have trouble sleeping, but after finishing her chores with a spring in her step, she knocked out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next morning, however, anxiety crawled its way into her chest.

She couldn’t stop daydreaming at breakfast, racking her brain for a restaurant in Manehattan. There were so many other things she had to do before that, too.

AJ didn’t really consider what it’d mean to have a date in Manehattan—she was just so sold on the fact that their date couldn’t wait.

She has some nice clothes in her closet - but do they fit a fancy restaurant in the big city?

Does she even know how to behave so she doesn’t embarrass herself and Rarity during the date? Sure, she’s polite, but she’s not versed on the social mores of Mane—

Granny snapping her fingers and hollering her name pulled AJ from her thoughts, only to find all three family members staring at her curiously.

“Sorry, Granny…what was it you said?”

“Well, it’s been s’darn long since I asked ya, I can’t remember nuthin’ I said!”

AJ didn’t tell anyone yet. For one, she wanted to pull it through on her own. But she also didn’t want anyone to gossip beforehand and cause her embarrassment. She got enough inquiring questions about her relationship status, especially from Applebloom.

After breakfast, she got to work on the chores around the farm.

Anyways, now that she could think again…

Would she need a present for Rarity?

Was there anything else she needed to prepare?

What if none of the restaurants she’d thought of end up being a good fit for Rarity?

AJ’s mind spins and spins and now she lays in the shade of an apple tree, staring up at the sky.

Well, she’ll admit it—she’s lost and has no clue where to start.

Yeah, she’ll definitely need some help…

She could ask one of her friends. She’s close enough to any of them, especially Rainbow—but Rainbow can’t keep a secret to save her life, and she’d probably just tell her to “Be awesome, duh” and that Rarity likes AJ enough that she doesn’t need to be fancy. Which…is a great sentiment, but would it help in the long run? Mm…she’s not so sure. AJ feels like it wouldn’t stay a secret for long if she told any of her friends. Would she even mind? They’re all helpful in their own ways.

Then again…she could also ask her family for support. She hopes they would keep news of her date a secret. Oof…some of those conversations might be a bit more embarrassing, now that she thinks about it...but Granny’s lived and loved, and Big Mac always gives sage advice. Applebloom is her biggest cheerleader when it comes to anything at all.

---

Tag List: @mrrrpmeow @babydarkstar @butwerebothmares @chaosdraconequus @chrysaliswife @gaywombat @mulan-but-gay @jubjub05 @dan-chan-rn @sanybaby @horserepository @justletmesnarkandbark

#polls #rarijack #applejack #rarity #mlp #my art #poll adventure: rarijack dinner #big mac #big macintosh #granny smith #applebloom

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newtthetranswriter · 8 months

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Hello dear, I've got an idea again!

Could you do a Aziraphale x Reader , where reader wrote their own book and the first person who should read it, is him?

While reading he notice that the story is about falling in love with someone 'angelic', and as he noticed that the story is a secret love confession for him, he's getting so emotional

Have a great day/evening and stay hydrated please <3

A/n: Welcome back, I had fun writing this, and I hope you like it. You also have a great day/evening and remember to eat something. Requests are still open so if you have any more fun ideas don’t be afraid to send them in.

Word count: 1322

Paring: Aziraphale x gn! reader

I truly enjoyed books, and so did my angel friend Aziraphale. That’s why I thought the best way to confess my love to the white haired angel would be to write him a book. Now I didn’t just write ‘I love you, Aziraphale’ in a book, that would be too easy and I wanted to have a little fun with it. I also have loved allegories for the longest time and thought it would be a great story telling tool to get my point across. So I wrote a book and made sure he would get the first copy, signed by me of course.

Walking into A.Z. Fell and Co. I couldn’t hide my smile as I called out for my favorite angel. “Aziraphale, where are you? I have something for you.” I was greeted by Aziraphale walking down the stairs setting down the book he had in his hands.

“Hello, Y/n. What have you brought?” He asked, voice laced with curiosity. He motioned me towards two chairs sitting close to his desk, offering me a seat.

I declined the offer with a simple shake of my head. “It’s okay. I just stopped by to give you this. You know I’ve been working on this book and it’s officially finished and so I thought I would hand over a signed first edition to my favorite book worm in person.” I said with a smile, passing the angel the book.

He inspected the cover, smiling at the title Love beyond Heaven followed by my name at the bottom. “It is truly spectacular, I can’t wait to read it. Thank you, for such a thoughtful gift.” He said, running his hand over the cover. I just nodded in response, wishing him farewell and asking that he calls to tell me what he thinks when he finishes it. I didn’t want to wait around, the nerves had set in realizing that I had actually just handed over my confession to one of my best friends.

P.o.V to Aziraphale reading the book

The angel watched as his friend left his shop in a hurry, while it was odd that they didn’t at least stay for a cup of tea he brushed it off as them having other things to do and had just stopped by to give him the book. He smiled to himself as took the book and sat at his desk ready to read the lovely words his friend had put together. Having been friends for a while, and knowing Y/n’s taste in books he wasn’t shocked to see that they had written a romance novel, and thought it was just that. A normal romance novel that has probably been written hundreds of times over with different characters and settings, but boy was he wrong.

Upon opening the book he was surprised to see that unlike most books this one lacked a dedication page, and the promised signature was not on the first couple pages. Brushing it off as maybe Y/n had actually forgotten to sign the book in their excitement to give it to him, so he decided to keep reading and asking them to sign it later when they spoke next.

He started reading, the book seemed straight forward, the main character falling for their best friend. He got through the first few chapters before he noticed one detail that he had previously brushed aside. The best friend was described as ‘angelic’ and having a fascination with the way the world around them works. What brought this to his attention was it was just revealed the angelic best friend owned a gaming store that featured the first edition of many video games and board games from throughout history. He couldn’t help but notice some similarities between himself and the main character, but again thought it must just be coincidence.

As the angel read on he began noticing more and more similarities between the book and real life. For example, main character had gotten sick and pushed themself to far eventually passing out in front of their best friend who then spent days nursing them back to health in the apartment above the game shop, much like he had done for Y/n shortly after the pandemic hit and they had denied for days that they didn’t have covid. Another shared experience with the characters of the book was spending weekends enjoying eachothers company with tea and a good book, only in the story it was calm video games instead of a large novel.

It kept going, Aziraphale kept piecing together that this book was based on real life, and apparently an allegory of his friendship with the shy human. The only thing that confused him was as far as he knew Y/n didn’t feel that way about him. Sure he loved everything about them, like how they are truly fascinated by his massive book collection, and how they enjoy bugging Crowley just to see the demon upset. The angel wasn’t ready to admit it but he was deeply in love with Y/n and he hoped that the implications of the book were correct. That the sweet playful human Loved him back.

When he reached the last page of the final chapter he was truly astonished to see that it had ended with the main character admitting their feelings with a custom video game. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Y/n wrote this book to end in such a way, and then give the first copy to him. He flipped the page one last time to find the missing dedication page and the handwritten note from Y/n on the last page of the book.

The dedication read ‘This book is dedicated to my best friend, Aziraphale. Without him I would have never had the courage to write this book.’ The angel couldn’t hold back a smile as he read that. One of his best friends wrote a book and dedicated it to him. He then looked down at the handwritten note that took up half the page.

‘Dear Aziraphale, I can’t begin to explain how much you mean to me. Spending rainy days reading and drinking tea with you are some of my favorite days. I don’t know what I would do without you, you mean everything to me. I hope by the time you reach this point of the book you’ve already figured it out. But I guess I’ll say it anyway. I love you, Aziraphale. I love how you collect so many books because you truly love to see the inner workings of the human mind. I love that you enjoy food even if you don’t need it, I love that you don’t fault me for being human. You bring me so much joy and I hope you understand that. I mean this with every fiber of my being you are the best thing to ever happen to me, Again I Love You, Aziraphale.’ - Love Y/n

The angel smiled to himself. He was amazed at how thoughtful you had been. You wrote an entire book just to tell him how you feel. He would treasure this forever. It is now his most prized possession, no other book will ever compare. Without putting much thought into what time of day it was or what Y/n might be up to he immediately dialed the number he had memorized since it was given to him.

P.o.V back to Y/n

I was awoken to the sound of my phone ringing on my nightstand. I looked briefly at the clock, seeing that it was nearly 3 in the morning, before answering, ready to yell at whoever woke me up. But I didn’t get the chance, before I could open my mouth to start yelling I heard the four words I had dreamt of hearing for so long.

“I love you too.”

#good omens x reader #good omens 2 #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale #go aziraphale #good omens

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lunerna21 · 6 months

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……Is anyone else kinda disappointed with how Playful Land ended up being?? Or it is just me??

***Slight Spoilers for Playful Land Ahead***

Don’t get me wrong, it was an enjoyable event and everything and I loved seeing new people bonding that we typically wouldn’t see interact like Leona and Trey.

But besides that, it felt sort of lackluster compared to Glorious Masquerade.

Like Azul, Idia and Malleus and the others demonstrated growth compared to their involvement of the main story. Even in Glorious Masquerade, we witnessed everyone going through something traumatic with how dangerous the Fire Lotuses could be, to the scary thought that anyone could lose their magic forever because of Rollo’s choices.

Like I was on the EDGE of my seat as I’m watching students from NRC fight this with everything and EVERY SINGLE STUDENT progressed and showed how much they’ve grown over time.

AND I LOVED IT! ITS STILL MY FAVORITE EVENT!

…..But I don’t think Playful Land lived up to the potential it could have been…

Don’t get me wrong, Fellow blew Rollo out of the water with how fucked up and dark the concept was for Playful Land.

I had to stop SEVERAL times to compute the fucking fact that this is happening to people, and many others weren’t able to stop Fellow and Gidel in time. Like shit was FUCKED UP

BUT WHY DID THEY STOP TALKING ABOUT THE DUDE BEHIND THE SCENES INVOLVING HUMAN TRAFFICKING!?

LIKE NO IT SHOULDN’T JUST END WITH EVERYONE CELEBRATING AND DANCING AND SINGING

SHOULDNT SOMEBODY REPORT WHOEVER THIS WAS, MAYBE HAVE FELLOW RATTING HIM OUT SO IT STOPS HAPPENING!?

Like why did they show Ace slightly scared with the concept of turning into puppets? If it was me, I’d be shitting bricks thinking my body is slowing turning into a mindless puppet and never returning NRC.

And even Kalim I feel like they didn’t really use the opportunity to grow from how he was in Book 4. Ortho showed some growth, but Fairy Gala Remix demonstrated more of how much Ortho was beginning to grow from an android to a human being, to being himself.

Not only the main three, but Lilia, Jade and the others didn’t really get a spotlight moment where we feel proud from how far they came from their involvement in the main story.

ALSO ME BEING AN ACEYUU PSYCHO I WAS HOPING FOR A MOMENT LIKE IN GLORIOUS MASQUERADE WITH ACE COMING IN TO SAVE US OR SHOWING SOME HINT OF WORRY.

BUT NO. NOPE. WE DIDNT GET ANY OF THAT AND I WANNA FLIP THE FUCK OUT I NEED MORE ACEYUU MOMENTS TOGETHER

One thing I did enjoy was there was more interaction with Fellow, Gidel and MC, even after the reveal of Fellow and Gidel’s intentions.

But I just feel like it didn’t live up to being a potential contender for Glorious Masquerade.

Even some of the groovy cards weren’t spectacular. I loved Ace, Ortho and Kalim but the others kinda seemed half-assed

AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHY THEY ALWAYS FUCK UP THE COLOR OF LEONAS SKIN IN EACH OF HIS GROOVY CARDS!? That and it just looks they didn’t put any effort into his groovy whatsoever.

Can we please give Leona a stunning groovy with perfect lighting and color for once!?

I’m kinda worried of what they’re gonna do with the concept of Halloween next year, but I just hope they don’t make it another traumatic event like the past Halloween event

Let’s just give the NRC students and staff a break because what the fuck they went through I would’ve been traumatized, ESPECIALLY TURNING INTO A FUCKING WOODEN PUPPET

AND I HAVENT EVEN SEEN ANY OF THE VIGNETTES BEING MENTIONED (part of it obviously due to some cards not having a vignette) but when Glorious Masquerade came out EVERYONE WAS IN SHAMBLES

I guess only time will tell, but let me know what you thought of Playland Land too I’m super curious if it’s only me who felt this way

But anyway, enjoy the rest of your day~~!❤️❤️❤️

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hongthoven · 1 year

Text

Thin Lines ╰┈➤ hj x reader (smut)

The sound came crashing into the room like thunderbolts hitting the cold asphalt as tears started to spill out the corner of your eyes, pain just as intense as pleasure as you composed yourself enough to remember how to count; basic mathematics leaving you the moment you felt Hongjoong’s hand palming your ass again, the warmth of his skin sucking the pain away like some magnetic witchcraft.

You didn’t know how long it had been but still, anyone granted with some good sense would know it was time to put an halt to it, to call it a day and let your body heal from the brutality of your little game—by now you were convinced your skin was probably striped with thin red lines, blood spilling dramatically from the bruises and yet, when your mouth opened again to gasp a couple words out, you weren’t that surprised to hear your choked out request.

“P-please--- m—m—more” ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

➶ warnings:

smut, is using a whip considered as bdsm? if so then bdsm, using of petnames but nothing too cringy, established relationship, dom!joong, husband!joong, PDA, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, bit of choking if you squint--

➶ author's notes:

obviously inspired from the japan promo pictures of Hongjoong holding some sort of fencing sword that looks like a whip-- I'm just a simple simp really, you know my mind went SPIRALING there-- also someone requested it and I aim to please. ♥

one shot | 6.8k words

Please, p l e a s e- comment & reblog if you enjoyed the ride!

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It all started as a joke, an innocent comment made in the middle of a conversation over bedtime; definitely not something you thought was worth pondering over.

You overheard Hongjoong making a silly comment from the bathroom about how you two probably looked like an old couple quietly settling into the early days of retirement as he realized you were both ready for bed before 10pm. Not that it was absolutely mental to seek for a bit of quietness, but still rare enough for your husband to point out. The week had been quite hectic for both of you, juggling between a tight work schedule and a heavy social life where you both had to balance a night out with mutual friends, date night at the movies and a work event you were both dreading to attend the next day. Tonight was actually the only break you could catch and for all you knew, it would be spent with a book into the warm cocoon of your bed while Hongjoong would pick whatever random movie to watch, only to doze off before he even consumed half of it. That was one of the things you found both endearing and infuriating about your partner: his spectacular capacity to fall asleep at the most random places and times regardless of his promises to stay awake to spend quality time with you.

An unsolicited cold breeze suddenly caught you off guard as Hongjoong lifted the blanket to make himself comfortable next to you, snuggling immediately into your arms as his chin came resting upon your chest with a soft, content hum from his lips. The smell of shampoo came as a package with the dampness of his dark locks, a couple drops of water hitting the parts of your skin that wasn’t clamped with the silky blouse you liked to wear to bed on a quiet night.

“Cold, honey?” Hongjoong smirked as your entire body shuddered underneath the arm he kept around your stomach, forcing an embrace.

“Your hair is dripping all over me, what do you expect?” you almost scolded him, purposely ignoring the way his voice toned down under his demonic chuckle as his lips suddenly pressed against your neck, butterfly kisses tracing the goosebumps over your skin.

With his arm still draped over you, Hongjoong eventually went quiet, his chin resting against your chest as he made himself more comfortable by resting one of his leg above yours, clinging onto your figure like a needy koala as his eyes inevitably landed on the book you were halfway through reading. It was no news to Hongjoong that your favorite genre was romance, especially when it involved some quality smut, but still, as soon as he came across a couple lines from the chapter you were deeply involved into, his lips came out with a small, confused gasp as he instantly looked up to catch your reaction.

“You know I like you wet, princess” he growled while locking your flesh between his teeth to leave a soft, pink mark right underneath your jawline. It wasn’t smooth, nor even that funny, but you couldn’t deny the way your body inevitably reacted to your husband’s words. Sometimes it took you all the strength in the world not to whack him in the face whenever he tried to be a brat, but most of the time, it only enhanced your permanent crave for his touch. Regardless of the years you had spent by his side, Hongjoong remained your biggest turn-on and your ultimate fantasy.

No one compared to him, ever.

“Are you really into that stuff?” he dared to ask, his mind already wandering to a darker place where you had turned into the main character of this story, making him the inevitable love interest.

“I mean—I’m just curious, I guess!” you shrugged off his interrogations like it meant nothing. After all, you could easily be intrigued by a plot without it being a genuine interest just like reading a thriller would never make you a serial killer. Still, Hongjoong’s interest seemed to be piqued in a much deeper way as his hand immediately wandered underneath the fabric of your blouse, palming your stomach, toying with the elastic band of your panties, kneading your thighs but all the while, his eyes were back to the book you kept turning pages from, slightly unbothered by his sudden change in attitude.

It wasn’t until his hand found its way into the cotton of your panties that you finally dropped your book to your side, allowing Hongjoong the quality time he desperately seemed to seek. From the intensity of his gaze to the way his fingers worked into you, you knew the quiet evening you expected was a vague memory as your husband had much wilder plans for you both – and while it was still early in the evening, Hongjoong made sure to have his name echo between the walls in perfect synch with the loud thud from your book hitting the floor as soon as he flipped you down to your stomach to have his way, his mind still filled with vivid images painted over the lines he had read earlier.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

“I guess this calls for a choker necklace or a scarf” you pouted while staring at your distorted reflection into the toaster, the obvious purple bruise shaped into a bite over your neck like a puddle of color in a black and white sketch. Standing in front of the stove next to you waiting for your eggs to scramble exactly how you loved to have them, Hongjoong couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, his naked chest vibrating like thunder from the raspy tone of his morning voice.

“Don’t be too proud of yourself—do you really want your boss to know you’re a fucking freak in the sheets?” while your voice came out with a pout, your hand firmly slammed against his arm, making him move slightly to the side as his giggles increased with every one of your complaints.

“Seonghwa is probably a much bigger freak than I am, love, I don’t think he would care even if you showed up with a collar and a leash to this party...” Hongjoong teased with a smirk tugged into the corner of his lips. You couldn’t ignore the point he had made, though. From what you had seen of his boss, Park Seonghwa seemed like the kind of man who exulted with filth—one that could get you down on your knees with a simple nod and never apologize for the mess he would make out of you. Not that you truly cared since the only man you would ever try anything with just so happened to be standing next to you, the silver ring on his finger making it yours only.

While some of your friends dreaded the idea of a routine, you absolutely adored being a wife and sharing random moments with the love of your life such as breakfast when your schedules allowed you to sit together at the same table outside of dinner time. As usual, Hongjoong was scrolling through a couple e-mails as you refilled both your mugs with fresh coffee, your mind already running through your day and every tasks you had to complete before you’d get to meet your husband again later in the evening to attend his work party.

It’s not that you actually hated these kind of events as years of marriage had proven just how devoted and supportive of your husband’s hard work you sincerely were, but you weren’t exactly a social butterfly and regardless of Hongjoong’s efforts to keep you close and included in whatever conversations he’d have with his colleagues, there was always a moment during the night where you’d find yourself lonely and bored, wandering through strangers while avoiding cold snacks in favor of a couple glasses of champagne only to curse yourself for not eating more by the time the floor would start to feel like gum under your stilettos.

You were halfway through thinking about your outfit for the special occasion when Hongjoong finally dropped his phone to the table to have a proper conversation that turned into chit-chat about whatever was going on in your mutual friend’s lives. Being the married couple in a group of childhood friends often came with the heavy burden of dealing with the mess of others’ relationships and dating game shenanigans and while sometimes, for a brief second, you kinda missed the unknown of a first date and the butterflies coming with a first kiss, you would never trade your life with anyone. Hongjoong was all of your firsts and would definitely be all of your lasts.

Before you knew, it was already time to get ready and leave as you decided to pack your evening outfit since it would be too much of a hassle to come back home before you’d get to the party that just so happened to be hosted on the opposite side of the town and about a thirty minutes’ drive from your work place.

“Can you drop our spare key to Mrs. Lee? I’m expecting a package today—tell her to just leave it in the living room for me, alright babe?” Hongjoong called from the bedroom, fiddling with his tie as you stepped into your strapped heels down the corridor.

“Can’t you just pick it up tomorrow at the post office?” You frowned when Hongjoong finally emerged from your room, draped into one of his immaculate tailored costume and his hair slicked back.

“No---” he firmly added before pecking your lips on his way out “I need it tonight”.

While you couldn’t figure out why he had decided to build such mystery over a simple delivery, you knew better but to ask for receipts when it came to your husband’s impulsive decisions. Still curious, you eventually decided not to bother anymore and grabbed the spare key from the piece of wood that was keeping it pinned to the wall before you escaped your place.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

The room was packed as you made your way through the crowd, hoping no one could tell you had done your make-up in the backseat of a cab under the flashlight of your phone. For all you knew, you could be shining brighter than an entire constellation from the amount of highlighter on your cheekbones but, so far, no one was giving you any weird look. If anything, you had only gathered a couple grins and sympathetic nods from the couple faces you actually recognized through a sea of suits and cocktails dresses.

It was no surprise to see the party for a big architecture house happening in such a fancy and spectacular setting as an Opera but still, you found yourself staring in absolute awe, your mouth slightly gaping at the sight of the golden moldings over the ceiling or the way every single painting on the walls seemed to perfectly melt into the marbles of the extravagant staircase right in the middle of the foyer. Everything seemed extremely sophisticated and straight from a regency novel—not your favorite genre but you had read enough of those to let your mind wander to a darker corner of the room when you could steal a couple steamy kisses from Hongjoong without anyone knowing.

Speaking of the devil, you were about to give up on your hectic search for your husband and ready to give him a call when your eyes instinctively caught his sight on the other side of the room. Even from the back, his posture and presence were enough to stop you right in your tracks just so you could take a minute to yourself and admire the absolute love of your life. Hongjoong was like a goldfish in a tank filled with sharks, his fashion sense slightly outside of the classical, supposedly correct attire his job as an architect often demanded while his ears were covered with shiny trinkets only a rockstar typically pulled off. But still—Hongjoong embraced his eccentricities and made sure his hard work was the thing everyone noticed first, beyond his looks and the color of his nails.

Tonight, your husband had chosen to wear a velvet Balmain jacket that looked like a soft yet extremely fancy blanket tucked to the side and matching pants in a deep shade of blue, leather ankle boots and to your dismay, one of the many pair of glasses he loved to wear as an accessory. Now there were many things about Hongjoong that drove you to the edge, but seeing him with glasses on sat firmly on the top three things that made you go feral in no time.

Making your way towards your husband, you couldn’t help but smile endearingly at the sound of his familiar laugh, a piece of home that instantly dragged you to him like a safe zone in the middle of a wolf den.

Politely waiting for him to be done with his conversation, you quietly made yourself known by grazing his back with the palm of your hand as he welcomed you with the brightest smile, his lips instantly reaching for yours through a loving peck. He introduced you to one of his clients—a name you instantly connected to one of the big contracts he had told you about earlier in the month, hoping to get it and you silently patted yourself on the back for drinking your husband’s every words whenever he shared about his work, thriving in the way the fifty year old redhead in faux-fur grinned back at you as soon as you mentioned the spectacular custom-made gazebo Hongjoong had spent hours designing on his client’s demand. But while the thrill of piquing a multi-millionaire’s attention ran quickly through your veins, nothing came close to the silent praise from your husband as his hand immediately slid down your side to give your hip a little squeeze that you knew was his own personal way to let you know he was thankful for your commitment—along with a slight hint of pride.

In rare occasions, Hongjoong loved to praise you in front of his colleagues and sometimes, you could see a slight urge to brag and show you off in the way his lips curved into a smirk. Not only was he proud to call you his wife, but Hongjoong also held this darker side of him that somehow made him feel like he had to make sure everyone knew you belonged to him.

The conversation went on for a couple more minutes until you eventually found yourself alone with Hongjoong as he motioned for the waiter to get you both a glass of champagne, though his was definitely a refill as you could see a slight hint of redness over his cheeks.

“You look absolutely delicious—I could devour you here and then” he almost growled into your ear, his hand pushing into the bottom of your back to press you closer to him as you giggled inevitably at his lack of composure.

“I’m not sure that’d be too good for business, darling” you smirked, palming his cheek tenderly until Hongjoong purposely tilted his head to the side so your thumb directly pressed against his lips, his teeth immediately attacking it.

“Fuck I can’t wait to get you home—”

His words came out halfway between a threat and a promise although you didn’t quite know which part of it you liked the most. One thing you knew is that your husband was up to no good and while your curiosity was getting unbearable to handle, you knew it would be hours until you eventually managed to unveil the mystery surrounding Hongjoong’s behavior—but as you were about to quiz him some more about his sudden flirty attitude, you were both interrupted by one of his colleagues walking towards you and carrying an obvious need to have a chat with the ‘man of the evening’ as everyone seemed to secretly celebrate Hongjoong’s biggest deal of his career.

Yunho was actually one of your favorite colleagues of his. You found him nice, polite and always appreciated his will to make conversation with you whenever your husband was too busy granting someone else with his presence, so it wasn’t too hard to pretend you were interested in whatever conversation was happening now—but the real struggle remained in the way Hongjoong’s hand unexpectedly found its way lower down your back to grab a handful of your ass, his fingers practically digging into your flesh through the silk of your dress as the coldness of his rings made you shiver against the thin fabric of your thong.

Hongjoong was an ass man—this you had figured out pretty early into your relationship whenever his hands only seemed to find a nest upon your backside or when you found yourself either on all fours or stomach flat against a surface while your husband pounded into you from behind. So it wasn’t such a surprise to have him pat his favorite piece of your body while in public—but soon enough, what started out as some innocent squeezes from his palm took a wilder spin as his middle finger started to dangerously flirt with your crack, his digit tracing the slit of your ass through your dress, just enough for you to look around, red at the cheeks, to make sure no one was taking an unfortunate peek at the gratuitous peep-show happening in the middle of a fancy cocktail party.

Lucky for you, Seonghwa’s voice echoed into the room and through the speakers as he gathered everyone closer to the improvised stage for some much anticipated speech that inevitably stole your husband’s attention from you as his boss waved for him to join the festivities. Flustered and still a little baffled as the ghost of Hongjoong’s hand remained above your butt-cheeks, you watched as he pulled Seonghwa into a friendly embrace while the taller man patted him on the back right before he handed him the mic. While pride washed over your nervousness as soon as Hongjoong started his speech with a warm smile, you couldn’t help but stare at him until his eyes eventually landed on you, the smirk at the corner of his lips holding more promises than you could handle.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

The drive back home was unusually quiet as Hongjoong’s hand remained on your knee while the other kept a steady grip around the wheel. If anything, Hongjoong was a safe driver and while he still granted you with an occasional smile or glance at a red light, his attention never drifted away from the road as safety came first. You watched as the city lights danced from outside the car window, thin yellow lines coming out as a blur as you turned your attention back to your husband, staring at his perfect profile while he hummed through your favorite classic 90s hits playlist.

Silence remained as you both walked into your apartment but years of marriage had taught you not to feel awkward or nervous whenever Hongjoong failed to fill the blanks. Going through your routine, you smiled to yourself as your husband’s lips pressed softly at the back of your neck before he escaped into the living-room while you freed yourself from your cashmere coat and high heels, only catching the dim light from the room he had disappeared into while walking towards the bathroom.

Hongjoong only appeared a couple minutes later, standing behind you as you faced the mirror to wash your face. His blazer was long gone as you caught a glimpse of his slightly unbuttoned shirt, the sight of his collarbones almost enough to make you clench immediately as he pushed himself against you, locking your hips against the sink while his hand reached to your front and all the way up to your throat, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Fucking gorgeous” he whispered, nibbling at your earlobe as a soft moan escaped your lips quicker than you intended to, your body leaning back against his chest while his other hand traveled up your stomach, lifting the fabric of your dress only for his palm to grab a solid hold of your left boob. While ditching your bra for the night was an aesthetic choice to fit the wide, open back of your dress, you silently thanked yourself for giving an easy access to your husband as his fingers started to flick at your nipple, his entire body stiffening against yours. Looking up into the mirror as his lips attacked your shoulder, Hongjoong looked almost possessed with some kind of filthy demon as he smirked against your skin, unbothered by the yelp coming out of your lips as soon as his teeth started to dig into your flesh like you were nothing but fresh meat at a vampire’s mercy.

Pushing your ass against his crotch, you didn’t care if you sounded or looked desperate to be fucked as you looked straight into the mirror to catch your husband’s gaze, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as your eyes seemed to beg for a quick relief. Maybe it was the champagne having its way and making you foggy, maybe it was Hongjoong’s predatory smirk or the obvious bulge pushing between your thighs, but nothing else mattered at this moment, except for the way your body seemed to react to his touch.

Hongjoong had a thing for mirrors—you actually couldn’t recall the number of times you had found yourself bent over a sink with your husband rocketing his hips against yours with his palm covering your moans whenever you ended up doing it in a risky place. He had even insisted on having a mirror facing your bed so he could enjoy the view of your completely fucked-up face while taking full advantage of your backside. Hongjoong was a greedy, sometimes borderline sadistic lover and nothing could ever compare to the thrill of being an absolute slut for your husband whenever his dom side would show.

“Bedroom—now” he almost growled, his order coming with a soft tug at the back of your hair as your body instantly missed his touch, cold air hitting your exposed breast while you stood in front of the mirror completely baffled with his sudden escape.

You found him sitting with his legs spread out over the velvet, burgundy lounge chair you had insisted to get for your bedroom regardless of Hongjoong’s complaints about the whole ‘boudoir’ vibe it gave. Still—his doubts were long gone as soon as you had him sitting there with a mouthful of his cock for the first time, his eyes traveling from the sight of your kneeled figure in the mirror to the way your cheeks kept hollowing around his girth like you couldn’t get enough of his taste.

Now he looked incredible on that chair, shirt wide open, chest on full display and one of his hands resting upon a mysterious leather case you had never seen before. It took you a while to connect the dots and realize it was probably the delivery he was so cryptic about earlier as your eyes couldn’t seem to detach from his chest, mouth watering at the thought of tracing love bites from his stomach to his neck like you had been starved for years.

“Thought we could have our own special celebration tonight” he finally broke the heavy silence of the room, his perfectly polished nails tracing the leathery surface so delicately you almost felt jealous for not being granted with the same treatment. Hongjoong’s eyes were traveling from the case to your face, scanning your reaction, expecting a frown, a tilt, anything that would confirm your absolute confusion.

“What do you have in mind?” you finally dared to ask, walking towards your husband like a magnet, your entire body already craving his attention in the least subtle way.

“Mmm, well—I couldn’t help but notice just how wet you were last night reading that book?”

Your eyes were instantly drawn to his hand as the clicking sound of metal echoed into the room in perfect synch with your beating heart. In silence, you watched as Hongjoong elegantly unwrapped the black velvet sleeve to unveil a thin yet long piece of leather you instantly recognized as a whip.

“M-maybe it was just you” you tried to compose yourself, hiding your sudden arousal behind the most obvious lie as Hongjoong couldn��t help but chuckle a little, his hand already wrapped around the handle while the other played with the tip, making it bounce once, twice then smack into his palm.

The sound itself was enough to send you over the edge as a gasp escaped your lips instantly.

“I don’t think it was me, darling, but it’s okay—” he paused, purposely grazing the tip of his new toy against his neck as your eyes followed the veins poking from under his skin with your mouth gone dry.

“—tonight I’m the one who gets to play” Hongjoong finally added with a smirk, smacking the piece of leather a couple times against his clothed thighs while you tried your best not to moan instantly at the obscenity of his move.

“Come here” he added as you wasted no time dragging your fragile bones to the ultimate object of your attraction. With his legs spread out, it was easy for you to stand in between them, looking down on your lover as the coldness of leather immediately sent shiver down your spine.

“Is that something you wanna try?” Regardless of the filthy games you played together, Hongjoong never missed an occasion to check for consent first. While he stood proudly as a dom in the bedroom, your husband would never actually do anything you weren’t 100% willing to try. Gulping at both the kindness of his eyes as he looked for a reaction and the painful teasing of the whip traveling up and down the side of your thigh, you were left with nothing but a nod, words failing to reach your lips.

“Good—” he smiled, the glimpse of his tongue nipping at his bottom lip sending you over the edge as your legs were already threatening to fail you.

“Now take these off” his words came out like an order although his voice was soft—the complete opposite of the way he instantly started to smack your cotton cladded pussy with the tip of his toy.

Flustered, you could already feel your body covering with a thin coat of sweat as you decided not to fight any of his orders, the thrill of getting handled by this man definitely stronger than any sort of pride you may have left within yourself. Stepping out of your panties, you made sure to never to break eye-contact with Hongjoong, expecting a smile, a nod, anything that would come close to a praise.

“Such an obedient little pet for me” the hint of a growl instantly sent shivers down your spine as Hongjoong hooked one of his arms between your thighs to drag you closer, his palm firmly attached to your ass as you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable with his face so close to your aching pussy.

Looking up with his signature, evil smirk, Hongjoong reveled in the way you instantly started to mewl as soon as his lips found your stomach—it was actually ridiculous to tremble this much when you were still safe into the barrier of your dress, the warmth of his mouth acting like a water bottle on your belly while purposely ignoring the place you so desperately needed him to pay attention to.

“J—joongie—”

With a soft tug and a groan, Hongjoong pushed you down to straddle his lap, his lips attacking yours immediately as your tongues battled in the crudest way to match the eagerness of your hips rolling hectically against his crotch while your lips curved with a proud smile at the inevitable thickness of his hard-on pushing against your hungry core.

“Take off your dress”

Again, an order—barely growled into the desperate pit of your gaping lips as his hand found its way around your throat, forcing you to stare into his eyes as you once again bent to his every needs. Within seconds, the last remaining item was pooling at your husband’s feet while his lips seized the occasion to grab a mouthful or your tits, both getting the same painful treat of having him nibbling, sucking and biting until he seemed sufficiently pleased with the sight of your perky nipples coated with his saliva and pointing with absolute agony.

“Fuck baby—look at that mess” Hongjoong almost roared at the sight of your arousal ruining his tailored pants as you kept trying to reach climax by dry-humping his clothed erection like he was nothing but a toy to you.

Unfortunately, your husband had other plans—and while you were too turned-on to remember about it until then, Hongjoong was quick to remind you of his own little toy as he pressed the tip against your chest, purposely tracing the curve of your tits to give it a couple, gentle slaps. Though it wasn’t painful, the idea of getting a harder treatment later was enough to make you yelp a little too loud.

“You just love this, don’t you?”

You nodded. Incapable of using your words as you could feel yourself slowly reaching your peak, hips working harder on your husband’s laps, tits bouncing right in front of his eyes while both your hands were clawed to his thighs for support. Soon enough, you were hit with the familiar warmth traveling from head to toes, fingers digging harder into his flesh as you closed your eyes to drive yourself up to the ultimate salvation—then it was gone. Right before the fireworks, the big finale and the relief you were aching for. Within a second, your body turned cold, shivering with agony as your wobbly legs struggled to keep you up in front of Hongjoong.

He was smiling—of course, proud of his demon move as he watched you tremble from being denied a first orgasm, thighs still ghosting the shape of his, every muscle anchored into your bones as you almost considered humping the air hoping it would hit your clit in the right way and send you off for good. It was absolute torture, an agony you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy and yet, Hongjoong seemed to thrive at the sight of your stupefaction.

“Well I’m not gonna let you get off just like that, mmm?” he smirked, toying with the whip as it rolled from one hand to the other, tracing his jawline with an evil smug as he finally moved from the chair to walk around you like a predator.

“So beautiful—” his raspy voice hit the back of your neck in a way you had never experienced before as he pushed your hair to the side to connect his lips with your shoulders, traveling up to your earlobe as he praised your entire body with the ghost of his hands traveling down your sides.

“Now bend over for me, darling—face down”

You almost expected him to stand there and watch, his torturous manners taking an evil spin you never thought you’d see coming from him—but as soon as your knees hit the chair, arms hooking under the first pillow you could grab for balance, you immediately felt the warmth of his palm hitting your butt cheek with a slap—not quite as hard as you could expect from a man holding a whip, but efficient enough to make you yelp and bend a bit forward.

Hongjoong was obviously into spanking—what else would you expect from a man who could never get his hands off your ass? But what truly twisted your guts every single time was the way he simply adored and worshiped that part of your body, hands kneading at your flesh between every slap, the tip of his finger tracing your crack and coating your slit with your own arousal as his lips traveled up the back of your thighs only to end up taking a strong bite into your skin, marking his spot like the Alpha he claimed to be.

“Still want this?” his voice was cracked from the way his lips kept sucking on your flesh, nibbling at it as the cold piece of leather seemed to be resting at the bottom of your back where he kept you still—but before you were even able to nod, moan or even dare say a word, Hongjoong’s tongue came resting flat against your dripping cunt, collecting his price as he gorged himself with every drop of your ecstasy. Gasping for air, the moment was too quick for you to catch the stolen relief from earlier but long enough to make you crave for a deeper connection.

Looking up for the first time, you were more thankful than ever for the mirror facing you as you watched Hongjoong getting rid of his shirt, his small hips dangling above the pricey belt of his now completely ruined pants. Completely wrecked at the sight of his tattooed arm pushing his hair back like he was actually standing in the middle of a ring, ready to destroy his opponent, you couldn’t help but clench at the sight of the ridiculously gorgeous man you were proud to call yours. Veins tracing his arms, shadows of a couple abs melting into his tanned skin, still in the softest caramel shade from your last week-end away by the beach—that mole on the side of his throat you had claimed years ago, the way his thin lips pinched together as he walked closer to you with determination, hunger and a look you had only seen a second before he was about to snap his hips into yours—the anticipation was too much, lungs lacking some oxygen as you almost begged for mercy, ass inevitably wiggling in front of him as an obvious green-light for him to go further. It was actually insane how much you need him now.

The first hit came as the ultimate salvation. Hard, noisy and so quick you almost thought it was an accident—still, the warmth growing at the surface of your skin was enough for you to know the game had finally started.

Hongjoong made sure to start over the side of your thighs, slowly making his way further to the part of your body he couldn’t wait to turn into a crimson red. With each smack, his hand came landing on the very same spot to palm your abused skin although each squeeze only increased the pain—something you thought Hongjoong secretely enjoyed, and soon enough, he was switching from a strong spank over your cheek to an agonizingly slow brush of the tip against your cunt, patting it ever so gently you couldn’t help but blush at the obscene sound of your own wetness harmonizing with the rudeness of the thick fabric.

“How is it, baby?” Hongjoong spoke after what seemed like forever—and when you looked up to catch a sight of his face, you almost choked at the way his hair had fallen in curtains in front of his eyes, sweaty strands matching the couple drops traveling from his neck to his bare chest, making you wish you could take a full spin and lick him up like a lollipop.

“G-good—so good” you surprisingly managed to blurt out, red at the cheeks as your entire backside seemed to progressively turn into a darker shade of pink.

“Tell me when to stop—” Hongjoong warned, his hand softly palming the back of your thighs, the tenderness of his touch as a brutal contrast with the burning pain of your abused skin.

There was no denying how much your flesh actually ached from the constant assault as you took another deep breath, your body threatening to collapse any minute from the overwhelming mix of your arousal and urge to be soothed; but still, when given a chance to escape, it felt like you were suddenly stolen from the intensity of a moment you never wanted to end.

“d—don’t” the word came out almost as a choked-up sob; body trembling, lips quivering as you suddenly felt too vulnerable and exposed while purposely ignoring the hint of shame in the way you stood on all fours with your ass up, face deep into a pillow while Hongjoong stood behind you with one hand keeping your hips still and the other holding the weapon.

“Alright baby, I’m gonna need you to count—”

“P-please--- m—m—more”

Transcended with your pleas, Hongjoong instantly increased the strength and pace of his moves, not so focused on hitting the right spot any longer as his entire attention was now on the way your entire body jolted and reacted to his whipping while taking an occasional glimpse at your face in the mirror, thriving in the way you could now only scream into a pillow, voice cracking from the agonizing mix of pain and pleasure.

You don’t know how long it was until it stopped as silence never stood a chance against Hongjoong’s raspy growls and the heavy panting muffled into the fabric of the pillowcase you were now properly biting but your body collapsed as soon as you heard the piece of leather hitting the floor, just as worn out as you were.

Pulling at your hips so your knees were secured over the fluffiness of the carpet, stomach flat against the lounge, you suddenly felt putty into Hongjoong’s hands as he used your body like play doe while he kneeled behind you—with one hand delicately tracing your spine and the other ghosting your ass, you didn’t really know what to expect until his lips found their way right where your back and butt met, pressing kisses into the dimples of your skin as his fingers spread you apart to circle your clit at the most painfully slow pace.

“You did so well, my love—” he hummed, lips coming so close to your slit you were terrified you might actually come from just his breath fanning over your tormented lips.

With your eyes closed, you were suddenly overwhelmed with your husband’s change of behavior, the kindness of his touch driving you to the edge as his tongue finally collected your much needed relief, core clenching against his mouth while his thumb kept toying with your engorged clit.

You couldn’t recall sharing such a visceral moment of intimacy with Hongjoong as his arms hooked under your stomach to pull your closer while his face remained buried between your thighs, chin dripping with all of your gratitude for the absolute bliss he had given you—and as your breathing slowly decreased, long slow puff escaping your trembling lips, you heard yourself humming the last couple words before you inevitably passed out from exhaustion.

“I love you—”

#hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #ateez smut

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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year

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TW: Smut-tacular 3 way smut. Angst. NSFW.

AN: Thanks to @loveshotzz for listening to all my ramblings & my beta @billybluboy for all her hard work.

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""Goddam, baby."

"Mmmmhmmm."

"Please tell me your close," Eddie says with closed eyes, neck muscles straining, his hand furiously circling your clit.

"No. Not yet. Just a little longer." With both hands pressed on his smooth, solid chest, you raise your hips and drive them back down, taking his hard cock as deep as you can. After a notably quiet dinner, Eddie wanted to take advantage of the empty house by finishing what you had started that morning.

The sex between you had always been spectacular and left you feeling closer to him, which is exactly what you are craving, but your body must have missed the memo. Teetering on edge, your muscles are bunched so tight, begging for release, but every time your close thoughts of what could have happened between you and Steve appear, pulling you back from the brink.

"Baby, I'll eat you out for hours after this, I swear, but I need to come." Leaning back and changing the angle, you ride him faster. "Fu..oh ga." He moans as he pulses deep inside you, filling you with his warm release.

"Holy shit, that was amazing," he pants as your motions slow to a stop, "Just give me a minute, and I'll make you come.

"It's just not going to happen tonight, Eddie," you say, climbing off him and going to the ensuite to clean up, grateful for a minute alone to sort through your emotions without worrying that your expression will betray you. When you return, he's sitting up with his back against the wooden headboard, the sheet gathered around his waist and his eyes full of worry.

"What's wrong?" His hesitant tone leaves you steeped in guilt.

"Nothing," you sigh, pulling a shirt over your head, "I don't know what's going on with me." He holds open his arms, and immediately some of the tension fades. You join him under the blankets without hesitation, letting him draw you close. "Tell me about your day. You got your van, alright?"

"Yeah, I owe Wayne another fifty bucks for the impound fee. The cops tore through it and took my favorite bowl."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find another."

"Baby, she was my favorite. What we had together can't just be replaced. I'll need some time before I'm ready to move on." He pulls the blankets up to his chin and makes his doe eyes droop.

"Okay. I'm sorry for your loss. Please, continue."

"Thank you," he says, putting his arm around you, "Hopper was able to clear most of it up…except for Chrissy." You stiffen at the mention of her name.

"That's still under investigation, but Hopper said it's a formality. There isn't any evidence that, you know, that I hurt her. Just that she was at my place. So, I've just got to stay in town and stay out of trouble until that's over."

"And why were you two alone in your trailer, again?"

He hesitates. His lips draw into a thin line, and he turns away from you, sliding open the nightstand drawer and rummaging through it.

"Uh-huh." Getting out of bed, you pick up the basket of clean laundry that still needs to be folded. The clothes in the basket mainly belong to Steve, and you sigh, remembering you forgot to stop at your parents" house to pick up more of your things.

"Can you drive me home tomorrow? I need to pick up the rest of my clothes." Shaking out a pair of jeans, you try to smooth some wrinkles before folding them neatly.

"I start back to school tomorrow." He's doodling in a small black notebook he found in the drawer.

"Tomorrow? You can't start back next week?"

"I've already missed so much. I have a ton of make-up work to do or I'm going to be repeating this year again. Plus, there is hellfire and the band."

"Alright. I get it. I was hoping we'd have a few more days together. And I'd have a car or a job or something." And maybe it would be better for you not to be alone with Steve all day, but you weren't going to tell Eddie that.

"No luck today?"

"Not unless you want me stripping. Steve is going to ask Hopper to help me get a job at Enzo's."

"Steve is?"

"Yeah, why?" You ask, matching up a pair of socks, "Maybe he can take me to my house tomorrow."

"Well, isn't Steve being helpful now that you've fucked him?"

The shirt you were shaking out slips through your fingers, and you look down at the pile of clothes in front of you. "I'm going to take a shower. You can fold your own goddamn clothes," you erupt, taking the rest of the clothes and throwing them at him. Turning on your heel, you walk to the bathroom.

"Baby-" The rest of what he said is cut off as you slam the door and turn on the shower.

The clock built into The Mister Coffee dings, followed by whirring and gurgling as it comes to life and begins to percolate. Standing at the island, you yawn as you smear some mustard, mixing it with the creamy mayo on two slices of bread before adding some deli-sliced ham and cheese.

"Baby, are you making that for me?" Eddie walks into the kitchen wearing his hellfire shirt and light jeans.

"I am. I wanted you to have a good lunch for your first day back." You explain as you wrap up the sandwich in wax paper and add it to the brown bag filled with an apple and a bag of pretzels.

"Thank you, my love." His arms go around, and you turn your head to receive his soft kisses.

Lingering in the shower last night, you had hoped the hot spray would wash away some of your anger toward Eddie. By the time you slipped into bed, he was already asleep, and you wondered if his early night was preparation for an early morning of school, or avoidance. You battled a restless night of tossing and turning, and when the alarm blared this morning, it was as if nothing had happened. A silent agreement sealed with an almost mundane good-morning kiss to move on and leave things unresolved—the status quo whenever there is a conflict between the two of you.

"Hellfire on a Tuesday? Did it move nights?"

"Nah. It's still on Fridays. I can't go back to school in one of Harrington's Polos, though. I need to go to Wayne's after school. He said he had saved a box of my things. Hopefully, there are some clothes in there. I need to talk to Rick too. I'm hoping he'll front me so I can get some money for necessities."

"I thought you were laying low?" You tighten the lid on the mayo before putting it back in the fridge.

"Baby, it's seven in the morning. Can we please not do this? Just trust me, okay?" He presses a kiss to your lips. "I got to go." He picks up his lunch bag and slings on his jacket.

"Alright. Play nice with other children." He rolls his eyes, and he's out the door.

Padding through the quiet house, you had every intention of going to your room to get ready for the day. So when you find yourself standing in front of Steve's room with your hand poised to knock on the door, you pause. The grocery bag with a few boxes of tea sat on the kitchen counter this morning, which was the only reason you knew he was home. He's your friend, and you want to see that he's okay. Your heart beats a little faster as you lightly knock on his door.

"Come in," he calls in a gravelly voice. Your hand turns the brass knob, and you open the door just enough to slip inside. A sliver of light at the bottom of the window frame steals in below the drawn curtains illuminating the dark room enough to see Steve propped up one arm, laying shirtless in his bed, the light blue sheets gathered at his waist. Your eyes follow the curves and dips of his muscled arms and shoulders, and you remember how they felt as they flexed under your hands while he was inside you. Tearing your gaze away from his body, you focus on his face as the memory has your skin flushing red, sending tiny sparks to every cell.

All the words you wanted to say stay locked away as you stand caught in his gaze. He opens his mouth and swallows, saying nothing, folding back the corner of the blankets on the empty side of the bed. Accepting his invitation, you slide between the soft sheets until you lie facing him, tucking your hand underneath the pillow.

"Hi," you say softly, wanting to break the silence as he mimics your position.

"Hi." His hair sticks up every which way, and light stubble lines his jaw.

"I didn't hear you come home last night. I was worried."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"Too bad. I'm going to worry about you anyway. That's what friends do."

"Does it make me a terrible person if I admit I like it?"

"Why do you like it?"

He rolls onto his back and scrubs his face. "I don't know. Don't listen to me. I think I'm delirious from lack of sleep."

"Okay. Let's go to sleep then. I'll stay with you."

"Okay," he says, shutting his eyes. And so it became something of a routine. As soon as Eddie left for school, you would crawl into bed with Steve for another few hours. Then again, after lunch, you would watch TV or read while he napped next to you. By the end of the week, he started looking and sounding a little more like himself.

"You can come in," Steve calls after you knock Friday morning. Surprisingly, he's up and almost dressed. The curtains are open, and the bright morning light fills the room.

"What are you doing today?" He asks, pulling a green sweatshirt over his white tee tucked into a pair of light-wash jeans. Your plan was to spend the morning in his bed, and you were a little disappointed that wouldn't happen.

"Nothing special," you try and sound casual, not like your whole day had been planned around him.

"My dad called. I have to bring some paperwork to his office in Indianapolis."

"That sounds nice," you say, looking down at your feet and tugging on the sleeves of your shirt, "getting out of town for the day."

"Yeah? Do you want to come with me?" He fastens his watch over his wrist, and you wonder if he's trying to be as nonchalant as you are by pointedly not looking at you when he says it.

"I'd like to, but I'm not dressed," you say, looking down at your long-sleeved tee and a pair of Eddie's boxers.

"I have to pick up the files at his office in Hawkins. I can go do that and come back. Would that give you enough time to get ready?"

Smiling, you nod your head.

"Alright. Better hurry." He teases.

Two hours later, you've traded the quiet streets of Hawkins for the noise and bustle of downtown Indianapolis. Skyscrapers and tall buildings line the streets of Mile Square, and you try not to gawk like a tourist as you exit the underground garage where Steve parked his car. The sound of rushing water has you turning your head. The Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument is just a block away.

"I didn't realize we were so close to Monument Circle. Your dad works down here? How rich are you?" You ask, brushing aside some hair that's blown into your face.

"I have about four hundred dollars in my checking account and some savings bonds from grandparents, so not very," He laughs and takes your hand the way one would a child as he leads you across the busy street. His father's office is on the third floor of a tall gray building. Embarrassingly, your sneakers squeak on the polished marble floor of the pristine lobby as you walk to the bank of elevators. Steve hands off several folders and a manilla envelope to the receptionist, who thanks him before he opens the office's glass door for you to exit back into the hall.

"That's it? You don't want to say hello to your dad?" You ask, following him down the beige hallway.

"Nah." He pushes the 'down' button to call the elevator. "He's busy. Besides, there's someone else I'd rather spend time with."

A warmth that pinkens your cheeks and ears accompanies the smile you wear all the way down to the lobby. Once you hit the crowded sidewalk, you look towards the memorial again.

"Do you want to go?" Steve asks, motioning with his eyes toward the towering monument.

"Do we have time?"

"We have all day. Come on." He holds out his hand, and you take it. The two of you step into the stream of people walking toward the circle.

The Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument is a limestone obelisk that stands tall enough to look like it's kissing the clouds, but in truth, is still dwarfed by the taller buildings in the Indianapolis skyline. The ornate stone statues pay tribute to fallen soldiers and the four branches of service, with lady victory standing watch over all of it with her sword and torch. The tiered fountains that flank its raised foundation always draw your eyes. The two of you linger there, watching the water cascade from the statuary.

"This is my favorite part," you say in a voice raised high enough to be heard over the falling water as it flows into the pools at its base.

"The fountains?" He asks, turning those deep hazel eyes on you. The gold flecks are strikingly notable against the green of his sweater. In fact, if you could only choose one word to describe Steve Harrington, it would be golden.

"Yeah. Anything with water just makes me instantly at peace. I have a cousin in Maine that my family visited a few times during the summer when I was little. I used to sit on the beach and just watch the waves for hours." You turn your eyes to the monument and the tourists viewing its majesty. "Eddie asked me to move away with him after he graduates. A fresh start and all that. He said we could find someplace near the ocean."

"You're leaving?" You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't return his gaze. "That's... it's really soon. What I mean is that's good. I'm really happy for you. You both deserve a happy ending."

"Well, we are working with Eddie time here. It probably won't be that soon. We'll have to save up. I'm sure you'll be more than ready to kick us out by then."

"I doubt it." He turns quiet and runs his hands through his hair before resting his arms on the stone banister. "Do you want to go up?" After a few minutes of silence, he asks, "it might be your last chance if you're leaving."

It only takes a moment to consider before nodding your head and following him inside. He pays a small fee for you to take the elevator bypassing most of the stairs that lead to the observation deck. After climbing the remaining forty-nine stairs, the tight stairwell opens up to the small viewing area, and your breath catches at the gorgeous view of the downtown area.

"When was the last time you were here?" Steve asks as he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you closer to the windows so a family can pass around you in the tight quarters.

"The field trip in eighth grade. Do you remember?"

"That's right. I goofed off all day. I don't remember very much of it. That's what we should do today."

"What?"

"Go on a field trip. What do you think?" His excited smile makes him look younger, and you have to admit you're happy to see the lightness in him return.

"Where do we start?"

"I can't believe we're at the zoo," you say happily as you wrap your arm around his elbow while passing the dutch windmill at the entrance of the Washington Park Children's Zoo. "Are we going to ride the little train?"

"Absolutely. Anything you want." The late spring sun warms your skin as you take in flowers bursting with color planted around the park. "What do you want to do first? Look at the Tigers or ride the train?"

"The train," you say, bouncing on your toes, "we can look at the elephants."

"Okay, sweet girl." He laughs and steers you toward the little station. Sliding onto the bench seat of the miniature train, you wait for the driver to sound the whistle before it starts chugging down the tracks.

A little girl in front of you twists in her mother's arms and peeks shyly at Steve. "Hi." He waves at her, and she buries her head in her mother's shoulder, only to pop up a moment later and stick out her tongue. The two of you start making faces at her until she's caught up in a fit of giggles. Her mother notices and turns her around, seating her on her lap. Steve wraps his arm around you, pressing you into his side as he points out the elk on his side of the open-air car. Hawkins and everyone in it feels so far away. Maybe it's okay to get a little lost with him today?

"I'm glad we ate before we went into the primate house," you say, crinkling up your nose.

"It was a little ripe in there." He shares your sentiment as he sucks in some cleaner air on the way out of the exhibit. "You know they are closing this whole place soon."

"What? No." Your brow pulls together as he takes your hand.

"Yeah. They're moving to a bigger piece of land. It will be all new."

"Another piece of our childhood gone. I guess we're growing up," you say a little wistfully.

"I guess so," he nods, stopping in front of the penguin pool, "I always like these guys. They seem so happy diving in the water, hanging out with their friends, and getting tasty fish."

You laugh and squeeze his hand. "The good life." you agree.

A flustered dad with three crying children plows into the back of your heels with his stroller knocking you forward and mumbling apologies as he tries to get his children a spot to view the animals. "Are you alright," Steve asks, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you in front of him.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He slips his other arm around you, and you relax into his strong chest. His breath is in your hair, and you're not really paying attention to the penguins anymore.

"I wasn't expecting it to be so big."

Steve blows out a breath and tilts his head to the side. "I get that a lot." Spinning to face him, your eyes widen, and your mouth hangs open. His cheeks blossomed apple red. "I mean not a lot. I've heard it…The sculptor. I'm talking about the sculptor," he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck, "Get your mind out of the gutter. Let's go."

The Love sculpture stands impressively about twelve feet high with the serif letters of L and O stacked over the V and E, spreading its message to the visitors of the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Walking closer to the steel rendering, the poetry of feeling small in the face of the word that defines something that often feels too big to contain is not lost on you. A light breeze sweeps across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and you turn to look at the boy standing a few feet behind you, whose gaze brings about the same effect.

"Now I know what love looks like." He's watching you with glittering eyes, and pieces of your heart break away, turning into butterflies that flutter inside you. Moving to where he waits for you, your fingers thread through his, and you wonder how you can be afraid to lose something that's not even yours.

He's still holding your hand. Driving with the other, your intertwined hands resting on your thigh while he sings softly along with The Cars playing on the tape deck. Unlike earlier today, Steve hadn't stopped touching you as you toured the museum, his hand tangled with yours, an arm around your shoulders or waist, pressing against you with his soft lips grazing your temple and his thumb tracing patterns on any exposed skin it found.

An unspoken permission had been granted with your act of affection, one that you are now rescinding as you cross into Hawkins town limits. Your trembling fingers pull away from him as you rest your head against the car window and hug your arms across your chest to stave off the loss. His empty hand falls to your thigh, giving you one last squeeze before returning it to the steering wheel.

The passing street lamps illuminate the dark roads on your way to Steve's house. Most streets are barren, the majority of the town already tucked safely into their homes at this late hour. Eddie's van is in the driveway when Steve pulls in and shuts off the car.

"I had a really nice time today. Thank you." Your voice is shaky as you break the silence.

He twists in his seat to face you. "I should be the one thanking you. You gave up your whole day for me."

No stars are out tonight, and the moon is obscured by clouds. The inky blackness of night presses in on all sides. The only traces of light escape from gaps between the curtains covering the house's windows. The engine ticks as it cools, and neither one of you makes a move to go inside.

"Why does it feel like I'm saying goodbye to you?" Steve asks, his expression hidden in the darkness.

"Steve, that's…we live in the same house." But you feel the same way. He leans in closer to you. And although you know you shouldn't, you mirror his movements. Your pulse is racing, and your breath comes quicker through your parted lips. Moments pass before you feel his touch, but it isn't what you expected. His forehead rests against yours, noses brushing, his warm exhales fanning your chin. Your decision is made, and you lift your chin to find his lips. The second before your mouths fully meet, he changes direction after the barest brush of his silky lips. His nose glides down along your cheek, and a low noise escapes his throat.

"Go inside, sweet girl." He leans back in his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Please. I'll be in a few."

With the fog of your longing dispelled, you scramble out of the car with the sting of unshed tears behind your eyes. You don't look back as you close the front door behind you. Your limbs feel heavier with every stair you climb, weighted down with the reality of what almost happened. Again. As you plaster on a smile before entering the room where you know Eddie is waiting, you promise yourself this will be the last time.

Part 5

Tag List @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya @arsenicred @kiki17483 @stolen-in-moonlight @sometimesamysometimesjo @ladybug0095 @sammararaven @tlclick73 @totally-bogus-timelady @katelyndestini95 @munsonswhore86 @kelsietilley-blog @figmentofquinn @champagne-glamour @ilovecupcakesandtea @bimbobaggins69 @munsonsgirl71 @sidthedollface2 @miarosso @micheledawn1975 @eddiescorrodedcoffin86 @takeitsteddie @tiannamortis @munsonology @manda-panda-monium @prestinalove @sunfl0wern1kk1 @pbeckn26 @yogizzz @justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @sllooney

#steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington x fem #steddie x reader

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catofadifferentcolor · 21 days

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Terrible Fic Idea #86: Percy Jackson, but make it Time Travel

I was minding my own business at work this morning when a terrible, awful, wonderful idea for a PJO time travel fix-it hit me out of the blue.

Or: What if a deified Percy was sent back to the start of canon?

Just imagine it:

Percy wakes screaming, which is immediately disconcerting as he's not slept in nearly 100 years. He summons a storm practically out of reflex, still caught up in the horrors of everything he just left behind, and promptly passes out, his 12 year old body not used to the strain.

-because he is twelve again - mortal again, - in his bed at Yancy Academy again, a week out from the field trip that will change his life.

Not that Percy realizes this straight off, what with the panic and the passing out, though he does pick it up fairly quickly once he wakes up again in the school infirmary. This nearly sends him into another tailspin of panic - (he is small, he is weak, he is alone in his head, one hundred years in the past, and can barely feel any of his domains) - before Percy manages to get himself under control enough to come up with the basics of a plan: get somewhere safe so he can start figuring out what the Hades is going on.

Percy manages to sneak out of the infirmary while everyone else is at dinner, hails the Chariot of Damnation even though he's way out of their normal service area ("We'll put it on your tab, dearie," the seeresses say, "we know you're good for it."), and arrives at Camp Half-Blood just after midnight.

His entrance is much less spectacular than it was originally, but no less startling for all Mr D is the only one awake to see it, for the moment Percy crosses the ward lines the magic begins to recognize him as the future Camp Director - which in turn startles Dionysus just enough that he doesn't immediately smite Percy when he practically throws himself at the god and starts going on about how pleased he is to see him.

The truth comes out in fits and starts, with Percy's exhaustion (and Dionysus' gifts) being the only thing keeping him from another panic attack. His story boils down to this:

Percy has always been a powerful demigod, perhaps the most powerful child of his father ever to be born to a mortal. His actions from his first quest onward only pushed him closer to the brink of immortality. Divinity did not come until several months after the events of ToA, when a camper had jokingly raised a glass to Perseus Jackson, Trainer of Heroes, which was all that was needed to push him over that final precipice.

As Lord Perseus, he was from the onset more powerful than most minor gods, his domains being the eclectic mix of Heroes, Natural Disasters, and Misery - the first earning him the permanent position of Director of Camp Half-Blood and Patron of Camp Jupiter, the second keeping him quite busy in an era of climate change, and the last having been unwittingly stolen years before from Akhlys in Tartarus. It is this power that causes Zeus to become even more paranoid.

-which is saying something, as his paranoia had already skyrocketed to new and greater heights after Apollo returned improved from the events of ToA.

It grows worse over the better part of the next century, with the Titan War, Giant War, Triumvirate, and all that follows eventually disabusing the majority of the gods that Zeus will never be an effective ruler. Apollo leads a rebellion against his father - and would have succeeded, had not Zeus not managed to somehow push Apollo directly into Chaos as Apollo was preparing for his final blow, which has the unfortunate effect of the universe trying to unwrite one of the most important gods from the history of Western Civilization and undoes the fabric of reality in the process. Percy was watching it unravel before his eyes (desperately, desperately trying to weave it back together but it won't hold) when he suddenly found himself screaming 100 years in the past.

It is a fantastical story, but Dionysus has no choice to believe it.

("But why did you come to me? Why not your father?" Percy looks down, running a finger along the grain of of the wooden table, "We became friends in the future. Misery and alcohol, you know? One of the oldest pairings in the book." There's more, Dionysus can tell, but the boy is already flagging, unused to the weaknesses of his childish mortal body. It can wait.)

The events of canon proceed apace - or at least as much as they can when Percy shows up at camp almost two months early knowing more about the Greek and Roman pantheon than anyone who hasn't lived through it, with the attitude of a hero who's been through Tartarus and the power levels of a minor god burning him up from the inside. All while sneaking off in his spare time to 1) plot to stop the end of the world with Dionysus and 2) hang out with Dionysus, because he is one hundred twelve, thank you very much, and needs adult company every now and then, for all he’s missed his long dead friends.

I actually have no idea how the events of the books themselves would play out - Percy has neither the patience or the ability to let everything play out exactly as before, but the major beats of PJO still take place, with Percy doing his best to undermine the arguments that drew so many to Kronos as he can while still mortal. (Advocating for cabins for minor gods and/or undetermined, or combined housing with temples. Gods being forced to claim their children when they arrive at camp, etc.)

Perhaps Kronos tries harder to sway Percy to his side once he sees how strong a demigod he is, showing his hand too soon and causing the Titan War to be an all out war from the start of TTC until the Battle of Manhattan? Percy is more than just a child solider - he is a seasoned teenage general, directing battles, saving many with is experience but still loosing too many; a one-man army who eventually ascends on his sixteenth birthday, Luke's misery as he kills himself being the last push Percy needs to reclaim his divinity and his domains.

Gaining his godhood early allows Percy to temper the events of HOO and TOA (the Giant War still happens, but a generation later with a different set of demigods, and allows Zeus to redeem himself somewhat by being an effective war leader; Apollo never becomes mortal but the Triumvirate is destroyed a generation after that), if not prevent them. Though a part of him will always long for his mortality, it was never in the cards. It was either godhood or an early death, and Percy would rather spend an eternity protecting demigods and giving them the training they need to protect themselves than the alternative.

And so that's what Percy Jackson does, because that's what he's always done: accept as much misery for himself to make the lives of those he loves as misery-free as possible.

Bonuses include:

No hint of Percy/Annabeth in the new timeline, with the pair in the original having broken up shortly before Percy's ascension, having realize their codependency was not healthy, nor was it actually romantic love. From 100 years on, Percy is critical of his first relationship, but still counts Annabeth as one of his best friends, even if they're not as close in this timeline.

Although never widely disseminated, several individuals come to learn of Percy's trip through time and the circumstances that lead to it. (Poseidon, Sally, Thalia). A few others suspect Percy has some level of prophetic gift to go along with his other powers. But for the most part no one has any idea Percy is anything other than a powerful demigod with some really bad luck; and

It eventually coming out that Percy and Dionysus had a thing in the future, with Percy over the course of 100 years coming to like, respect, and eventually love the God of Wine. Percy is absolutely convinced it was entirely one-sided, their thing only adding up to a few drunken fucks between friends (because that's what Dionysus does with his friends), but Dionysus after he learns of it not being so sure (because it's really not what he does with friends and hasn't been for millennia). Whatever the case, it is exceptionally awkward when it comes out, especially as Percy's only physically 14 at the time, and attempting to resolve this awkwardness is how Thalia ends up learning about the time travel.

Extra bonus points if Percy and Ariadne were decent friends in the original timeline, become decent friends again in the new one, and settle into a polyamorous relationship with Dionysus (after Percy is deified and comes of age) that has Hera spitting teeth for decades.

And that is far, far more than I'd ever thought I'd have, but I think this plot bun somehow merged with a thread of an idea for a Dionysus-positive fic that's been tickling at me for years now. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you do anything with it.

More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

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avacoleman · 3 months

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when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either. After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man. As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

chapter 6/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

Miami, FL SuperCon Day 1 Their first day in Miami finds them at one of the city’s most notable radio stations just before noon. For months now, it’s been exciting to shadow Alex like this on different appearances, to get these glimpses into what the life of a Hollywood star is like. Through it all, Henry has most admired how completely down to Earth Alex is, seemingly indifferent to just how interesting a life he leads. The elevator doors open on the tenth floor and Henry instantly finds himself squinting against the sunlight that bathes the entire space in natural light. Employees mill about, some answering calls, others walking past quickly with their heads together discussing something. It’s all fast-paced and exciting and immediately, Henry feels swept up in the flurry of activity. He follows after Alex as he heads straight to the receptionist area. The woman at the desk is on the phone, typing something into her computer. She looks up once, then does a double take, her eyes widening just fractionally before she composes herself and finishes her call by the time they reach her. “Hi, I’m–,” Alex starts to say, but the receptionist smiles widely at him, already getting to her feet.

“Alex Claremont-Diaz, yes. If you could just follow me, please,” she says, smoothing out her dress and coming out from behind her desk.

Her heels practically echo as she leads them down the corridor. Henry takes in the different posters adorning the walls of radio hosts and promotional shots throughout the years for concerts the station has put on.

The receptionist rounds a corner and brings them to a halt just outside of a door paneled with a window. Henry gets a clear view of the studio and a man seated inside, fiddling with headphones.

The receptionist opens the door, gesturing for Alex and Henry to head inside.

The studio is just like any other, microphones and other tech equipment placed on a large gray table with swivel chairs around it. There are more posters inside the room, but also photos of presumably past guests. Henry sees quite a few familiar celebrity faces smiling back at him from their frames.

Introductions are made and the show’s host gives Alex a quick rundown of how the interview will go. It’s as straightforward as they come.

Henry makes himself into a fly on the wall, taking a seat on the sidelines, checking and double checking that his phone is off as Alex gets situated at the table and slips his headphones on.

A man in the adjoining room counts them down and before Henry knows it, on-air light flashes on, the host welcoming listeners to the top of the hour.

Henry isn’t even the one being interviewed, but his heart beats a bit faster, an antsy feeling sinking in. Alex, however, is the picture of cool as he sits back and makes himself at home as the host continues to speak.

“We are live and on the air with Crescent Valley star Alex Claremont-Diaz. You know him, you love him. And in just three days, you can see him at SuperCon here in fabulous Miami before the show returns for its well-awaited special. But enough of hearing from me. Let’s get into it with the man himself. Alex, it’s a pleasure to have you here.”

Alex’s smiles warmly and Henry recognizes that easy way Alex has of making people feel close to him. It’s the same way Alex has been this entire tour with fans all over the country. It’s the same way Alex had charmed Henry that very first night in New York. There’s a certain charisma Alex exudes that no one is immune to. Henry, arguably, knows that better than anyone.

The interview gets underway and the two chat for about fifteen minutes about Alex’s career and time on the show before the host winds down to talk about the upcoming special.

“Fans have been asking for this for years. How does it feel to be able to give viewers another look at the series?” the host asks.

Alex smiles a little to himself and there’s something almost bashful in his expression that Henry finds endearing.

“It’s nothing short of incredible. The support our fans have shown us since the beginning and all these years later means far more than I, or anyone in our cast and crew, could ever properly say. Their love and passion made this happen and I’m beyond grateful for it.”

Alex shakes his head, clearly taking a moment to get his thoughts together.

“This role launched my career. It’s given me the opportunity to interact with people from all walks of life, from all corners of the Earth. That’s a gift like nothing else. From all of us on camera and behind the scenes, I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who tunes in and I hope you guys enjoy it.”

The interview wraps with the host reminding listeners that Alex will be at SuperCon in a couple of days. Henry watches as the on-air light goes from red to gray and he finds himself wondering for the hundredth time how Alex is able to juggle this life. Interviews, cons, filming, photoshoots, it’s a complete whirlwind and yet Alex seems perfectly at home with it all. He supposes years in the industry must have made this all second nature, but Henry doubts the speed of it all would ever be something he’d be able to adjust to fully.

Alex takes off his headphones and thanks the host for his time. They take a picture together and the man tells Alex that he’s excited to catch the special when it airs.

The way the host looks at him though, Henry suspects Alex might be the main selling point of watching it. It’s almost endearing how Alex doesn’t seem to notice the heart eyes being lobbed at him. Henry wonders what it’ll be like after Alex’s book releases in a few months and the radio host– and queer men all over the globe– find out that Alex is part of their community.

It makes Henry happy to know the world will open up even more for Alex, even though selfishly a small part of him will miss being in this exclusive bubble of a select few who know Alex’s truth for now.

They head out of the studio and start walking back down the hall to the elevators.

“Do you feel like going out tonight?” Alex asks abruptly.

For a foolish, fleeting moment, Henry thinks Alex is asking him out on a date, but logic kicks in.

“Don’t want to spend the first night holed up in the rental, huh?” he muses as he hits the down button.

“Precisely. I’m feeling…I don’t know. We’re young and hot and in Miami of all places. It feels like we should be taking advantage of that, right? Let’s go dancing.”

Henry barks out a laugh that makes the receptionist jump. Henry quickly apologizes before stepping into the elevator that mercifully arrives to aid in his escape from the scene.

“Alex, you’ve come to know me so well. Surely you can surmise that I don’t dance. ”

“That’s not the same thing as can’t,” Alex objects as the doors close and he pushes for the ground floor. “And besides, you’re forgetting that I’ve seen your hips move in the bedroom pretty damn well. Trust me, I know you’d be lethal on the dancefloor if you gave it an honest try. You didn’t even get on the floor with Pez in Denver. I’m not letting you cop out this time around.”

Henry’s head is still reeling from Alex’s second statement.

“Sex is different,” he argues. “I couldn’t possibly move like that with others around.”

Alex smirks as they reach the ground floor and the doors chime open.

“Oh, Henry. Miami nightlife is gonna teach you a thing or two. Just you wait.”

~*~*~

Nighttime in Miami feels like an absolutely different realm of existence. It’s almost as if the sun dipping below the horizon somehow flipped a switch on Henry’s surroundings.

“I suppose this is what Dorothy must have felt like when she entered Oz,” Henry says as he and Alex wait in line outside of a club. From the line snaking around the corner, Henry can tell it’s a popular one.

The heavy bass from the music spills onto the street and feels like an undercurrent to Henry’s anxiety over this evening. In theory a night of dancing should be fun, but despite Alex’s prediction, Henry still maintains he has two left feet and is more than likely to make a fool of himself in front of not only Alex, but a roomful of people.

When they’re finally admitted, Henry’s nerves lift sky high. The place is packed with people all moving to the music.

Alex takes to the vibe of the club like a fish to water. He looks genuinely excited, his eyes drinking everything in. Henry does too, but all he notices is how adept literally every person in the room is at dancing. He supposes liquid courage might be doing wonders for a good portion of them, but even still, he’s impressed with everyone’s ability not to overthink.

He wonders what a life like that would be like and quickly has to stop himself from ironically overthinking about overthinking.

“Don’t be nervous!” Alex shouts over the music, already bopping a bit.

He sets his hands on Henry’s hips and shakes him side to side while laughing.

“Live a little. Move a lot,” he says before letting go and beginning to dance all on his own in earnest. Henry can only watch him and marvel at how fluid Alex’s movements are. It’s obvious just how freeing this is for him and it’s downright captivating.

A gorgeous woman appears at Alex’s side as if summoned by his movements. She’s a vision with long dark curly hair and rich brown skin that’s accentuated perfectly by the red dress she has on. Henry wonders briefly if she’s a mirage.

Alex’s eyes cut to her for a moment and back to Henry, almost as if asking for permission. Henry tips his head, urging Alex to take her on as a dance partner.

Alex smiles and takes hold of the woman’s hand and they move as one immediately, so in sync with the blaring horns and percussion. It’s really a sight to see and Henry can’t help but to smile knowing just how much Alex is enjoying himself.

One song bleeds into another and Alex continues to dance with the woman. Secretly, Henry is glad she’s able to distract him; better her than him on the dancefloor now. Henry moves away and heads for the bar to get drinks for himself and Alex.

It’s a battle to make it through to the overcrowded bar, but Henry feels victorious when he manages to get the bartender’s attention.

“Whatever he wants, it’s on me,” a voice beside him says before Henry can even get a word out.

He looks to his right and sees an, admittedly, attractive guy half smiling at him. This feels a bit like déjà vu.

In a different bar, in a different city, he’d been approached.

In a world pre-Alex, Henry would have been intrigued by this man based on his appearance, certainly enough to graciously accept the drink to see where the night could lead.

But now, his mind is already calculating how quickly he can put an end to this. The brown eyes looking at him now aren’t the ones he’d like to stare into.

“That’s quite alright, but thank you for the offer,” Henry says politely to the stranger.

The man feigns a wounded heart.

“If I can’t get you a drink, could I at least get your name, sexy? I want to hear more of this pretty accent that goes along with that truly pretty face,” he says, voice lilting, his eyes a little unfocused.

It’s clear he must have nursed a few drinks here tonight already aside from the one currently in his hand.

Henry’s skin feels stretched uncomfortably. The bar is so swarmed, there isn’t much he can do to escape without notice, especially as the man continues looking at him expectantly.

Henry opens his mouth, but suddenly he feels a hand on the small of his back out of nowhere. He glances and sees Alex smiling tightly at the stranger. Henry relaxes into his touch at once.

The tipsy man looks between the two of them.

Alex continues to stare, glare really, before turning his attention on Henry.

“You good here?” he asks.

Henry smiles.

“Considerably better now. Thanks, love.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were with someone,” the man mumbles.

He at least has the good sense to look apologetic, but Henry loathes the fact that it took someone else stepping in to get him to back off.

The man staggers away from the bar and Henry shifts his focus back to the whole reason he came over here in the first place.

Henry sighs seeing the bartender now taken up with other patrons. Of course the man would have lost interest immediately when there’s an army of people vying for his attention, money in hand.

“I intended to get us drinks,” Henry says uselessly to Alex, frowning.

“And then you were rudely interrupted by that vulture?”

Henry laughs as Alex glances over towards wherever the man vanished off to, a sour look on his face.

“Careful now, I might start thinking you were jealous.”

Alex purses his lips. Something changes in his expression, but the lights flashing inside the club makes Henry think he might’ve imagined it. It looked somewhat like irritation. Henry dismisses the thought quickly. There’s no reason why Alex would or even should be bothered by the other man’s advances.

“Dance with me,” Alex says.

“Where’s that beautiful woman from before? My savior? Perhaps I could convince her to pair up with you again.”

Alex lightly pinches Henry’s side and leans in by his ear.

“She’s not the dance partner I wanted this evening. I want you to watch you move,” he replies, a hand snaking down to Henry’s ass.

Henry’s eyes widen.

They’re in such a public place and though no one has come up to Alex professing themselves to be a fan, he still wants to exercise some caution.

He looks around, but no one seems to be paying them any mind. He turns his gaze back on Alex.

“I really am dreadful. I wasn’t being facetious.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head.

“You’ve been teaching me things for months now. Let me return the favor and show you a thing or two.”

He gives Henry a light tap on his ass before taking a hold of his hand and leading him back toward the dancefloor. Henry feels trepidation with each step as if he’s been led to the gallows. But his curiosity and the burning need to touch Alex keeps his feet shuffling forward.

The band jumps into another song with heavy rhythm. Alex swivels his hips instinctively to the Latin music and Henry is once again mesmerized by how Alex moves, the sheer confidence and ease.

With a light sheen of sweat above his brows and his curls in lovely disarray, Henry simply cannot get over how sexy Alex is.

He reaches out, putting his hands on Alex’s hips, his eyes trained on his feet as he starts to mimic Alex’s footwork.

He’s hardly skilled, just as he knew he wouldn’t be, but he hasn’t managed to step on Alex’s feet yet so he considers it a win.

“There you go. I knew you could do it,” Alex boasts.

Henry keeps looking down, not trusting himself not to muck it up if he isn’t watching his feet. This is a far cry from the posh lessons he took as a child, learning antiquated moves like the waltz at his grandmother’s insistence.

“Just feel it, Hen. Relax.”

Alex comes in closer, his arms encircling Henry in return.

“Look at me,” he says. It takes Henry a moment but he does.

He keeps his eyes locked onto Alex, studies the way the light dances off his face, casting his features into shadows every few seconds. It’s almost hypnotic. Henry certainly feels as if he’s in a trance.

He notes the way their bodies naturally fall into step after a few moments. He wills his brain to shut off for once and heed Alex’s advice. To just trust his body and feel it.

Alex had been right back at the radio station; their bodies have been learning each other’s frequencies for months at this point. They are perfectly in tune now that Henry’s working to get out of his own head so much.

It turns out, Henry is actually decent at this. He finds himself laughing, a carefree sound that bubbles out his chest and joins the sounds of the nightclub.

There’s a curious look into Alex’s eyes as he seems to study Henry. He doesn’t speak his thoughts and Henry figures now isn’t really the time to ask.

The music changes, the live band being replaced by a DJ who plays dancy pop music. He and Alex adjust to the new tempo, but their bodies still remain pressed together. Alex rolls his hips teasingly, catching Henry by surprise. His body feels like an absolute live wire and any bit of contact with Alex has Henry utterly convinced he’ll blow at any second.

Arousal grows in the pit of his stomach. To be quite honest, it’s been brewing for some time now.

Alex turns, his back pressed against Henry’s chest. He grinds down as Henry grips his hips tightly.

Henry’s whole body feels hot and logically he knows that’s a byproduct of dancing for multiple songs straight in a dark crowded club, but he knows truthfully it’s mostly due to the fact that Alex’s perfect ass is now repeatedly rubbing against his growing erection.

Alex clearly has no regard for any of this as he reaches a hand up and combs his fingers through the hair at the back of Henry’s head, soon curling his hand into a fist. He continues keeping time with the music, grinding down again.

Henry can’t help it; he’s only human. He moans against Alex’s ear, his fingers digging deeper on Alex’s hips as he thrusts back.

“Have you any idea what you're doing to me right now?” he says, low enough for only Alex to hear.

He feels Alex’s body shake with laughter as he does it again, slower and harder this time.

Bastard, Henry thinks.

Before he can chide Alex for his cruelty, the man turns to face him. If Henry thought he himself was keyed up, it’s nothing in comparison to Alex’s molten gaze.

Alex doesn’t say a word as he takes a step back, subtly tipping his head towards the area where the restrooms are. Henry catches on quickly and together they navigate their way through the crowd, away from anyone else’s eyes.

The music carries over into the restroom, but as the door closes, it’s at least somewhat muted. Alex surveys the bathroom before tugging Henry into the closest stall.

“You look so fucking good out there,” he all but growls. “So good that apparently other guys couldn’t help but notice too.”

Henry searches his eyes, trying to absorb what’s happening here.

“Wait. Alex, were you actually jealous?” he asks, genuinely taken aback.

All the pent up tension seems to rush out of Alex at the question. It’s dizzying.

Alex avoids his gaze and shrugs.

“Not jealous. I…I don’t know. I know we aren’t…,” he stops short and shakes his head. “It felt weird seeing that dude look at you like that. He was getting way too close and for a second I thought maybe you might be into what he was trying to offer or...I don’t know. It’s dumb.”

Henry bites back a smile.

“You do realize that literally nothing would have happened between him and me, right? Even if he hadn’t turned out to be an absolute drunken knob, I would not have been interested. I came here with you,” he says, hooking his index fingers into Alex’s belt loops.

“I’m leaving with you. That’s just as I’d like for it to be. End of story.”

Alex’s shoulders relax a little.

“So, I haven’t made a complete idiot of myself then?”

Henry pretends to think about it.

“Eh, like three percent. Five tops,” he teases. “The peacocking out there really came in handy and all that dirty dancing redeemed you a bit.”

Alex playfully swats at his arm.

“You fucking dick.”

Henry grins.

“No one could ever accuse you of being a sweet talker.”

Henry tugs Alex forward a bit by the waist and Alex is quick to kiss Henry, his hands immediately slipping into Henry’s hair.

A public restroom is hardly an ideal setting, but it astounds Henry just how little cares as he kisses Alex back. The kiss intensifies quickly from light and sweet to heated, especially as Alex grips Henry’s hips firmly, his tongue working its way into Henry’s mouth.

Alex moans into his mouth, tugging Henry's shirt free from where it’s tucked in at the front. He runs his hands up Henry’s abs, his warm skin making Henry feel even hotter and more aroused.

Henry grabs a fistful of Alex’s curls and rolls his hips forward, whimpering softly when he feels Alex’s growing hardness against his own. The way he craves this man is downright maddening and should be studied.

He has to stop kissing Alex for a moment. They haven’t had even a drop of alcohol tonight and yet Henry feels drunk out of his mind off this man alone.

“Do you want to try something a little new?” he rasps, suddenly struck with an idea.

Alex’s eyes are so dark again, his lips red from how heavily they’ve been kissing. He nods, taking a few breaths as he stares blearily at Henry.

Henry shifts ever so slightly, wedging his right leg between Alex’s legs, his thigh packed in tightly against Alex’s groin.

The man lets out a staggered breath, one hand falling to Henry’s shoulder, cursing under his breath. Henry kisses the side of his face.

“I want you to take the edge off…or work yourself up, depending on how you look at it,” he muses. “But don’t come. Stop as soon as it gets to be too much. I don’t want you to finish.”

Alex groans.

“At least not here. Not like this. I want to take you apart myself for that,” Henry continues, brushing a hand through Alex’s curls.

“Can you do that for me, darling? Hm? Do you think you could at least try?”

Alex nods, his breathing already a bit heavy.

“Yeah. I’ll be good,” Alex whispers and Henry shivers at those words, his eyes closing faintly for a moment.

“You always are. Off you go, love.”

Alex nips on Henry’s bottom lip before he ruts up against Henry’s thigh tentatively, slowly seeking out friction. Henry knows Alex is teasing himself, but it’s every bit as pleasurable for Henry as well. Alex is making a meal of this, taking his time grinding against him.

Henry kisses him heatedly, licking his way into Alex’s mouth. It riles Alex up; his cock rubs a bit faster against Henry’s thigh. Alex breaks the kiss first and Henry’s ears swim with the soft raspy sounds that fall from Alex’s lips as he gives in to what his body is asking for.

Henry’s hands slide down to Alex’s ass, urging him forward, his own knees feeling weak but he stands strong, offering up his body to receive Alex’s call.

Alex buries his face in the crook of Henry’s neck, panting as he gradually moves faster, all out humping Henry’s leg, his sounds growing wilder and more intelligible.

Alex moves quickly and hard enough to make Henry’s body slam against the stall, the metal rattling. Henry's brain feels like it’s flying. Alex’s whimpering becomes desperate. His teeth sink into the pulse point on Henry’s neck as he stifles a scream.

“Jesus,” Henry mutters, so thoroughly turned on, his grip tightening on Alex’s ass.

Alex shudders hard against him and he takes a sudden step back. His face is a stunning shade of pink, his eyes wild. He looks as if he might be mere moments from losing it right then and there.

Alex rests back on the opposite wall of the stall, closing his eyes. It’s a small space, but the distance seems to be enough to let Alex get his head on straight. Henry watches as he takes a steadying breath and it seems like it’s taking every bit of Alex’s willpower to collect himself. Henry can relate all too well. That was one of the hottest things he’s ever experienced.

“Take me home,” Alex says, his voice catching as he looks at Henry.

“What’s the magic word?” Henry goads, unable to attempt some sort of control here though he himself is desperate to get Alex into bed.

Alex smirks and rolls his eyes.

“Please, baby. I can beg from my knees later if you’d like.”

Henry groans, his head tipping back against the stall.

“You can’t just say stuff like that to me, Alex.”

Alex’s grin is wicked and thrilling in one breath as he crowds Henry again, placing a hand between his legs.

“Can’t I? Take me home,” Alex repeats, lightly stroking him. Henry inhales sharply as Alex’s kisses along his jaw and to his ear, his voice deadly sweet as he speaks again.

“I want you to finish me off.”

~*~

Miami, FL

Day 4

Henry looks out over the balcony, taking in the gorgeous sunset. He doubts he’ll ever get used to the humidity in Florida, but he can’t deny the stunning view before him that looks like something on a postcard. Even with the impending rain he can smell in the air, the purpling sky is captivating all the same.

Alex’s appearance at SuperCon was yet another success and the perfect way to call an end to his tour. It was only fitting, in Henry’s eyes, that they celebrated with dinner at a restaurant downtown. It was nice surprising Alex and finding a way to somehow pay him back–even in a small way– for bringing Henry on this tour in the first place.

Now back at their rental, Henry feels himself in something of a contemplative mood as he watches the city. They’ve got another night out here before Henry tags along to Los Angeles for all things Crescent Valley reunion. He’s gotten through the last set of edits he received and upon his return to New York, Henry merely needs to round out the book with a portion on the reunion and Alex’s feelings about it all.

It makes Henry feel wistful knowing just how soon he’ll have to move on from this project. Perhaps even from Alex in general. He tries to picture a world in which they’d be able to maintain a friendship. He worries that, like this tour, their connection might run its course too.

Everything attached to this project came with a deadline. Maybe their dynamic would suffer the same fate.

He frowns to himself, a bitter lens now falling over the landscape in front of him.

“There you are,” he hears Alex say.

Henry half turns to look at him, getting his bearings together and flashing a smile. It becomes more genuine the longer he looks at Alex, the man still dressed sharply from their night out.

“I didn’t mean to disappear on you. I just couldn’t resist this,” he says, turning back and gesturing at the view.

“I’ve gotten so used to being on the road these last few months, it’ll be a bit strange returning to my normal life after L.A. That’ll be my absolute last chance to see palm trees in person before I go home,” he muses.

Alex’s arms encircle his waist from behind unexpectedly, his chest firmly against Henry’s back. Henry holds his breath, not daring to move. They’re once again falling into this precarious dance where they flirt with the line they ought not to cross. Henry supposes in different ways, they already have.

Alex kisses his shoulder, his lips skimming up towards his neck where he lets out a breath before pressing his lips to Henry’s skin. Alex places slow, soft kisses up the length of his neck. Henry’s pulse quickens, his body trembling a little as Alex exhales again.

“Do I make you nervous?” Alex asks quietly.

Henry lets out a breath, turning his head to the side to look at Alex as the man rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Among other things, yes,” Henry replies truthfully.

Alex’s hold on him loosens and Henry takes advantage of the moment to face the other man full on. For the life of him, he can’t read the look in Alex’s eyes. Alex blinks quickly and looks away.

“Darling, what is it?” Henry asks, angling his head to force Alex’s gaze again.

“I hate this. I know we still have a bit more time when you come to L.A., but it’s really starting to sink in that this is almost done, you know? I’m going to miss being around you every day. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

Henry blinks twice. Alex’s words harken back to the night they met. They hadn’t known then that they’d have more time together. Perhaps life could surprise them again, if they were lucky.

Henry tucks his hand under Alex’s chin and searches his eyes.

“We’re here now together. Let’s make the most of it.”

Alex’s bottom lip quivers just slightly before he nods, his eyes grow intent, renewed with something akin to determination.

Alex places his hands on either side of Henry’s face and kisses him. It’s slow and sweet and cracks Henry’s chest wide open with the care he’s being shown. In another world, this could be his.

Henry’s arms wrap around Alex’s waist and pull him in closer, their chests resting squarely on one another’s. Henry wouldn’t at all be surprised if Alex could feel just how fast his heart is racing.

Alex breaks the kiss first, his eyes looking like blown out stars. Henry cups his face with his right hand and Alex pulls in a breath, looking as if he’s preparing to say something big.

“I’m ready for the final lesson,” Alex says, peering up at him through his gorgeous lashes. “I want all of you tonight...if you’ll have me.”

Henry sighs softly, his eyes closing as he rests his forehead to Alex’s. He wants this so badly, he can hardly stand it. Their night after the club had been intense, so much so that Henry had almost floated the idea himself. But this was quite literally Alex’s timeline. He wouldn’t rush his process.

“Yes, love. It’s time.”

Henry takes a hold of Alex’s hands and leads back into the house and to his room. Henry closes the door behind them and suddenly the full weight of this night begins to settle over him.

The air in the room feels charged somehow, like a storm of a different kind is brewing within these four walls.

They move towards each other, drawn like magnets until they’re mere centimeters apart.

Alex keeps his eyes on him, even as he undoes the buttons on Henry’s chambray shirt completely. He slips his hands to touch Henry’s bare skin, the palms of his hands smoothing down his sides.

This is hardly the first time Alex has touched him, but Henry knows it could very well be the last. There’s a bittersweet tone to the night that breaks Henry’s heart to a degree he knows it shouldn’t.

All the same, Henry does his best to center his attention on the here and now.

He locks eyes with Alex and begins undoing the man’s shirt in return, pushing the fabric down and off his shoulders completely. He kisses down the side of Alex’s neck and to his right shoulder, his lips sweeping across Alex’s collarbone and back up the other side of the man’s neck.

He plants these kisses like seeds, wondering if they could ever bloom into something tangible between them, something they’d be able to hold onto beyond this night.

Henry looks him in the eyes once more and Alex smiles softly before kissing him again, his hands running smoothly up Henry’s back as he walks them towards the bed, their shirts falling away like faint whispers against the floor.

Alex lays him down gently and Henry cannot take his eyes off him. Between the soft sound of the promised rain starting to fall outside and the warmth of their bodies pressed so closely together, Henry feels as if he’s in a haze.

He cups Alex’s cheek and kisses him deeply as the man undoes his pants and undresses him completely.

Alex sighs and looks down at him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

It’s the first words either of them has uttered in minutes and the compliment makes Henry feel flustered.

Henry blushes at once. “Alex, come on.”

“I’m serious, Henry,” Alex presses, his tone leaving no doubt that he is. “You’re fucking gorgeous. I can hardly even look at you sometimes. It’s almost too much.”

Henry smiles bashfully, his heart skipping several beats. He tucks his face into the crook of Alex’s neck, placing a soft kiss there, murmuring a quiet thanks against his skin.

It’s all he can muster now.

He doesn’t doubt Alex’s sincerity in the slightest, but it is quite hard for Henry to fully conceive of the thought. This is a man whose life is set perfectly in a land known almost exclusively for beautiful people and yet, Alex seems keen to hold him in the highest regards.

Henry sighs softly and settles his back on the bed once more, reaching out and toying with the key around Alex’s neck, just as he’d done that night in New York that now feels like two lifetimes ago.

From the small smile on Alex’s lips, Henry can tell he’s thinking about that evening too, of how they’ve come so far with each other in the months since.

Henry tugs gently on the chain, drawing Alex’s mouth to his again and kissing him deeply as Alex’s fingertips skate down his body and down to his legs, parting them.

Henry moves as guided, spreading himself out against the sheets, back arching at Alex’s gentle exploration. His body trembles delightedly at the feel of Alex’s fingers brushing against his rim, his body aching for more of his touch.

Alex breaks the kiss, his lips plump and eyes heavily lidded. The way he’s looking at him now sends a shiver of anticipation down Henry’s spine.

“Where’s—”

“Top drawer,” Henry answers immediately.

Alex chuckles but leans over, grabbing supplies from the nightstand before guiding Henry’s legs to push back, his feet planted atop the bed. Perfectly open and on display. Alex’s eyes comb over his body and a wounded, affected sound falls from his lips.

Alex places a kiss on one of Henry’s knees as he coats his fingers and settles in closer to him.

Henry can’t help but to think once more of their first night in New York, how in over his head Alex had seemed and genuinely was. Comparing it to now, the look of sheer confidence and utter know-how is truly like day and night.

The first brush of Alex’s fingers against his entrance makes Henry’s whole body buzz at once. Alex kisses his cheek before ensnaring his lips slowly, the pad of his thumb circling teasingly at the same pace. It drives Henry crazy and he loves every second of Alex taking his time with him, building up the moment just as he said he enjoyed.

The first slip of Alex’s finger inside him makes Henry’s eyes roll shut as a low moan escapes him.

“So needy,” Alex teases, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

Henry couldn’t deny it if he tried. He feels thoroughly desperate for any and everything Alex deigns to give him.

He trembles as Alex starts to set a pace, working in and out of him. He rolls his hips forward, hissing softly as his body adjusts to the intrusion. But already he wants more.

His eyes flash to Alex and his wants must be clear as day on his face because when Alex’s hand returns to him, he’s added another finger.

“Better?” Alex asks.

Henry nods, his eyes closing again for a moment. He continues to rock forward, getting lost in the rhythm of Alex’s ministrations.

Alex shimmies down his body, dropping kisses all over his torso as he goes until he’s level with Henry’s groin, his fingers never stopping all the while.

That mischievous twinkle Henry loves is in his eyes and Henry takes in a breath to prepare himself for whatever Alex has in mind.

Henry gets the answer a beat later when Alex takes a hold of Henry’s cock and swipes his tongue across the head.

Henry lets out an undignified curse, his breath catching. Alex smiles up at him and does it again before sucking on just the tip.

It’s a sight Henry doubts he’ll ever be able to process, but one that is sure to cement itself in his mind, to live forever in his memories as something he’ll refer back to in the future ahead where he and Alex go back to be just…former collaborators? Friends?

The uncertainty of it all is a thought he can’t afford now. He won’t spoil this night by breaking his own heart.

He rakes his fingers through Alex’s curls and moans softly, keeping his eyes locked onto Alex’s as the man pleasures him.

His eyes roll shut at the feel of Alex’s fingertips gently brushing his prostate.

By the time Alex adds a third finger, Henry feels ready to burst.

“Alex,” he whispers, his throat dry and cracking on the name.

It’s enough to get the point across. Alex retracts his hand and mouth, rubbing gentle reassuring circles on Henry’s thighs. He looks between Henry’s legs, his face flushing. Henry can only imagine how he must look, gaping and ready, perfectly poised to take him.

If I can make you lose it like that with my fingers, just imagine the things I could make you feel when I’m buried inside you, Alex had said that day in Reno when he left Henry a quivering mess in his hotel room.

Here it was now that Henry would no longer have to wonder. He’s mere moments away from knowing firsthand what a well-practiced Alex was like.

Alex finishes undressing himself and though Henry has been aching to feel Alex inside him, he has to take a moment to admire Alex’s body. His hands run from his shoulders to his chest, his torso, and to his hips.

He can’t imagine ever having a partner as breathtaking as this ever again.

He looks up at Alex who— by some miracle— has been quiet this whole time.

“Sorry,” Henry says, dropping his hands.

Alex’s brows furrow.

“Why are you apologizing? You’re doing wonders for my ego right now,” he muses before he opens the condom wrapper.

“May I?” Henry asks.

Alex lifts a brow, his face intrigued. He hands it over all the same. Henry gives him a quick kiss before working it over Alex’s length, his fingertips brushing along his shaft. Alex shivers a little.

Henry takes a hold of him, guiding Alex to his entrance, teasing himself a little by rubbing the head of Alex’s cock against his rim, never letting it slip in.

Alex’s thumbs work over Henry’s nipples, adding to his pleasure.

Henry moans softly, feeling his cock twitch and stiffen in response.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling as if he might be monopolizing their time by teasing himself. The buildup is just too good to resist, knowing the reward will be all the sweeter.

Alex shakes his head.

“No more apologizing. Take whatever you need. I don’t mind one bit, baby.”

He leans forward and traps one of Henry’s nipples between his teeth, biting down gently. Henry keens, rubbing Alex’s tip against himself again as Alex starts to suck on his delicate flesh. His tongue is a menace against the hardened nub, encircling it before switching sides.

Henry bites back on his own lower lip and aligns Alex to his entrance, nodding up at Alex to proceed.

Alex doesn’t hesitate; he tips his hips forward and slides slowly into Henry, filling him up inch by inch. Henry grips his sides, mouth falling open.

His body shudders as Alex keeps going until he bottoms out completely.

They both gasp and freeze, taking a moment to collect themselves. Henry feels so full, his walls clenching around Alex’s length. He feels him everywhere.

Alex drops kisses on the side of his face, the tension in his body stretched like a rubberband ready to snap.

“Jesus Christ, Henry. You feel incredible.”

Henry lets out a breathy laugh.

“I had the same thought about you.”

He licks his dry lips and rolls his his upward, crying out at the sensations coursing through him at once. Alex slowly starts to pull out and Henry clutches him tighter. This already feels so different, in the best way, than New York.

“I need it. I’m ready,” he pants.

Alex thrusts back in and Henry sees stars as he’s filled again, his body utterly starved for the man above him. He kisses Alex heatedly as they get underway, Alex fucking him in earnest now that he’s been given license to move freely.

Henry’s brain feels as if it’s made of cotton balls or gauze, something light and airy that feels viable to blow away at a moment’s notice.

He hooks a leg around Alex’s hips and the position drives Alex in deeper. They both curse at the same time. Alex buries his face in the side of Henry’s neck, nibbling and sucking his skin as he hips keep time. Henry feels himself dripping from the overstimulation and somehow hungry for more.

He drags his dull nails up and down Alex’s back, his body feeling as if it’s on fire.

Alex pulls back enough to look at him and the intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming. For all the hooking up they’ve done over the past few months, he’s never seen this expression on Alex’s face.

It’s almost too much, but Henry wouldn’t dare put a stop to this.

He grabs at the sheets, his hands gripping a fistful of fabric to keep himself steady as he snaps his hips forward to meet Alex’s thrusts.

Henry turns his head to the side but Alex touches his face lightly and gently coaxes him to face forward again.

“Eyes on me, baby. I want to see you.”

Henry trembles as he stares back, gasping softly as Alex takes a hold of his slick cock and strokes him.

Henry breathes softly, mouth still agape as he rocks his body toward Alex, surrendering fully, allowing himself to feel everything wholly without hesitation.

“There we go,” Alex says quietly as he smiles. “Beautiful.”

Henry seeks out his lips, his head tipping up to capture Alex’s mouth, kissing him gently as his hands settle on the small of his back.

This connection had been missing entirely that night in New York. All their weeks together have culminated in Alex being confident within himself and secure with taking the lead. In every respect, Henry knows he’d follow wherever Alex deigned to take him.

“More, please,” Henry rasps, fingers digging into Alex’s sides.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Alex rolls his hips, burying deeper and slamming harder into him as Henry’s nails dig in more firmly, anchoring him as his body thrums.

“God, yes,” Henry moans when Alex strikes him just right.

The difference between their very first night and now cannot be overstated. Alex is almost like a different person entirely to him.

No, Henry thinks. Different skill set, yes. But that magnetism has been in place this entire time.

He seeks out Alex’s mouth again even though he can barely breathe as it is.

Alex is relentless now, hitting that sweet spot over and over. Henry’s walls cinch around him, his toes curling as his orgasm builds.

“You’re right there. Fuck, Henry. So good for me,” Alex grits, taking a hold of Henry’s cock once more and jerking him off. His hand moves quickly against his shaft, pumping and squeezing his length.

Henry’s eyes water and he can feel himself throbbing, climbing closer and closer to his peak. He thrusts back shamelessly, greedily taking everything that Alex gives to him and offering himself back. His breaths are heavy and uneven, his heart pounding almost dangerously, but Henry has never felt more in control of himself even as he goes careening off the edge a moment later.

Alex’s name falls from his lips in a deep, desperate moan, loud enough to ring in the quiet of the room. Alex doesn’t let up, his body still moving against Henry’s and carrying him through. Henry’s grateful for it, eager to savor the last remaining moments of this.

He spills out in the small space between them, his stomach warm with his own release. Alex’s hand doesn’t break stride, nor does the man break eye contact. Alex looks absolutely ravenous, practically feeding off Henry’s response to him.

Henry’s whole body is hot and drained, but he doesn’t stop moving, so eager for Alex to feel this level of euphoria too.

He can feel Alex’s cock throbbing and twitching inside him, his finish just moments away at this rate.

Henry kisses up to Alex’s ear, hanging onto his shoulders as he whispers to him.

“Come for me, Alex. You’re so close. I can feel it. Use me.”

His teeth graze Alex’s earlobe and he bites down just enough to add pressure.

Alex gasps out a shaky breath and a beat later, a string of curses falls from his lips as he fucks into Henry roughly. Henry’s hips move forward steadily as Alex comes, his nails scratching down Alex’s back as he sees him through his finish in kind. Alex grips his hair, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Henry rests the palm of his hand over Alex’s heart and feels how quickly it’s racing. He peppers Alex’s jawline with kisses, his other hand rubbing his side.

“Breathe, darling,” he says softly, searching Alex’s eyes. They’re dark but so clear, reinvigorated even.

Alex doesn’t say anything, merely crushing his mouth against Henry’s as Henry smiles and drapes his arms over Alex’s shoulders.

Alex skims his fingertips down the side of Henry’s cheek as he rolls off of him, Henry sighing at the loss of feeling Alex inside him. Alex disposes of the condom and returns immediately to Henry’s side.

Henry kisses him slowly at once, slinking an arm over Alex’s waist. Time feels infinite and truly irrelevant. All there seems to be is this perfect moment with Alex as he kisses Henry back unhurriedly.

Henry breaks first to catch his breath. He brushes damp curls off Alex’s forehead as they stare in silence at each other for a few seconds.

“I think I’ve made up for New York now, yeah?”

Henry laughs heartily at the statement.

“Yes. I can say, without question, that you have. Ten times over in fact.”

Alex grins toothily before his face grows a bit serene, his fingers now trailing along Henry’s jawline as he gets his thoughts together.

It’s a tender move and it makes Henry’s heart flutter like the wings of a butterfly. It certainly feels that delicate.

“Thank you for giving me this. All these weeks with you. Nothing could ever compare to it.”

For now, Henry thinks. After all, these lessons had been nothing more than practice for whatever next guy comes along and manages to dazzle Alex. Henry feels sick to his stomach at the thought though this has been the truth all along.

This moment feels like both a thank you and a goodbye.

Henry wants to ask if it has to end here, but he knows that it must.

“Stay with me tonight,” Henry says instead, splitting the difference and pushing past the sudden lump in his throat.

Alex’s brows knit slightly and Henry can’t blame him. That had been one of their rules, no spending the night in each other’s room though Austin had been the one unavoidable exception.

All the same, with this being their last night of lessons, Henry figures perhaps they could bend the rules a little.

Alex continues to look at him for a moment in silence.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course,” Henry says, quickly losing his nerve. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that.”

Alex shakes his head, stroking Henry’s cheek with his thumb.

“Stop. That’s not…I’m staying. I want to stay. Honestly, if I were to have to go back to my room, I’d be bouncing off the walls. It makes better sense to just…not leave,” Alex rambles.

Relief floods through Henry’s body at once. They've been on borrowed time since the beginning, but at least for tonight he’s able to buy them a few more hours.

Alex kisses the tip of his nose.

“And besides, if memory serves— which it absolutely freaking does— you promised me something back in Reno. I want to cash in on that tonight.”

Henry’s brows furrow for a moment before he remembers, a smile spreading across his lips as he gently spreads Alex’s legs.

He relishes in how quickly the move shuts Alex up and clearly excites him.

That certainly makes two of them. Henry’s mind has been running wild for weeks picturing himself not just working Alex open, but being inside him, bringing him the kind of pleasure he’s never experienced before.

It might seem like a daunting task to some, but Henry views it as a privilege he’s more than capable of handling.

“You’re right, darling,” Henry says, skimming his fingertips along Alex’s inner thighs, delighting in the way Alex trembles. “Next round’s on me.”

#rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #userthai #tusersonia #tuserpaige #usernicholas #usersteen #tusersilence #userjamiec #lookstevie #iuserzoe #uservalentina #kimmy writes

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kristi16 · 10 months

Text

How we got into inchident p.7

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader warnings: SMUT, rough harsh sex, angst, dom charles, fighting words: 4K note: oh well, idk what happened to me with the ending, but enjoy, charles is very dominating, protective and doesn't take a No as an answer

I was very scared of this day. I didn't like this circuit. So many bad stuff happened there and I don't trust the guys there who take care of this place. Haha take care.. Like per ejemplo what happened last season to Pierre here. It was soo dangerous. And I was really afraid of Charles. He was looking at me sadly all day because he felt that I am nervous. I kissed him right before he went racing. The weather was good, but still. It can change in any minute.

Ferrari aren't the strongest now so nothing spectacular for Charles as well. 5th place for him. There is obviously celebration for the top three guys, and I am happy for them. I'm glad that nothing happened to anyone. In the evening is clubbing, just typical celebration stuff. Charles told me we should go, especially me, to let myself loose a little bit and have fun. ‘’I'm just glad you came back home. And Arthur as well.’’ I said with a sad tone. Charles just exhaled and cupped my face. ‘’Y/N, everything is fine.’’ I slightly nodded. ‘’Why do you worry so much anyway. It's not like...someone died to you here.’’ I just looked up. To him. In the eyes. Thinking that he is just having the weakest moment right now for saying such a thing. I was hurt. He knew what he did, because he slowly started to title his head wanting to add something but I snapped his hands off my face. ‘’Cherie, I didn't mean it like that.’’ ‘’You meant it exactly how you said it.’’ I said sharply. I turned around and walked away from him. When I got to our room, I just packed the little things I've had and went to rent for myself another room for the last night here in Japan. On my way out I met Charles, obviously he was clever enough to know what my next move would be. He was standing between the doors. I just waited in front of him for some time. Not looking at him at all. And when he wanted to say something again, I just pushed him off the door frame and went down to the elevator. ‘’Y/N, please don't do this. Stop baby.’’ I just chuckled by that comment. The doors to the elevator opened and I touched the button to reception. Still by not looking at the sight of him.

When I was unpacking I noticed the reflection of the necklace I'm wearing around my neck when I passed the mirror in the room. It doesn't feel right to wear it now with how he disrespected me. So I inhaled deeply and sharply, and took it off. When I was looking at my clothes, I came up with a thought that perhaps I could go shopping. Looking for something nice to wear tonight. It's not like I talk to only Charles there. I have my friends as well. In the paddock, few girls from Mercedes as well. I'm gonna be with them. We have already agreed where to meet. For my outfit I chose emerald green straps dress with bare back to mid thigh length.

‘’Giirlll, you look gorgeous.’’ ‘’Thanks Patricia. This color suits you as well! Where are others?’’ ‘’They are already inside. It occurred to them that it would be good to find free seats before the place fills up.’’ ‘’Oh yes, clever minds haha.’’ I was chatting to Patricia and laughing effortlessly while going in. The evening was getting nice. Not seeing Charles or Carlos, so my attention was full on my friends around me. We drank a little bit. And danced. But then, DJ switched and they've put some real bangers on. So I got up, slightly overdosed by the alcohol and went for dancing. I was losing focus of my surrounding and felt hands on my hips. ‘’Enjoying yourself?’’ ‘’Ugh, fuck off.’’ ‘’Oh no, don't talk to me like that.’’ ‘’Ricciardo for real, get your hands off of me.’’ He pushed me more onto his body and swayed to the beat with me. I was getting desperate. So I started screaming. ‘’Hey, fuck off mate.’’ ‘’Who do you call mate?’’ Daniel pushed me off of him and now was focusing on this random guy that approached. I don't know what has gotten into me but oh well. ‘’Hey Daniel!’’ He turned to me. And I punched him. Real hard. It hurt like hell but the response from him was worth the pain. ‘’Touch me again and I will bite your balls off.’’ I said, turning around and going anywhere but here. ‘’Hey!’’ I turned around. It was this man who kinda saved me. ‘’Hi.’’ I said. I wasn't really in my best mood right now. ‘’That was nice! What a prick. You know him?’’ ‘’Yeah. I work at F1, in paddocks you know. And so he is F1 racing driver, so. It makes sense now for you.’’ ‘’I see.’’ I slowly started to turn around but then he spoke again. ‘’You know. I'd like to know you more. You are cool. With what you've put up on earlier. But I get it, If you're afraid.’’ I turned around quickly. ‘’Afraid?’’ I asked amused. ‘’You know-’’ he was scratching his neck. ‘’With what happened, I totally get it you wouldn't trust a complete stranger.’’ ‘’Well, you basically helped me with the situation, so I don't think you're some creep.’’ He just chuckled. ‘’I'd love to go actually, just don't mind my mood for the next few minutes.’’ I laughed.

He was actually nice, and good looking. So I got back with him. To the bar. We chatted for a little bit. It was very pleasant. But then I saw someone familiar in my sight. It was Daniel. Again. But he looked horrible. SO much blood on his face, looking like he was fighting with someone. The guy with whom I've been with recognized I'm looking somewhere else for a longer time now, so he turned around as well. ‘’Holy fuck, what happened to him.’’ ‘’I don't know. Perhaps he was harassing another woman and finally someone put him in the place.’’ ‘’That someone gotta be me.’’ And there he was. He was standing behind me. ‘’Thanks for keeping my girlfriend a company while I was dealing with that prick.’’ The guy was shocked. And me as well. ‘’I'm not your fucking girlfriend.’’ Oh well, I was swearing. Perfect. The alcohol is the worst when being mad at someone. The other guy put his hands in the air like a sign he is giving up and said goodbye to me with his eyes widened. But then I saw it as well. Charles's hands were covered in blood. Hair scattered as if did some intense workout. He looked kinda intimidating as well. Not to me though. So I just got back to my drink. ‘’You're not wearing my color.’’ ‘’Hmm’’ ‘’And not even my necklace I gave you.’’ ‘’Yes Charles, and I'm not even surprised.’’ I said to him, looking in the eyes and just started to walk away. He grabbed me by my arm and stopped me. ‘’You're not walking away from me.’’ he hissed at me. I looked at him and saw flames shooting out of his eyes. I actually got scared. Not that he would hurt me. But to not test his limits. But anyway, I remembered what happened and oh well. ‘’Yeah, I guess I'm gonna disrespect you the same way as you did me.’’ ‘’Cherie, you didn't even let me talk. I know it sounded horrible.’’ ‘’I don't care. It hurt me enough already, so goodbye.’’ I wanted to push past him, but he pushed me back. ‘’Fucking stop it, you act exactly like Daniel! I'm not a toy to be pushed around!’’ I yelled at him. The look in his eyes became softer. ‘’You are my girlfriend Y/N.’’ ‘’The f I'm not. You've never asked me.’’ ‘’What the actual???? It is OBVIOUS when I start to sleep with you I'm dating you as well.’’ ‘’No??, it's not that obvious.’’ ‘’WHAT the actual -………….you wanna tell me you slept with some other guys then??’’ ‘’What???’’ ‘’Fucking tell me Y/N and I'm gonna go and smack their faces with my rings.’’ ‘’Jesus Christ stop this nonsense.’’ ‘’Nonsense??? Do you think it's a nonsense for me????? For you to fuck around with others?’’ ‘’Yes it is a fucking nonsense and you should know better by the way you made a nonsense of my care and love for you!’’ I yelled at him back and there was a moment of silence. ‘’I said, I'm very sorry. I was unhappy with how sad you were. I thought it is my fault. And I was just so mad at myself at some point that it ended up me being mean to you. Actually not even mean but heartless. I said something very disgusting but it doesn't mean I don't care about you.’’ ‘’You should have validated my feelings like normal people do. I genuinely liked you and your brother. And I was actually afraid for everyone. But especially for you since the...’’ I stopped. And then continued. ‘’You think I've never experienced loss? Why did you had to put it in a position for us to compare who've experienced a bigger loss. You think I cannot understand it at my level of empathy and intellect?? You think I don't have anything to compare it to??’’ I said to him with teary eyes. He then spoke to me softly. ‘’I know mon amour. I'm so mad at myself for behaving like a prick. I highly despise myself for that. And you're right. I should have never let the comparison go between us.’’ I just inhaled and exhaled. Standing there. ‘’Come with me back to our room mon amour.’’ I shake my head. ‘’No. It's nice I guess that we talked it through but I don't feel comfortable with you.’’ He looked at me sad, kinda with a disbelief as well. Slowly letting me go. ‘’Ok, I'm not gonna force you.’’ He let me go completely. I turned around and walked away.

I was standing outside after calling a cab. ‘’Wait!’’ I turned around just to see him again. He ran to me. I was standing in the cold with my arms around my body. ‘’Here, take my jacket.’’ I exhaled a little bit deciding if I should or should not. Then I just nodded and put it over my shoulders. When I had the courage to look at him, he was smiling a little bit. I smiled a little bit as well. Ah, this fucker. What is he doing. Then he came closer and kissed me. It was fast. I didn't even have a chance to react. All of a sudden I was pushed back, I fell on the seats in a taxi and Charles told the taxi driver the address. He clipped me and I finally had the space to look at him. ‘’What the fuck Charles.’’ ‘’Stop swearing or I'm gonna make you regret it.’’ My eyebrows went immediately higher at his boldness. At the same time he put his hand on my thigh. I just exhaled, knowing that right now there is nothing else to do. ‘’What happened to Daniel.’’ He returned the gaze to me. ‘’Well. I was watching you, obviously. The whole night. It was horrible to see you there. Not beside me. Not wearing my dress which I bought you and then seeing you're not even wearing my necklace- you have some serious commitment issues.’’ ‘’What? I don't.’’ ‘’Do you wanna know what happened to him or not?’’ He asked me roughly. Damn he is really pissed tonight. I just nodded, being silent for this time. ‘’When I saw Daniel again, I was so ready to go down, but then it all happened very quickly and everyone from my crew saw how you punched him. I was very proud of you in that moment. But I knew I have to do something about this. If you don't want me to be by your side, then all that's left is to take care of things behind your back and try to protect you like that. So I followed Daniel. And paid him a lesson.’’ I just nodded silently. Not actually having the capacity to talk about it more.

‘’Have you slept with anyone?’’ I turned my head around to meet his gaze. He suddenly looked like a lost puppy. ‘’No.’’ He turned his gaze back to the front. ‘’That's good.-’’ and squeezed my thigh more. ‘’-But seriously though, you have some serious commitment issues.’’ ‘’I DO NOT.’’ I snapped back. ‘’You do. You thought we're not dating.’’ ‘’Well you didn't ask me properly. ‘’But I've told you properly. Right after I ate you out.’’ The taxi driver just gulped. ‘’Jesus Christ Charles, don't say it that loud.’’ ‘’Stop bossing me around.’’ ‘’I'm not but clearly the taxi driver is uncomfortable by this.’’ ‘’Well I think that he had worse passengers. So I don't care.’’ A little bit of silence between us. ‘’Anyway, no.’’ ‘’What No?’’ he looked at me. ‘’Y/N, you really thought that I'm taking you to this gala like what- my escort??? Like no I'm not gonna even try to acknowledge that. I don't even wanna believe it.’’ ‘’No, not like an escort.But-’’ ‘’But what?? Like a good fuck?’’ I looked away. ‘’Jesus Y/N, smetilla stop it. Everyone in the crew knows how serious I am about you yet you are clearly the only one who doesn't get it.’’ ‘’Don't be mean to me.’’ I said to him and wanted to cry. Because he was right. What was I thinking we doing?? ‘’Mon amour, you're crying?’’ ‘’No.’’ I sobbed. ‘’Tell me.’’ I turned around again. ‘’You're right. I don't know what I was thinking!’’ Charles pinned my skin on my left arm and then was rubbing it. ‘’C'mon Cherie. Tell me what it was really about?’’ I looked into his eyes. ‘’I don't know.’’ I looked away. ‘’I guess, when I am in a relationship, I have high expectations and standards you know. And I liked us way to much for it to end. Because you cannot make me happy and meet my needs.’’ ‘’Y/N, have I ever made you feel that way?’’ he sighed. ‘’Well, you left me at the gala.’’ ‘’I know, but I know better now. Trust me, I had to greet those people.’’ ‘’But that is what I'm talking about. I don't want to be put in a position where there is something between us.’’ He exhaled. ‘’I know mon amour. I know better. I get it. It was an experience to learn from. And I take it as a lesson learnt.’’ ‘’Yeah, I just hope- that I'm still gonna be happy with this lessons and the amount of them.’’ ‘’Soooo, you're telling me you don't trust me?’’ ‘’I'm telling you I'm afraid. It has nothing to do with you.’’ ‘’Don't be afraid. I am the perfect man for you. To take care of you. But I'm still a human. And sometimes I do something dumb.’’ ‘’I know. I do it as well. I just..- As I said. High standards.’’ He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed me on my temple.

When we arrived to the hotel, he grabbed my hand and led me to the elevator. Automatically pressing the button to his floor. I just sighed from this whole situation. It was so immature. The door opened and we went straight to his room. ‘’Your key.’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’Give me your key to your room.’’ I just stayed quiet for some time. ‘’Don't-let me-say it-again.’’ He told me with this intense gaze, burning me with his stare, looking at me under his eyelashes. I just nodded and gulped. Handing him my key. ‘’Stay there, till I get back.’’ The door shut after him and I stood there like a pussy not knowing what to do. So I chose to take a look around, even though I slept in this room the night before. The the doors opened and Charles had every thing of mine with him and put it on the couch. The he returned to me. ‘’Take the dress off.’’ I got surprised. ‘’What?’’ ‘’I SAID TAKE IT OFF!’’ I jumped on the place a little bit. Startled by his behavior. I sobbed a little and took my straps off my shoulders. The rest of the dress fell down. The he walked to me. ‘’Now I'm gonna put this thing that belongs to you right back on your neck. And you will leave it there. I promise I will prepare some nice date for us, so we can make it official for you, alright?’’ I just nodded, still looking down. ‘’Now, Y/N, I'm gonna clean you. Hop in the shower. I'm gonna be there in a minute.’’ So I did as he said. Not really thinking it through about what I'm doing, if it is right to be treated like this. I just wasn't thinking, not being conscious of that.

Immediately I've had Charles behind my back, naked and hard. I shivered a little bit at his touch. ‘’I'm sorry Mon Ange, but it is really not my fault that you turn me on. Your body is so perfect. Like it is made for me.’’ I gulped and squeezed my eyes shut. He let the water fall on our bodies. It was very cold at first, so I backed off immediately into his back. Feeling him even more. He just chuckled. Cupping my breasts and pinching my nipples. I moaned the right second he did that. Hovering his head over my left shoulder, watching how he is playing with me. ‘’You're so perfect Cherie.’’ I closed my eyes and bit my lip. The he grabbed my arm and sprung me around. I shot him a surprised look with my eyes wide open. ‘’Close your mouth or I'm gonna put my dick inside.’’ I shut my mouth. Then he grabbed some of his stuff to clean me. Rubbing my body gently. I got lost into his touch. And after some time I've heard. ‘’You're so wet already mon amour. You have yourself all of your thighs.’’ I opened my eyes and I felt embarrassed. He smirked at me. Focusing now on my hair.

After the shower he used air dryer on my hair. Then we got back to our room. I stood there in the middle of the room, watching him what he's doing. He went to his suitcase and searched for something. Then he took it out. A belt. I gulped. ‘’Don't look so surprised mon amour. I've told you I'm gonna punish you.’’ ‘’For what?!’’ I asked scarily. Seeing him how he is walking towards me. ‘’For you comparing yourself to other women, do you remember? Right after I ate you out. Then for not wearing that dress I bought you and not wearing that necklace. And on top of that, you thinking we're not dating.’’ I think I stopped breathing. ‘’So now-’’ he sat back on the bed. ‘’Come here, to your papa.’’ I gulped again, and walked slowly towards him. ‘’Can you count in french?’’ I looked into his eyes abruptly, feeling how teary they are getting and nodding at the same time. ‘’Good, baby girl.’’ He smirked and tapped on his legs. I positioned myself on him and waited. ‘’Actually I have other things to add. You storming out of here like a little pussy you were and swearing at me.’’ At this time I wanted to protest but he hit me with his belt. I yelled. ‘’Shhh-shhh, mon amour. Don't be loud.’’ He rubbed my ass a little bit. ‘’I didn't hear you count. That is another three spanks for disobeying my instructions.’’ I cried out. ‘’No, Charles, please.’’ ‘’Do you want another three?’’ ‘’NO!’’ I sobbed even harder. ‘’Un-’’, '-'Deux’’, ‘’Trois-’’ I said with a high pitched voice. It hurt like hell. I was crying and shivering. He had to put his other hand around my hips to keep me in place. ‘’Quatre-Cinq-Six’’ I let out with my cry. ‘’And now, for disobeying me.’’ Another three hard smacks on my ass. I stopped even feeling it.

‘’What a good girl you are. Now tell me Cherie, what have you learnt?’’ I sobbed. Saying quietly. ‘’To not to compare myself to others, to listen to you, to wear what you bought me, wear your necklace-’’ ‘’Not my necklace, it is yours.’’ ‘’-My necklace, not to swear at you and not to disobey you.’’ ‘’Good girl, you have a good memory.’’ He chuckled and kissed my back and turned me around. Grabbing me into his arms and putting me on the bed. ‘’And now, for you flirting with this guy.’’ ‘’What? I was-’’ ‘’Shut up, Y/N.’’ I shut my mouth. ‘’Well, clearly you thought we're not dating-’’ he laughed. ‘’But still, right now I'm gonna fuck you so painfully you will reconsider in the future to let other men hit on you.’’ So he grabbed me by my ankles and sprung me around. Now me laying on my stomach. He grabbed me by my hips and lifted me up. In no time he put himself inside of me. My body immediately reacted to it as trying to get away from him fast but he was faster, pinning me back to him as close as possible with his hands on my hips. I cried out, again. It hurt as hell. He was so big and thick yet I was so small and tight. I thought I'm gonna be ripped apart. I've heard him panting, putting even more force into his thrusts. Then he grabbed on of my leg, leaving it in the air. So he got even deeper. And I gasped for air, which I couldn't inhale. And just as he knew about my thoughts, he grabbed me with his second hand on my hip by my throat so I was extremely put up in this position with less space to breath. ‘’Your teary eyes do something to me Mon Amour.’’ I felt how my tears are falling on my cheeks. ‘’Take your leg and swaddle it around my back.’’ I did as he said. Trying to hold my leg back around his lower back area. Then with his free hand he found my clit and started to rub my clit, fast and harsh. I moaned more, with pleasure and pain. I was crying out loud. ‘’Tell me- Who is your boyfriend.’’ ‘’YOU, Charles.’’ ‘’Who do you belong to?’’ ‘’You, Charles. Just You!-’’ ‘’-Please, Charles.’’ I sobbed and cried out. He put a faster pace and I felt myself coming. All of a sudden, he stopped. And let himself free. I yelled desperately, crying to the sheets under me. ‘’Bad girls don't get to come.’’ He sprung me around once again so my mouth met his cock.

‘’Now you're gonna swallow like a whore you are.’’ He didn't hesitate to wait for any of my reaction on that and put his dick inside of my mouth. I wasn't even doing anything, he just fucked my face. And let himself cum. It was a big load. I felt it how it is leaking out of my nose as well. But still trying to swallow as much as I could. He looked at me, seeing how horrible I look. He went for his jeans. After that, I saw how he is opening his phone and it looked like he wants to take a photo of me. ‘’Lay down.’’ And I did. I was so fucked out I just did what he said. ‘’I'm gonna take a photo of you. So you can see how you look after this. Maybe thanks to this you will remember that whenever you're gonna think less of you, this is how it ends and looks.’’ I just sobbed. ‘’Now, I'm gonna take care of you.’’ He grabbed me and took me into bathroom. Cleaning my face, my legs. Being gentle with me. ‘’Charles, I'm sorry.’’ ‘’Pst, Cherie. It is fine now.’’ He took me back into bed and put me on top of himself. Hugging me around my back and leg that was laying on his stomach. ‘’It is fine baby girl. I love you. And I hate when I see how you think of yourself sometimes. I don't want to see it again. Ever.’’ I just nodded. ‘’Now, I'm gonna tell you one of my favorite stories, to which I've always liked to listen as a kid. So go ahead, you have to be exhausted. Sleep tight baby girl.’’

#charles leclerc x reader #fem reader #formula 1 #smut #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 #female reader #fluff #fan fiction #angst

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eldritch-spouse · 11 months

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Not sure if I remember correctly but I think at some point you said something about nebul and sounding??👀

How would it go if his pet asked politely on their knees to be involved in that

Also I absolutely love all the work your doing, with the gift fic and somehow keeping up with our horny bullshit, it's all so fucking cool

[I did briefly, here's the post. Fem reader.]

TW: Sounding.

Let's assume you're willing to go both ways with this scenario.

When you had asked, oh so nicely, Nebul assumed you meant you wanted to be sounded. And your Master is very, very happy to introduce you to this new facet of more hardcore sex. You're rewarded for your forwardness regarding this, the wraith petting your hair and telling you to work yourself up with your fingers while "gets things ready".

You've been good, which means, you get treated good.

Nebul is exceedingly gentle, as it's likely the first time you're going to experience sounding, the stainless steel toy is thin and tiny, only just a taste of what this can offer. You're laid back and your legs spread wide as he tells you to not move a muscle, relax, his digits on your clit relentless. Although Nebul doesn't allow you to come, not before he can slot the toy inside you. It's a foreign sensation, yes, but he's confident you won't regret it, not when he makes sure it'll have you coming harder than usual. If you can slide just the tip in for this first session, he'll be satisfied already, cooing at you and overwhelming you with praise for being such an obedient, open-minded pet ready to please Master's every whim, ready to use every single part of your body for him. As you should.

Aftercare is thorough. The undead trusts his skill, he's positive you'll only be a tiny bit sore.

For the next session, he'll try to slide more of the toy in, as far as you can take it. Which, given your antomy, only a couple of inches are safe. He doesn't want to damage you. Yet.

Displaying interest in more intense sounding instruments will definitely please him however, and the wraith will go through the trouble of gathering the necessary healing items should you show a desire to really put your body's limits to the test. Oh, he can barely wait.

Alternatively, if you make it clear you'd like to participate in sounding him, well, he's hesitant.

Nebul only ever does it to himself in privacy. The sensation is spectacular for him, but it's also something that puts him in a vulnerable position sexually speaking, so he would never let a partner do that to him.

First, he'll allow you to watch. Sometimes you can touch yourself, other times you can't- Having to wait until he decides to orgasm, and being pulled forward to lick the cum off his cock when he's done, sucking on the rod before he sets it aside for disinfecting treatment later.

If you've been in your Master's good graces up until all this time, Nebul allows you to sound him during very special occasions.

He still holds most of the control in those situations, sitting on his favorite chair with you kneeled between his legs. He's got a powerful grip of the leash connected to your collar and will not tolerate any sort of deviation from his direct orders. You're to move at the exact pace he demands, with the pressure and length he specifies.

Unfortunately, you don't get to control Nebul's orgasm. He'll tease himself for as long as he wants to, but the moment he says to slowly start pulling out, you better. Maybe the show and the faceful of his seed are worth it...

#Nebul oc

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thelioncourts · 6 months

Text

@iwtvfanevents ❤

Like every evening at The Azalea, the sounds of Jelly Roll Morton’s jazz band overpowered the combined sounds of everything else. A mere human would only be able to discern the playful and talented way Mr. Morton’s fingers danced over the keys of his piano, a sound that paired beautifully with the rhythmic display coming from the drums and the balance-bearing bass of the cello. But Lestat was no mere human and, with a focus now second nature, he could hear everything occurring within The Azalea's walls.

Ice hitting against the sides of glass. Raucous laughter. A hiss from between teeth when alcohol burned the throat. The slap of a man’s hand against the ass of one of the girls. A cry from another girl as a man jackrabbited into her with no consideration. The rolling of a marble on the roulette wheel. The cheers and bang against a table as a man wins a tense game of poker.

Sometimes there were more interesting things to listen to, like Mr. Anderson’s adorable political ploys or a man confessing his sins tearfully to the whore he just fucked because he can’t stomach the thought of his wife finding out.

And sometimes, the best of times, Lestat could listen to Louis.

Long gone was the ability to hear his Louis’s thoughts, a travesty Lestat did his best not to lament upon often as thinking too much on such a subject could send even him spiraling. But he could listen to Louis speak, could hear him even if he was away in his office, even if he was out front greeting clientele.

There was a simple joy to be had in listening to Louis speak to others, listening to the easy way words rolled off of his tongue, listening to the sound of the smile on his face, listening to the honeyed-richness of his voice when something pleased him so. Lestat could sit at their table and be utterly content the entire night as long as he had music flowing over him and Louis’s voice in his ears.

Tonight, Lestat was utterly content.

Jelly Roll Morton was putting on a spectacular show up on the stage and Louis, in his office, was talking to Ms. Bricktop about the holiday bonuses he wanted to roll out for the girls given all of The Azalea’s successes.

“I wanna keep it a secret though,” Louis was saying, the words floating dreamily on the air as Lestat focused in. “They deserve a nice surprise.”

“I’ll make sure not a word is breathed about it, Mr. du Lac,” Ms. Bricktop replied. Like he so often could when it came to Louis, Lestat could hear the smile in Ms. Bricktop’s voice too.

For the next several minutes, Lestat sat at their table and listened to Louis and Ms. Bricktop swap ideas on how to properly go about Louis’s generous gift while staring at the stage and taking in each musician’s fluid movements with their instrument. When the conversation in the office took a turn toward its end, however, Lestat had no qualms about leaving while Mr. Morton was performing an intricate piano solo.

He stood from their table, pulled a cigarette and lighter from his pocket, and watched the end of the cigarette light up with flame before meandering his way to the nearest staircase.

Not even one foot was on the first step before he was greeted with a flirtatious, “Evening, Mr. Lioncourt,” from a lovely little thing with long brown hair and dark eyes so like Louis’s before he turned that Lestat couldn’t not kiss her hand and bask in her blatant desire for him. But whatever loveliness she held was dimmed by the knowledge of Louis, so close now, that Lestat didn’t dally.

Well, didn’t dally too long anyway.

Others gave him their hellos and nods of acknowledgment, but Lestat only truly heard the scrape of Louis’s office chair on the carpet and the muffled sound of his footsteps as he, no doubt, walked around the desk to show Ms. Bricktop out, as appropriate. By the time Lestat arrived, they were exchanging goodbyes, Louis saying, “I think I’m gonna head out soon and —” as he was opening the door.

The sight of Lestat stopped his mouth momentarily.

“Mr. Lioncourt,” Ms. Bricktop said, sounding not at all surprised. “Always good to see you.”

“A mutual sentiment,” Lestat replied with amused sincerity and a brief glance at her before his eyes found Louis.

Louis.

He hadn’t had a chance to see Louis yet tonight. Lestat had woken up long before his love, readied himself, and headed off for a quick meal, leaving Louis to laze in the warmth of his coffin a bit longer.

They had eaten early the evening before, having to get something in their bellies before seeing Tosca at the opera house on Bourbon Street, and Louis had been in such a mood afterward that they didn’t even steal an aperitivo from the patrons present. They had only gone home, Louis’s unhappiness a dark cloud that followed them up to coffin, a dark cloud that only slightly shifted to allow in the brightness of the moon when Lestat cozied up behind him and kissed at his neck, murmuring apologies — though Lestat didn’t know what he was apologizing for — into his hair.

Luckily for Lestat, whatever had soured Louis’s feelings last night seemed to have been deemed irrelevant for now because his Louis was now looking at him, eyes dancing with an eagerness to leave, as he did that beautiful thing with his mouth that he so often did when trying to repress a smile.

“I was just telling Bricks that we were going to head out soon,” Louis said. “Have to get on back to the townhouse.”

Lestat hummed, feeling the scar by his mouth deepen as he too repressed a smile. Unlike Louis though, Lestat was not a fan of repressing any part of himself and the smile won out, opening on his face and causing Louis to flush.

“Oh, yes, we do have something to prepare for, non? How could I have almost forgotten?” Lestat asked, playing the part, his hand up to his forehead as though plucking the fake-memory from inside. Louis’s flush deepened.

“Right, so we should —” and Louis gestured at the hall, their exit, with a movement of his hand, a movement just harsh enough that the jacket of his slightly too-big suit slid down and hid his hand for a moment.

“Yes, we should,” Lestat agreed, and he looked back at Ms. Bricktop who was wearing her signature high-eyebrowed look as her eyes flitted between the two of them. “Have a good rest of your evening.”

“Mmm-hmm. You two as well.”

Louis gave her his own goodbye, telling her to ring if anything was needed before he locked eyes with Lestat again and allowed Lestat to lead them out.

Good mood radiating, Louis immediately began telling Lestat about the holiday bonuses for the girls and Lestat listened with one ear, giving proper responses when deemed time.

The other ear was listening to the thoughts of the people of The Azalea, from Ms. Bricktop to the simplest patron there for an evening of fun. Lestat found himself wondering, briefly, if Louis ever heard the litany of assumptions, innuendos, and desires that always followed them when they left together. There were men that wanted to be Louis, men that wanted to be Lestat, whores and patrons alike that pictured what they looked like together in the privacy of their shared home. Lestat particularly enjoyed when Mr. Anderson was present and Lestat could witness the war that raged inside the man’s head when he thought, with disgust, about their activities while also getting hard in his pants at the idea of Louis spread out on a bed like the one’s upstairs. One could almost feel sorry for him, Lestat thought sometimes.

But Lestat squashed down that wonderment of what Louis knew, taking the opportunity to allow his hand to brush against Louis’s instead as they made their way to the front doors, giving Louis both of his ears now.

“— and given that our numbers are quadrupled from where they was last year, it’d be crazy not to,” Louis was saying, as though numbers and money really meant anything with Lestat’s accumulation of wealth. But Lestat knew that, for whatever phantasmal reason, The Azalea’s success was important to Louis and so he nodded, agreeing, and allowed his hand to brush against Louis’s again.

“Excitement looks magnificent on you,” Lestat said in response, stopping on the top step outside The Azalea and reaching into his pocket again, procuring his cigarettes and lighter. Louis rolled his eyes, the blue from The Azalea’s neon signage shifting the brilliant green of them to the color of the ocean, but he was smiling wide as he did so. Lestat handed him a cigarette, watched raptly as Louis placed it between his full lips, and flicked on the flame of the lighter. He used one hand to shield away the wind as he brought the flame to Louis’s cigarette and he continued with, “You did seem in quite a hurry to go despite all the good news.”

Louis took a long drag from his cigarette. “Didn’t want to be there anymore.”

He looked up at Lestat as he said it. The smoke he blew out danced across his face, drawing attention to the heaviness of his gaze and the weight of his lashes.

Lestat knew that look. Lestat had been lucky enough in the last years to have become very well acquainted with that look, had been the only recipient of that look since that fateful autumn of 1910. Everything in that look was unsaid, would be unsaid until they were locked away, until Louis was safe in the confines of their home together, until he was so awash with pleasure that “I wanted to be with you” didn’t have to stay locked within his sensual mouth.

Yes, it was time to go.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

It was only a mile’s walk to their house on Rue Royal and whenever they walked together, they took their time. Louis’s good mood was infectious and all-consuming, and he was so agreeable then that Lestat couldn’t not propose another visit to the opera house, this time to see La fille du régiment, another Donizetti masterpiece.

“La fille du régiment premiered three years before Don Pasquale and, I may be biased, but it is even better. Perhaps because it is French,” Lestat told Louis as they began to walk down Toulouse.

“Oh, you may be biased?” Louis asked rhetorically, turning his head to look at Lestat with amusement.

“Un peu.”

Louis snorted. “Well, if it’s even better then we must go.”

“If we do, let us hope that they have a better lead tenor than they did in Paris,” Lestat said, unable to repress a shudder. “That opening night was a barely averted disaster. Off-pitch and wrecking the stage, fils de pute.”

“I’m sure they’ve improved in the last century, Les,” Louis said. Lestat could’ve gasped.

“It has not been a century!”

“Close enough, old man!”

“Old man?” Lestat felt his eyes widening, felt the way words began to sputter incomplete and incoherent from his tongue. Never had Lestat been so scandalized, so disrespected, so —

And Louis was laughing. Not just any laugh, but the kind of laugh that forced his eyes to close, that sent him doubled-over, the kind of laugh that, to any passerby, made him look like any other drunkard leaving Storyville. It was the most beautiful thing Lestat ever heard.

Lestat laughed too, his own laughter joyful and unobstructed, though his eyes never left Louis.

They looked like fools, no doubt, two men laughing in the street in the middle of the night.

Though vampires needn’t breathe really, Louis, still a fledgling, was but learning the wonders of his newfound power and hadn’t quite grasped vampiric breathing. As such, he was laughing without sound now, breath trying its best to enter into his lungs, but he was laughing too hard for it to do so. Lestat was still laughing too, shoulders shaking with it, as he watched Louis step closer to him, felt his fingers grasp onto Lestat’s arm as though holding something could provide him the stability he needed to breathe again.

Lestat was too busy relishing in this moment, enjoying it for its gorgeous simplicity, that he didn’t hear the man approaching them.

“Louis? Little Louis du Lac, that you?”

It was sobering, the new voice interrupting such a moment, and Lestat turned sharply at the sound. Louis’s fingers on his sleeve stiffened.

There was a man standing behind them a ways away. He was older, in his fifties no doubt, with dark skin and matching dark eyes, eyes that were distorted behind thick-framed glasses. He was clutching a flimsy hat to his chest as though he had taken it off to help him see clearer in the night.

Louis stood up straight and adjusted his coat as he greeted, “Bernard Fontenelle! When did you get back into town?”

Bernard Fontenelle immediately brightened at being recognized and being correct in his own recognition, and his mind flared to life with memories that Lestat quickly and succinctly drank up.

Louis, young, so so young, standing inside of St. Augustine with his Daddy and Mamaw on one side, littler Grace and Paul on the other. A younger Bernard Fontenelle, more than a decade older than Louis though, dressed in his altar-boy robes and greeting the Pointe du Lacs, meeting little Louis’s altar-boy-awestruck look with a smile. Later in life, the Pointe du Lacs, all slightly older, showing up at Bernard Fontenelle’s farewell party as he prepared to leave New Orleans for Berks County, Pennsylvania, and Louis, in the midst of his teen years and so sweet and shy, telling Bernard Fontenelle that he’d pray for his safe travels and his success at his new job on the railroad lines every night.

Ah. More human connection.

“I just got in. Took the last trains I could, wanted to get more shifts in before getting down here,” Bernard said to Louis, moving closer to them. “Was on my way to my marraine’s house so I can try to fix up the damage on her front porch to surprise her with it in the mornin’ when I heard you over here having a time.”

Up close, Lestat could see that Bernard’s face was incredibly kind, his expressions open, but his shoulders betrayed that softness, the strength of them prominent in the way his coat strained across the breadth of his back.

Bernard turned that kind face of his to Lestat.

“I’m —”

“Bernard Fontenelle, yes, I heard,” Lestat finished for him, already beyond pleasantries. “I am Lestat de Lioncourt. I —”

“He’s my business partner here in the district,” Louis finished for him.

Lestat only looked, briefly, at Louis out of the corner of his eye, and he could see the trepidation, the trepidation that always reared its ugly head when Louis was hit with his past.

Lestat wanted to rear back too, wanted to dig his fangs in and death-shake the moment like a dog with a bone.

But tonight had been going so well, was going so well. And so he refrained.

“Oui,” he agreed through clenched teeth. “We were merely laughing at what good fortune we have. It is difficult not to find joy in success, non?”

“Most definitely, Mr. Lioncourt, sir,” Bernard said. He looked like he was going to say something else, flashes of long days working on the railroad playing across his mind in vivid memory, but Louis asked, “What’re you in town for, Bernard?” instead.

“My cousin’s wedding.”

“Aimee?” Louis asked incredulously.

“Aimee,” Bernard confirmed, eyebrows high as if adding on, “Can you believe that?”

“I swear she was just turning ten, running around church, screaming about –”

“Screaming about how she was grown now and we all better start acting like it,” Bernard added in, beginning to laugh at the memory of a little Aimee Fontenelle, her braids tied off with bows, running up and down the pews and looking everyone in the eye, telling them what she expected now that she was double-digits-old and getting indignant and pouty when not a one took her seriously.

“Time flies,” Louis said.

“Not for you, it seems,” Bernard said, leaning forward to slap Louis on the shoulder. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, but you don’t look like you’ve changed at all in the last decade.”

Lestat looked over at Louis with such pride, watching as Louis got flustered, fumbling over excuses for his vampiric hold on time.

He was Lestat’s finest and most wonderful discovery and creation.

It was difficult to imagine what a human saw when they looked at Louis, for Louis’s beauty sent even Lestat and his preternatural sight reeling, and Lestat knew that, to humans, they looked magnificent and otherworldly at times. Looking at Louis must be like looking at the gods of old come to life.

“— heard Grace got married a couple years ago,” Bernard was saying as Lestat returned to the conversation.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis said. “Levi Freniere managed to steal her away. She’s doing real good though.”

“Any kids?”

“Just enough to keep them on their toes.” Louis held up a hand, three fingers up high. Bernard whistled a low sound. And then —

“I heard about Paul. I wanted to come down for the funeral, but…”

Louis shrugged, shoulders rising high and falling hard, eyes suddenly looking anywhere but at Lestat or Bernard. “Nah, it was…You knew Paul.”

“I did.”

Bernard sucked in a breath, clicked his tongue, and his face transformed from the sudden solemness back to its kind smile.

“But Grace’s made you an uncle and that must be something!”

“It is. She had twins first so it was, y’know, double the excitement for everyone.” He shifted on his feet. “I haven’t had a chance to meet the newest nephew. He was just born a couple weeks ago, but I know she named him Benjamin. Benny.”

“You gonna be returning the favor and giving her some nieces and nephews of her own?” Bernard asked, eyes flicking down to Louis’s left hand. “I don’t see a ring.”

“Look who’s talking!” Louis said, gesturing at Bernard’s own bare finger.

“I’m holding out for a hometown girl. Them girls up north are a different breed, and I don’t know how I feel giving my mamaw grandbabies from a northern girl. But you’re already home, what’s your excuse?”

Lestat waited for Louis to fluster and fumble again, to get caught over words as he attempted to explain this, explain them. Lestat watched expectantly, wanting to see the blood color Louis’s cheeks, something Lestat could tease him about later, could tell Louis, “This blush is even prettier on you,” as Louis was buried in his pleasure, color high on his face and across the bridge of his nose, his lips already having long been kiss-swollen.

“I’m too busy for any of that married stuff,” Louis said easily, scoffing and grinning. “I got too much sitting on my work here in Storyville, still running the Pointe du Lac trust, and all that other mess. What would I do with being married anyhow?”

Oh.

“How old’re you now? You ain’t got forever, Louis.”

“I am none-of-your-business years old and I got plenty of time.”

The two of them went back and forth like that for a handful of minutes, laughing and joking like old friends, poking and prodding at each other in the way people who have known each other in childhood can.

And Lestat stayed silent.

He felt the tensing of his jaw, his shoulders, the tightening of the muscles in his arms as his fingers flexed and strained where they hung restlessly at his side against the outer seam of his pants.

“I’m too busy for any of that married stuff.”

“What would I do with being married anyhow?”

Oh.

The way Louis had said it rang in a repetitive circle within Lestat’s head, the nonchalantlessness of his tone striking. The smile on his face played like a hallucination in front of Lestat’s eyes.

When Bernard finally bid them farewell, wandering down toward the opposite end of Toulouse and turning on Burgundy, Louis fell back into his good mood from earlier, so busy talking about those holiday bonuses that he didn’t notice the oddity of Lestat’s silence.

They arrived at their home on Rue Royal, Lestat pushing open the iron gate with a hard shove, and Louis was quick to discard his shoes, hang up his coat and his hat, and turn his face up, catching a quick kiss on Lestat’s jaw as he said, “I’m gonna go change,” before bounding up the stairs toward their bedroom.

And wasn’t that the damndest thing? Their bedroom.

Lestat found himself stuck motionless at the bottom of the stairs.

Their bedroom.

‘Was it?’ Lestat found himself thinking, staring up at where Louis had disappeared.

“Is anything ours?” he voiced aloud then, the words barely a whisper, but still —

“You say something, Les?” Louis called.

Louis asked it with the same tone he’d said, “What would I do with being married anyhow?” and it was simply too much.

It was overwhelming.

“Les?” Louis asked again, now returned to the top of the stairs. He had changed, his slate-gray suit traded out for a comfortable pajama set, the royal purple ones Lestat had bought him last winter when Louis had mentioned how nice the silk felt after bathing in the hottest water, after the cold winter air hit his skin, after the fire rewarmed him back up, after sliding into coffin together.

Overwhelming.

“I’m going out,” Lestat said quickly then, turning on a heel. He hadn’t bothered to take his coat off or his shoes yet. He just had to get out the door.

“Going out? Going out where?”

But Lestat was hardly listening. His hand found the doorknob and turned it quickly, letting in a gust of cool night air as he called out over his shoulder, “To eat.”

Within only minutes, thanks to vampiric speed, he was across Lake Pontchartrain at Madisonville, hunting and hunting and looking and —

The man was handsome, in an unconventional way, and young and strong. And he put up a fight. But Lestat grabbed him easily, slammed his head against the brick of a building, pressed against him tight, sinking his fangs in to the hilt and pulling steady drinks, one after the other after the other, until the man slumped lifeless in Lestat’s arms. Lestat let him fall in a messy heap at his feet, swiping along the brick of the wall and licking clean his fingers.

The man’s blood was potent and heady.

It brought with it a sudden clarity too.

When Lestat finally decided to return home to Rue Royale, the moon seemed brighter. It filtered in through the windows of their parlor, white and illuminating, and bouncing off of the stained glass lamps decorating the tables, servers, and shelves littered about. Lestat loved the way it danced any time a car drove by, or even when it was blocked, however briefly, by a passerby or carriage.

He also loved how the moonlight looked on Louis.

Louis, who was sitting on the sofa, still in his royal purple pajamas, legs covered by a soft muslin blanket. Louis, who had one of his damned books in his hands, eyes scanning the pages as though searching for purpose. Louis, who didn’t believe he was married, who thought that they —

Louis’s eyes were on him as he came through the front door, eyebrows furrowed together, the corners of his mouth turned down.

“Les? What’s wrong? Where’d you go? You bolted out of here like —”

With the same vampiric speed he’d used to get across Lake Pontchartrain, Lestat moved forward.

He had Louis pressed against the sofa, using his entire body to cage him in. They were nose to nose, Lestat’s intense stare boring into Louis’s more startled one. Those wide, green eyes matched the sudden hummingbird’s wing-fast thump-thump-thump of Louis’s heart hammering away within his chest.

The book he’d been holding had been snatched and tossed haphazardly onto one of the tables. He didn’t need it any longer.

“Not married?”

The words, the question, felt heavy as they left Lestat’s mouth.

And when Louis’s eyebrows furrowed together again, when the startled look in his eyes melted away to confusion, the words repeated, this time with an edge.

“Not married?”

“What’re you talking about?” Louis asked.

Lestat pulled back, just slightly, enough that he could see the entirety of Louis’s face.

Beautiful.

The thought that the world didn’t know, couldn’t know, that he was Lestat’s was unthinkable. And the thought that Louis couldn’t even find it within himself to want that just as much as Lestat was even moreso.

“You told Bernard Fontenelle that you didn’t have time to be married. You told him that marriage was of no use for you.”

The expression on Louis’s face melted into a new one once again, this time of annoyance, of exasperation.

“Really? That’s what all this is about?” He was trying to wriggle free, shimmying down as though Lestat was just going to let him slip out and away.

“You couldn’t have meant that, Louis.”

If Lestat had been in a different mindset, a better mindset, he wouldn’t have allowed his voice to have softened, quieted, when he said that. But it did. Louis mimicked the action with his face, his mouth parting ever so slightly, his jaw untightening, his eyes searching.

“Lestat…” and that was all Louis said, voice trailing off as he failed to give any explanation.

The muscle in Lestat’s jaw ticked.

Lestat pulled back all the way now, but only so he could use the space to lean down and scoop Louis — who made a sound of surprise followed by an indignant “Lestat!” — into his arms.

For the last time of the evening, as Lestat intended to make his point very clear, Lestat used his vampiric speed to take them up the stairs, pausing at the top of the steps. Louis’s right arm was trapped between their bodies, but his left was clutching at the jacket of Lestat’s fine suit, nails digging in. Lestat’s own arms, full of Louis, pulled him closer as he asked, “Did I not carry you over the threshold of our home together? Did I not hold you in my arms as I do now?”

“You’re being insane,” was Louis’s response. He made no effort to scramble away though, fingers digging in even harder as Lestat began to walk toward their bedroom.

Gently, with more care than he could ever hope to voice, Lestat placed Louis on the bed.

That indignancy was on Louis’s face now as he leaned back on his hands, mouth pulled in a petulant pout. Lestat crowded him again, bracing his own hands on the bed so he could hold his body over Louis’s, so he could press Louis back onto the comforter and put his face into the space between Louis’s neck and shoulder. The silk of the pajamas brushed against his jaw as he said in almost a whisper, “Have I not been a good husband?”

Lestat was sure he wasn’t meant to hear the hitch of Louis’s breathing.

He kissed Louis’s neck, then pulled back to look at him again.

“Have I not upheld my husbandly duties?” Shifting his weight, adjusting, he pressed more of his body atop Louis’s, holding himself up now with only one hand as he brought the other to Louis’s face, stroking down his soft cheek with the pads of his fingers. “What else does one have to do to prove his love?”

His fingers pressed tighter, just so the tips of his sharp nails could tease at the skin of Louis’s face, moving down over his jaw, sliding across the prominent tendon of his neck, down to the neckline of his pajama shirt.

There were buttons holding the shirt closed. Lestat toyed with the one button closest to the top, the one settled over Louis’s sternum.

“Perhaps I haven’t done enough,” Lestat tsked at himself. He moved down to the second button, leaving the first intact. “Perhaps I should make up, to you, my shortcomings in our marriage.”

“Lestat, there’s no shortcomings to be talking about,” Louis said. His voice was breathy, but he was trying to push himself up onto his hands once more, struggling against the weight of Lestat.

“But there must be,” Lestat disagreed. The third button now. “I must have not done something right.”

Louis was trying to sneak a hand up to push at Lestat’s shoulder. It took very little to keep that hand away and Louis huffed as he was denied three times over.

“Bernard doesn’t need to know anything about us. No one does. It’s us, not them.”

This time when Lestat looked at Louis, he really looked. That same trepidation from earlier, from childhood, was there rearing its ugliness at Louis, and it was in a battle, a constant battle, with the part of Louis that caused his breath to hitch at the word ‘husband.’

“But what if I want to scream it?” Lestat asked, his hand now fiddling with the fourth, and final, button. “What if I want the world to know that I love you? What if I want the world to know that you’re mine?”

This time Lestat wasn’t sure if the hitch of Louis’s breath was because of what he said or because he chose that moment to slice a nail quickly down the front of Louis’s shirt, popping off every button so that the silk slid away from Louis’s torso, exposing him to the cool air of the bedroom.

“We can’t do any of that, Les,” Louis said. “We don’t get to scream it. We don’t get to tell the world. There are a million reasons as to why.”

It was true, Lestat knew. The human world and all of its problems were why humans were so simultaneously fascinating and frustrating. It was why Louis’s voice still got sad, as it was now, when reminded of the human setbacks he still held within himself, would hold until his family was no longer present to remind him of what once was.

But they weren’t human. They had a future. They had a future where the world would be far different than it currently was. Lestat had seen so many things change during his walk in the Savage Garden.

So Lestat hummed instead, the vibration of it low in his chest. “Then let us think about our actual wedding.”

“What?” Louis blinked at him.

“One day,” Lestat trailed, fingers toying with Louis’s open shirt, “we will be able to get married. It will happen. And when that day comes, I will give you a proper wedding.” He pushed the shirt away from Louis’s shoulders, watching with a devouring gaze as more skin was put on display. “I will give you a ring of emerald to match the gems that are your eyes. I will announce to all my vow to stay by your side. I will tell them how I love you and I will kiss you in front of them so they can see the truth behind it all.”

With the same gentleness he had placed Louis upon the bed with, Lestat entirely removed Louis’s shirt, allowing him to witness the quickened heave of Louis’s chest, the way his nipples had hardened in the cold of the room, the way his fingers twitched helplessly against the cover.

That gentleness vanished at the sight. Lestat could feel his smile turn wolfish.

It only took two moves to return them to their earlier position, Lestat atop Louis, body blanketing his, but this time Lestat didn’t delay.

He kissed Louis. It started off simple, almost sweet, but it quickly developed into something more, deeper and languid. It was almost syrupy in its quality, like the blood of a wine-drunk or that of a particularly beautiful young woman.

When the tip of Lestat’s tongue found the seam of Louis’s lips, Louis opened for him, let him lick his way inside, mapping teeth and taste and cementing the taste of himself right there.

Louis shifted underneath him and this time Lestat allowed Louis to bring his hands up, allowed Louis to settle one around the back of his neck and the other in his hair. Pulling, Louis tried to bring Lestat closer, tilting his head just so in order to return the favor, licking into Lestat’s mouth with an equal kind of enthusiasm.

Then he purposefully sliced his tongue along one of Lestat’s fangs.

Immediately blood flowed into Lestat’s mouth, overtaking everything else, almost whiting out his vision. It was Louis’s blood. Louis, his Louis, who kept kissing him for some time, every passing second of the kiss wetter. It made Lestat hard, his cock already beginning to strain against the confines of his pants.

But so was Louis, his hardness pressed against Lestat’s thigh.

There was blood trickling down Louis’s chin when they separated and Lestat lurched forward, his tongue flat to gather it all on his tongue before pressing it back into Louis’s own mouth with a quick kiss.

“You minx,” Lestat scolded. “That was devilish.”

Louis smiled. It would have almost been a shy thing, done while looking up through dark lashes, a flush on his face as though realizing he was half-naked whilst Lestat was still in his full suit.

It would have succeeded in being a shy thing had it not been for the blood staining his teeth.

Oh, Lestat loved him so.

“Get out of that ridiculous suit and tell me more,” Louis said. He was settling himself further up the bed, eyes watching raptly as Lestat slowly stood up to full height, standing at the foot of the bed to begin fiddling with his cufflinks.

Lestat almost lost the back of one when Louis trailed a hand down to toy with the waist of his pajama pants.

“Tell you more of what?” Lestat asked, sliding off his jacket and throwing it somewhere to be gathered up tomorrow.

“Of our wedding.”

Louis’s eagerness from earlier in the evening had returned full force. Lestat was more than happy to oblige him.

“Well,” he started, moving to take off his tie, “the wedding would be whatever you want. Big affair, small affair, it matters none to me. In a church, in New Orleans, across the world in China, on an island far away from everyone else.” His hands moved down to his belt. “All that I know, all that is guaranteed, is that your ring would be an emerald and that, by the end of the night, no one would be able to question us. The entire world would know that I was the one to put that ring on your finger.”

He toed off his shoes, leaving them where they were, and began to unbutton his shirt. His had many more buttons than Louis’s pajama shirt and it was a thrill, a stroke of Lestat’s ego, to witness the way desire burned in Louis’s eyes as each button came undone.

As he slid it off his shoulders, letting it join his shoes on the floor at his feet, he began to crawl back onto the bed. Louis’s breath immediately quickened again, ever so, and Lestat found the hand that was toying with the waist of his pajama pants and intertwined their fingers, leaving feather-like touches with his thumb across the thin skin stretched over Louis’s hipbone.

“I also know that, despite everything, you could still wear white.”

Reflexively, Louis’s fingers tightened around Lestat’s own. The way his face reddened more would have almost been startling had Lestat not known exactly what he was doing, what he was aiming for. His wolfish smile returned.

“Yes, because even though you’ve long been defiled, taken apart and put back together all on my cock, you can still wear white. After all, I was your first, non?”

Lestat pulled his hand away from Louis’s, letting it fall to the same place Louis had been fiddling with earlier, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric of those pajama pants and beginning to pull. Louis’s breathing was shallow now, eyes never leaving Lestat’s face, trained on his mouth as Lestat said, “Such a good wife you are. You saved yourself for me, for your husband. You didn’t allow anybody else inside.”

The silk slid easily down Louis’s legs, bunching up around his ankles for a brief moment before Lestat pulled it away, and now Louis was naked, a vision against the gold of the comforter, its warmth complimentary and stunning next to the brown of his skin.

Finding it impossible not to do so, Lestat leaned down and kissed Louis again. He resumed their languid, syrupy kiss, utterly claiming Louis with it. But now that there was so much skin to touch, so much more to stake claim upon as well, his hands couldn’t stay still.

Louis was so soft, his skin made to give and take with whatever direction Lestat pushed. His back arched and bowed as Lestat’s hands danced over the expanse of his ribs, his shoulders dropped when Lestat slid a hand underneath him to the small of his back, his neck tilted to expose himself more when Lestat’s other hand cupped and held at his jaw.

When Louis tilted his neck, it moved the position of his mouth underneath Lestat’s, and Lestat took the opportunity to shift his kisses, to move them to that skin Louis so graciously offered him. It freed up Louis’s mouth so he could sigh aloud, so Lestat could hear him say, “Lestat. Les, honey, I’m so —” and “Oh, oh” followed by a gasp as Lestat bit down, just a hint of what he could do, wanted to do.

“I’m the only one that knows what you feel like,” Lestat mumbled against Louis’s collarbone, kissing the area over his heart and moaning as Louis’s hands moved to his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. The hand that had slipped under the small of Louis’s back moved down, gripping at the plush give of Louis’s ass as he hoisted his hips up to grind them together, as he said, “I’m the only one that knows the depth of your warmth. I’m the only one that knows how you tighten around me when I touch you here.”

Louis whimpered, the sound high and needy, pressing his now-weeping cock against the fabric of Lestat’s pants, movement stuttering at the friction

Lestat allowed Louis to maintain that friction, to rut against him as he moved further down, lips and teeth skating across Louis’s chest. Louis’s hips made a particularly pointed movement when Lestat took one of his nipples into his mouth, blunt human teeth worrying at the supple flesh. Experience told him he could stay here forever, could switch from breast to breast for hours; Louis would enter a space of pure bliss at it, would cradle Lestat closer to him, would pepper kisses along Lestat’s hairline. But Lestat had other things to do, other plans to see through, and so he kept moving downward, hands following his mouth, each one resting on either side of Louis’s tiny waist, holding him down as he kissed at the space just below his belly button, as he nosed at the thin skin of his groin.

“We could pretend,” he started, settling his elbows across Louis’s thighs to hold those down too, “when we get married, that you’re still pure. That you’ve followed all of your Catholic teachings thoroughly.”

A kiss, just at the base of Louis’s cock, made him whimper again.

“Shh,” Lestat scolded, no heat behind it at all. “Your dear father won’t be there to give you away, but, as you will have been mine far longer than you were ever his, it won’t matter.”

And still Lestat moved downward, foregoing giving Louis’s cock any more attention, nose first finding the soft skin of his inner thigh, nuzzling at it.

His fangs elongated in his mouth and the taste, the scent, of Louis made saliva pool on his tongue.

Without any more precedence, Lestat bit down.

Louis cried out at the sensation of the bite, a pleasure-pained “Lestat!” leaving him as his back bowed off the bed, as his eyes shot open, pupils dilated beyond measure.

Everything about Louis was better than anyone else. Others were beautiful, but none compared to Louis. Others had green eyes, but none as green as Louis’s. Others were fierce, but none as fierce as Louis.

Others had delicious blood, but none as delicious as Louis’s.

It was ambrosia, nectar of the gods, and it came from one source. It flowed within Louis. It flooded out of the wounds Lestat created, and it sent Lestat’s senses wild with fire.

It made his cock even harder.

He pulled long draws of it, moaning with abandon as it went down his throat, and when he wanted a different kind of connection, wanted his cock inside of Louis in place of his fangs, he dislodged them, heaving out a breath.

This time, it was his smile that was bloody.

Above him, Louis looked wrecked. His mouth was open, parted to allow his tongue to wet at his lips, moans and gasps and whines leaving him one after the other. His hands were balled up in the comforter of the bed, nails having ripped at the stitching of the sewed design, and his chest was heaving. Lestat could see where his saliva was still wet against Louis’s nipples given the lighting of the room, but that was nothing in comparison to the dark head of Louis’s cock, so hard and so desperate where it twitched against the divet next to his right hip.

The bite marks in Louis’s thigh were still there, but the blood was already beginning to lessen as the skin healed. Lestat wasted no time, swiping two of his fingers through the blood there, coating them with it and fighting off the temptation to lick them clean.

Instead, he brought them to Louis’s hole, grinning as Louis gasped at the touch, legs instinctively widening further and further.

“You’re always so tight,” Lestat started, pushing both fingers in slowly, blood slicking the way. “Anyone would believe you to be a virgin.”

“Don’t,” Louis all but begged, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Don’t what?” Lestat asked, pressing his fingers in even deeper. Louis whined. “Don’t tease you about it? Can it really be called teasing if it’s the truth?”

Louis was going to bite his lip bloody too, Lestat mused, watching as Louis fought a losing battle within himself, his body already giving in to Lestat’s ministrations, opening up for him beautifully.

Lestat pressed in a third finger.

Just the pressure of it, the initial push and give, was enough; Louis came, the suddenness of it debilitating to him, and thrilling, completely enrapturing, to Lestat.

He worked Louis through it, fingers never slowing, grinning when Louis’s thighs began to shake.

“Someone likes being reminded what a good Catholic he is.”

“Don’t,” Louis tried again. It would have been much more serious of a command if his come wasn’t already cooling against his skin.

Lestat ran a hand down Louis’s trembling thighs, soothing them as Louis took in gulps of air. But — once again, from experience — Lestat knew it was best to not let Louis think too long. Sometimes he was fine, basking in their pleasure and love, and other times that ugly trepidation of his former selfhood got into his head.

So Lestat did what he did best: he quickly got rid of his own pants, the nuisance that they were, and he bit into Louis’s thigh again, just long enough for Louis to get hard a second time, just long enough to satiate his thirst, just long enough so that when he dislodged himself once more, there was enough blood for him to slick his cock fully.

Louis’s legs were open and inviting, his eyes kitten-wide and yearning as he followed the movement of Lestat’s reddened hand on his own cock, of the way he moved his hand to the base, holding it as he shifted closer, as he pushed the head teasingly at Louis’s blood-wet hole.

Lestat sighed in pleasure as he pressed his cock inside of Louis, as he felt Louis open to him fully now, loose-limbed and pleasure-drunk.

Lestat kept pushing, driving his cock home, going as deep as he possibly could, wishing he could make Louis choke on it, and when he was flush with Louis, his balls pressed against the soft flesh of Louis’s ass, he pulled all the way back, leaving in just the tip, and then drove forward again.

Louis all but sobbed into his shoulder.

He found a rhythm, his thrusts becoming more powerful as he chased their pleasure, as he sought to bring Louis to the brink of insanity with it. Looking down, he watched with rapt fascination where they were joined, watching his cock disappear inside of Louis then reveal itself, inch by inch, before doing so again and again and again.

And, somewhere in the haze of their coupling, a realization struck him, one so insane, one that set a fire deep within Lestat, that he couldn’t help but laugh, an almost cruel sound from somewhere in his chest.

He kissed Louis as he laughed, leaning down so the very air he breathed was the air leaving Louis, and vice versa, and when he broke the kiss he was still laughing, hips beginning to slow ever so slightly as he said, “You do look like a virgin. Blood-soaked sheets and all.” Then, “Perhaps I should take the sheets, hang them on the balcony for all of New Orleans to see, to show them what a good wife you are.”

He laughed again, laughed at the way Louis’s eyes fluttered down to try to see the sheets, to see the proof of what Lestat said, laughed when he moved Louis’s legs to his shoulders so Louis could see better, so he could dig in deeper.

Louis was nearly folded in half when Lestat thrust all the way back in, when he covered Louis’s body with his own again, when he allowed the laughter to die out, to be replaced by their moans once more.

There was no more speaking for some time after that. Whatever energy Lestat had was spent making Louis feel as good as possible. It was spent holding Louis’s legs, kissing at his neck, his chest, at wherever Lestat’s mouth could reach, and burying himself in Louis’s tightness, in the home that was his body.

It didn’t take long for Louis to come after that either, already so overstimulated and desperate. He came untouched, crying out at a particularly hard thrust, one that pressed the head of Lestat’s cock against his prostate, one that shook him down to his bones.

His spend was hot between them, spreading on the skin of their stomachs as Lestat continued to thrust, as he chased now only his pleasure.

When he was close, when his hips faltered in their rhythm, Louis carded a hand through his hair, pulled him closer by the shoulders, encouraging him to somehow get closer, to eliminate the centimeters still separating them.

Then, voice like a dream, Louis broke their spoken-silence, said, “Come inside of me. Please, honey. Be a good husband and come inside of me. Let me have it.”

Lestat shattered.

For several moments, nothing but the overwhelming love Lestat held within himself felt real. The world around him, around them, faded to nothingness. It was all Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis.

When the world did return, it did so in pieces. First was the acknowledgment of Louis’s heavy breathing in his ears, the feel of Louis’s skin against his. Second was the coolness of the room against his damp skin. Third was the sound of his own breathing, heavy and mirrored in the fast beating of his heart in his chest. Fourth, and finally, was the realization that his entire bodyweight was holding Louis down into the bed.

“Stay inside,” Louis whispered, begged, when Lestat tried to rise. He urged Lestat to stay with his hands, one hand curled around the breadth of Lestat’s shoulders, the other playing with the blood-sweat wet strands of his hair. And Lestat, having no actual desire to go, settled into the feeling of surrounding Louis entirely, into the feeling of Louis warm and sated and pressed against him.

They stayed like that for some time, breath falling in sync. Their hearts too. They would have fallen asleep there if it wasn’t for Lestat’s awareness of the sun, only an hour away from rising, and if it wasn’t for Louis, his sudden still-whisper, saying, “You really think there’s gonna be a day when you and me can get married? Like how other couples do?”

Lestat blinked open heavy eyes and found Louis had turned to look at him. They were so close, Lestat having tucked his head into Louis’s neck as they lay there, so the action of Louis turning put them eye to eye. That trepidation wasn’t there this time, wasn’t present in the sanctuary of their bedroom. Louis’s gaze was searching, hope brimming in the endless green.

“I have seen the world go through many changes,” Lestat started, propping himself up a little. “One day, humanity will catch up with how we vampires feel. They always do eventually. And when that day comes, I will give you a wedding and we can scream our love from every rooftop, project it to every being that walks this planet.”

Louis laughed at that, muttering something about always taking things too far, but he sobered up quickly, bringing a hand to Lestat’s face, fingers settling under the defined line of Lestat’s jaw, holding him like it was all that mattered right then. Lestat leaned into the touch, relished in it, as Louis asked, in that same hopeful voice, “And for now?”

“And for now we are wed in all the ways that matter.” He covered Louis's hand with his own, holding it, turning to kiss at the soft palm. “You are mine, for all of eternity. My companion. My Louis.”

After a couple more minutes of basking in each other’s arms, they moved, cleaning up and putting on new pajamas, ones perfect for settling into coffin for the morning. Lestat did not even pretend pretense of going to his own coffin, settling immediately into Louis’s, arms open and wide to accept Louis in too.

The dark brought forth by the shutting of the coffin always made Lestat sleepy, something that would be called Pavlovian after a Russian scientist’s publication just in 1904, and so he was nearly asleep when Louis, still awake, and mind apparently reeling, said, “I know we’re gonna have to wait on that wedding and all, but I am interested in what kind of emerald ring you’ve got in mind.”

It was Lestat’s turn to laugh, and he kissed Louis’s forehead.

“I assure you, it will only be the best. I’ll only ever get the best for you.”

#<3333 #my writing #loustat

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chimivx · 2 years

Text

simply one-derful. // myg.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader, and ot7 { couple from vegas, baby }

summary: It was incredibly ironic, your daughter sharing a birthday with her favorite person- besides her parents. Thinking her first birthday is going to be spectacular, an unexpected letter in the mail turns things upside down... Until your found family comes together to have an amazing night.

words: 7k

warnings: birthday blues (lets be honest we all get em), sex talk obvi, suggestive convo, grown adults partying, drinking, alcohol, readers bad parents are back, mentions of bad parenting, jikook warning bc I LOVE THEM If I missed anything PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

a/n: HI! Another Vegas series mini... I can't help myself. I love picking apart their life and putting it in writing. I adore being able to get to know them. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNGKOOK AND BABY MIN! :) Yes, I know I'm posting a day early.

{ find the vegas, series here to get to know this couple some more }

~ September 1st, 2022 ~

“Here, D, oh my god,” You hand your babbling baby over to Yoongi who takes her with furrowed brows. He had literally just walked into the kitchen, ready to help you start setting up for the party, and you were already frustrated, storming out of his presence.

Holding his daughter in his hands like a football for a second, he flips her around and pops her on his hip, giving her a curious look.

“What’s wrong with Mom?” He asks quietly, “What’d you do?”

“Mama,” Your daughter says to him, patting his chest with her hands, “Ma, ma, ma,” She says to the beat of her tiny tapping hands. Yoongi chuckles.

“My little protégé,” He whispers so he knows you don’t hear him. You’re very adamant about your daughter becoming her own person, and Yoongi definitely agrees, but can’t help but feel like some of his genius was passed on to his little one.

“I like the song,” He says to her as she continues her tapping and babbling.

“Ma, ma, maaa,” She drags out, making him laugh. Walking around the marble counters, he spies a pile of mail next to the sink, one that hadn’t been there before.

“MA!” Your daughter shrieks, and Yoongi is quick to hush her.

“Something made Mom mad,” He says to her under his breath, looking through the mail for something that would trigger your, very rare, anger.

“Mah?” She questions, copying the sound of her fathers words, not even knowing what they even meant.

Tossing aside pointless letters and junk mail, he pauses as he catches the torn edge of a light pink envelope forcefully shoved within the pages of one of your magazines.

“Aha,” He says.

“Aha,” The baby on his hip copies him, clearly this time.

“You smartie,” Yoongi smiles at her, getting her to beam a partially toothless grin that reminded him of you. Her nose crinkles just like yours does.

Pulling the envelope out of the silky pages of Vogue, he flips it over and frowns as he reads the return label. Your daughter's name was written in the center of it in crisp cursive with your home address written beneath it in neat handwriting.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” He mutters, feeling his own blood start to boil.

The top of the envelope is torn open, so he assumes you’ve already opened and read it. Following suit, he uses the hand beneath his baby's bottom to pull the card out, tossing the envelope to the side without care.

Keeping the baby on his right hip with his good shoulder, he lifts the card up with his other hand, giving it a good look.

The front of it is frilly, pink and glittery. There’s two ballerina’s on either side of the script that read, “To a ONE-derful Granddaughter”, and Yoongi can’t help but huff a pathetic laugh. As expected, his daughter copies him.

“You got that right,” He mumbles to her, flipping the card open with his thumb. A one hundred dollar bill falls out of it onto the counter. Your daughter spots it and reaches for it, but Yoongi is quick to pull her away, telling her it was dirty and that she wasn’t allowed to touch it.

Eyes scanning the kind of cute message the card came with, he reads what’s written at the bottom and audibly expresses his fury with a groan.

‘Happy Birthday to the sweet little girl who made us Grandparents. One year ago today we had no idea that our lives would change this way. We weren’t expecting you. Life is full of surprises and we’re definitely sure you were one of them. Here’s to hoping one day we meet. Until then, chin up, work hard, make us proud, and Happy Birthday!’

It was signed by your parents.

Yoongi wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loud that your parents would hear him, but he kept quiet. He kept quiet for you.

It wasn’t ever Yoongi’s idea to share things with them. It wasn’t his idea to give your parents the address to your home, and it never once crossed his mind to tell them that you two have even had a fucking child together.

They’ve never even met him before, they barely had an idea of who their daughter was sharing her life with. You used to make jokes together about how one Google search could expose you to the masses, but they didn’t care enough to even do that.

He never put up a fight for your sake.

Though you both share the same feelings and festering bitterness for the people who brought you into this world, he never held you back from reaching out to them. Sure, he’d share some thoughts, instill some kind of warning in case you didn’t get an answer, or one you weren’t ready to hear, but other than that, he kept quiet.

He’d rather be there for you when they weren’t instead of getting in your way and sparking an argument right off the bat.

You must’ve opened this and read it before he came down from his office, no wonder you hustled out the way you did.

“Baby?” Yoongi calls out to you, wherever you ended up.

“Baaaaay?” Your daughter shouts just as loud, pulling the card that was inevitably for her out of his hands. She flips it over a couple of times before figuring out how to open it up, acting like she was reading it.

“This is no time to be funny, miss,” Yoongi laughs softly, whispering to her before snatching the card from her little hands.

“Hey, baby?” Yoongi tries again, shoving the card back into the envelope, money and all. His fingers are left with tiny pieces of pink glitter all over them.

“Yes, dear?” He hears from the foyer of the house, followed by the closing of the front door. Your daughter looks at her father curiously at the sound of a new voice, trying to place it within her small aray of people she knew and remembered.

“We’re in here, Kook,” Yoongi says, starting for the doorway. Meeting him at the threshold, wincing as your daughter screeched at the sight of her Uncle Kookie, he hands her over to the man who was wearing a grin three sizes too big. Kicking her feet like crazy, she instantly cuddles up into his chest, her own special way of giving people a hug.

“Happy Birthday, little goofball,” Jungkook kisses the top of her head and rocks her side to side. She looks up at him with a smile and babbles a few meaningless words to him.

“Think she just said it back,” Yoongi tilts his chin to the side, and squints his eyes, getting Jungkook to laugh. “Seriously though, Happy Birthday brother.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook cheeses again, then glances over Yoongi’s shoulder, “Where’s the wife?” He asks, looking forward to seeing you. Yoongi gives his eyes a roll and sighs.

“She’s not my wife yet,” He whispers.

“So?” Jungkook scoffs, “Close enough.”

“We’re engaged, Kook,” Yoongi says a little more cautiously.

“She’s so weird for this,” Jungkook smiles as he shakes his head, “It’s close enough, why does she find it weird for me to call her your wife?”

“Why?” Your daughter, who was contently laying against Jungkook’s chest, perks up and copies the last syllables he spoke that she could say. He looks down at her and widens his eyes.

“Exactly,” He says to her, and Yoongi laughs.

“I, uh, I don’t know where she went,” He says, watching his daughter lift a hand to point at Jungkook's lip ring, touching it with care. Using his tongue to make it move side to side, she’s mesmerized, pointer finger stuck in the air.

“There’s a card from her parents on the counter,” Yoongi’s words make the youngest freeze, only his eyes flickering up to give him a look, “I know,” Yoongi rolls his eyes in agreement to Jungkook’s unspoken opinion on the matter, “They sent money and everything. There’s a message in it, it’s totally backhanded, I just… Kook, it’s so fucked they’d do this.”

“Is there a return address, I swear to… Where is it?” Jungkook asks, “You said on the counter?” Nodding, Yoongi sighs.

“Want me to take her?” He holds out his hands to his brother, offering to take his daughter back. Shielding her away from her own father, looking subtly offended, Jungkook shakes his head.

“Uh uh, this is our day,” He says, and brushes past Yoongi, heading straight into the kitchen, “Now, when I need to throw a punch, you can take her back.” Jungkook says a bit louder. Yoongi can hear the shuffle of the paper, and the opening of the card, so he hurries to the stairs to avoid Jungkook's initial reaction.

Trekking up the carpeted, dual level stairs, Yoongi peers into every open door in the upstairs hallway. You aren’t in your bedroom, the bathroom, the guest room, or his office, so his only other option was your daughter's room, but her door was shut.

Stepping in front of it, he drums two fingers on the wood to let you know he was coming in.

“Hey, you in here?” He asks softly, turning the knob, pushing the door to the sage green bedroom open, finding you sitting in front of your baby’s chestnut wooden crib with your legs tucked into your chest.

Side eyeing him, you sigh heavily and point your focus forward on the matching dressers and changing table.

Yoongi shuts the door behind him, standing against it for a second in the silence of the comforting room. Her walls were decorated with pictures of her and her family, and adorable works of art with the sweetest messages on them that you had designed yourself. In fact, you had mapped out her entire room on an app five months into your pregnancy, and Yoongi, always on your side, found a way to make it happen.

Coming closer, he sits down on the floor beside you and leans his back on the wood, looking over at you. Your eyes were lifeless, and that told him more than he needed to know. He waits for you to say something first, a couple of minutes going by before you do.

“Jungkooks here?” You half ask, keeping your eyes on the furniture.

“He is,” Yoongi’s voice is gentle.

“Baby’s happy then,” You mumble, acting like she hadn’t been happy as a clam all morning, making his face screw up in confusion.

“She’s always happy,” He objects, tone growing stronger. Glancing to your lap, you take a deep, shaky breath. Yoongi watches a tear slide down your cheek.

“Is she?” You ask just above a whisper. Throwing his hands out in front of him, he’s ready to go off, but stops himself. Instead, he closes his hands into fists and places them on his knees, reminding himself where this new, sudden thought was stemming from. The rotten woman who put that card in the mail.

“She’s happy,” He says, “The happiest goddamn baby I’ve ever seen,” He pauses, hoping something he says is going to fix this, “You know why she’s as happy as she is?” You finally look up at him, your teary eyes wrecking his heart, “‘Cause she’s got a badass mom.” Reaching over, he wipes away the tear that had fallen and gives you a smile.

“I sent them a message two weeks after she was born,” You say, “Two weeks,” Yoongi nods, listening wholeheartedly, “They got her name, her stats, the date, that’s it. Not a picture, not a where, not a how, not a who with,” Your voice falls into a whisper, “They didn’t even ask me anything, D. I didn’t get a, how’re you doing, how’re you feeling… Not even a, how’s the baby?” Reaching up for one of his hands, he’s quick to snatch it up, holding it over his chest.

“I remember,” He says, encouraging you to continue.

“They didn’t answer the text,” You shake your head, your face twisting up in shock, “I gave them vague ass information, and they still didn’t ask me a single question. It’s been a YEAR! And not a single, fucking, question. They haven’t asked to see a photo- I could be lying!” Pressing your other hand to your chest, you start to laugh at the thought of you faking an entire child just to get your parents attention. Yoongi takes a deep breath, letting you feel everything you need to feel at this moment.

“I could be totally lying to them,” You shake your head again, “‘Life is full of surprises we’re definitely sure you were one of them’, get out of here with that load of bullshit,” Squeezing Yoongi’s hand, you give him a look and shrug your shoulders, “They’re right though, she wasn’t planned. She was a total surprise. They expected something like this to happen, that’s how irresponsible they think that I am.”

“Hey, wait, not irresponsible,” Yoongi tried to negate, holding up his other hand. Shooting him another look, he blows air from his lips and rolls his eyes.

“Was our daughter a surprise? Yes. Was it irresponsible? Mmm, maybe. Do we regret it? Not a chance. Are we secure enough that the weight of having and caring for a child hasn’t broken us? Yes,” He’s slowly starting to get fired up, but when it came to your parents, you only seemed to listen to Yoongi when he spoke up like this, and it wasn’t often, “Surprises happen to married couples all the fucking time, babe. Do people act like they’ve committed a crime? No! How are we any different?”

“We’re not,” You mumble.

“Damn right, we’re not,” Yoongi states, “I’ve been in love with you for eight years, if we want to have babies, we’re going to have babies. They don’t even know us. I’m not going to let two pot-stirring, old, decomposing assholes dictate how you feel about your life anymore.”

“Decompos…” You whisper, then finally laugh.

“Yeah, now that I’m mad you finally laugh,” Yoongi sighs, groaning straight after, “You’re done with them.”

“Decomposing!” You say louder, falling into his side while you belly laugh. Taking deep breaths, Yoongi drags a hand through his hair trying to relax.

“I’m serious, baby,” He says in a softer tone, “Restraining orders, we’re done with them. They’re not messing with her. Shit, I wanted to do this years ago so they’d stop messing with you.”

Hearing the sincerity in his voice makes you calm down. The two of you share a look, a deciding look, one that you nod in agreement to confirm. He’d move mountains for his girl, you’re positive that he’d catch a felony without thinking twice if it meant he was protecting her.

“I’m sure they only sent it to mess with me,” You offer to calm his nerves about his daughter, “But, yeah. I’m done. I’ve been done. A year ago was the last time I even tried anyway, so, how fitting that we end it around the same occasion.” Tilting your head side to side a bit, you sarcastically shake your hand in his to show some sort of celebration.

“I am sorry it happened though,” Yoongi whispers. Shrugging once more, you look in his eyes and smile.

“At this point I’m usually not affected like this, I don’t know why this got to me,” You say, glancing around the room, “I should’ve just thrown it away.” Yoongi presses his lips together in a smile.

“I know why,” He says, getting your attention back, “‘Cause you're a badass mom,” He repeats himself now that you actually hear him, “And you care about that girl more than I’ve seen you care about anything else in this world.”

“I do,” You barely say, “I really do,” A tear pricks at your eye, “I love you just as much, D. Life is so much better because of you.” Blinking away tears that welled in his own eyes, Yoongi smiles as he leans over to give you a few short, sweet kisses.

“Hey! Am I burning this shit for birthday card, or what?” Jungkook shouts up the stairs.

“Wha!” Your daughter shouts after him, getting you and Yoongi to laugh on each other's lips, “Mama!” She shouts loud and clear, beckoning you to come down the steps.

“You’re wanted,” Yoongi raises his eyebrows cheekily, “She doesn’t yell for me like that.” Giving him a genuine smile, you both stand to your feet after sharing another kiss and emerge from your daughters room together.

Appearing at the top of the stairs, she sees you and shrieks, wiggling around like a worm in Jungkooks arms.

“Ahhh,” He sighs theatrically, “Mrs. Min Yoongi, nice to see you.” Coming down the stairs with Yoongi behind you, you just know that he’s signaling for Jungkook to shut up. It used to rub you the wrong way, being addressed as such before you’re formally married, but, now… It felt like relief.

“Oh, yes,” You nod, holding open your arms for your girl to climb into once you're on the bottom stair, “Get rid of my last name, please.” You laugh, then wrap your arms around your little one who’s cuddled into your chest.

“Really?!” Jungkook looks excited, looking to Yoongi behind you triumphantly.

“Really,” Yoongi confirms with a single nod, officially addressing the end of your affiliation with your parents.

“Koo-hee, ma, ma, ma, Koo-hee, ma, ma, ma…” Your daughter starts to babble in a pattern, making you all look at her. She was laid on your chest over your heart, with a hand on your shoulder messing with your bra strap.

“I love this song,” Jungkook jokes, pumping a fist in the air to the beat she was babbling to. Smiling, you turn to look at Yoongi who was so clearly biting his tongue.

“Say it,” You mutter.

“Protégé!” Yoongi nearly shouts, thrusting his hands out at his sides.

By nine thirty that evening your home was still buzzing with life. Shortly after Jungkook arrived and Yoongi talked you off the ledge, the other five guys showed up one by one. Except Jimin and Taehyung, they came together.

With the ample pairs of hands eager to help out, the party was set up in a half an hour, and your girl was constantly occupied by an uncle who showered her in love. Sticking with a neutral theme- you and Yoongi hated stereotypes- different shades of green were used in the decorations, much like the sage green of your daughters bedroom walls.

A giant golden balloon in the shape of a number one was tied to the back of her high chair, a wooden one that matched all of the furniture associated with her. You wouldn’t say you were neurotic about her things, but anyone who took a look around your house would say otherwise. Everything matched, everything followed a theme, everything followed a color scheme.

It was no surprise to the guys when they saw her first birthday would be the same.

The first guests arrived when you had taken your daughter upstairs to change, a couple members of the team you were all close with. Putting your girl into a pastel yellow jumper with three brown buttons down the top, and matching sandals, you decide to skip a bow or a headband knowing she’d just rip it out the moment she was downstairs. She looked absolutely adorable, and she surely was the life of the party.

Throughout the rest of the day people came in and out, stopping by to express their love, or sticking around for a couple of hours to have a good time with good people.

After rounds of food, and a smushed birthday cake courtesy of your one year old who couldn’t wait until the song was over to dig into the dessert, everyone that was left this evening was your little family, six cool uncle’s, and, of course, Sunny.

“Can I turn this off?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, asking you from the arm of the couch he was sitting on across the room. He was gesturing to the speakers mounted to the wall in the living room that had music from a party appropriate Spotify playlist playing.

Sitting on the edge of the couch with your elbows on your knees and a bright blue maraca in your hand, you give him a small smile and nod. You knew his skin was crawling as soon as you pressed shuffle earlier. Now with all of the other guests gone and just the main crew around, he finally had the courage to ask.

“Here she comes!” Jimin says in a silly voice from the floor in front of the couch. He was sitting criss-cross between Jungkooks legs. The youngest was leaning forward, all of his body weight on top of Jimin with his arms wrapped around his shoulders and his chin nestled into his neck.

They were on the sofa across from you, the one Yoongi was just perched on, giving you a front row seat to the bullshit they tried with all of their might to deny. It came out in places like this, private places. Neither of them were overly touchy-feely if they knew they were on camera, which most of their lives were. Here they were in a safe space, one where they could be themselves.

Their eyes were on your daughter who was standing up on her own, gripping the coffee table with everything she had. Her steps were slow, but she tried her best to teeter closer to the boys, because like you, Jimin had the other blue maraca in his hands.

“She’s comin’, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook grins, making a face at your baby to encourage her.

“You want this?” Jimin asks, holding up the toy, giving it a shake. The sound that comes from it makes her shriek and bounce her knees, getting the audience around her to laugh.

“I’ve heard her scream more today than I ever have,” Hoseok’s eyes go wide as he nudges your shoulder, sitting right beside you. Sucking in a dramatic breath, you release as you look at him and nod slowly.

“It’s her favorite thing,” You say in a positive tone, but then cross your eyes to show your sarcasm, and he laughs, “Screaming, and copying you. She picks up on sounds quick, she’ll repeat them back almost perfectly.”

The music paused, making your daughter freeze and look around the room with suspicion. The only thing that could be heard was Sunny’s quiet chatter with Jin and Taehyung on the couch next to the one you and Hobi were on.

“Oh, she likes the music, it stopped,” Hoseok comments softly, tapping you again. Smiling, you nod.

“We always have something playing, she’s a music fien,” You say, and Jungkook agrees.

“She’s gonna be like her dad, I swear,” He says, giving you a teasing look. Dropping your jaw, you can’t away fight the smile that peeks onto your face. You would admit, your daughter being as talented as her father would be pretty awesome.

“She’s going to be whoever she wants to be, Kook,” You say calmly, getting a little smirk from him. He knew the rules, he just liked to push them- he learned that from you.

From the speakers, a beat starts to play causing a small roar to roll through the room out of everyone. A giant smile appears on your daughter's face as she starts to bounce her knees and slap the table with her hands. Taehyung sits forward, out of Sunnys arms, and dances with your girl, making her giggle. His head was bobbing in time with her slaps, and she was eating it up.

“Tee,” She stops to say, lifting a finger, pointing it at him. Taehyung makes a surprised face, acquiring another giggle, and puts his hands over his chest.

“Me?” He shakes his curly black hair around dramatically. Hobi, watching the scene in front of him, reaches for your wrist and squeezes it, making sure you were watching too.

“Tee! TEE!” Your daughter shouts, then resumes her bouncing to the music. Taehyung pouts his bottom lip and looks over at you.

“Tee,” He repeats, “It never gets old.”

Though there were complications after her birth, your daughter didn’t let it stop her from progressing and hitting every milestone she should be with flying colors, walking, talking, dancing, singing, and making beats apparently. She was tiny, but mighty.

She took her first two steps on her own just a few days ago. Fresh out of the bath, in her diaper, in her room, you and Yoongi were laid down on the floor on opposite sides of the carpet making her crawl back and forth between you. Giggling and babbling like crazy, because you could never get her to shut up, she was having the time of her life. Avoiding bedtime was always a blast- and something that happened often.

Yoongi was the one to pull her up to her feet, making her stand on her own for a few seconds assuming she’d plop down to her bottom like she usually would. However, your little powerhouse never let you know her next move, and she barrelled forward on her feet twice before she nearly toppled over. Yoongi lunged forward to catch her, mouth agape, staring at you in shock.

Profanities were shouted that made your daughter cackle as she shoved her fingers in her mouth. With tears welling in your eyes, you crawled over to their side and you praised her together, cursing yourself for not getting it on video. Laying in her fathers lap, gnawing happily on her thumbs, her eyes were full of utter love as she watched Yoongi kiss you on the cheek, and the two of you share laughs together.

“Do I know this song?” Jimin asked the collective, glancing around at everyone in the dimly lit living room. Taking a second to listen, there were a couple vague answers thrown out, but Namjoon was ready to start a discussion over it. That was until your daughter let go of the table and plopped down on her bottom, making everyone react with a playful sound.

“Whoops!” Came from Hobi, and a, “That hurt,” Came from Jimin.

“Oh, no, she doesn’t care,” You say with zero reaction to your daughter toppling over. Your expression didn’t even change, your daughter was like Rocky, no matter how many times she’s fallen over or scared herself, she would get right back up again. “I think the first time she fell while trying to walk, she laughed at herself,” You smile at her as she looks over at you from the floor, “Talking about you, you tiny psycho. She’s fearless.”

The group fell into a discussion regarding Jungkook, and how he compared to your daredevil of a child. When Yoongi stepped back into the room, Jin was quick to crack a paternity test joke, one that Yoongi laughed at. Spotting your daughter crawling on the floor toward Taehyung, Yoongi swooped around the couches and scooped her up, suffocating her with kisses to her cheeks.

“Boys… Sunny,” He gave your best friend a sweet smile, “This is mine.” He flashes them a gummy smile and squishes your girl's cheek against his, giving them a clear side by side of how she was his little twin. Her feet started to kick to the beat of the music, another indication that she was Yoongi’s.

“Wait, baby, what is this song?” You ask him in a hushed voice, letting your friends continue their jokes. Yoongi’s smile is smug for half a second until he gives your daughter a look, then holds her out to you. “I swear I’ve heard this before, is this new?”

“Not new,” He huffs, and you take your girl from him, “This song? It’s how you got that,” He winks, pointing to the baby bouncing on your knee. Feeling your cheeks turn pink, you turn your chin to see if anyone heard what he said, and without a doubt, they all heard him.

“Gross,” Jimin sneers with a grin.

“See, I wish you didn’t say that, I hate it now,” Namjoon says so calmly that it makes Sunny and Jin cackle.

“Wait,” Taehyung speaks up, “What’d he say?” Looking at Sunny, he listens as she gives him the play by play, then when it clicks he gasps, “This is your sex song?!” Another round of laughter rips through the room.

On your lap, your daughter copies the gasp she heard while she puts her left thumb in her mouth. Yoongi, who’s wearing a wicked grin, shakes his head shamefully and sits back down on the arm of the couch next to Jimin and Jungkook. The two boys, still tangled up around one another, were cracking jokes left and right mostly about the days you and Yoongi used to have.

“Oh, we wouldn’t find you guys for HOURS!” Jimin exclaims, holding onto Jungkook’s arms tight, “Even when we’re about to go onstage it’s… Uh oh, where’s Suga, where is he?”

“And we’d know EXACTLY where you were!” Jungkook answers the questions himself, swatting an arm at Yoongi’s legs.

The volume in the room grew louder, Sunny now antagonizing the boys with more stories about overheard phone calls and times when the two of you would have to travel back and forth from the group. Trying your best to counteract and defend, the blush of your cheeks wasn’t doing a thing to help your case. You and Yoongi were helpless when they came at you guys like this, it was undeniable.

“Maaa,” Was sung softly from your lap, your baby girl curling up into a ball against your stomach. Looking down at her, you smile and tilt your chin. Her eyes were getting heavier with each passing minute, the noise in the room not affecting her tiredness. She was used to falling asleep around the buzz, it was almost a regular thing for her since being able to travel way back in Vegas.

“My baaaby,” You sing back, lifting a hand to squish her cheeks together, “Are you sleepy?” You ask, raising your brows. Your daughter doesn’t babble back to you like she normally would, instead she keeps sucking on her thumb, each blink she takes getting longer and longer.

From the corner of your eye you can see Yoongi watching you, his head having tilted a bit when yours did. A bout of laughter sounds through the room, Tahyung must’ve opened his mouth again, and the noise still had zero effect, she didn’t even jump. Giving your fiance a look, you smirk.

“Miss FOMO needs to go to bed,” You say quietly. Yoongi looks surprised, rising to his feet to come to your side.

“Really? With Jungkook in the room?” He jokes, and reaches down to scoop her up. Within seconds she’s laying her head down on her fathers shoulder and gripping the collar of his shirt with a tiny fist. The other is wrapped around his back, holding on tight. It was like she knew which shoulder was the bad one, she always wanted to lay on the left, and cuddle with him there.

Adjusting the legs of her jumper, you tap her bottom and smile at Yoongi, unknowingly grabbing the attention of everyone in the living room.

“Aw, birthday girl leaving us?” Sunny asks.

“Wait, don’t go, let me kiss her,” Jungkook says in a hurry, jumping to his feet. He nearly trips over Jimin, about to land headfirst on the coffee table as he rushes over to Yoongi to say some quiet words to your daughter who gave him the biggest smile.

“Yeah,” You fake pout, meeting all of their eyes, “I’m surprised, she can usually party all night.”

“Sometimes we’ll be up until like two in the morning,” Yoongi agrees with you, rolling his eyes, “It’s just been a long day, right?” He says to your girl, kissing her on the cheek.

“Ugh,” Sunny groans, making a face like she was in pain, “It’s too cute,” She says, looking over at you, “Make it stop, please.” Laughing with a breath, you rub Yoongi’s back and nod.

“Come on,” You say just for him, and start toward the stairs. There’s a chorus of sweet goodbyes that follows you to the doorway.

“Want me to have a drink ready for you when you come down?” Sunny calls after you. Whipping around with wide eyes and a silly smile, you nod maniacally and she points at you with confirmation.

Yoongi changed her, Yoongi dressed her, but Yoongi let you feed her and put her in her crib. That was the nighttime routine, you were always the one to feed her.

She never latched in the hospital back when she was born, so there wasn’t a need for tricky transitions from breastmilk to formula, or other forms of feeding her… But, Yoongi knew how much it meant to you to have that kind of bond with her, it was hard when she couldn’t, and almost refused to try to breastfeed. So he lets you give her her bottles, almost every time.

In the dark with her door cracked open, you could hear the low chatter of your friends and the pulse of the music playing, now something off of Hoseok’s new album. It was like it was a lullaby for her because it didn’t even take ten minutes to rock her to sleep.

“Oh, she’s exhausted,” Yoongi whispers, pinned to your side as you lay her down on the pale peach sheets, covering her with a small, thin blanket gifted to her from Jungkook for her birthday last year. It was her favorite blanket.

Turning your head to look at him, you sigh. Your eyes flicker to his lips, and like a magnet, yours were drawn to him in seconds. Facing him, you slip your arms around his shoulders and take a deep breath, releasing it when your lips part. Yoongi lifts his chin to kiss your forehead as you lower your head with your eyes shut.

“Can we just go to our room,” You whisper, and he laughs, “She’ll be our excuse, we can be quick, they’ll never know.” Yoongi brings a finger beneath your jaw and lifts it so your eye level with him.

“They’ll know,” His tone is flat, making you laugh this time, “They always know.” Sighing heavily, you gaze at him happily, feeling incredibly grateful in this moment to be blessed with a fiance unlike any other, and to share a little mini that was each half of you.

His eyes are full of just as much love as he leans in to kiss the tip of your nose, and when he opens his mouth to speak, you think it’s going to be something sweet. Instead, it’s something that nearly makes you howl with laughter.

“When are Jungkook and Jimin gonna cut the bullshit?” He asks with utter seriousness. Biting down on your bottom lip as you hold in the sound you’d like to make, you shake your head.

“I thought the same thing,” You whisper, your shoulders bouncing, “Maybe if we get them drunk they’ll crack.” Narrowing your eyes with suspicion, Yoongi’s widen with a smile.

“It’s Kook’s birthday,” He whispers back, “Let’s go get them obliterated, I need them to say something.”

For another two and a half hours your friends stayed and made absolute fools of themselves. Your daughter's room was right above the kitchen, so the party was contained to the living room, the space turning into a mess the moment everyone was two drinks deep.

Ever since Vegas when you told Sunny you never drank in front of your little one, everybody started to follow that rule out of respect for you and Yoongi. Drinks were had once she was asleep, or when she wasn’t around attending an event with you, so once your feet hit the hardwood in front of the steps, Sunny was shoving a glass of wine into your hands.

For a while you were entertained by Hobi and Jungkook, the two of them dancing to the songs Yoongi was playing. He was playing BTS on purpose, tricking them into doing choreography, old and new, depriving Jungkook the satisfaction of performing That That for everybody.

Sitting on his lap, tucked into his chest with a drink in your hand, his arms were wrapped around you so you had a clear view of his phone screen. Scrolling through the group's discography, you tapped on Dark & Wild and played War of Hormone, cutting off the modest Permission to Dance choreo. Both boys froze and snapped their heads to glare at you with utmost shock.

“NO!” Jungkook shouts, twisting his eyebrows together as he glances around the room to study the music. He was still holding the pose from where he was interrupted.

“Come on, Golden Maknae!” You giggle, and with his smile he pulls a look of worry.

“I’m drunk!” He argues, turning to Hoseok who was only walking through the dance, “See! It’s old, he doesn’t remember it either!” Gesturing to his dance captain wildly, Jungkook’s eyes boggle toward you.

“Ah!” Jimin and Taehyung both grumble from the floor, leaping onto their feet. Hurrying behind the two struggling to piece together old memories, the best friends sing along and start dancing perfectly.

“How can you forget!?” Jimin says to Jungkook, glaring at him. The youngest eyes him up and down, not even hiding the fact that he just checked him out.

“I don’t,” Jungkook pouts, bouncing his knees once in protest. Jimin shakes his head as he dances, grooving closer to the boy in front of him, teasing him a bit.

“Come on birthday boy,” Jimin winks, reaching his hands out to tickle his sides. Stumbling backward, Jungkook laughs and pushes his hands away. Like it was a cue to get away, Taehyung stops his dancing and grabs Hoseok’s arms, tugging him to the couch so the other two boys were the focus.

“Here we go,” Jin sighs, putting a hand on Sunny’s thigh. She was still nestled into his side, having been there nearly all day. Looking at them over your shoulder, you smile.

“It’s gonna happen,” You mouth, and she grins.

“You’re going to allow this?” Namjoon asks Taehyung, looking at him over top of Hobi’s head. The two had toppled onto the couch next to him, watching the boys eagerly. It was like their superbowl. Taehyung scowls at him.

“‘Course,” He says quietly. No one wanted to disturb the two who were in the middle of a fist fight right now. “They’re made for each other.”

His words make you smile. You’ve heard that one before.

A couple of minutes roll by with Jungkook and Jimin messing around with one another. It took them some time to realize the room had grown quiet and that they were being watched. They noticed when Jimin was holding behind Kook’s head with his fingers knitted in his hair. Jungkook had his arms lazily around Jimin’s waist as they peered to the side at the audience taking them in. You can only imagine the way everyone was gazing at them, waiting with anticipation for it to go down.

Not a word was shared, nor was there a change of expression. You were the last one that Jungkook looked at, and when he saw your tiny smile and hopeful eyes, he knew.

They turned to one another at the same time, closed the air between their bodies and, finally, kissed each other.

Anyone else would've thought it literally was the superbowl with the way every single one of you cheered. Arms were thrown in the air, drinks were spilled, it was like celebrating the end of a war.

Jungkook wrapped his arms around Jimin's waist tighter, towering over the boy, tipping him backward as they kissed before parting with a smile that was miles wide. Jimin, laughing like crazy, placed his hands to either side of Kook’s face and shook his head slowly. He bit his lip and looked over at all of you going crazy.

“You guys are cute,” He says, taking a deep breath turning back to Jungkook who was starting to laugh, “They think that’s the first one.”

“What!” Comes out of everyone’s mouth, and the happy cheering goes sarcastically sour. Taehyung however was wearing a devious grin, looking at his friends with glee.

“You knew this?” Jin shrieks, and Sunny shouts something of sort. Hobi pushes Taehyung off of him and joins in Sunny’s shouting while Namjoon looks over to you and Yoongi with wide eyes.

As chaos ensues, there’s a sound from the baby monitor on the coffee table that makes your heart sink.

“Fuck,” You mutter, sitting forward to grab it. Leaning back on Yoongi’s chest, laying your head against his cheek, you bring the monitor up to your ear and hear your baby whining. Peeking at the screen, you can see she’s kicking her legs and rubbing her face with her hands.

“I’ll get it,” Yoongi says to you. Taking the monitor out of your hands, Yoongi scoops you off his lap as he stands to his feet and plops you on the couch where he was just sitting, dropping the monitor back on your lap.

“You sure?” You ask, crinkling your brow, subtle guilt stirring in your chest. Lowering his, he leans over and kisses you quickly.

“Yes,” He whispers, then gestures to the glass in your hand insinuating he knew he needed to do this, “Make sure Hobi and Jin don’t murder Tae.”

It’s impossible for you to focus on anything else, though. The moment your fiance is upstairs you’re all ears listening to him talk to your daughter with the sweetest tone. Your eyes are glued to the screen, watching him take her out of the crib and wander around the room as he bounces her to lull her back to sleep. He glances at the tiny camera a couple of times, and in the tiny black and white screen you can see him grow a smug smile. Though he couldn’t see you, he knew you were watching him.

Pressing kisses to her cheek once she’s back to sleep, he lays her down slowly, afraid to wake her, and once she’s out of his arms he leans toward the camera and gives you a goofy smile.

“Creeper,” He says, then laughs at himself, making you chuckle, “I love you,” He blows you a kiss, then his voice lowers to a dangerous tone, one that could lead to you make another one of what he just put back to sleep, “Sneak up here.”

It was your daughter's birthday, Jungkook's birthday even, but you were about to be celebrating like it was your own.

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