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3amfanfiction · 1 day

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It's Just Dinner pt 3

John needs another date and Kyle is very convincing. MDNI cw: gazlighting, manipulation, forced prostitution 2.8k First || Previous

Thankfully the next few weeks pass quietly. There's no surprise dates, no uncomfortable conversations. Just you and Kyle, like it used to be.

You're tentatively relaxing into the rhythm when the next bombshell goes off.

Kyle's running around, getting ready to head to base early in the morning, talking to you over his shoulder when you hear, "Price has an opera he needs to see with one of the brass this weekend and he needs a date. I told him you were free," finishing with his shoes he grabs a jacket, coming over to give you a dirty kiss complete with a healthy grasp of your ass. "We'll go shopping when I get back," —assured, nonchalant, just another day.

No. No! You're not doing this again!

"Kyle! You can't just volunteer me—"

"Bye, babe!" echos through the entryway as the door slams shut.

Conversation over.

///

You fumed for hours. How dare he? How DARE he? Did he think you were a child he could make decisions for? Absolutely not.

You were ready for him now.

You'd spent all day preparing and when Kyle got home tonight you were going to sit him down and you were going to be firm. You weren't going to let him talk over you, you were going to stand your ground tell him you wouldn't be going on any more dinner dates with John Price.

Simple.

But as with any battle plan, it only lasted through the first encounter.

"Why are you acting like this?" Kyle frowned, not understanding. You crossed your arms defensively where you were standing in the bedroom, having followed him in when he got home. Why did you feel defensive?

You watched him pause, holding his t shirt in one hand as he looked over to you, head tilted in confusion. "You said you'd go, I already told him you agreed." He stepped towards you, dropping his shirt back in the drawer before stopping a short distance away, "you can't back out now babe, he's already booked the reservations."

Stop. Take a breath. You're not going to lose your temper.

"I never said I'd go, Kyle."

"Yes you did!" he insisted, eyes wide in disbelief, rolling right over your moment of breathing, "I was standing next to the kitchen table this morning—putting on my shoes—and you said yes."

He took a small step, bridging the distance between the two of you.

"Are you feeling okay, love?" his concerned voice made annoyed pinpricks creep up your spine. "You've been awful stressed lately. Is something going on at work? Anything you want to talk about?"

For one moment you imagined dumping it all on his shoulders, hysterically yelling, I'm pretty sure your boss tried to kiss me! to see what he would do with the information.

Kyle lifted his hands to cup your face, rubbing your noses together gently before you could do anything hasty. "We're partners . . . you know I've always got you, right?"

And just like that, the annoyance dissipated.

"I know, Kyle. That isn't what this is about," you reassured, leaning into his warm calloused palms, taking strength from his presence. "I just don't want to go to an opera this weekend."

You never brought up the half-kiss John had pressed to the corner of your mouth. After your bathroom pep talk you had met back up with him and he behaved himself for the rest of the night—there was no reason to worry Kyle about it.

But it still festered in the back of your mind.

His brow furrowed while he looked disappointingly at you, "Love, it would look really bad if I had to go back to my superior officer and say, 'sorry sir, she changed her mind, we can't help you.' It puts me in a bad spot when he's counting on us, on you, for the night."

His expression turned sad, "I wish you wouldn't have agreed if you had reservations about this."

Did you agree? He seems so certain, remembers it so clearly, maybe you did indicate acceptance somehow this morning, unwittingly.

"No—no I didn't agree, or at least, that's not what I meant," you capitulate, giving ground, shoulders rounding ever so slightly.

You have been stressed lately.

Maybe he's right.

He pulled away to frown down at you, "why are you so against going to dinner this time? Last time you were excited to go."

"I wasn't excited Kyle," you stammered, "I told you I wasn't sure about all this."

"No babe, you told me you were nervous," he pauses to smile at you as if you were in on a secret together, "after all Price is a handsome man and anyone would be nervous to have his full attention on them," you firmly don't think about the swoop in your stomach when he had cupped the back of your neck, the static shock that skated up your spine when his lips brushed yours, ever so slightly.

"—but then you had a great time." you focus back on what Kyle is saying, pulling your wandering mind under control, "I don't understand why you're being so skittish about this now."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest before shuffling the both of you over to the bed. Sitting, he moved you into his lap, chest to chest so he could look into your eyes.

"Are you sure no one said or did anything?" His voice dripped with sincerity, looking for something to fix, some way to help, "You know you're my best girl, right? I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

Fuck. How do you keep messing this up? Now you're sitting here crying as Kyle promises to protect you. Should you just tell him? Get it over with, off your chest. Would that unlock the chain that was dragging you down? You wanted it to go back to how it was before.

No. You weren't a child and you didn't need to be babied. Nothing truly happened so there was nothing to tell Kyle.

But without telling him, you didn't have a valid reason for not going this time.

So you sat there in silence, unable to give ground any further. After a few moments of this, Kyle continued, tone lowered —assured, "Who's always looking out for you? Making sure that you're safe and you're happy, hmm?" he used his thumb to wipe away the tear tracks on your face.

"You," you assure quickly. This at least came easier, "but Kyle, this is—"

"Pet," stern, direct, "you're getting all twisted up in this when you don't need to be. You trust me right? You know I'm always doing whats best for us?" he holds your gaze, forehead pressed against yours, watching every flick of your eyes. "I love you more than I ever thought possible, but if you don't trust me . . . that's a hard thing to come back from, you know?"

"I do! I do trust you Kyle, I'm sorry. I don't know why I feel this way," rushed, pleading.

"I told you, even though you're my best girl, your head still gets in the way. We need to turn that pretty brain off, don't we?" He kisses you sweetly, as if you're everything he could ever want. "I've got us, baby. I wouldn't steer wrong."

Breathe.

"Okay," you give in after one more moment of resistance, tired of the pushing and pulling, the cyclical conversations, "okay, I'll go. But this is the last time, do you hear me Kyle Garrick?" You pulled back to show him your no nonsense face, "I'm not doing this again."

Kyle laughs as if you'd stomped your foot in assertion, something too cute to ever be taken seriously, "I hear you, babe. Thank you for coming around to see my side of things," he squeezes you to his chest, your face tucked into the warmth of his neck, "you're going to have a great time, you'll see."

He leans away to take you in, "How are you so wonderful? I feel like I must've saved an orphanage from a fire or something to have gotten you in my life."

Smiling at you as if he could see the universe in your eyes, "it's you and me, right sweetheart?" he questions, a child looking for benediction.

"You and me," you assure, disquiet bubbling softly in the back of your mind.

///

You saw John before he saw you.

He was standing in the foyer, looking at his phone, dressed to the nines.

His snug black suit emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, biceps bulging at the seams. His button down shirt tucked into his pants emphasized his thick waist, the muscles of his core covered by a healthy layer of fat.

His thick gold rings caught the light from above as he swiped through his phone—

Was that your living room on his screen?

The thought was derailed almost as soon as it formed due to John noticing you. He turned with a beaming smile as he locked his phone and slid it into a pocket. Holding his arms open he ushered you into a hug.

The smell of his cologne was earthy, loamy—it curled up in your nose and sunk its tendrils into your brain. How did he always smell so good?

Tensing slightly as his arms closed around you, he did no more than press a firm kiss high on your cheekbone. "You are a vision, my dear," John said in awe, pulling back slightly to take you in from head to toe. "Every time I see you, you end up more stunning. How is that possible?"

You laugh, charmed despite yourself. It's hard to keep up walls when John Price is looking at you like that, "You're too sweet, John," you demure, intending to have a good time tonight, "shall we find our seats?"

///

Several hours later, when the night was all but over while waiting for your car, you don't notice at first that John has taken a step closer. You're too distracted by the chill breeze that has sprung up, attempting to keep your skirt where it belongs.

You realize how close he had gotten when his hand comes up to brush against the skin of your jaw, fingers trailing softly as if dragging against spun gold.

Something precious. Something treasured.

You inhale shakily, unsure of where this was leading but wanting to stop. To take a step back onto stable ground.

"John—" is as far as he lets you get before his mouth covers yours, his other hand coming up to cradle your face in his palms while he devoured your mouth.

Because there was nothing timid or hesitant about this kiss. He claimed with it. His tongue pressing into your mouth at the first sign of weakness—the smallest gasp you couldn't control.

His fingers tightened against the side of your head as he groaned, angled down from above, making sure he was all you could see, all you could hear.

After what felt like years he pulled away, panting like he'd just ran a race, "Fuck me, sweetheart, but you taste even better than I'd hoped."

You stand there, eyes wide as you hold onto his wrists, one hand covering the smooth face of his watch. "You—you kissed me," you murmured, only just loud enough to be heard, "you can't kiss me, John."

He smiled as if you said something cute before pulling you back in. His lips had just brushed yours when you wrenched your head back, desperate to put space between the two of you.

"No, John," shaky but as determined as you could make it. You watch as something rises from the depths behind his eyes. A leviathan observing you, deciding where to bite first, where to grab as he pulls you into his depths, his maw closing around you . . .

Only for it to sink back below the surface, John's blue eyes clearing once more.

"Of course, of course, you're right doll, we shouldn't be doing that here." He continues talking over your spluttered here? as if you never said anything.

"There's your car anyways," the brakes squeak ever so lightly behind you, the thrum of the engine filling the night air, "you be good, sweetheart." A smile as John steps back, holding your door open for you. You climb in quickly, not wanting to spend any longer in his presence than needed.

John looms over the open doorway, forearms braced against the roof, "until next time." He winks at you before shutting the door, a soft double tap on the roof his notice to the driver.

As the car pulled away from the curb your thoughts began to spiral and you started to hyperventilate.

You had to tell Kyle now, you should've told him before but you can't go changing the past.

As soon as you get home you'll sit him down and talk to him. You'll tell him everything.

You ignore your slick thighs and the pressure of your underwear on your throbbing clit.

///

You made the car drive around the block—twice—before you worked up the courage to go inside.

Time to face the music.

"He kissed me, Kyle," you say, bracing for the explosion. You were still reeling from the evening, light tremors shaking your limbs, making your knees feel like they were knocking together.

You know you have to tell him everything, you can't keep something like this quiet. You have to lay it all out and hope he doesn't lose his mind.

Kyle froze. You watch him swallow, noticing his pupils expanding to eclipse the brown of his eyes. You hoped it wasn't in rage.

He quickly gathered himself as youlet out a broken sob and launched yourself at him, tears already streaming down your face.

You cried into his chest, latched onto him in search of strength. He pressed soft shh shh's against the top of your head, cradling you close to him, trying to coax you to breathe.

Eventually you were able to draw in a semi-steady breath without it immediately devolving into a sob and found yourself apologizing to Kyle, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why he kissed me—" breaking off into another wet hiccup.

"None of that now, you're making it a bigger deal than it needs to be," Kyle promised sternly, squeezing you tightly to him, "I know it's not your fault, you did nothing wrong." He soothes you when that causes another round of sobbing to begin.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," he announces quietly, with a somber air, once the tears began to peter off. "It might cause some . . . friction on the task force but if it's made you this upset then I'll handle it."

Why? Why does John have to be Kyle's boss?

It made everything so complicated.

If it were anyone else, you'd be able to trust Kyle to set them straight, no concerns about consequences. But with John . . . he had control over Kyle's life. Is a kiss worth it? Is anything worth risking Kyle's life?

No.

You'd decided before that you wouldn't risk bad blood between them. You held onto that decision even now, even as things have gotten heavier, more complicated.

You bury deeper into Kyle's chest, arms wrapped as tightly as possible around him, "No, I don't want to cause trouble for you at work."

"Doll, it's no-"

"No, you were right, I'm making it a bigger deal than needed. I was just worried, that's all."

He hunched down to rest his chin on top of your head, "worried about what?" he presses.

"Just that . . . that you're saying it's okay when it's really not. I don't want you to be upset with me." Your eyes started to well up again but you blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears from falling down your cheeks.

He slips an arm free to tilt your chin up, angling your face towards his, eyes locked so you have no way of hiding from him and what he's about to say.

"I'm not upset with you and you did absolutely nothing wrong," holding your gaze, chin firmly grasped. "Do you think I care about the captain kissing you?" —amused, placating almost— "I care because you care, love," he looked down to your lips, pursed slightly from the pressure of his grip.

"Here," quiet, sensual, "I'll show you."

When he pulled you into the kiss it was warm coffee on a cold morning, it was waking up to realize you have an hour left on your alarm, it was the house lights being on when you get home at night.

It was comfort.

You chase after him slightly when he pulls away, wanting to continue. He smiled and gives you another peck. "You taste," he murmurs, lips brushing yours with every word, "utterly delicious."

You pant softly, waiting for him to press into you again. He smiles and gives another soft kiss, "chapstick and cigar smoke taste perfect from your lips."

Story Repository || Main Repository

#kyle garrick x reader #captain john price x reader #cw gaslighting #cw manipulation #only one more chapter folks!#and the last one has smut #proper smut #i’m nervous

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cobaltfluff · 1 year

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met up with a friend yesterday after not seeing each other irl for 4+ years and one of the first things she tells me is that she found me on twitter and saw all my stuff i am MORTIFIED

#dust bunny #to be fair she is one of the very few who i wouldnt mind seeing my fanart #BUT STILL #what a bombshell to drop on me face to face #i CRINGED into the astral realm #she was like you really drew a lot of the skater boys #SORRY THEY TOOK OVER MY LIFE #she said i got really good and i was like HSKDJDKSKFJSK NOOOOO I JUST MAKE MEMES #I'M JUST OBSESSED WITH MY BLORBOS #i was like HOW DID YOU FIND ME #apparently it was a rogue link on yt or something CRYING #i wonder if she's actively following me or not #idk I DON'T WANT TO KNOWWW

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ray-elgatodormido · 11 months

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WIP Weekend thank you greatly @lucien-lachance for the tag!

So here’s a return of Baadahil the Dunmer Milf and a character from a DnD campaign I’m playing in as well as other shenanigans. (Btw I plan to DM in the future. Also but of a vent text at the bottom)

Bit of a vent but:

I’ll be honest. Lately I’ve been and still am going through some really rough times. Mainly due to an important friend of mine being in denial about his potentially toxic relationship. Its hard to hang around the couple, I keep seeing worrisome issues being passed off as cute and quirky, my friend feels like a completely different person and its overall draining to put it as brief as I can so I don’t go on forever. But I managed to find support and it felt incredibly cathartic to vent out my frustrations with all the ugly words and emotions without shame. Might fully vent about this in the future if needed and delete the post later who knows. Anyway I hope you dear person on the other side of the screen have a wonderful evening.

#Well I guess the only reason why I’m more inclined to vent on Tumblr rather than Instagram is because my friends follow me there #And I don’t quite think they’re ready for what I want to say #And I gotta remember to resist the urge to drop any brutal bombshells and stay calm #So many things I want to say to their faces but gotta stay composed #Apologies for the vent

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pomefioredove · 1 month

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need overblot boys with epel, and floyd with a reader that randomly lore drops as if they're an old dad like "yeah lol my old school had a shooting once....anyways *SNOREE*" and when asked they just agree and walk away and never elaborate whatsoever💀 if you feel uncomfortable feel free to delete or ignore‼️love ya pookie💥

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a reader with a backstory

I got u 🫡🫡

summary: wacky reader lore type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, vil, epel, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

you find new ways to raise Riddle's blood pressure every day

little guy is worried enough as it is

you've already got your school work, taking care of Ramshackle, taking care of Grim, taking care of all the other freshmen, taking care of-

well... you get it

the last thing he needs is to hear another one of your stories

"oh, yeah, that's like the time I got stabbed"

"????? WHAT??"

what's entertaining to you and ADeuce is mortifying to Riddle

if you're not careful you'll end up sleeping on the floor in his room

where he can keep a close eye on you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you're like Leona's little court jester

and he takes you with him everywhere

it's not easy to get a genuine laugh out of him, after all

besides, what's so bad about a little dark humor? it's not like you died or anything

he knows you're a resilient little thing

and you seem to love telling him about "that time you crawled into a drainage pipe", anyway

you make him laugh; he likes you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul indulges you

his white noise machine stopped working last month and you make for excellent background ambience

so, he lets you talk yourself in circles about your school work, your friends, Grim, Grim again

and then you drop the most HEINOUS bombshells in the middle

"blah blah blah Grim, blah blah Crowley, blah blah, that one time I got lost in the woods for a day, blah blah-"

he loses his train of thought every time

now, Floyd is the complete opposite

he will hyperfocus on the most mundane details

and ignore the bombshells

will give you an, "oh, that's cool" to your ghost story but will find you the pair of socks you mentioned liking three months ago

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil is just fascinated by you

you as a person, of course

but also the fact that you're still alive

one night, he's explaining the reason he makes all of Kalim's food and you're like

"oh, yeah, I get it. I got mold poisoning once and hallucinated for a week"

?????

then you go right back to asking him about the recipe

sitting on the counter, as happy as could be

"HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!!!"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is used to this

he knows that look on your face

he will shush you with a finger to your lips before you even start

"don't tell me, I'm stressed enough as it is"

he's going to break out if you keep at it

he finds you quite... macabre

which is entertaining until he sees you going down a flight of stairs without holding onto the railing and remembers all those stories you'd told him

he's just... concerned for you, that's all

and he does NOT appreciate Epel for encouraging it

"tell us more about the time you fell down that hill into that pile of rocks, Prefect!"

like a kid in a candy store

learning new Lore is like the highlight of his week

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"talk about having a high luck stat..."

Idia is more entertained than anything

he thought these kinds of things only happened in anime, but...

...there you are

it sounds like you experience more in a single month than he has in his whole life

and you know what?

GOOD

you can keep your freaky real-world experiences!

he'll just live vicariously through you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he's been putting so much effort into learning and blending with human culture, and now here you are with your terrifying stories

you tell him in such earnest, too

you seem so... unbothered by it

perhaps humans are less fragile than he thought?

of course, he shouldn't have underestimated you in the first place :)!

then you come over for dinner one night

"hahah, yeah, last time I was at someone's house their grandma threw a lamp at my head and I got a concussion"

Silver and Sebek both go >_>

Lilia goes <_<

and then Malleus is there like, "ah, another fascinating tale :)"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued

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astonmartinii · 3 months

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i can do it with a broken heart [guilty as sin part three] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

life goes on after a bombshell but this silence isn't mysterious it's ominous

MASTERLIST | GUILTY AS SIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,304,509 others

yourusername: don't tell lies about me and i won't tell truths about you

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user164: oh holy moly this is so much worse than i thought

user165: i don't think i can ever look at those men the same ever again

user166: SEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS FOR FAVOURS?

user167: my mouth dropped open when i read that

user168: so like not to be insensitive but like who do we think it was

maxverstappen1: so like y/n obviously can't talk on this because she needs her silence but my big mouth will remain open they tried it on me that's why she mentions that she managed to make friends.

user169: what the fuck

maxverstappen1: they thought that i would be an easy target because i was so young but jokes on them i've always been taken advantage of so i saw that from a mile away (also y/n didn't want to so that obviously helped)

user170: that is actually insane like her and max are the same age so that would've made her so young i hope to god that they didn't try it with anyone older

maxverstappen1: they did but by the time they realised that it hadn't worked on me y/n had allies and fernando and seb were not about to let any of that happen

user171: thank the lord she had some friends when people control your money you'll do anything

fernandoalo_oficial: she became my daughter the moment that i saw them try and offer their family to some of the older men in the paddock

user172: i am actually in shock this was a "oh gosh this is so dramatic situation" but now it's just "holy shit i kinda need to see these guys in jail"

fernandoalo_oficial: me and you both

user173: i'm going to need ferrari to let charles out of the cage for this one

user174: kinda expected him to be in the comments supporting her i'm not going to lie

user175: he's in the likes?

user176: girl? his girlfriend is being sued by his own family and is confessing that she was offered round the paddock like a prize cow i feel like he should be actively voicing his support

oscarpiastri: you're loved and have the full support of the paddock

maxverstappen1: we're behind you 100% of the way

olliebearman: nothing but full support for you mum

pierregasly: we're all here for you no matter what we're allowed to say

fernandoalo_oficial: 🫶

sebastianvettel: it'll all work out in the end

user177: still no charles ???

user178: eh i feel like pierre is confirming charles' support in his place

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 835,923 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

maxverstappen1: i'm missing my best friend has anyone seen her?

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user179: oh good i was just about to lose it from y/n and max withdrawals

user180: at least one of the trio of dumbasses is keeping us fed

yourusername: i miss you toooooooooo :( (reply fast my lawyer has gone to the bathroom)

maxverstappen1: hurry up and win your lawsuit so we can go back to kicking ass and drinking gin and tonics

yourusername: i'm trying 🤞

maxverstappen1: and if i said it's time to red wedding them?

yourusername: i think we would be swiftly arrested

maxverstappen1: they can't arrest us our face cards are too strong

yourusername: well one of us is currently in court so what does that say about my face card

charles_leclerc: THAT YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL REGARDLESS FUCK THEM

this comment was liked by the author and @yourusername

this comment was deleted

user181: so is that like confirmation that charles is back in PR jail in maranello

user182: right i understand that he's literally employed by them but like he's also a grown ass man who can speak up

user183: like i know max isn't obviously at ferrari and isn't contractually obligated to be teammates with carlos but even he's out here slamming him

user184: and oscar who's only in his SECOND year in the sport

oscarpiastri: bold assumption that you're the best friend max

maxverstappen1: let's not get too rowdy piastri i can deal with you as the 'child' - you cannot be a bestie as well

oscarpiastri: i don't think that's the exact rules

maxverstappen1: you'll soon learn that I MAKE THE RULES AROUND HERE BUSTER

oscarpiastri: i can't wait for y/n to kick their asses so she can come back and KICK YOURS FOR ME

maxverstappen1: she would NEVER

oscarpiastri: okay maybe she wouldn't, but my dad on the other hand ...

liked by @charles_leclerc

user185: charles just PLEASE GET ON THE MIC

user186: i'm about to lose my patience i'm not going to lie

user187: guys we have to remember that this is a complicated situation with a lot of different moving parts, as long as charles is there for her in REAL LIFE it doesn't matter what we're seeing

liked by @yourusername

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, user190 and 308,994 others

carlossainz55: what was it you said? all is fair in love and poetry.

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user191: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

user192: not the childhood dog too ???

user193: these are unbelievable levels of hating

user194: i'd be impressed if he wasn't such an asshole

maxverstappen1: get fucked

carlossainz55: she shouldn't dish it out if she can't take it

maxverstappen1: she fell in love ?? and you thought that was a good excuse to take everything she's ever had

carlossainz55: she cost me my dream

maxverstappen1: as far i can remember, she's not on the fucking FERRARI BOARD GENIUS

carlossainz55: it's her pussy-whipped boyfriend that's the problem and she deserved this as soon as she choose him over her blood

maxverstappen1: you're insane and history will always remember you as the biggest crybaby loser to ever grace this sport

user195: so this ^^ is definitely referring to y/n's poetry

user196: are we living through scooter braun volume two

user197: @taylorswift PLEASE HELP

charles_leclerc: EAT SHIT I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL MAKE YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL

this comment was deleted

charles_leclerc: you are the lowest of the low and you will get what is coming to you

this comment was deleted

charles_leclerc: there's only so long i have to stay silent and the people will know just the type of person you are

this comment was deleted

user198: so is like carlos deleting this comments or ferrari?

user199: i bet it's ferrari

user200: 1. can they stop being allergic to fun 2. i think this has gotten past the need to uphold image like these are your employees and this is serious actually

user201: also like silencing charles when its CARLOS BEING THE MESSY ONE HE IS ACTUALLY STILL YOUR EMPLOYEE

yourusername: old habits die screaming

carlossainz55: you can spout all the 'poetry' you want it'll all belong to me anyway

yourusername: i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning

user202: stealing poetry? now that's a new low

user203: i'm gonna need someone to take one for the team and put a cheeky front wing in his tyre

georgerussell63: well this sounds like a job for me

charles_leclerc

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 893,450 others

charles_leclerc: lets go racing.

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user206: is this even charles? where are the emojis? where is the excitement

user207: i think we might be witnessing a lil PR takeover after his deleted comments tirade under carlos' recent post

user208: you'd think they'd at least get his tone right like the rest of his account is RIGHT THERE

user209: charles leclerc's PR team we now have beef

liked by @yourusername

maxverstappen1: ugh you people are useless

oscarpiastri: i'm not going to lie i'm losing my patience

maxverstappen1: for real i'm gonna need this court case to finish up fast so we can get back to being a united front of haters

oscarpiastri: and then we can also wrestle charles' phone back by force

olliebearman: PLEASE KNOW THIS ISN'T ME I LOVE Y/N AND WE WILL LIVE TO KICK ASS AGAIN

user210: oh so they quite literally took his phone?

olliebearman: whoops

user210: ollie coming for kid of the year

olliebearman: i can't be told off for accidentally leaving my phone out while in the car and accidentally making my password something easy to remember and accidentally telling charles that his PR team had posted something - accident i swear

user211: @maxverstappen1 can you confirm they're still grossly in love?

maxverstappen1: i do have the letters to prove so but i think he's going insane with withdrawals

user212: that's it GET ME TO MARANELLO RIGHT THIS SECOND I HAVE A SCORE TO SETTLE

user213: yo i know we just got some confirmation from max but i can't help but think how lonely this must be for y/n

user214: for real if i was being sued by my family and had everything stolen from me i'd want more than some 'confirmation' through her bff in an instagram comment

carlossainz55: i hate to say i told you so @yourusername but that would be a lie i'm enjoying this so much

maxverstappen1: i want to fight you so bad but my therapist said that's bad

oscarpiastri: it's also illegal?

maxverstappen1: what's the point of being a rich white man oscar if i can't use to it to traverse the justice system and defend my bestie's honour

user215: @charles_leclerc get a backbone and do it like these two ^^

user216: i still have faith that he'll rain hell on that family when he's free

user217: well can he hurry the fuck up cause he's really shaping up to be the worst boyfriend of the year

user218: he has to get fucking loud HE CAN'T PROVE CARLOS RIGHT I DON'T WANT TO LIVE IN THAT WORLD

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 934,520 others

yourusername: i can do it with a broken heart

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user223: no no NO WE'RE NOT DOING ALL THIS GUESSING GAME SHIT WHAT WAS THE VERDICT?

user224: it's finished?

user225: that's what the spanish media are saying

user224: well in that case Y/N WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE YOUR POETRY BACK?

maxverstappen1: a wine evening without me? prison changed you

user225: SHE'S IN PRISON?

yourusername: STOP TELLING PEOPLE I'M IN JAIL

maxverstappen1: want me to put some money in the commissary so you can buy cigarettes?

yourusername: i don't even smoke and i'M NOT IN JAIL

maxverstappen1: now you've done time can you employ some stricter parenting on oscar and ollie, they've gotten unruly with both parents absent

yourusername: i'm not an absent mother :(

oscarpiastri: SHE'S VERY PRESENT SHE'S BEEN TO EVERY RECITAL SHE CAN IN HER CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCES

maxverstappen1: did you just refer to literal FORMULA ONE GRAND PRIXS AS RECITALS?

oscarpiastri: maybe i did

yourusername: he's allowed to call them what he wants

olliebearman: i feel sufficiently supported by you mum x

yourusername: i'm glad

olliebearman: family dinner when dad gets released from ferrari's top secret base jail?

this comment was deleted

maxverstappen1: did he just get sniped by ferrari's PR?

user226: okay cool got the main kids update but WHAT ABOUT LEO?

user227: please tell me he's been been in good care

yourusername: he's been my rock 🤞

user228: not the dog being more present than charles - it would be funny if it wasn't so sad :(

user229: so are any of you going to address the literal caption of this post

user230: there's two options here she either lost the court case or her and charles have actually broken up

user231: the fact carlos is not in this comment section actively gloating makes me think she might have actually won?

user232: but i don't want it to be the other option... charles and y/n are end game :(

user233: but he's been so so silent and that BULLSHIT response in the press conference

user234: idk the delusion in me has this theory ... she won the case but like t swift, doesn't have access to her old work so maybe she's heartbroken over losing that and then it's just exacerbated by her boyfriend's useless bosses that are holding him captive in italy (also he was totally coached to say that shit in the presser it's written all over his strangely expressive face)

user235: at this point i might go to italy and just prison break him out of there this is ridiculous

fin.

note: DON'T HATE ME YALL i promise it'll get better we must have faith in the man (i know i hate to put my faith in men) xx

extra note from me here. first, i will fix this tag list at some point idk why it's not working rn. secondly, i have been made aware by multiple people that there is a series just like this one down to characters and the name of the series on here and i can't lie i'm bummed about it. as i said on the first part (?) this is an idea i've had since the release of TTPD (and people will back me up on this) so it bums me out that there are blatant copies coming out! i'm all for inspiration but sometimes there's a difference between taking inspo and copying especially when my masterlist was posted ages ago and my first part was posted on the 9th of may.... anyways that's all i have to say! enjoy xx

taglist: in comments!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #guilty as sin?#astonmartinii

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the-raindeer-king · 4 months

Text

(A/N: prt 3 of Mama Riley! One use of pronouns but it's nothing too gendered. Ignore any spelling error. I wrote part of this half asleep.)

Silence stretches out between you and Mama Riley. She's dropped an absolute bombshell of information so casually, as if it was like talking about the weather. And she's so confident in her statement, leaving no room for argument.

You're not entirely sure how to respond. But you manage to squeak out, “Is that so?” which is such a bad response. You can't help but cringe at yourself.

It makes Mama Riley laugh though. She really does like you. You're a firecracker, in her opinion, and she thinks you'd be good for Simon. But she promises that if you don't want to date him, that's okay. You two were friends before Simon caught feelings, and she won't let anything change that. She tells you to at least consider it.

You spend the next week considering it. Looking back over your interactions with Simon, knowing how he feels, it feels almost obvious. He's tense around you because he likes you. He keeps bringing you gifts and remembering your favorite drink because he likes you.

But where do your own feelings lie? You hated him in the beginning, and gradually warmed up to the mountain of a man. But do you have feelings for him? The thought process makes your head spin, and there's a weird feeling in your chest. The question is no closer to being answered.

Not until he returns from deployment. He's got a new scar on his ear, and there's a limp in his walk. Caught a knife in the side, just barely missed anything important, he informs you and his mum. And your heart clenches at the thought.

Before you can really think about it, you're scolding him for being so casual about being injured. He's got people who care about him, he can't be so flippant about these things. He has a reason to come home, so he needs to act like it. If not for his own sake, then for you and his mom.

Despite the fact that you're chewing him out, there's this tender look on his face, affection in his eyes. He quietly huffs out a ‘yes ma'am/sir’, and the warmth in his eyes is reflected by the warmth growing on your cheeks.

There's a pause, something heavy in the air. Simon opens his mouth, ready to say something, but the moment is broken when Mama Riley comes bustling into the living room, dinner plates in hand. Her eyes dart between the two of you for a moment, a knowing smile on her face. But she doesn't comment on anything, just passes out dinner and settles down on the loveseat.

Over the next few weeks, you and Simon have a lot of tense moments, ready to finally admit your feelings to each other. But each time is ruined by some interruption. Mama Riley interrupts, your phone rings. Once, the kids down the hall came running past, shrieking about the upcoming snowfall.

Poor Simon is trying not to totally lose it. This is the closest he's gotten to admitting his feelings, to have you finally, and every time something interrupts you. He doesn't want to mess this up. It needs to be perfect because, in his head, that's what you deserve, that's how he's going to win you over. Unbeknownst to Simon, he's already won your heart. He just needs to ask you out.

Once again, it's Mama Riley to the rescue. You three have a tradition: the days leading up to Simon's next deployment, you all spend the night at Mama Riley's flat together. Now, Simon's on leave for the next few weeks, but she can't bear to watch the two of you struggle like this.

So she invites you both over, insisting that it'll be nice to have you both over for something fun instead of sad. And then she conveniently remembers that she's got a book club tonight, and she leaves, telling you two to get comfy, watch a movie. She'll be back.

Now's a better time than never, especially since Mama Riley's practically given you the chance. She's gone all of two seconds, before you whip your attention onto Simon, blurting out, “Your mom told me you're in love with me. Is that true?”

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #listen his mom is lowkey fed up with y'all. get it together. she wants another grandchild.#my writing #mama riley au

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stevie-petey · 1 month

Text

episode one: the hellfire club

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–” “Boobies! It’s not a big deal–” You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.” “Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!” You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.”

Summary: el writes to you as if youre her husband away at war, you debate the intricate nature of liking boobies with robin and steve, lucas is your beloved while eddie munson is your sworn enemy, steve accidentally exposes your (horribly hidden) daddy issues, dustin is an angsty teen, and jonathan really loves to drop emotional bombshells on you. can you believe this all happens in one day ? lol cheers to senior year !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of abuse, allusions to bullying, trauma lol

Words: 13.5k (wrote half of this in one day)

Before you swing in: SHES HERE !!!! SEASON 4 !!! this season terrifies me. i spent so much time outlining and making sure it was perfect. i have some changes i want to do, some ideas, and its scary because we dont have season 5 yet and i hate messing with canon ,,, alas: here she is. my baby. my beloved. quick fun fact: theres a scene in here ive had planned since season 1 so .... enjoy !

–

March 21st, 1986.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on New York University! Joyce tells me that it is a very good college, and everyone was extremely happy when Jonathan told us the news. He even had a smile on his face! It has been a very long time since I have seen him smile, especially without that weird smell on him (am I allowed to tell you about the strange plants that Jonathan seems to like now? He says that you cannot find out about it, but friends don’t lie and he is your bestest friend).

I asked Will about it, and he says that Jonathan now smells because he misses you. If you ask me, I think that Jonathan smells because he is scared. We are still waiting for his college letter, afterall. I know you want to go to school with him, but so does Nancy. Is it possible to go to two colleges? Anyways, it must be a lot of pressure, even more with all the waiting we have to do, but Joyce told us that sometimes colleges take a long time to respond.

While I am positive that Jonathan will figure it all out soon, he pretends he does not care. But he is a very bad liar. He was very upset that Nancy could no longer visit us in California. Will was bummed too, but he was more sad that it was not you who was visiting. Joyce says that the Byers boys were born to miss you, and I think she is right.

I also miss you. I am still bummed I never went to school with you. I bet Mike is over the moon to have you with him for high school, Dustin and Lucas also. How is Max? Is she still sad? I know school has been hard for her. I will admit that it is hard for me, too. While I am good at maths, and my grammar is getting better, I am still unsure when to use conjunctions or why Angela does not like me. Will tells me to ignore her, but I want to be her friend. She is nice to everyone else. It confuses me that she is not nice to me.

A lot about California confuses me. The flowers here are different, and sometimes I forget that I cannot go and visit you. I miss the smell of Bookstrordinary (did I spell it right?) and your cookies. Please send more as soon as you can. Will and I are almost dying to taste them again! Mike says he will try to bring some on the plane, but I am scared he will be told no by those scary airplane people.

Speaking of Mike, he is coming to California this week! I am very excited to see him. It has felt like years, I think I am even going crazy. I have planned everything for his week here. Spring break will be extra special! It will be a fun distraction from Angela and school. This week I can pretend to be someone else, someone cool, and Mike will be very impressed. I know you tell me to always be myself, so I hope that I can make you happy by taking your advice on focusing only on the good.

To prove I will focus on the good from here on out, here is a good things list:

Mike is visiting!

Will has almost finished his painting. I am very curious to see what he has made. He is really talented, he shows me the drawings he sends you sometimes.

You got into NYU! Is this the correct way to abbreviate? I am still working on conjunctions, but I think I am supposed to use the first letter of every word in the school’s name to shorten it. At least, that is what Joyce says.

Jonathan’s new best friend, Argyle, will give us free pizza to celebrate Mike’s arrival. It is really good pizza.

Tasting your cookies again. Fingers crossed Mike’s plan succeeds!

I am sure there is more, but I am too excited about this week and my mind is going very fast. I miss you tons, maybe even more than Will and Jonathan do. Please come visit us soon. Like Joyce says, the Byers boys were born to miss you. Although I am not a Byers boy, I am still a part of the Byers family, and I miss you.

Love, El.

P.S., thank you for the grammar books. I will be sure to become the best writer ever in California.

–

Sweet, gentle, El. You can almost hear her voice, reading aloud to you as you used to do when she lived in Hopper’s cabin. She would stumble over the letters, ask you how to sound out particularly difficult words in Spider-Man comics; they helped her learn how to read. Now, almost a year later, she’s writing you letters.

El has grown up so much within such a short few months, although it doesn’t surprise you.

Laughing softly as you reread the final line she’s written, you wipe your eyes and place El’s letter onto your desk. The piece of paper joins the others, nestled gently with a pile of her other letters that are housed on your desk. El sends you a new letter every week, detailing silly stories about Jonathan and Will or concerned ramblings about Angela.

The letters make you miss El terribly. They make you miss everyone terribly.

Next to the letters are drawings from Will. He’s become such an artist during his time in California. He sends you beautiful sketches of landscapes in their neighborhood, doodles from class, and incredibly detailed drawings of you and the party. The drawings are Will’s special way to keep in contact with you, and it’s something you cherish so deeply. However, you didn’t know that he was working on a painting, and you’re curious to see what El is talking about. Eventually he’ll reveal his art to you, he always does.

Skimming a finger over one of the more recent drawings from Will, your hand catches on the walkman that lays next to it. Jonathan’s messy handwriting is scrawled on the mixtape that sits within it.

For bug.

The words, familiar and loved, stare back at you. The mixtape contains songs that Jonathan so carefully chose for you. He spent countless hours selecting songs that he knew you’d love, songs that reminded him of you. It had been his gift for you before he moved away. And now he’s gone, and you miss him so much more than you ever thought you would. More than you ever thought you could miss anyone.

Jonathan never did end up coming to Hawkins for spring break.

“Dusty, what’s going on in there?” The sound of your mother pounding on Dustin’s door breaks you from your thoughts. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Don’t come in, I’m naked!” You hear the boy screech back at her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve will be here to pick you guys up any minute. Dustin knows he should be ready by now, the schedule has never changed.

Throwing on the cardigan Steve got you for Christmas last year, you grab your walkman and storm over to Dustin’s room. At the same time, your mother nearly crashes into you in the hall. Her face is pale, horrified of the idea that she almost saw her son naked, and you pity the woman. Dustin has become relentless lately, even more difficult to deal with.

“Y/N, my dear,” your mother clutches at her chest and fans her face. “Can you please make sure your brother is ready? I think that boy is trying to give me a heart attack.”

You sigh, figuring you would have to do so anyways. “Yeah, sure. Go finish getting ready, I’ll handle him.”

“This is why you’re my favorite daughter!” Your mother kisses your cheek before running off towards the kitchen to make her morning coffee.

Once she’s gone, you immediately start banging on Dustin’s door. He knows you hate being late. Plus, it’s the Friday before spring break. You’re getting antsy waiting for this week to end. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds before I kick this door down.”

“Not now, Y/N!” Dustin shouts back, frantic and desperate.

You narrow your eyes. He’s using his suspicious voice, the one he only uses when he’s doing something he absolutely shouldn’t be doing. Glancing down at your watch and noting the early hour, you curse in disbelief. “It’s not even seven yet, what the hell are you up to so early in the morning?”

“Nothing! Just go away, I’ll be out soon–”

“I swear, if you’re trying to sell my limited edition comics again I will hurt you.” You throw your body against the door, causing it to fly open as you stumble inside. Dustin is at his computer and he nearly falls off his chair in his haste to cover the screen from you. He’s remarkably horrible at playing cool. You’re about to tell him this when Suzie’s voice crackles through his radio’s speakers.

“Yikes, Dusty.”

“Suzie?” You walk over to your brother and shove his hands off the computer screen. He falls to the ground with a loud thud, which pleases you. He may be a teenager now, but you’re still stronger than him. At least for now. “Why are you calling her right now–” Your eyes land on the screen and you recognize Hawkins High’s familiar orange and green school colors. “Is this the student gradebook?”

“No!” Dustin exclaims, but Suzie’s small and soft voice responds, “Yes.”

“Oh my God,” you cannot believe he’s making his girlfriend hack into your school’s database. Sure, she’s a genius, but you also know she’s incredibly religious. “Dustin, this is so illegal and goes against, like, all of Suzie’s religious morals–”

“I will repent later.” Suzie interrupts you, and you raise your eyebrows at what she’s just said. Before you can question her, Dustin’s computer refreshes.

He leans forward, eyes scanning to see if they’ve succeeded, and he seems to like what he sees. Suddenly Dustin lets out a sudden whoop and fist bumps the air. “God, I love you Suzie.”

Curious, you lean over and read the screen as well. There, where you know Dustin had a D- in Latin not even a day ago, is now an A. There’s no possible way he was able to raise his grade in under twenty-four hours. He sucks at Latin, he hates it, which means… She did it. Suzie changed his grade. All she had to do was press one single button to save Dustin’s GPA.

You have to admit, it’s impressive. And shamefully genius.

“Hey, Suzie.” You bring the radio to your lips, shoving Dustin away when he tries to take it from you. “Do you think you could change my grade in calculus? Jonathan was the only reason I passed any of my other math classes.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Suzie’s voice raises a pitch, she doesn’t want to tell you no. She likes you, she really does, but her God figurine stares down at her with a disappointed look in his eyes. She’s sinned for love, but she doesn’t think she could ever do it again.

You’re about to plead with Suzie, tell her NYU really prioritizes their student’s grades, but the sound of a car honking outside catches your attention; it’s Steve. Dustin yanks the radio from your hand and shoos you away. “Go, leave without me.”

“What, why? We always drive together.” You frown, feeling like a little kid when you cross your arms. Dustin smiles apologetically, a smile you’ve become familiar with. Your mood darkens, anger rises to your cheeks. You know exactly why Dustin is now skipping out on you. “Don’t tell me it’s that stupid Eddie Munson–”

“He wants me and Mike to work out some campaign details before lunch today!” Dustin scrambles to mediate. He hates that you don’t like Eddie, and you like everyone. It’s unnerving how much disdain you seem to carry for his friend. “Nance is driving us, but I swear I’ll ride with you and Steve after break!”

You scoff at Dustin, not at all believing his promise to you. Ever since September your brother has been at Eddie Muson’s beck-and-call, who dictates everything Dustin says or does. At first it was innocent enough, choosing to sit with the guy instead of you at lunch. Skipping out on a few weekend plans with you and Steve to campaign with Eddie. You’d been happy for Dustin. He was making new friends, no longer your little shadow; he was his own person with his own priorities and interests now.

But ever since getting into NYU last week, Dustin has been pulling away even more from you. You don’t know why, but he’s become even more obsessed with Eddie and his stupid Hellfire club.

Eddie Munson is the air your brother now breathes, stifling the air Dustin once breathed for you.

And it seems to only be suffocating you, not him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Halfheartedly you ruffle Dustin’s hair, and he leans into the touch. You don’t want him to know his repeated absences are upsetting you. Deep down, you know you’re being irrational. You’re almost eighteen, soon you won’t even be living under the same roof as Dustin. He’s allowed to live his own life. “I guess I’ll see you at the pep rally. Tell Suzie I said bye, please?”

Dustin nods, though you don’t linger in the doorway like you desperately want to. Instead, you shut the door behind you and place a swift kiss to your mother’s cheek as you leave.

Steve’s car is parked in its usual spot at the end of the driveway. The teen’s arm hangs out the window and his face breaks into a smile when he sees you approaching. Steve’s smile is infectious, it’s always charmed you, and it settles the ache in your chest from your brother’s earlier dismissal. Feeling a smile spread across your own face, you run towards Steve and poke your head through the open window.

“Hi,” you breathe out, nose almost bumping against his cheek.

“Hi, angel.” Steve kisses you, solidifying your morning tradition. Neither one of you really remembers who started it, but sometime during the school year you began to slip your head through Steve’s car window so that he could kiss you slow and sweet.

And, as tradition follows, Robin starts boos. “Do you have to do that every morning?”

Steve makes a face at her and she punches his arm. He yelps in pain and you roll your eyes at the two of them before running over to the passenger’s side where Robin sits. Her window is rolled down as well and you duck your head inside. “Aw, Robin. If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just said so!”

“A kiss–?” Your lips press against Robin’s cheek, smushing against her face while making a dramatic sound. She squeals and pushes you away, wiping her now wet cheek in disgust. “That is not what I wanted.”

You giggle at her and finally get into the car. It’s getting late, you see the assortment of Robin’s limited makeup dumped into her lap haphazardly. She’s been stressing about this morning’s pep rally all week, and clearly she isn’t coping very well. Trying to cheer her up, you flick her shoulder. “I’ll have you know that my cheek kisses are cherished in Hawkins.”

“How many people’s cheeks are you kissing?” Steve turns in his seat to face you, slightly alarmed. Then, noticing that there’s only one Henderson in his car, he frowns. “And where’s little Henderson?”

“Eddie Munson.”

“Woah, wait, you mean Eddie as in where Dustin is, right? Not, like, you’ve been kissing his cheek? I’m right, right? Please tell me I’m right.”

You roll your eyes fondly at Steve while Robin rolls hers in displeasure. “Just drive, Steve.”

–

It becomes pretty apparent five minutes into the car ride that no one seems to be having a good morning. Robin has spent the majority of the drive applying and reapplying her mascara while messing with her hair. She groans every time she looks in the mirror and her eyes lack their usual brilliance.

Meanwhile, Steve has been complaining about yet another fight with his dad. Apparently they argued during breakfast, something that has become a common occurrence in the Harrington household.

“The asshole again reminded me that I’m turning twenty soon. As if I don’t already know that! I mean,” Steve laughs in exasperation. “For weeks now he’s been asking me what my plans are, as if working at Family Video just isn’t good enough for him. As if my dad isn’t the sole reason I had to get a lousy minimum wage job in the first place!”

“Family Video isn’t a lousy job–”

“Yes it is.” Both Steve and Robin say at the same time, which you sigh at. Can’t really argue with that.

“Okay, yeah. It’s pretty lousy.”

Steve rubs his eyes tiredly. “And that isn’t even the worst part. There I was, pouring syrup over my pancakes, trying to enjoy the fact that my parents are actually home for once, when my asshole of a father tells me that if I don’t have a respectable job by the time I’m twenty, he’ll kick me out. I mean, can you believe that?”

You suck in a breath. “Steve…”

Richard Harrington is a cruel, awful man.

While you understand his frustrations towards Steve, it’s completely unreasonable to expect him to get a reputable job in a few short months without any college education. Steve’s right, it had been Richard’s idea to make him work at Scoops Ahoy in the first place. When the mall burned down, he had no other option but to work at Family Video soon after.

“I’m sorry, honey.” You intertwine your fingers through Steve’s hair and rub your thumb up and down the nape of his neck in a soothing manner. Steve allows the touch, but he’s still tense. Guessing that he’s uncomfortable feeling so pitied, you try to make light of the situation with humor. “But hey, who knows? Maybe you can come live with me in New York if he ends up kicking you out.”

Steve risks a look at you, taking his eyes off the road for a few moments, and his eyes shine. He’s ecstatic over what you’ve just said. He looks like a little kid on Christmas Eve. “You really mean that?”

“Well, I mean…” It had mostly been a joke, a throwaway comment to try and get him to smile. But Steve’s body finally relaxes under your touch and you can’t tell him no. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You hear that, Robin?” Steve preens, wanting to get her attention. However, when he realizes that she hasn’t been listening to the entire conversation, he makes an offended sound. “Robin, are you listening to me?”

“Uh, yes?” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror, startled that she’s been caught. “You were-uh. Talking to Y/N about your dad. We-we hate him! Yeah, we hate the guy. He really… grinds my gears?”

Steve groans. “We all hate my dad, but that wasn’t what I was talking to you about!”

“Cut me some slack, please. Your relationship with your father is one of labyrinthine complexity–”

You poke your head between the two teens. “Actually, it’s not that complicated.”

Robin covers your mouth with her hand and continues with her rant. “It’s seven in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!”

“I think you look lovely as always, Robin.” You mumble through the girl’s hand, barely coherent.

Steve, however, isn’t as supportive. “You’re worried about a pep rally? You really expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah, so?” Robin removes her hand from your mouth and goes back to doing her makeup. She’s avoiding the conversation now, which only means that Steve is onto something. Why has she been so obsessed about this week’s pep rally? Robin has been in band for years now, she’s done a million pep rallies during her high school career. It can’t be performing that makes her nervous.

Which means it has to be about someone.

Locking eyes with Steve, he seems to be thinking what you are. “I think we all know what this is about, okay? Y/N and I aren’t buying that bullshit.”

“This is about Vickie.” You finish for him, a smirk on your face. For weeks now Vickie has been all Robin has talked about. Her hair, how pretty her smile is, how cute her freckles are. Vickie also happens to be in band with Robin. “C’mon, you can’t tell us we’re wrong.”

“I absolutely can tell you you’re wrong.” Robin denies what you and Steve are implying.

Steve shakes his head. “You know we’re right! And you know what else we think?”

“I really don’t care–”

“Y/N and I think that you gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her, okay? You just gotta be yourself.”

Robin doesn’t want to hear any of this. At least not from you and Steve. “You guys are biased, you do realize that?”

“What do you mean?” You’re practically laying across Steve’s car console in order to be a part of the conversation. “I think we’re objective people.”

“You’re telling me that all I have to do is be myself and Vickie will want to date me?”

You frown. “Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

Robin throws her head back. “Because it took Steve months to ask you out. Mind you, this was when you were already in love with the guy! And he knew you were in love with him!”

“Okay, hey–” Steve doesn’t at all like what she’s insinuating. He didn’t necessarily know you were already in love with him, he just… had a small hunch.

“I’m not done,” Robin holds her hand up. “All Steve had to do was man up and admit his feelings for you. He didn’t have to agonize over whether or not it’d blow up in his face. There was no risk, no danger, no world ending consequences. I mean, if you had rejected him then maybe Steve’s ego would’ve been bruised. But if I ask out the wrong girl? Bam! I’m a town pariah.”

“This is true,” you reluctantly agree. While you could never envision a world where you’d ever say no to Steve, you also recognize that the world where you somehow do wouldn’t be the same world as Robin’s. Things are different for her, whether you like it or not. Robin has to live with this knowledge, and her conversation with you about luck and love from last summer echoes in your mind.

Steve places a hand on his chest, betrayed. “Whose side are you on, Y/N?”

“True love’s side.”

Robin snorts and Steve doesn’t bother to hide his smile. He wants to tease you for being a hopeless romantic, but now isn’t the time. Instead, he continues the previous conversation. “True love aside, we can’t ignore that Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl.”

“Oh, she definitely isn’t straight.” You agree.

“We don’t know that!” Robin quickly sprays some breath freshener in her mouth and gags, which you cringe at. Vickie is one lucky girl if Robin ever manages to become her girlfriend.

Steve doesn’t let up, he’s convinced he has it all figured out. “She returned Fast Times paused at fifty-three minutes, five seconds.”

“The bikini scene, mind you.” You butt in, and Steve nods eagerly.

“And you know who pauses Fast Times at fifty-three minutes, five seconds? People who like boobies, Robin!”

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–”

“Boobies! It’s not a big deal–”

You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.”

“Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!”

You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.”

Robin can’t even look at the two of you, appalled by how many times the word “boobies” has been uttered during the duration of the conversation. You can’t blame her, the word has practically lost all meaning for you as well.

Steve, however, can’t seem to get enough of it. “It’s boobies!” He exclaims again to no one in particular.

You and Robin lock eyes, and then, without saying anything, your hand covers Steve’s mouth while Robin flicks his forehead, effectively putting the boob conversation to an end.

–

The moment Steve’s BMW slows in front of the school, Robin throws the door open and rushes out with a quick “see you later!” to you as she runs to follow after her bandmates. Steve waves weakly as she goes and sighs in disappointment.

“She’s never talking to Vickie, is she?”

“Not a chance,” you sigh as well, watching as Robin’s figure disappears in the crowd of students. Spring break looms over the student body, everyone buzzes with excitement over their week of freedom and tonight’s basketball game. The pep rally in just a few short minutes only adds to the exhilaration. Leaning forward, your lips graze against Steve’s. “Anyways, see you tonight?”

He bridges the gap between your lips, skin meets skin and warmth floods your stomach. “Of course, angel. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.” And with one last kiss, you exit Steve’s car and make your way towards the school. As always, Steve waits until you’re safely on the sidewalk before he pulls away and heads towards Family Video. He’s started picking up morning shifts to fill the time he isn’t with you.

On your way inside, you see Ms. Kelly talking to Max near the buses. The conversation is short, doesn’t last much longer than a few seconds, and when Max turns away you notice Ms. Kelly’s patient smile drop. Clearly Max still isn’t being cooperative when it comes to their sessions. She promised you she would start trying, but Max Mayfield has always been stubborn and you’ve always been slightly overbearing.

Not the best combination, honestly.

With a sigh, you make a mental note to ask Max about what the counselor talked to her about later. There’s too much going on this morning to focus on it, and you’re already pushing Max by having her attend the pep rally anyways. Originally she had wanted to skip it and hide in the stairwell, but after begging her about it, Max finally agreed.

The conversation can wait. For now, at least she’ll be next to you in the bleachers alongside the boys to cheer on Lucas.

The thought was enough to brighten your mood a little, but it quickly became a pain in the ass to corral the party into sitting together. It took you almost fifteen minutes to find Mike and Dustin in the mass of students heading into the gym. You’re not necessarily sure how it took so goddamn long given the fact that Mike towers over half of the students anyways. He’s grown freakishly tall since starting freshman year. It unnerves you.

While his towering height annoys you, Mike likes that he can finally, literally, look down on you.

“There you guys are!” You grab the back of Mike’s shirt and he lets out a startled yelp. Dustin stumbles back as well, and an annoyed sophomore glares at the three of you. Ignoring her, you grab your brother’s shirt and start dragging the two boys towards the bleachers. “Thought we agreed on meeting at the water fountain that squirts water in your face?”

“I thought it was the library?” Dustin gives you an odd look. “Wait, is there even a water fountain in the library?”

“You amaze me.” You remark, not even bothering to answer his question. He listens like a bag of rocks. Mike just allows you to pull him, not at all contributing to the conversation.

Max waits for you in the bleachers. She’s saved you seats, something that you feel slight relief over. The simple gesture is small, but it sparks just enough hope within your chest to make you exhale softly. Hope that she’s getting better. Hope that she’s finally trying again.

Thanking Max, you and the others fill the seats as the gym quickly fills with more and more students until it threatens to overflow. The roar of the crowd is nearly deafening. Across from the bleachers resides the marching band. They’re playing the school’s anthem as the cheerleaders start their routine. Chrissy Cunningham leads them, her smile lovely and beautiful, she shines so brightly upon the crowd that you can’t help but fall in love with her.

In the midst of the cheerleaders’ twists and flips, Robin manages to catch your eye from across the room.

You eagerly wave at her and mime playing the trumpet, copying her movements as she actually plays one. Robin laughs, and next to her is a girl with fiery red hair who laughs as well. She’s pretty, you’ve heard countless sonnets about her red hair and dotted freckles. Knowing the girl is Vickie, you point at her as you wink at Robin, who scoffs and goes back to playing the trumpet.

Next to you, you catch the tail end of some bizarre conversation between Mike and Dustin.

“Look, I’m not saying that my girlfriend is better than yours.” Dustin is clarifying, glaring at you when he hears your sarcastic snort. “It’s just that Suzie’s, like, a certified genius.”

Mike crosses his arms, looking towards you as if somehow this is all your fault. “Your brother realizes that El saved the world twice, right?”

“Admittedly that is hard to beat,” you shrug. “That, and she has cool powers.”

Dustin points a finger at the two of you. “And yet Mike still has a C in Spanish while you’re barely passing calculus.”

Mike rolls his eyes and you shrug again. Your brother isn’t necessarily wrong either. El’s saved the world, Suzie has saved his GPA. Both are nearly impossible feats. “Touchy subject, but touché.”

“And what can your boyfriend do, Y/N?” Mike asks, now bringing the attention to your love life.

“He’s good with a bat.”

Both Dustin and Mike groan, but you shush them when the school’s broadcaster announces the Tigers basketball team. Applause breaks out across the bleachers and you notice Max looking around for Lucas. Though she tries to hide it, you can see the interest and excitement in her eyes. She’s happy for him, but it breaks your heart that she feels that she can’t show it.

Jason Carver, captain of the basketball team and former Scoops Ahoy patron before Steve spilled ice cream all over his pants, runs out first. The crowd goes wild, but you don’t start cheering until you see Lucas. He’s smiling wide, proud to be a part of the team. You scream as loud as you can for him, he’s come so far since confessing to you about wanting to join the team earlier this year. As Jason starts his speech, dramatic as he always is, Lucas sees you in the bleachers and waves shyly, a blush creeping across his face. Then, seeing Max next to you, his confidence seems to grow as he waves more enthusiastically at her.

The moment is sweet, it makes you smile.

Except Max doesn’t wave back. She crosses her arms, pretends she hasn’t seen him, and your smile drops alongside Lucas’.

You know they’ve been having some trouble recently. With Max pulling away more and more each day, Lucas struggled to hold onto the fading girl. Despite his pleas and reassurances, Max still seems to be icing him out. According to Dustin, they broke up almost a month ago now.

But they’ve always had a tumultuous relationship, long before nightmares and monsters darkened everything. The news hadn’t worried you at first, you thought it was simply another one of their weekly breakups over something small, innocent. Afterall, they were just kids when they first started dating. Their breakups were always childish, though endearing, and always temporary.

Now, you’re scared that this time it’s permanent.

You’re not sure what that means for Max. She already has so few people left in her life to tether her. Billy died, her mother works two jobs and is never home anymore, El is in California, and you and Lucas are breaking skin trying to claw onto whatever small hold you have left of the girl.

Another loud cheer from the crowd breaks you from your thoughts. Jason must’ve just said something important, something worthy enough of a roaring reaction. He’s always been popular in Hawkins, Steve used to complain about him to you back when he was still on the team. But when Steve graduated and Billy died, Hawkins High had needed a new King to crown.

Jason Carver was more than happy to ascend the throne.

“Chrissy, I love you, babe.” Everyone awes and you see Chrissy blow Jason a kiss. It’s sweet, you suppose. They fit together nicely, head cheerleader with the star of the basketball team, and they seem genuinely happy. Chrissy’s shy and kind demeanor balances Jason’s loud and charismatic boldness. They truly are a good match.

“I think I can speak for all of us when I say it’s been a tough year for Hawkins.” Jason continues his speech, the room is eerily silent as everyone listens with baited breath. “So much loss…” The gym almost exhales simultaneously, remembering all the people who died last summer.

Your own breath exhales, and beside you Max tenses. Billy’s ghost floats through your minds, in through hers and out through yours. Hopper’s own ghost follows after him, only he doesn’t haunt Max the way he haunts you. He lingers over you, his final words to you engraved into your skin.

You’re the best of them.

“And sometimes I wonder, how much loss can one community take?”

Enough to fill a mall of burning bodies, you think bitterly.

Jason paces the gym’s floor now, he almost seems to glow before the crowd. He rambles on about needing something to believe in. That everyone should be doing something to honor all the lives lost in July, that playing basketball can absolve all the despair. As if it can bring them back.

Deep below your ribcage, nestled right underneath your scar and just in front of your stomach, rests a pit of anger that always simmers. You were born with it, it has always followed you. It has grown with you, the anger almost possessed your body when your dad left. Now, hearing Jason recite all the names of the ones who died that Fourth of July, the anger’s low simmer heats into a soft boil.

You try to quell it. Jason means well, he’s only trying to uplift the community in a passionate, albeit uncomfortably pastor-y way. He’s only doing what he knows best; he’s being a leader. In another life, one where Demogorgons never harmed you, you think you would’ve really admired Jason and his resilience.

“Think of Billy,” Your breath stills, yet your hand instinctively finds Max’s. She turns away from you, but the room is spinning and you can’t remember how to inhale. But Jason keeps going. “Think about our heroic police chief, Jim Hopper.”

Next to you, in your haze of grief and panic, you think you can feel Mike and Dustin shift uncomfortably. Grief sinks her claws into the kids, and you want nothing more than to puncture Jason’s lungs with them.

This was supposed to be a pep rally for the Tigers, it was supposed to be joyous, an opportunity to bring Max out of her shell. To distract her from the hell that she calls her life. The entire school knows what happened to Billy, they know that he had a little sister named Max Mayfield.

You hate Jason Carver.

But you’re here for Lucas. Today is about him. He’s finally happy, he’s smiling again. The least you can do is swallow down the anger and grief and hope that you don’t end up choking on them later. That they don’t strangle you in your dreams.

“And now tonight, we’re gonna bring home the championship trophy!” Jason screams into the mic, erupting a volcanic roar from the stadium. People throw paper into the air, whistling and jumping up and down at the prospect of Hawkins High finally winning a championship.

“Tonight?” Dustin’s agonized exclamation causes you to jump. He looks at you, bewildered and panicked. “How is that possible?”

Your heart still hasn’t steadied from the surge of fury Jason evoked. Swallowing once again, you clear your throat and shake your head at your brother. “What, you guys didn’t know about the game tonight?”

“They call it a tournament,” Max explains for you, figuring you need some time to clear your head. You squeeze her hand appreciatively. “You win one game, you go on until there’s only one team left.”

Mike and Dustin exchange frightened looks, and you eye them suspiciously. “Did you guys really not know? I thought Steve explained all of this to you already. Why is it such a big deal, anyways? I mean–wait,” the boys won’t meet your gaze. They avoid facing you, Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets and Dustin pretends to read someone’s poster.

You know the fearful look on their faces. It’s the same look Dustin gave you this morning when he ditched you to ride with Nancy and Mike.

Goddamn Eddie Munson.

“Oh, don’t you guys dare.” They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t fucking dream of missing one of Lucas’ games for a stupid club centered around some guy with enormous ego problems. “I swear to God, if you two skip the game tonight–”

“We won’t! I-I mean… Well. It’s, uh. It’s complicated” Dustin gulps, elbowing his way through the crowd of departing students as the pep rally ends. Mike follows, ready to step in at any moment, while Max slips away before you can stop her. Seeing how contorted your body is from anger, Dustin tries to appease you. “Look, I can’t promise anything, alright? Eddie is… Eddie.”

You’re about to scream some very choice words about that curly haired emo asshole, but Lucas intercepts the group and joins you guys. He looks between you, Mike, and Dustin, sensing some underlying tension. “What about Eddie?”

Mike quickly explains, and the more he talks, the more you want to shove your knives down Eddie’s throat. It’s one night, one goddamn night, and here Mike and Dustin are, almost shitting their pants at the idea of missing one Hellfire meeting to support their friend. While it’s unfortunate that all of this is happening on the same night, and though you recognize how long a campaign can take and how much the game means to the party, for once you can’t bring yourself to understand Dustin’s side.

A championship game versus one single campaign meeting that can easily be done tomorrow instead.

Seems like a pretty easy decision to you.

Lucas doesn’t understand why Mike and Dustin are so conflicted either. “I don’t get the big deal.” You’re all outside now, heading towards the main building for your classes. “Just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire to another night.”

You nod, agreeing with him, and Dustin rolls his eyes. “‘Just talk to Eddie.’”

“You can’t be serious right now,” your shoulder brushes harshly against the boy’s. You’re barely containing your anger right now. “Why does Eddie have such a strong hold over you guys? Hasn’t he repeated senior year twice now?”

“Why does that matter?” Mike looks at you as if you’re the scum of the earth that he just so happened to step on. “Why can’t Lucas just talk to his coach and get him to move the game?”

Dustin quips that he thinks Mike’s idea is a great one, but you shove between them and throw your hands in the air in annoyance. “You can’t possibly think that’s the same thing, right? A nationally organized game being postponed for a board game.”

Mike and Dustin both gasp at you, acting as if you’ve just threatened to kill a baby bunny in front of them, which only annoys you more. Sure, maybe you’re being a little mean right now, but you’re not appreciating how they’re treating Lucas. He’s never done anything to warrant this blatant disrespect from them. They’re refusing to see his side, too lost in their Eddie induced high.

“DnD isn’t just a board game, Y/N! I’m honestly disappointed that you of all people would even say that. You’ve seen the intricacies of a campaign. You know I’ve spent all month now preparing for the end of Eddie’s campaign!” Dustin waves his hands in front of him, he’s in his own ecstasy of anger and annoyance, something innate in the Henderson bloodline. “A semester of adventuring has led to this moment, and we need Lucas.”

“Yeah, and the Tigers don’t.” Mike looks over at Lucas. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve been on the bench all year–shit!”

You swat the back of Mike’s head, the sound of his yelp satisfying and the sting of the hit soothes you. He looks at you, offended, and you just shake your head at him. “No, that was out of line and you know it.”

“One day I’m gonna be too tall for you to hit me, you know.” Mike scowls at you as he rubs his head.

“And I’ll mourn the day when that happens,” you respond dryly before pointing at Lucas. “Now, apologize to him before I hit you again.”

Lucas lowers your finger and shakes his head. “It’s fine, Y/N. Me being on the bench isn’t the point, anyways.”

“Please, arrive at the point.” Your brother drops his head back and closes his eyes. He’s tired, he regrets even starting this conversation in the first place. The more the four of you talk, the angrier he can feel you become. Mike’s head may now be sore, but Dustin lives with you. If anyone here is in danger of your lecturing, it’s him.

“If I get in good with these guys, I’ll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too.” Lucas explains, looking between Dustin and Mike as he urges them to understand, but they don’t. Mike claims that they don’t want to be popular, something that Lucas doesn’t believe. “What, you wanna be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years?”

“We are nerds and freaks!” Dustin exclaims, causing a few students in the hall to look at you guys. You wave at them awkwardly, you’re starting to regret following the boys. This conversation feels personal, like you shouldn’t be intruding. Though you think Lucas has every right to want a good high school experience, you also think Mike and Dustin deserve to have their own experiences as well. If they don’t want to be popular, then that’s their decision just as much as it’s Lucas’ to want to be.

You step between the three boys, finally getting their attention. “Guys, no one here is necessarily right or wrong. Lucas has every right to want to be a part of the basketball crowd, and you two,” you raise your eyebrows at Mike and Dustin, “have every right to want to stick with Eddie’s crowd.”

Dustin sighs, “thanks, Y/N–”

“I’m not finished,” you hold a hand up and shush your brother. “What isn’t right, however, is abandoning one another. You guys are friends, and right now Lucas wants you at his game tonight to support him. Tonight is special, everyone will be there, and I want you guys there as well. I know high school is hard, but it’s even harder when you’re alone.”

“Says the girl who is adored by everyone in this shitty town.” Mike huffs, he can’t believe how hypocritical you’re being. “You’ve never had to deal with what we do. No one has ever laughed at you or tried to make you jump off a cliff just because you’re different.”

You clench your jaw. Dustin looks at you wearily, he doesn’t like what Mike is saying, but he also can’t help but agree with his friend. You haven’t ever been bullied. All your life you’ve blended in, stood out only when you were kind to others, admired for your selflessness, but never enough to be invited to parties or dumped behind a dumpster.

“Mike…” Your brother tries to pull him away from you, but you both stand your ground.

“You’re right, Wheeler. I don’t know what it’s like.” You stare up at the boy, and Mike’s expression softens only slightly. He’s just as stubborn as you are, it’s why the two of you admire the other so much. “But you forget that I’m Jonathan’s best friend. The creep, the loser, the psychopath. Kids may not have ever targeted me, but I’ve seen what they do to the people they hate.”

All the times you had to ice Jonathan’s bruised face. The nights you spent in his room holding him as he cried because Lonnie’s fists and Tommy’s cruel words were too much. The sneers, the stares Jonathan received because he was different. Quiet. Being your best friend hadn’t lessened the blows.

For years you wish you could’ve done more for Jonathan. Now, presented with Lucas’ opportunity to befriend the crowd that once was so cruel to your friend, you refuse to lose it. “That’s why I don’t want Lucas skipping the game tonight.”

It’s silent for a few moments, all three boys don’t know what to say. Taking a deep breath, Lucas stands beside you and breaks the silence. “We came to high school wanting things to be different, right? Now we have that chance. Like Y/N said, if I skip tonight, that’s all out the window. So I’m asking you guys, as a friend, just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire.”

Lucas pauses, he wets his lips and looks between his friends again. He feels so small, pleading for their attention. “Come to my game. Please.”

The bell rings, ending the conversation, and Lucas spares one last look at Dustin and Mike before mumbling a soft goodbye to you. He leaves you alone with the boys, who in turn mirror conflicted expressions.

“Shit!” Dustin kicks his foot out and looks at you. “This is all your fault, you know that?”

“What is?”

“Me having empathy. I hate this. Why couldn’t you have raised me to be an asshole?”

You snort at Dustin before pulling him into a weak hug. You only have a few more minutes before you need to get to class, you can’t stay very long, but you also don’t want to leave the boys without some semblance of comfort. “You’re too charming to be an asshole. Just… Come to the game, alright? Both of you. I’ll even make brownies if I have to. I just-I’ve missed you guys. This will be good for all of us.”

Mike ducks his head and Dustin sighs once more. Neither want to say anything else, so you reluctantly release your brother and leave them alone to wallow in their self-created misery.

They’ll do the right thing. You’re sure of it.

–

Lunch comes and Alex sits next to you. He started sitting with you at lunch just after winter break, and you’re endlessly grateful for him. You’re no longer alone, and he’s good company. A part of you regrets that it took the two of you three years to grow your friendship outside of Bookstrorindary.

You’ll miss him when you graduate.

Max is with Ms. Kelly today, a change in their usual meeting schedule of Tuesdays and Thursdays, meaning you had been right. She did skip their meeting yesterday and the counselor had to corner her this morning to schedule another one.

“Be honest, how excited are you to move to New York this summer?” Alex asks you, taking a bite out of his carrot stick. You’ve come to learn that he has a weird obsession with the vegetable, always packing at least twelve of them every day.

You pick at your own lunch, a wilted salad and sandwich your mom left for you this morning. “Honestly? It hasn’t really hit me yet. I mean, I only got in last week. I think my mind is still trying to catch up with reality.”

“Oh, c’mon. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little excited.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh and nudge the boy. “I’m a little excited. I just.. Haven’t really had time to think too much about it, you know? Between work, my brother, Steve, the kids, and…”

“Jonathan?” Alex finishes for you. He’s the only one who knows about how distant Jonathan has been. You’ve confided in him about how worried you are, about the phone calls while he’s high and the way Jonathan’s voice no longer sounds like his.

You shove your lunch away, no longer hungry. “Yeah.”

“You guys call every Friday, right? Maybe tonight will be different!” Alex tries to cut through the tension that now corrodes your demeanor, which you smile at him gratefully for.

“Yeah, who knows.” A piece of hair falls in your face and you push it behind your ear. Picking up your fork again, you attempt to finish your meal, but a sudden commotion interrupts the low buzz in the lunchroom.

“As long as you’re into band, or science, or parties.” Eddie Munson sneers from the cafeteria table he’s standing on. He looks around the room as if everyone else is beneath him. Not worth his time just because they enjoy different things. Looking at Alex, you both sigh and prepare for whatever Eddie has to say today. His voice grows louder, shouting across the room towards the basketball team’s table. “Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!”

Jason stands up and a few students whoop and cheer. “You want something, freak?”

Eddie sticks to fingers up behind his head as he creates little devil horns, snarling with his tongue out and hissing. Jason grimaces, you do too.

“He’s a little much, isn’t he?” You say to Alex, relieved when Eddie starts to step down from the table.

“He terrifies me.” Alex breathes out, not taking his eyes off Eddie in fear he’ll somehow cast a spell on him.

You laugh at your friend’s unnecessary fear. Eddie is harmless, Hellfire isn’t a demonic cult like some students at Hawkins seem to think. It really is just a club centered around a board game with impressive storytelling and detailed plotlines. From what Dustin has told you, Eddie truly is the best dungeon master in Indiana.

And while you believe him, you can’t wrap your head around why your brother idolizes Eddie so much. The fascination runs deeper than just DnD. Dustin has spent almost every day of his freshman year wrapped around Eddie’s finger. He spends all his time with the teen now, rarely with you, but you’re not bitter. Of course you’re not. Dustin can have his own friends, you know this, but you also feel so… unneeded.

Your little brother doesn’t need you anymore, and it’s a hard pill to swallow.

Truthfully, Alex’s question earlier about moving to New York in the summer sparked more than just your usual anxiety over Jonathan. It also reminded you that in only a few short months you’ll be in an entirely new state, a new city, far away from Dustin.

“Y/N!” Dustin flies into the seat next to you, nearly upending the table itself with how violently he throws himself down.

Alex shrieks and you steady the table before anything can fall. Heart pounding, you clutch at your chest as your nerves settle. “Why must you always be so violent?”

“Because it’s fun,” Dustin responds, not even bothering to acknowledge Alex’s presence. Instead, his eyes are only on you, and there’s a crazed spark in them. He’s breathing heavily, frantic, and you dread where this is going. “Look, I need to ask you a huge favor.”

“Do you realize that this is the first time you’ve sat with me at lunch since the first day?”

He winces. “And I will repent every day for my horrendous sins. I promise, I just–Jesus you’re terrifying when you don’t blink.” Dustin removes his hat to fix his hair, a nervous tick of his. He’s stalling, he should’ve never come here. Gulping, he rips the band aid off. “I need you to sub for Lucas tonight.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re giving him an out, one chance to back down before you strangle him.

Only Dustin tightens the noose even more. “Please, Y/N! Eddie won’t move the campaign. He said something about sheep and-and finding subs because Mike and I are, uh. I guess the future of Hellfire and he needs us and did I mention how important this campaign is? It’s super cool, super gory and totally up your alley and–”

“No.”

“N-no?” Dustin practically deflates in front of you, the light in his eyes dies.

You shove him away from you, you don’t want to look at his pathetic pouting. You’re so unbelievably hurt right now, so fucking infuriated. “You have spent every goddamn waking hour ass kissing Eddie. You haven’t so much as looked at me during lunch this entire year as if I’m a fucking plague. You’ve canceled plans, you’re hardly ever home, and now you expect me to abandon Lucas, someone who has spent time with me this year, someone who has made this entire year less lonely for me. Something, by the way, that you haven’t even noticed, all because you finally need me?”

Dustin’s mouth opens and closes, he doesn’t know what to say, but for once you don’t care. How could he possibly think you’d miss Lucas’ game tonight? You adore the boys, each and every one of them, and now Dustin expects you to just abandon one of them for the others?

“You’re only here because it’s convenient for you.” You hiss, venom pouring from your voice. “For Eddie.”

“Y/N…” Dustin’s voice breaks, he sounds like a little kid again, the baby brother you doted on your entire life. “Please.”

“No!” You scream at him.

The word echoes throughout the cafeteria. A few students turn to you, some curious, some annoyed. Alex draws into himself, wishing he were anywhere but here right now. Dustin’s eyes widen, his skin pales, and you clamp your hand over your mouth, completely and utterly mortified.

You’ve never, ever yelled at Dustin like this before. Not with so much malice, vitriol.

You feel like you’re twelve again, your anger hurting your baby brother.

Red hot with embarrassment and shame, you quickly get up from the table and flee the cafeteria. Dustin calls after you, but you stumble through the hallway towards the nearest bathroom. Tears burn your eyes, guilt wracks your body in painful thuds.

By the time you lock yourself in the bathroom’s stall, your sobs have begun to claw their way out of your throat. Pressing your back against the wall, you sink to the ground and pull your knees into your chest as you finally allow yourself to cry.

Abandonment makes you cruel. Your father taught you that.

–

You don’t see Dustin for the rest of the day. He’s missing Lucas’ game and you’re angry with him for that, but you also feel such an intense guilt over your outburst. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing him.

School ends and Steve drives you to work. The shift will be a short one due to the championship game, and Steve is staying with you so that you can drive to the game together. However, the moment you get into his car, he notices the dried tears on your face and the redness in your eyes and immediately throws his arms around you. In between shaky breaths and cries, you explain what happened to Steve.

He soothes you, tells you that you can always talk to Dustin after tonight’s game. Right now you and your brother need space from one another, and you hate that Steve’s right. You’ll force Dustin into a code blue, you’re long overdue for one, anyways. He’s been acting weird for weeks now. Someone has to give in, you know this, and if it has to be you then you’ll do anything to get your brother back.

For now, Steve holds your hand as he guides you through the crowd of people in the bleachers. They all cheer for Hawkins High, the energy in the gym is electric. Faces are painted, cheerleaders wave their pom-poms, and you’re wearing Steve’s old Tigers jersey. You’re not much for school spirit, but Steve almost crashed the car when he realized you were wearing the jersey, and you know Lucas will appreciate it too.

“Y/N, over here.” Steve’s hand falls onto the small of your back as he gently pushes you towards some open seats he’s found. You lean into his touch and sit beside him. With his body against yours, you try to immerse yourself in the joy from the crowd.

The entire town is here tonight. Everyone is smiling, kids laugh and parents wave posters for their sons. Tonight will be a good night, you’ve decided this to be true.

The national anthem is announced and everyone rises in their seats. When the broadcaster announces that Tammy Thompson will be singing, you and Steve look at each other incredulously. Laughter rises within you and you cackle when Robin finds the two of you in the crowd. There’s no way this won’t end in disaster.

Tammy walks out, wearing a horrendous faux cowboy outfit, and almost immediately sings off-key. You cringe, ears stinging from the attack, and try desperately not to let out any laughter as she continues to butcher the song.

Steve whispers over to Robin, “told you. Muppet.”

“Okay, she does sound like a muppet.” Robin agrees, which only makes it harder to contain your giggles. Tammy is worse than a muppet, she sounds like a goddamn muppet that broke into her dad’s alcohol stash.

“You sound better, angel.” Steve whispers into your ear, breath warm against your skin.

You lean back against him and smile sarcastically. “Anyone can sound better than her.”

Steve chuckles and you can’t help but join him. You know it’s rude, that Tammy is honestly not that bad, though definitely not good enough for Nashville, but you can’t help it. You can’t believe Robin ever had such a huge crush on the girl who now drones the national anthem like a dying parrot.

In between breaths of laughter, you see Lucas looking up at the bleachers. His face is grim, he doesn’t see Mike or Dustin or Max. None of his friends showed up, and you watch him with sympathy. You can’t believe them.

But then Lucas sees you, and he gives you a weak smile. Your attendance isn’t enough, you know it isn’t, but you hold up the poster you made for him and he laughs despite himself.

The game starts, and from the moment the whistle is blown, it’s intense. The Tigers are neck and neck with the Falcons. Steve tries to explain what’s happening throughout the game, but it all goes over your head. The energy in the room is intoxicating, though. You lean forward in your seat, you cheer when everyone else does, boo when you think you should.

“Carver just loves hogging the spotlight, doesn’t he?” Steve says with disdain as he watches Jason side sweep his teammates to score.

You poke his side, you know he’s only saying this because he’s still bitter that Jaosn tried asking you out last summer. “Honey, your jealousy is showing.”

Steve tries to deny this, but then a player gets injured during a foul from Falcon, causing you and Steve to both spew insults at the player. You have no idea what the foul even is, but you’re enjoying the chaos of the game.

In the midst of your uproar, you almost miss Lucas being sent into the game. You slap Steve’s chest repeatedly to get his attention, you almost don’t believe what you’re seeing. “Steve! Is that–”

“Sinclair!” He whoops, but he quickly scrambles to catch you as you nearly throw yourself off the bleachers in your blind excitement cheering. You’re screaming your head off, hardly even registering Steve’s hands on your waist. You’re incoherent and ecstatic, drunk on adrenaline.

Lucas is playing.

The game only gets more brutal from there. The points even out, both teams neck and neck. Anxious, you squeeze Steve’s hand with anticipation. Everything happens so fast, Lucas plays so naturally with the others, as if he was born to be there.

“Go, Tigers!” You jump up and down as Lucas runs after Jason. They’re doing a new play, attempting to score the tie breaker. Jason shoots, the ball hits off the backboard and onto the rim. Your breath catches, there’s only three seconds left on the clock. The ball falls, and there isn’t any time left.

Until Lucas catches the missed shot. He dribbles the ball, you clutch Steve’s hand, neither one of you utters a single word as Lucas makes the final shot. It’s an all or nothing throw, a risk, but he takes it anyways. The ball soars through the air, hits the rim. The buzzer sounds, the game is over, and the ball spins around the rim before finally sinking through the net.

Your chest burns as you violently cheer, Steve flings himself into your arms. You’re both jumping around, screaming together like little kids. “Hey did it!” You scream, and Steve shakes you in his arms with the biggest smile on his face.

“Sinclair did it!”

Down below, Lucas’ face lights up as the crowd goes wild for him. This is the happiest you’ve seen the kid in so long. The entire basketball team swarms Lucas, they lift him into the air and you cheer alongside them.

Steve tells you he’ll go warm the car up and you practically run outside to find Lucas as soon as the game is done. Your body buzzes, you’re still breathless with exhilaration. When you find Lucas, he’s just left the crowd of teenage boys. Wanting to surprise him, you creep up slowly before throwing your arms from behind him. “There’s the star!”

He stumbles from your weight, but he knows it’s you. Laughing, he turns around and you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “You came!”

“Of course I did, you moron!” You giggle, pulling away to straighten his jacket. “I made you a poster and everything.”

Lucas looks down at the poster that hangs by your side. His eyes light up, he remembers seeing it in the stands at the beginning of the game, but he hadn’t been able to read it from so far away. “Can I see it?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t want to see it.” You unroll the poster and present it with a grand flourish. “Tada!”

Sin to win, Sinclair!

You’re incredibly proud of the wordplay, and Lucas chuckles. It’s good, he has to admit. You’ve left no white space on the poster, littering with small 8’s for his jersey and millions of small stickers and decorations. The poster was made with love, and Lucas knows you spent hours making it.

“I love it, Y/N.” He does. It will hang on his wall as soon as he gets home.

You beam at him. Then, from behind you, you hear your brother’s own cheers as a door opens. Lucas’ smile fades, hurt creeps upon his face. Frowning, you turn and find Dustin and Mike high fiving their Hellfire friends as they all celebrate the end of their campaign. Erica is with them, cheering with everyone else.

“Lucas…” Your breath gives out. He doesn’t deserve this. Tonight was supposed to be his night. You turn to him, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you’re even supposed to say at this moment. Fifty feet away Lucas’ close friends are celebrating a night without him, his sister overjoyed as well. They’ve forgotten about him.

For once, you can’t find the right words to say.

“Thanks for the poster, Y/N.” Lucas doesn’t want your sympathy. He leaves, crestfallen, and you’re left standing alone holding the poster he had been praising seconds ago. The late March air chills your bones.

You’ve never been so disappointed in your brother before.

–

Steve drives you home and you’re silent the entire time.

“Dustin isn’t a bad kid, Y/N. You know that.” Steve tries to reason with you, but what your brother has done tonight leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “I’m sure by tomorrow he’ll realize he was a jerk and apologize. He always does, he’s just being a stupid teen boy right now.”

You face the window, watching the trees fading into the distance. You know Steve is right, you know that Dustin is still growing up, making mistakes. Hell, no one is perfect at fifteen. When you were his age you were falling in love with your best friend as you hunted monsters together. Neither you or Jonathan or Nancy knew what the hell you guys were doing back then.

But this is different. Dustin has never betrayed his friends like this before. He, out of all of them, should understand the pain of being left behind. He spent half the summer upset that the party ditched him, and now he’s ditching Lucas?

“You know, I used to be a stupid teen boy.” Steve says, trying again to get you to say something. To look at him, at least.

It works, a small smile turns your lips. “I never knew.”

He laughs at the sarcasm in your voice, but he plays along anyways. “Oh, I totally was. I just hid it really well by, you know, making you hate me for a while by being annoying. But hey, look at me now! I’m still annoying, but at least I have it all figured out with you.”

“And what do you have figured out, honey?” You turn your head towards him, watch the street lamps illuminate his face.

Steve smiles. “Us. Our future. Sure, I may not know if I’ll ever get a better job, but I’m sure as shit staying with you, starting a life together so that I can annoy you for all eternity.”

“How romantic,” a giggle falls from your lips. You’ve been with Steve for nearly a year now, but you haven’t really talked about the future yet. At least not so intimately, with so much assurance that in the end it’ll be the two of you. “And where will we live, Romeo?”

“New York, obviously. As soon as you graduate, we’ll find some horrible, run down apartment that’s barely big enough for two people. We’ll move in, but there won’t be any air conditioning so we’ll almost murder each other in the heat. Everyone will hate the place, but we’ll love it.”

As Steve talks, the smile that had once been on your face begins to fade. He rambles on, not noticing the shift. He dreams up the plans, how he’ll stay home while you go to class. How he’ll fix the leaky faucet that will inevitably annoy everyone. Steve envisions himself waiting for you to come home after a long day of classes and falling into his arms.

“Steve–” But he doesn’t hear you. He’s busy explaining how he’ll probably have to sell his car to afford the apartment, but that he doesn’t care, and you feel sick. It’s too much, he’s giving up too much. He’s willing to give up his entire life for you, drop everything and follow you without any questions asked.

It’s what your mother did for your father. They met in college, both attending Purdue. Their relationship had been a whirlwind. Love at first sight, married as soon as they graduated, your father convinced your mom to follow him back to Virginia. To abandon her family and move two states over while pregnant with you. She didn’t know anyone in Virginia, her father moved them to a small town where only his name was known.

The divorce that followed twelve years later ruined your mother’s life. She had been left all alone, no family to support her, no friends, in a state she never grew up in.

And now Steve wants to do the same for you.

Raising your voice slightly, you try to interrupt him again. “Steve!”

“What?” He looks over at you, words finally dying. “Do you want to keep the car?”

“You… you can’t.”

Steve frowns. “I can’t what?”

Your hands shake. Your heart trembles. Your words die in your throat. There’s so much you want to say, you can feel the pit in your stomach build into a fist. You can’t let Steve do this. He doesn’t understand that he deserves more than this. “You-you can’t come to New York.”

Everything stills. You don’t dare to breathe, to disrupt the silence. Your words come out all wrong, you know they do, but they’re out in the open and Steve doesn’t look at you as he pulls into your driveway. Silent, he turns the car’s engine off.

“Y/N…” Steve still can’t look at you. He places his hands on the steering wheel, as if bracing himself for whatever will unfold tonight. He’s scared, he doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong. His mind flashes, and for a brief second he’s back at the Halloween party and you’re Nancy in his passenger seat. “Do you not see a future with me?”

“I do!” You sit up in your seat, reach over to touch Steve’s thigh. You need to feel him, to ground yourself to him. Everything about this feels wrong. As if you’re hanging over the edge of a chasm with a long, long fall. “God, of course I see a future with you, I just-this isn’t what you really want.”

Steve doesn’t want to move to New York, even if he doesn’t realize it now. What he’s really doing is chasing after a dream that isn’t his. The timing of this is off, he fought with his dad this morning about a future he was unsure of. You know Steve, maybe even better than he knows himself; he’s not doing it for your relationship or out of love. Steve only wants to appease his father, fulfill whatever desire he thinks you have. This isn’t what he wants, and he’s worked too hard to build the life he has now, without you, to simply throw it all away.

But he can’t see that right now.

“Of course this is what I want, Y/N! All I want is you.” Steve finally looks at you, but there’s a hardness in his eyes. He’s detaching himself from you, putting his walls up. “You and me, that’s what I want.”

You grab his hand, you try to keep your voice calm. “Steve, I love you so, so much, but I can’t-I can’t let you give everything up for me. Your life is here, in Hawkins. You have a job, you have your friends and-and your family, and it wouldn’t be fair to either one of us if you abandon it for me. You could-you could resent me for it later, you could realize you hate our life and wish you never followed me and–”

“Y/N, what did you think was going to happen when you were applying to all those colleges?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, he thought you were beside him this whole time. He assumed you’d been carving out the same future he had been. But he was wrong. “Did you really think I’d just stay behind and wait for you to come home every break?”

“I…” Shamefully, you hadn't been considering what would happen between you and Steve. In your mind, he was your future, he was in it, but the details were hazy. You weren’t sure how, or why, or when, but you knew that in the end, Steve was the person you’d spend forever with.

Steve takes your hesitancy as his answer. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Steve–”

“You were just going to leave me.”

He tears his hand from yours and you blink back tears. You’ve never fought with him before, not like this. “I wasn’t just going to leave you! I just-Steve, please just listen!”

“I am, Y/N!” Steve exclaims, voice reverberating the car. You flinch away, and he immediately lowers his voice, apologetic. He hadn’t meant to scare you, he hadn’t meant to make you cry. Ashamed, Steve turns away from you. “I-I’m sorry.”

He wants to wipe the tears he’s caused, but selfishly he also wants you to hurt like he’s hurting. You don’t see a future with Steve. You were going to leave him just like everyone else does.

Steve should’ve known all of this was too good to be true.

“I love you,” your voice is almost inaudible, the three words barely reach the light before they disappear into the dark night. You’re not sure why you say them, the words had built in your chest, the pressure heavy, and you needed to release them. To remind Steve of your oath to him.

Silence fills the car. Steve doesn’t look at you, his shoulders are drawn together. His jaw clenches and you know he’s trying desperately to bite his tongue, withholding the cruel words that only heartbreak can provoke.

“Honey,” you beg him to say something, anything. “Steve.”

“I think you should go.”

The dismissal punches your throat, knocks the wind out of you. He’s shutting you out, closing himself off from you, and you don’t understand how the two of you got here. “I… Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Steve’s words are cool, composed. Indifferent, almost. He still doesn’t look at you, his eyes remain focused on something in your driveway. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.”

“Okay,” you don’t want to leave, you know it isn’t good to go to bed angry with the one you love. Anger should never simmer, it should never be left unwatched. But Steve is silently asking you to give him space so that he can hurt, and you aren’t selfish enough to deny his request. And yet you’re selfish enough to press your lips to Steve’s cheek, but he doesn’t lean in like how normally does. Instead, he remains stoic, and you swallow down your tears and open the door to leave. “Drive home safe, honey.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he starts the car as soon as the door is closed and drives away. He doesn't look back, he doesn’t wait to see if you’ve made it inside your house safely.

Tears spill down your face as you blindly walk towards your front door. Your argument with Steve replays over and over again in your head. You analyze every second, every word, you try to understand when everything fell apart.

It’s dark in your home, your mother is asleep and Dustin’s door is closed, but right now all you want is your brother. You need to talk to him, cry into his shoulder and smell the shampoo he’s used ever since he was a baby. Your feet carry you to Dustin’s room and you pound on his door, begging him to let you in. You don’t bother masking the tears in your voice, you’re too exhausted to hide them from him. “Dustin, please let me in.”

“Go away!” There’s a thud on the door, he’s thrown something at it to shut you up. He doesn’t want to hear some stupid lecture right now. He knows he was an asshole tonight, he regrets it, but right now all Dustin wants to do is sleep. He’ll deal with you tomorrow.

“Code blue,” you press your forehead against the door, your tears fall to the ground. “C-code blue.” Your voice hiccups, more tears come, minutes pass, and your brother never answers.

For the first time since you were kids, Dustin rejects your request for a code blue.

The phone rings. The sound pierces through your ears, cuts through the headache that is starting to form. It’s Friday night. Jonathan is calling.

Squeezing your eyes shut as you head pounds, you inhale shakily. You have to answer him, otherwise he’ll only call over and over again with concern. You’ve never missed a phone call, not once in the months since Jonathan has moved, but tonight you’re exhausted.

“Can we call tomorrow?” You’re too tired to greet him and voice cracks, revealing far too much already.

“Bug?” Jonathan’s high, he’s always high. And yet even in his cloudy haze of smoke he can hear the anguish in your voice. “Is everythin’ okay?”

His question only makes you cry more. You’ve always tried your best to put up a front for others, to pretend that everything is okay. You’ve never wanted to worry people, you’ve always pushed aside your own hurt for the sake of others. Now, as anger and grief and despair clasp their hands around your throat, you’re terrified you’ll suffocate.

You’ve never been able to lie to Jonathan, and tonight you don’t think you can. “I’ve had… the worst night.” You confess to him, wiping away tears.

You tell him everything, your fight with Dustin, how you think he may resent you leaving for college. You tell Jonathan about Lucas, how you were so disappointed in Dustin and Mike. Choking through tears, you explain to Jonathan your fight with Steve. How your words failed you, how hurt he looked, that you can’t explain to him how he only wants his future to align with yours, but not with your relationship.

Even though you know that Jonathan won’t remember any of this tomorrow, for once you’re grateful that he’s too high to remember anything. It feels good just being able to say it all out loud.

“‘M sorry, bug.” Jonathan mumbles over the phone once you’ve finished explaining everything. He sounds far away, figuratively and literally. You can’t imagine how much his drugged mind retained, but you’re thankful to have gotten it all off your chest anyways.

“It’s fine,” you inhale again, you’ve finally stopped crying, though your chest still hurts and your head still pounds. “Steve and I… We’ll figure it out.”

Jonathan pauses, and for a moment you think he’s fallen asleep, but then his voice floats through the telephone line. “Do you.. Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?”

He strings his words slowly together, says them one by one with a hesitancy, and you frown. You don’t understand what he’s trying to say. What mistakes could you have made together? “What do you mean, bee?”

“I just… everythin’ is so hard. With Nance. Feel like… like ‘m never enough for her. And you, Steve. ‘S hard between you guys.” Jonathan’s words slur, he’s almost too incoherent to understand, and later you will wish that you hadn’t been able to understand him at all. “But you ‘n me? ‘S easy. Always so easy.”

His words toe the line between you, he can’t mean any of it. You don’t want him to mean any of it, because then the fallout would be too catastrophic to contain.

He’s Jonathan. Your oldest, dearest friend. Your best friend. Years ago, you could’ve been something more, you almost were something more, but the time has passed.

You’re with Steve now, you’re happy and so, so in love with him. Even though everything is tangled between you right now, even though you’re fighting, you know that you and Steve will figure it out. He’s the one. He’s the man you want to marry one day, if he’ll allow you to.

Jonathan is your past, Steve is your future, and right now you’re terrified that soon you’ll lose them both.

“Jonathan,” you finally say, his name now heavy on your tongue. It feels like you’re betraying someone while saying his name, but you need to end this conversation. Before Jonathan says something he’ll regret in the morning. “You love Nancy, I love Steve, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Love you,” Jonathan’s words slur even more, his voice drifting off. “You, always you…”

You slam the phone done, ending the call, as a chill runs down your spine. Silence encases you, the house is still. The strings and threads from years ago constrict around your throat. You choke on the lines Jonathan has crossed tonight, the tightness in your head stabs against your skull.

There is no one to hear you, no one there to hear your final words to your best friend. “Goodbye, Jonathan.”

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #bdyr #m's writing #SEASON 4 EVERYONE CHEER !!!!#also i dont hate eddie but bug does #lmao

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hemmingsleclerc · 8 months

Text

Golden Globes ┃CL16

summary : where you go to the golden globes with your mystery bf and end up being an f1 driver

The day had arrived, after weeks of anxiety, you were already dressed in ypur beautiful dress, with your makeup and hair done just waiting to leave. Your boyfriend was there with you, but you had both decided not to pose together on the red carpet, so it would just you. After you received the news that you had been nominated in the category of ''best supporting actress'' for your film ''Oppenheimer'' released that same year, you hadn't been able to sleep, you longed for that award after having given your all to that role.

The Golden Globes would be important, that day your boyfriend would accompany you and you couldn't ask for more. In fact, both had tried to keep your relationship as private as possible for the last two years, but at that moment it almost didn't matter to hide it from the public eye.

Arriving at the event, Y/N, adorned in a stunning floor-length dress, gracefully walked the red carpet, flashing smiles and waving to the adoring crowd.

ynupdates

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ynupdates Y/N has arrived to the golden globes looking stunning!

Inside the venue, the atmosphere was equally charged with emotion. You and your partner had already met and were both walking hand in hand.

The glitz and glamor of Hollywood's elite filled the room, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves as she took her seat among the nominees.

As the night progressed, the tension in the room reached its peak when the "Best Supporting Actress" category was announced.

The presenter was reading the names of the nominees while a camera pointed at each one when the room fell silent. Y/N was gripping her boyfriend's hand tightly when the presenter said "And the golden globe goes to" and her heart raced when her name echoed through the auditorium. Her eyes widened in disbelief and she stood up from her seat, she gave her boyfriend a kiss and hugged several of her friends before heading to the stage.

While on stage, holding her award, Y/N began her acceptance speech with her voice shaking. She thanked the incredible team she had worked with on the film, acknowledging the director, her co-stars and her team. The audience burst into applause upon hearing her words.

Then, in a moment that was sure to garner attention on social media, Y/N took a deep breath and dropped a bombshell. "I also want to thank the love of my life, my rock and my biggest supporter ever," she said, drawing shocked faces from the crowd.

The camera panned to capture the surprised expressions on the faces of the audience. Speculation in the room intensified when Y/N continued: "Charles, my charlie, you have been my pillar of strength throughout this incredible journey. Thank you for being there for me through the good and difficult times."

Attention was focused on an elegant Charles Leclerc, sitting in the audience, with a proud smile adorning his face watching her. The revelation caused astonishment in the room and the crowd erupted in a mixture of applause, cheers and murmurs of surprise.

The cameras captured the genuine emotion on Y/N's face as she continued her heartfelt speech, expressing her love for Charles and how he had been the unwavering support she needed all those years. The audience, initially taken by surprise, eventually broke out into a standing ovation, celebrating the couple.

When Y/N left the stage, Charles greeted her with a big hug and a kiss telling her how proud he was of her.

ynln

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ynln What a night!!! thank u @goldenglobes !!!

and also thank u to my boy @charles_leclerc for holding me before I passed out from excitement.

username GIRL WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!??!?!?!?!

username SINCE WHEN????????????

charles_leclerc beyond proud of you❤️

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luveline · 5 months

Note

I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭

—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k

Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor.

Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch.

They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now.

“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.”

You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere.

“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.”

He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.

He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless.

But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.

“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.

He has to calm you down.

Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it.

He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory.

“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly.

You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.”

“Did you want the straw?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?”

“Yeah.”

You can’t be blamed for short answers.

There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways.

When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods.

Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead.

He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed.

“Lean back, beautiful,” he says.

Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask.

“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.”

Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly.

You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes.

You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t.

“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours.

His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand.

“Please don’t make me laugh.”

“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically.

He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now.

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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tgcg · 8 months

Text

bad mouther, hole master

TG: kissing with tongue is gross as hell

CG: COME THE FUCK OFF IT.

TG: what

CG: I'M SAYING SHUT UP.

TG: oh

CG: IT'S NOT THAT WEIRD. IT'S LIKE THE NATURAL PROGRESSION OF REGULAR KISSING TO EVENTUALLY INCLUDE THAT. IF YOU HAD ANY SEMBLANCE OF ROMANCE GHOSTING THROUGH THE DEVOLVING REMNANTS OF YOUR THINKPAN YOU'D APPRECIATE WHAT IT BRINGS TO THE NUTRITION PLATFORM OF ANY CONSENTING CONCUPISCENT RELATIONSHIP!

TG: youre talking about it like its a goddamn military weapon or some shit

TG: some kinda scientific fuckin method to fondle a dudes mouth with your own mouth thats

TG: thats gross

TG: this isnt supposed to be a debate before fuckin congress on the pros and cons of getting your mack on

TG: its i would say a reasonably personal thing to react about and thats just my reaction man you dont gotta arbitrate it

TG: and like why the hell do they have to linger on it so long in these movies do they really want me to immerse myself in people necking each other that much

TG: roll the sounds around in my earholes like im swilling a fine fuckin wine

TG: well my professional opinion is that shit tastes and sounds mad gross and tbh i havent seen a single movie where it was close to being any kind of necessary

TG: its just a cringy waste of everyones time

CG: YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, AND I DISAGREE WITH EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR IGNORANCE GASH, YOU LUMP OF TIGHT-LIPPED CLUELESSNESS.

TG: did you just homestar me

CG: FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT, SINCE YOU'RE APPARENTLY DESPERATE TO START SHIT WITH ME RIGHT NOW: HAVE YOU EVER EVEN DONE IT?

TG: hell no

CG: THANK YOU FOR PROVING MY POINT.

TG: proving your point--

TG: bro have uh

TG: have YOU???

CG: EXCUSE ME? HAVE I WHAT?

TG: come on

TG: i walked into this stupid conversation with a fucking shovel and by god am i digging myself a damn hole big and wide enough for every dave across time to squeeze in so i might as well get cosy in this shit before we all start collectively shoving dirt in our mouths

TG: bet your ass im taking you down with me though

TG: grab your spade and get digging man

CG: GRAB MY WHAT????????

TG: just tell me

CG: ???????!!!!!!!!

TG: karkat

CG: NO!

TG: f-

CG: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!!! WHAT PART OF "SHUT UP" DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND????

TG: wait no

TG: oh my god dude

TG: you can spin that shit all you want but you can do it the hell away from me

TG: i do not need to be hip to your weirdo foursquare fantasies

TG: patently not my business

CG: STOP RIGHT THERE. JUST SHUT IT. I AM PUTTING US OUT OF OUR MISERY RIGHT NOW. I AM CONDUCTING AN ACT OF MERCY ON THIS INSANE FUCKING CONVERSATION AND YOU ARE GOING TO ZIP YOUR LIPS AND TAKE IT.

CG: HERE IT IS: YOUR SINGLE OPPORTUNITY TO PRETEND YOU NEVER SAID THAT TO ME. I AM GOING TO FORGET YOU MADE A COMPLETE MOCKERY OF ME AND MY CULTURE THIS ONE TIME. AND LET YOU CONTINUE TO DIG YOUR STUPID, SHITTY HOLE.

CG: AND DAVE, I AM BEGGING YOU NOT TO WASTE IT.

CG: TO ANSWER YOUR SHOCKINGLY INAPPROPRIATE QUESTION, NO I HAVE NOT DONE IT.

CG: WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK.

CG: HAPPY?

TG: ……..

TG: way to defuse the situation solid work

TG: real gold star effort grabbin that lit wick and blowing on it

TG: ok first of all you asked me first so dont act like im the one being a weirdo about this

TG: second of all i didnt mean it like that and you know it

TG: THIRD of all what the hell was the point of engaging the knightly theatrics then if you cant even verify that shit

CG: WELL FUCK, SORRY DAVE! I GUESS I'M JUST A FUCKING ROMANCE ENTHUSIAST! I GUESS I GIVE A MAJOR SHIT ABOUT THE THING YOU'RE OPENLY MOCKING TO MY FACE! IS THAT SO IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO WRAP YOUR THOUGHT SPONGE AROUND?

CG: AND IT WAS COMPLETELY REASONABLE FOR ME TO ASK YOU THAT, YOU CONGEALED FETID NOOKSTAIN! MY STATUS ON THE MATTER HAS LITERALLY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE POINT EITHER OF US IS TRYING TO MAKE.

CG: TRY TO KEEP YOUR NUGBONE FROM CAVING IN ON ITSELF WHEN I DROP THIS BOMBSHELL: I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE OPINIONS ON THINGS I ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT, EVEN IF I HAVEN'T DONE THEM! I DON'T JUST GO TROUNCING THE FUCK ABOUT LOBBING MY UNFOUNDED OPINIONS AT PEOPLE LIKE I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING. UNLIKE SOMEONE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INVOLVED IN THIS CONVERSATION WE'RE HAVING RIGHT NOW!

TG: youre

CG: I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU BY THE WAY. THE SOMEONE IS YOU.

TG: oh gimme a break

TG: bro youre going apeshit over something you havent even done

TG: you know what that sounds like to me it sounds like an overcompensating fake fan who doesnt get any

TG: you heard of troll napoleon complex

CG: AT LEAST I ACTUALLY FORMED MY OPINION BASED ON CAREFUL CONSIDERATION --

TG: -- oh yeah i bet huh

CG: -- INSTEAD OF JUST BANKING ON NUBJERK --

TG: -- not a real thing you just said

CG: -- REACTIONS AND WRINKLING MY SNIFF NUB AT ANY SIGNS OF GENUINE PHYSICAL INTIMACY!

TG: stop saying nub

CG: YOU EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED BULGEWAD

TG: not too much worse than being a perpetual fountain of emotional diarrhea

CG: DON'T YOU DARE.

CG: DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO USE THAT AS A "GOTCHA", YOU--… YOU! FUCK!

TG: dude did you actually run out of insults

TG: okay this is getting concerning

TG: youre the international dude of verbal dunks

TG: that can not be happening

CG: AAGHRJRGHJRGRHJAGHRJGRHJAGRHJRGRHJRGRHRJR

TG: you cant run out of em youre like the ultimate peddler of hate

CG: YOU DON'T THINK I'M CRITICALLY AWARE OF THE HOOFBEASTSHIT I'M SPEWING NIGH FUCKING CONSTANTLY?! I AM PAINFULLY COGNIZANT OF HOW MORONIC EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS!!!!

TG: feel like ive done some damage here

CG: ESPECIALLY MYSELF!

TG: alright bud time to calm down

CG: YOU CALM DOWN!!!!

TG: okay whatever!

CG: WHATEVER!!!!!!!!

TG: jeez

…

TG: here

…

CG: UGH.

TG: yeah

TG: really glad stuff like this happens in private

CG: YEAH. SAME HERE.

CG: JEGUS, CAN WE GO BACK TO BEFORE WE HAD THIS CONVERSATION? I DON'T ASK YOU MANY FAVORS, SO SURELY YOUR SLURRY OF ILL-DEFINED TIME POWERS CAN ALLOW YOU TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

CG: JUST LIKE, WIPE THAT WHOLE THING OFF THE SLATE.

CG: LET'S START OVER. SAY, FIVE MINUTES AGO. HOW DOES THAT SOUND?

TG: what conversation?

CG: OKAY, GOTCHA.

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #comix #bad mouther hole master

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mononijikayu · 1 month

Text

lay your love on me — nanami kento.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you prepared to drop your bombshell. “You know how I’m always worried about you being a sorcerer and putting yourself in danger?” He nodded, clearly not seeing where you were going with this. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times.” “Well,” you continued, struggling to keep a straight face, “I’ve come up with the perfect solution to that problem.” “And what’s that?” Kento asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think you should quit being a sorcerer and become my house–husband instead,” you announced with a grin.

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, possessive behaviour, protectiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, nanami kento is that MAN, reader petitions for nanami to be her house husband;

WORD COUNT: 5.4k words.

NOTE: i hope this makes up for the fact that i've been writing a lot of angsty fics. this was supposd to be a baywatch thing. but i changed my mind. anyway, i'll be doing the side - 900 works in advance. i hope you enjoy this!!! from this point, i might be slower in updating because i'll be back to uni again and probably will be a little bit more busy. thank you for reading and always enjoy this one too!!! i love you <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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HE’S NOT PROUD OF THE MAN HE’S BECOME. But it’s hard for him, when it comes to you, his precious wife. Nanami Kento had always considered himself above petty emotions like jealousy. He was calm, rational, the kind of man who could look at the world with a level head.

Yet, ever since he met you, ever since he’s fallen for you, built his life, his universe about you — his life had taken a turn he hadn't anticipated. You brought out something in him that was unfamiliar and unsettling—a possessiveness, an insecurity that gnawed at him whenever he saw the way others looked at you.

As he sat next to you on the sun-kissed beach, the warm Malaysian sunbathing you both in a golden glow, Nanami Kento found it difficult to fully relax. This was supposed to be your quality time, the belated honeymoon you both had both worked so hard to carve out from your hard and demanding schedules. For once, he had managed to take time off from his life as a sorcerer, a rare break that was meant to be a celebration of your love, their commitment to each other.

You were just as busy as he was, if not more. As a lawyer, you were brilliant, successful, and independent. You made more than he did, something that had never bothered him—until now. Not because of pride, but because it made him realize just how much you had to offer. You could have anyone, and yet you had chosen him. The thought should have been reassuring, but instead, it only added to his insecurity.

Instead of peace, he found himself caught up in a swirl of emotions he couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t just his possessiveness—it was the realization that, for the first time in his life, he was vulnerable. He was vulnerable because he loved you so deeply, because the thought of losing you, or of someone else taking your attention, filled him with a fear he didn’t know how to handle.

Kento couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you lay on the sunbed, basking in the warm Malaysian sun. The way the golden rays kissed your skin, making it glow, had him utterly captivated. You were wearing the tightest two-piece bikini, a vibrant floral design that contrasted beautifully against your sun-kissed skin. The colors brought out the vibrancy of your figure, accentuating every curve in a way that made his heart race.

He watched as you stretched languidly, your body moving with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly to him. The sunlight danced across your skin, highlighting the delicate contours of your body, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the curve of your waist, the length of your legs.

Every inch of you was perfection in his eyes, and it drove him mad how stunning you were. But it wasn’t just your physical beauty that had him so entranced; it was the knowledge that you were his, that this incredible, breathtaking person had chosen him.

His gaze lingered on your face, where a peaceful smile played on your lips, your eyes closed as you enjoyed the warmth of the sun. The gentle breeze teased a few strands of your hair, brushing them across your forehead, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck them behind your ear. He loved these quiet moments, where he could just watch you, memorize the way you looked in the golden light, the way the sun turned your hair into a halo of warmth.

You were the most beautiful being to ever exist to him, and the thought made his chest tighten with a mix of pride and disbelief. How had he been so fortunate? What had he done to deserve someone like you in his life?

The longer he watched you, the more he felt that familiar, possessive edge creeping in. It was a feeling he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, one that he had never experienced before you came into his life. He had never thought of himself as the jealous type, but when it came to you, something primal and protective stirred within him. He didn’t want anyone else to look at you the way he did, to see what he saw, to appreciate the way you made the world a brighter, more beautiful place just by existing.

And yet, as he sat there, he knew that others couldn’t help but notice you too. It was impossible not to. You were radiant, magnetic, and he could see the way people’s gazes lingered on you, the appreciative looks that followed you whenever you walked by. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to do something irrational, to pull you close and stake his claim in front of everyone.

Kento could see the way men’s eyes lingered on you, the admiration in their gazes as they took in your beauty. It made his blood boil in a way he wasn’t proud of. He wanted to stand up, to make it clear that you were his, that no one else had the right to look at you like that. But he stayed silent, gripping your hand a little tighter, hoping the feeling would pass.

You opened your eyes, and your gaze met his. The smile that spread across your face was one of pure love, your eyes softening as you looked at him. In that moment, all his insecurities melted away. You were his, and he was yours. It was as simple as that.

Kento leaned back in his chair, his own smile tugging at his lips as he continued to watch you. You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow, your expression playful as you caught him staring.

“See something you like?” you teased, your voice light and full of affection.

“Always, my love.” he replied, his voice deep and sincere. His gaze never left yours as he spoke, and you could see the intensity of his feelings reflected in his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that made his heart skip a beat. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

Kento couldn’t help but grin at that, though his expression quickly turned serious again. “It drives me mad, you know,” he admitted, his voice low. “How beautiful you are. How you’re mine.”

The way he said it, with such raw emotion, made your heart flutter. There was something in his tone, something almost possessive, that sent a shiver down your spine. But it wasn’t a bad feeling. If anything, it made you feel even closer to him, knowing that he felt so deeply for you.

“And you’re mine.” you replied softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. The simple touch seemed to calm him, his fingers threading through yours as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Your eyes narrowed on him. “Only mine.”

And then there was your possessiveness. You couldn’t deny it—you were just as bad as he was when it came to jealousy. You tried to play it cool, but the truth was, you were no better at hiding it than he was. The moment you noticed the women stealing glances at him, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders, his chiseled features, you felt a wave of irritation wash over you.

It was subtle, but Kento could sense the tension in you, the way your posture stiffened, the way you shifted closer to him, almost instinctively, as if to stake your claim. You wanted the world to know that this man was yours and yours alone.

Just as it does now.

Because if you were being honest, your husband was the most beautiful man in the world. With his muscular build and tall six-foot frame, he was the epitome of masculine perfection. The way his long, muscular arms held that beer bottle in his massive palm, the casual strength in his grip, made your heart flutter. His chiseled jaw tightened as he glanced in the direction of the men who had dared to look your way, his bright brown eyes narrowing in a clear, unmistakable warning. He didn’t have to say a word—the message was loud and clear: stay away.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break through. This man belonged to you, and he wanted everyone to be sure that they knew it. There was something undeniably satisfying about the way he made it so obvious, so deliberate. And you knew that he felt the same way about you.

His gaze flicked back to you, softening when he saw the look in your eyes. It was a look that said, “I’m yours.” and it made your heart swell with love and possessiveness all over again.

You didn’t care if it was irrational, if it was a little bit crazy—this man was yours, and you were his. And you wanted everyone to know that you belonged to each other, that nothing and no one could come between you.

Kento must have sensed your thoughts, because he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You know you’re the only one I see, right?”

His voice was deep, reassuring, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I know, babe." you whispered back, your fingers curling around his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make sure everyone else knows it too.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper, something more primal. “Good.” he said, his tone possessive and full of promise. “Because I’m not about to let anyone forget that you’re mine either.”

You grinned at that, the fiery possessiveness in his words matching your own. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that neither of you would ever let anyone come between what you had. Because you both knew that what you had was rare, precious, and worth protecting at all costs.

As you stood there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky you were. This beautiful, strong, and fiercely loyal man was yours. And you were his.

You pressed a kiss to his jaw, savoring the way he responded, the way his arm tightened around you just a little bit more. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything you felt for him, everything you both felt for each other. This man belonged to you, and you belonged to him. And nothing in the world could change that.

It was a strange sort of dance, the two of you caught in a loop of possessiveness that neither could quite break free from. And yet, there was something oddly reassuring about it. In a world where you both faced so many uncertainties, where danger lurked around every corner, this shared jealousy was a reminder that you were both fiercely committed to each other. It wasn’t healthy, Kento knew that, but it was real. Even if you weren’t proud of it, even if Kento wasn’t proud of it — it was real. Between the two of you. It was love for you.

Still, the women’s gazes hadn’t wavered, you noticed. Their eyes still linger on your husband as if they had every right to admire him. The sight made your blood simmer, a protective, possessive streak flaring to life within you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kento—he was as loyal as they came—but you didn’t appreciate the way they were looking at him, as if he were something to be desired, something they could claim if they tried hard enough.

Your grip on his hand tightened as you leaned closer and you cast a glance in his direction. Kento, ever composed, was doing his best to ignore the attention, but you could see the slight tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flickered to you as if seeking reassurance. He puts away the beer bottle on the side and looks to you again.

A grin slowly spread across your lips as an idea formed. If those women wanted to look at your husband, you’d give them something to see—a clear, undeniable reminder that he was yours. You leaned in, your hand resting on his chest as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

Kento looked down at you, a question in his eyes, but before he could ask, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a hot, passionate kiss. The world around you faded as you poured all your love, your possessiveness, your desire into that kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a statement. A declaration that this man, this incredible, strong, loyal man, was yours. And no one else had any right to him. He only belongs to you. Only you.

Kento’s initial surprise melted away as he responded in kind, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head, pulling you even closer. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that matched your own, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body relaxed into yours as if nothing else mattered. Kento’s arms slowly wrap around the small of your back, kissing you even deeper.

When you finally pulled back, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. You could see the effect it had on him, the way his eyes had darkened with desire, the small, satisfied smile that tugged at his lips. You glanced over at the women who had been ogling him earlier. Their expressions had shifted—some were embarrassed, others annoyed, but all of them had gotten the message loud and clear.

Triumph surged through you as you turned back to Kento, your grin widening. “I think they got the point, babe.” you whispered, your voice teasing.

Kento chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your lips as if to savor the moment. “I believe they did.” he murmured, his tone filled with warmth and a hint of amusement. “Though I must admit, I didn’t mind that at all.”

“Then…..can we continue this upstairs?”

Your husband’s eyes narrow, almost awakening something in him. “What do you have in mind?”

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

YOU DON’T THINK YOU WOULD EVER GET TIRED OF HIM. Nanami Kento always made you feel so many things—desire, love, passion—and you loved every bit of it. The tension between you had been building ever since that heated kiss on the beach, and as you made your way back to your hotel room, it only grew stronger.

Each step, each shared glance, every subtle touch added fuel to the fire burning between you. The anticipation was electric, and by the time you reached the door, it was like a dam waiting to burst.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the restraint you’d both been holding onto snapped. You pressed yourself against him, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that had your head spinning. It was as if you couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t close the gap between you fast enough. His hands roamed your body with a hunger that matched your own, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more desperate, as you both succumbed to the need that had been simmering beneath the surface all day. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you back toward the bed as he claimed your mouth over and over again, each kiss more intense than the last.

You could feel his desire, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, the low growl that rumbled in his chest as you tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head. The moment the fabric hit the floor, his lips were back on yours, his hands working to free you from your bikini. The way he touched you, with a mix of reverence and raw need, sent shivers down your spine. He breaks the kiss.

“Kento, Kento….” you breathed finally, your voice trembling with anticipation as you felt his lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands moved with purpose, untying the strings of your bikini, and the sensation of the cool air against your bare skin only heightened the intensity of the moment.

He leaned back for just a moment, his gaze sweeping over you with a look of pure, unfiltered desire. “You’re perfect, my love.” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, before his lips were back on yours, more insistent this time, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a second.

Your hands found their way to the waistband of his beach shorts, your fingers trembling slightly as you pushed them down, the fabric pooling at his feet. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his hard, muscular frame pressed against you, and it sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

The bed hit the back of your knees, and before you knew it, you were tumbling onto the soft sheets, Kento following you down, his body covering yours in an instant. The weight of him, the feel of his skin against yours, was intoxicating. He presses his lips against yours again, the heat between your bodies burning you even more.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if he was trying to memorize you all over again. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, the heat of him throbbing against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

His lips left yours, trailing down your neck once again and across your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. The feeling of his mouth on your skin, combined with the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, was almost too much to bear.

“Kento, babe.” you gasped, your voice breaking as he found that sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing the skin there in a way that made you arch against him, desperate for more. “It’s so….it’s so hot.”

“Tell me what you want, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with need.

“You.” you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every part of him against you. “I want you, Kento.”

The way he responded, with a deep, guttural groan, sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them. It was as though he found home again. You groaned as you felt his hands explore the exposed skin. He was enjoying this, you knew. He enjoyed teasing you.

“God, Kento.” you breathed out, your voice trembling with need. He was driving you wild, his touch lighting you up in ways you hadn’t thought possible. You needed more, needed him closer, needed to feel him in every possible way..

You could feel him pressing against you, his lips returning to yours in a kiss that was just as intense as before. It was almost too much, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours, the way his hands moved with such skill and tenderness, the way every inch of him seemed to be in tune with your needs.

The anticipation was building, the need for him becoming overwhelming as you felt his fingers deftly undo the last of your bikini top. The cool air of the room brushed against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between the two of you. You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs, the desperate longing for him growing with each passing second.

Kento’s touch was everything—gentle and firm, demanding and patient all at once. The way he handled you, the way he made you feel, it was almost too much to bear, and yet you couldn’t get enough. You wanted more, needed more, and he seemed more than willing to give it to you. He liked to give you more and more, to satiate your greed.

Your bodies moved together with a rhythm that felt both familiar and electrifyingly new. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the soft rustle of sheets, and the occasional, intoxicating moans that slipped from your lips as Kento's hands roamed over your bare skin.

His touch was a maddening mix of tenderness and raw desire, each caress lighting a fire inside you that grew with every passing moment. His fingers traced the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, and the softness of thighs, lingering just long enough to make you gasp before moving on. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as his lips followed the path of his hands, kissing and nipping at every sensitive spot he could find.

You arched your back as his mouth moved lower, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone before trailing down to your chest. He took his time, savoring every inch of you as if he wanted to memorize the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him. His tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you that made your toes curl. You moaned his name, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, urging him on.

Kento responded with a low growl, the sound vibrating against your skin as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before letting his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. The sensation was almost too much to bear, your body reacting with a surge of heat that pooled between your thighs. You could feel the wetness there, the way your body was aching for him, and you knew that he could feel it too.

His hands slid down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips before dipping between your thighs. The first touch of his fingers against your slick heat made you cry out, your hips bucking involuntarily as you pressed yourself against his hand. He moved with agonizing slowness, teasing you with light, feathery touches that only made your desire grow stronger.

You could feel the tension building inside you, the need for release becoming almost unbearable as he continued to tease you. His fingers slipped between your folds, stroking you with a skill that had your head spinning. Each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. One after another, it was a pandemonium of pleasure. When you came, you sobbed as you felt his fingers tighten against your crevices.

“Kento, babe. Please.” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “Please, I need you.”

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him, and that knowledge sent a thrill of excitement through you.He removed his fingers, licking them clean one after another, enjoying the taste of you. The sight of him made you even more wet.

“What do you want, my love?” He cooed at you. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside, Kento.” You muttered, your eyes beaming with pleasure. “Please, babe. Please.”

He didn’t make you wait any longer, his dear love. With a practiced ease, he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he guided himself to your entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against your swollen folds, and you could feel the heat of him, the way his length stretched you as he slowly pushed inside.

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of him filling you completely making you gasp for air. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to anchor yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure that threatened to consume you.

Kento moved with deliberate, measured thrusts, each one sending a wave of ecstasy through your body that made your vision blur. He was gentle but firm, his pace steady as he worked to bring you both to the peak of pleasure. You could feel every inch of him inside you, the way he stretched you, filled you, in a way that made you feel utterly complete.

Your moans filled the room, each one growing louder as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with a growing urgency. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound almost drowned out by the symphony of your lovemaking. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, the familiar pressure building as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

“Kento, I’m… I’m so close, babeeeeee!” you breathed out, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were right on the edge, teetering on the brink of a powerful release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

“Let go, love.” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough with desire. “I’ve got you. Let go for me.”

His words were all you needed. With a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body shattering into a million pieces as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your voice breaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last.

Kento followed you into bliss, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release overtaking him. You could feel the warmth of him spilling into you, the way his body trembled against yours as he groaned your name, his voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, the world stood still. All you could feel was him, all you could hear was the sound of your racing hearts and the ragged breaths you both struggled to catch. He stayed inside you, his body pressed against yours as you both came down from the high, the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you.

Slowly, he pulled out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness that was quickly replaced by the warmth of his arms wrapping around you. He pulled you close, holding you against his chest as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, love.” he whispered, his voice soft and full of sincerity. “So much.”

“I love you too, babe.” you murmured back, your voice barely above a whisper. Your body was spent, completely exhausted from the intensity of your lovemaking, but you felt content, safe, and utterly cherished in his arms.

As you lay there together, his arms tighten around you as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, with the warmth of his body against yours and the sound of the waves crashing outside, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be—right here, in his arms, for as long as you both lived.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

epilogue

Later that evening, after the intensity of your earlier moments had faded into a comfortable, blissful haze, you found yourself curled up against Kento’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around you. You sighed, almost as though you were the most content in your entire life.

He’d already made sure to take care of you and clean you up, even making you some tea so that you could relax on your shared bed. And you love him for it. He always spoils you to no end. The sound of the waves outside your window was a soothing backdrop, lulling you into a state of utter contentment.

As you lay there, a thought popped into your mind, one that made you grin mischievously. You tilted your head up to look at him, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest.

“Kento, babe.” you began, your tone teasing, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Hm?” He glanced down at you, his expression warm and relaxed, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

You bit your lip to keep from grinning as you prepared to drop your bombshell. “You know how I’m always worried about you being a sorcerer and putting yourself in danger?”

He nodded, clearly not seeing where you were going with this. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times.”

“Well, babe.” you continued, struggling to keep a straight face. “I’ve come up with the perfect solution to that problem.”

“And what’s that?” Kento asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think you should quit being a sorcerer and become my house–husband instead.” you announced with a grin.

There was a moment of silence as Kento processed what you’d just said. His usually stoic expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to determine whether or not you were serious. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and it only made it harder for you to hold back your laughter. He looked cute, when he's thinking, you like to believe.

“A… house–husband?” he repeated slowly, as if testing the word out on his tongue.

“Yes! A house–husband, babe.” you confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “You’d be amazing at it! You could cook, clean, and take care of everything at home while I go to work. And you’d never have to worry about exorcisms or curses or any of that dangerous stuff ever again.”

Kento blinked at you, his mouth opening as if to say something, then closing again as he reconsidered. Finally, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “And what would I do all day at your house–husband?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d find plenty to do, babe.” you replied, barely able to keep a straight face. “You could perfect your cooking skills, learn how to fold the perfect fitted sheet, maybe even take up knitting! Plus, you’d have plenty of time to dote on me when I come home from work. Maybe even meet the old ladies at the corner store! They really like zumba, just as much as you do.”

At that, Kento let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Knitting, huh? I didn’t realize that was part of the job description.”

“Well, it’s optional.” you conceded with a giggle. “But I think you’d be really good at it.”

Kento shook his head, clearly amused by your antics. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious.” you replied, though the twinkle in your eyes betrayed your true intentions. “I mean, think about it. No more dangerous missions, no more fighting curses. Just a quiet, peaceful life at home with me. Grow old together and me spoiling my husband with bringing in the dough and you spoiling me with all your love. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

He considered it for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “It does sound nice.” he admitted, his tone still teasing. “But I’m not sure how I’d feel about giving up my job to become a… house–husband.”

“Oh, come on.” you coaxed, poking him playfully in the ribs. “You’d love it. And I’d love coming home to you every day. Plus, you’d look really cute in an apron.”

That finally did it. Your husband Kento burst out laughing, the sound rich and warm as it filled the room. You couldn’t help but join in, your own laughter mingling with his as you both imagined the ridiculousness of the idea. But you suppose the ridiculousness of it is what made it so touching. Life is always strange anyway, you think. And he knows that too.

When the laughter finally subsided, Kento leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I appreciate the thought.” he said, his voice full of affection. “But for now, I think I’ll stick to being a sorcerer for now. Though I have to admit, the idea of being your house–husband is tempting.”

“Tempting enough to reconsider?” you asked with a grin, though you knew his answer.

“Not quite, love.” he replied, chuckling. “But I’ll keep it in mind as a backup plan.”

“Deal.” you agreed, snuggling closer to him. “But just so you know, I’m not giving up on the idea entirely. You’d make an excellent house–husband. Mine only, of course.”

Kento smiled down at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. “And you’d make an excellent lawyer who brings home the bacon.”

“Then it’s settled.” you said, laughing. “We’ll just have to make sure you stay safe so I don’t have to resort to plan B.”

“With you by my side, love? I have no doubt I will.” he murmured, kissing you softly as you both settled back into the peaceful, contented silence of the evening.

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beenbaanbuun · 8 months

Text

Face sitting with Mingi

words - no fucking clue

genre - smut

warnings - chubby!reader, dom!mingi, oral (f!receiving), insecurity, internalised fatphobia, nicknames (baby, princess, mingi calls himself baby boy…), praise, brief discussion of safe words, consensual somnophilia (if you squint - mingi gets off on readers thigh and she falls asleep halfway through), i think that’s it :)

one thing you’d realised about mingi is that although he may be dominant in nature, that man really knows how to beg

long limbs trapping you in place as he looks up at you with puppy eyes and whimpers in your ear until you’re practically a puddle in his lap, ready to give into his every desire

he‘a almost impossible to say no to with his pretty pout, almost being the key word

because there’s just one little thing you always say no to

after the last time you denied his request under the guise of being ‘too tired’ you expect it to be more than two days before he asks you again

but it’s not really a surprise… mingi is insatiable when it comes to you

so you just let it happen, body going almost limp as he holds you against kiss chest and kisses down your neck gently

“mmm, taste so good,” he licks a long stripe up your neck before taking your earlobe into his mouth and suckling gently, “you know what tastes better, though.”

you can’t help but moan as he teases you

“you’ll let me eat you out, right?” he whispers, and you nod.

and then he drops the same bombshell as last time and you freeze

“you’ll sit nice and prettily on my face, hm? let your baby boy devour you?”

you cant deny that you’d like to

fuck, you almost say yes there and then!

but before you can, you take a moment to come to your senses and realise that as hot as it sounds, it just won’t work

it takes a few seconds to give your body a once over with your eyes, picking out all the bits of it that carry just a little more weight than you’d like

too heavy, you decide as you begin to rack your brain for yet another excuse as to why you can’t sit on his face tonight

but just as you’re about to spout some nonsense excuse that makes no sense, mingi cuts you off

“and don’t say you’re too tired this time, baby,” he rubs your thicker waist with his hand, massaging the soft flesh like he’s kneading dough, “you were up for getting your pussy eaten before knowing exactly how i wanted to eat you.”

and again, you freeze

he has you caught, and you begin to realise that he knows you too well

“m’not going to say i’m too tired,” you definitely were, “my legs just ache too much to hold myself up for that long.”

“mhm,” he doesn’t believe you for a second, “well, that’s the good thing about sitting on someone’s face, princess… you sit”

his hand shifts to your bare thigh that poked out from your skirt, and he gropes it, big palm tugging at it until your legs are spread a little

“w-well…” you think for a moment, “my hips ache! i cant spread my legs for that long!”

he chuckles darkly in your ear

again, you know he sees through your bullshit

“if i was eating you out on a normal day, your legs would be spread,” he trails his hand up higher, “so tell me the real reason, baby.”

and you realise there’s no getting out of it

you’ll have to sit and tell him exactly why you can’t before he proves you wrong and shows you exactly why you can

its the same as when you told him you didn’t want to wear lingerie because you thought you were too big

you should’ve known mingi would go out and buy the prettiest sets he could find and get you to give him a show, all why he sat and palmed at his dick, showering you with pretty praises

you sigh, working up the courage to do it

“m’too big to sit on your face,” you mumble, “i’ll just hurt you.”

he hums in response, drawing patterns on your thigh with a finger

“and you think i care that you consider yourself ‘too big,’ do you?”

of course he doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t care

you shake your head

“listen, baby,” he readjusts you on his lap so you’re facing him, one leg either side of his lap, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but your reasoning is fucking stupid. if you want this, then there should be nothing holding you back…”

you try and avoid his gaze

he finds it cute for a few seconds, but he’s soon lifting your chin and making you focus on him once more

“so,” he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to your pouty lips, “you want this or not?”

and you do want it… you want it so bad!

so you nod

“you know the rules, princess,” another kiss, “i need your words…”

it takes a moment for the words to process in your brain, and then another moment for them to form in your mouth

“can i sit on your face?”

“you’re so well behaved for me…”

and just like that, mingi gently pushes you to the side and positions himself so he’s lay on the sofa, legs hanging off one end so he has a enough room for his head to lie flat at the other

and he’s dragging you closer to him by your hips, and pulling one leg over until your wet panties hover just a few inches above his mouth

his jaw is slack in awe as he moves the damp material to the side and lays his eyes on your pretty pussy

it takes a moment to shake himself out of the trance you have him in

“so perfect, hm?” he whispers, “so pretty and perfect, aren’t you?”

you let out a loud whine at his words, nothing but embarrassment filling you up

he gives your hips an experimental tug, pulling your core just a little closer to his waiting mouth

and you resist, just a little bit

a little bit is enough for him to pause

“baby, i’m only doing this if you’re fully on board,” and you are, you’re just a little nervous, “i need you to sit, baby… can you do that for me?”

you whisper out a ‘yes’, but you still make no movement

you’re still a little scared

“okay, how about this,” he says, “you sit down and i tap your thigh if i want you to move, alright? i can guarantee i won’t, but at least the failsafe is there, okay?”

you cant lie, it makes you feel better

a lot better actually

knowing that he has a way to tell you it’s too much makes you feel a whole lot safer

it makes you let out a giggle as you finally understand why mingi is always so insistent on the whole ‘safeword’ thing

if your lips were anywhere near his, you’d kiss him

for now, you’d have to settle for something else

and from that point, it takes just a few seconds for you to lower your cunt to his mouth

the groan he makes when contact is made is borderline sinful and he wastes no time slurping at your wet pussy

tongue tracing patterns up and down your slit before delving deep inside to collect as much nectar as it could

lips circling around your clit, suckling ever so gently before adding more and more pressure

messy, open mouth kisses to your hole as if he’s desperate to make out with it

youre a mess within minutes, and you wholeheartedly blame mingi

you fall forwards at some point, barely holding yourself up with your elbows

your plush tummy rests just a few inches above mingi’s forehead and he can’t help but shift his hands until they’re resting flat against it

they massage the flesh as his tongue massages your clit

and before you know it, you’re crumbling

your hips buck against his open mouth, but mingi drinks up everything you have to offer him, grunting loudly as if it’s the best think he’s ever tasted

he works you through it, barely dipping a toe into overstimulation before pulling you away and shuffling a little so you can lie next to him

he’s rock hard against your hip, but when you try and move you hands to do something about it, he clasps them in his own

“i can use your thigh, baby,” he whispers as he begins to rhythmically rub his crotch against your leg, “almost there anyway… tasted too good.”

and in a weirdly peaceful way, you can’t help but fall into a slumber as your boyfriend ruts against your thigh, kissing your cheek with his sticky lips as he groans in your ear with his deep voice

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez smut #mingi fluff #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi scenarios

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perrywrites · 11 months

Text

Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during practice part 3;

NSFW

Includes; Kaiser, Barou

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 2 (Chigiri, Reo) and part 4 (Nagi, Shidou, Kunigami) and part 5 (Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya)

Kaiser: he knows. He absolutely knows. You’re so cute, sitting there like an airhead, staring at him all wantonly like that. He’s smirking right up until his break, and it’s absolutely your fault he’s extra douchebaggy during practice - don’t blame him, though, he just wants to impress his pretty lady, hm? He stands over you, imploringly, looking down at you like a dictator, with the kind of smirk on his face that would usually make you scowl and huff. “What’s wrong liebling, you’re not usually so obvious, hm?” Where he expects you to pout and furrow your eyebrows at him all cutely and brat-like, in the kind of way that just makes him want to bully you even more, you instead sigh romantically, eyes fluttering up at him amorously. And although he raises an amused eyebrow at this, it’s your hazy whisper that makes his eyes widen. He turns his head to the side, chuckling lowly as he runs a hand through his hair. He can just never compare with you, can he? You truly own him, don’t you? As expected of his empress, somehow without him knowing you always have him in a chokehold, don’t you? A permanent checkmate he can just never thwart? Well, as far as figurative chokeholds go, your victory may never be questionable - but literally speaking he’s the one going to have you in a chokehold tonight. Or sooner than that, really. He doesn’t care much for suitable times to fuck, or locations, really - especially not when you’ve made him so eager with need that he’s even contemplating on dragging you right into the locker room showers. Yeah, just pin you into the wall and make you take his cock until even the running hot water can’t muffle the distinct sounds of your moans and cries, make you keep whimpering out his name. Sure, he’ll be the one worshipping you, but it’ll be you chanting his name like a prayer - as it should be. He’s your only pillar, don’t you see? So keep begging, be pathetic like that and he might just desecrate you on his cock sooner than later. Your place, after all, is to be beautifully ruined on his cock, a mess just for him to enjoy pounding into over and over and over again - until your brain is nothing but a mushy pile of thoughts about him. He goes back to his practice, but not before pulling you towards him by your chin - an unrelenting grip as he glowers hauntingly down at you. Desire gleams in his eyes as he whispers a scintillating promise - or rather a threat. “Just sit tight and make yourself wetter for me, darling. I’ll make your darkest fantasies come true today.”

Barou: he knows you’re there, but he’s too busy to pay you any mind - and anyways, all he really needs to know is that you’re there, watching him. That’s how it should be, after all. Today is a joint practice with Isagi’s league, and he’s pumped full with the desire to absolutely wreck that shithead, so it’s not until he’s on break that he notices how heated your gaze is. Now, why the fuck are you looking at him like that right now? Do you have no shame? And when he comes up to you, trying to keep his voice controlled when he gruffly says, “Oi, stop looking at me like that.” He thinks you’ll have enough sense to get embarrassed and apologize, but instead you drop that bombshell. “What the fuck?” You want him where exactly? A vein pulses on his forehead, and he looks just about ready to chew you the fuck out - but at the same time there’s a very visible hint of red beginning to burn up his ears. Shameless woman. What are you expecting, by saying something crazy like that outloud? You think he’ll give it to you if you act all sultry and wanton, beg him with that blank glassy look in your eyes? In contrast to his thoughts, his cock stirs in his shorts, and he mutters curses to himself harshly as he throws the towel onto the bench, for once messy and more distracted than he’d like to admit. “Shut the hell up and stop acting like a whore, wait for me until I’m done if you’re that desperate,” he says, his gait impatient and angry as he walks off back to the field. His face is still a little too warm for his liking. He catches Isagi looking at him, the shithead’s lips twitching up in a quiet laugh, and Barou immediately directs his fiercest glare towards him with a furious growl. “What the fuck are you looking at, loser.” But instead of being scared - like he should be - the shithead just turns away, still smiling, hands raised in defeat, saying something about Barou being able to get flustered too. And in that moment Barou vows to himself, he fucking vows to himself, that he’ll pincer that shithead right now in practice, and even more importantly, he’ll fucking pincer you on his cock for giving him this embarrassing experience. He’ll sanitize the living fuck out of his car afterwards, but right now after practice, he’ll fucking drag you to the backseats and fuck you raw and hard until he’s pumped you full and he can’t get it up anymore. Oh, he’ll absolutely make you fucking regret daring to say that to him - in public no less. He can just imagine your fucked out face, those rolled back eyes, tears running down the side of your face just like the drool leaving your mouth. The only kind of mess he’ll ever permit you to leave, maybe even encourage, honestly. You won’t be able to walk for days afterwards, and whenever you’ll try to blame him, he’ll fucking shove what you said right in your face - because no way in hell are you going to pin this on him after saying something like that, crazy ass woman. He can just imagine the way you’ll grin after he says that, too, all cheeky like. You like playing with him too much. He needs to start putting you in your place more, keep pounding away at that pussy until you figure out how to behave like a fucking human being.

Is it obvious I had a lot of fun writing Barou's DSJGFJSDHG his pov is honestly *chef's kisses*

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk smut #bllk kaiser #michael kaiser #kaiser smut #michael kaiser smut #kaiser x reader #barou shoei x reader #barou shouei #barou x reader #bllk barou #barou smut #barou shoei

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thedensworld · 9 months

Text

Forever His | C.Sc

Pairing: Seungcheol x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, slightly smut

Words Count: 3,5K

Summary: You found out that Seungcheol was marrying you for your property and wealth while you're pregnant with his child. What would you do? Let him go or play a fool?

Seungcheol growled in anger upon hearing several hurried knocks on his bedroom door well past midnight. Inside, he held you close, releasing all the pent-up affection from his business trip. Your face blushed from the intimate activity, your lips plumped, and Seungcheol was the reason behind it all. Initially oblivious to the noise, you regained your senses when he suddenly stopped and questioned him, "Why?"

Seungcheol sighed, his lips peppering a gentle kiss on your forehead. He whispered, "I'm sorry," before continuing, "get dressed. Don't want anyone to see you like this," accompanied by another peck on your shoulder. You observed him donning a robe before rising to walk to your closet to get dressed. It had been a week since you last saw him during his business trip to Hong Kong, and he immediately reveled in the moment upon his return.

You understood the frustration etched on his face as he headed to the door, reprimanding his assistant whom he had just seen a few hours ago—more than he had seen you all week. Despite the interruption, you decided not to retake your shower, opting for minimal clothing just in case the interrupted moment could be resumed. Wrapped in your robe, you lay on the bed with a tablet in hand, patiently awaiting your husband's return while attempting to mentally prepare for the upcoming workday.

It had been a year since you met Seungcheol, and you had been married for six months. People remarked that you two were still in the honeymoon phase, a sentiment you couldn't deny. The longest time apart was a mere week, and when you were both home, the opportunity for intimacy was ever-present—bed, kitchen, home office, or even the car. Seungcheol cared little about the location as long as he could be close to you, witnessing your pleasure, and hearing you moan his name, a source of immense satisfaction and ego boost for him.

After nearly half an hour since your shared intimacy was interrupted, Seungcheol entered the bedroom, and you welcomed him with a smile, setting aside your device as he approached. However, your joy was short-lived as he dropped a bombshell— an urgent matter required his immediate attention, shattering the serene moment.

His apology hung in the air, and you gazed into his eyes, almost whispering, "Can't it wait until tomorrow?" His gaze met yours, and he replied, "I'm sorry, but everyone needs me." The weight of his words settled, and you nodded, offering him a kiss. He whispered a goodnight and covered you with a blanket.

As he prepared to leave, he assured you, "I'm going. If you need anything, Eunji is downstairs, okay?" The deep kiss on your forehead lingered, leaving you with a mix of understanding and a touch of loneliness as he walked away, duty calling him away from the warmth of your shared moments.

As you sat in your office, a sense of solitude crept in as hours passed without any news from Seungcheol. Reflecting on your father's words, "A big power would come with a big responsibility, Y/n," you realized the weight of the responsibilities that came with leading two prominent companies. You, as the director of Seri Corps, and Seungcheol, the owner of a property investment company dealing with hotels, apartments, residences, and department stores, found little time to break away from the demanding roles.

The constant influx of work surrounded your thoughts, echoing your father's wisdom. You yearned for a moment to confront Seungcheol's assistant, Kim Mingyu, about easing the workload on your husband. Simultaneously, you knew Seungcheol harbored similar thoughts about Myungho, your secretary.

Seungcheol's suggestion of taking a break from work and starting a family lingered in your mind. "How about a little break from work? It might end up with a cute baby like you..." he had expressed his desire to build a family since the early days of your marriage.

Initially hesitant, thoughts swirled in your mind. Could you be ready to be a mother? Your upbringing without a mother made you wary, but Seungcheol had gradually changed your perspective. His love, support, and dreams of a family with you had softened your reservations. You found yourself yearning for the joy of building a family with Seungcheol, confident that he would be an exceptional father, creating a world of happiness for your future children.

After a lengthy discussion with Seungcheol about starting a family, you took the decision to visit your ob-gyn and began the journey towards pregnancy. For the past three months, you had gradually reduced your workload, entrusting responsibilities to your younger brother, Lee Chan, while actively trying to conceive with your husband. Unbeknownst to Seungcheol, you had already been pregnant for four weeks, and the only person privy to this news was Myungho, your ever-attentive secretary.

Myungho had been a pillar of support, ensuring your well-being by sending nutritious meals and a glass of pregnancy milk to your desk every morning. He also exhibited consideration for your workload, making efforts to send you home before 6. This morning, upon entering the office, you found Myungho had prepared your favorite breakfast from a beloved restaurant, lifting your spirits from the previous night's glum mood.

Despite your gratitude, you declined Myungho's offer to check an anonymous file that had been delivered to you. As you enjoyed your meal, you informed him that you'd arrange for your own transportation home and would call upon Eunji, the bodyguard Seungcheol had assigned to you.

"Just in case," Seungcheol explained when he was questioned about the need for a bodyguard, triggering memories of a near altercation when you initially resisted the idea. You asserted your ability to protect yourself, having learned jiu-jitsu and basic shooting. However, that night, Seungcheol revealed a hidden compartment beside your bed containing a gun. Holding your wrists firmly, he calmly stated, "I'm not doing this because you're a woman, but because you're my woman," emphasizing his commitment to your safety.

"Are we heading home, mam?" Eunji inquired, her gaze alternating between the road and the rearview mirror, noting the exhaustion etched on your face. Concerned, she questioned you about it.

"Just tired, thanks for asking. Yes, we're going home, please," you replied with a smile, appreciating Eunji's thoughtful gesture. Myungho, attentive to the shifting atmosphere, was about to join the conversation, sensing your unease.

"I'm okay, Secretary Seo. You should go home," you reassured him before closing the car door, leaving Myungho behind as the car set off for your house.

Looking out the window, your reflection mirrored the complex emotions brewing within you. As you questioned Eunji about your husband's whereabouts, her lips tightened, emphasizing her reluctance to share such information.

You hadn't received any news from Seungcheol today, a departure from the usual routine. While you recognized the demands of his busy schedule, today was different; a yearning for his comforting presence intensified, especially with the added vulnerability brought on by the pregnancy.

The familiar presence of threats was not new to you, but today brought a different kind of menace. A letter arrived this morning, accompanied by pictures and a USB. The images depicted Seungcheol in the company of an unidentified person, taken just hours after he left you the previous night. The revelation injected a new level of tension into an already uncertain day.

As you connected the USB, the file unfolded a chilling conversation between Seungcheol and his uncle, Choi Junggan. The revelation shook you to the core as they discussed plans to take control of Seri Department Store, a place with deep roots in your family history.

"We need her to hand you the Seri Department Store this year," Choi Junggan's voice declared, triggering disbelief and confusion within you. Seungcheol's voice, usually a source of comfort, uttered words that contradicted everything he had ever said to you.

Frozen in your car seat, you listened as Seungcheol acknowledged his role in the plan, vowing to gain your trust to further their hidden agenda. The shock reverberated through you, and doubts about the authenticity of your relationship took hold.

Arriving home, you rushed to your shared office, desperate to find evidence that would contradict the betrayal you had just uncovered. Each desk you searched only intensified the sinking feeling in your gut. Stumbling upon a hidden map and recalling the secret desk with a concealed gun, fear gripped you.

Questions raced through your mind—was Seungcheol planning something sinister? Was he preparing to harm you? The shivers intensified as you discovered a Memorandum of Understanding signed by your father and Seungcheol's father, outlining a deal that involved transferring the Seri Department Store to Seri Corps to settle debts. A chilling note from Seungcheol himself accompanied the document, vowing retribution for the suffering caused by Seri Corps.

The foundation of your trust crumbled as you grappled with the harsh reality that Seungcheol might have used you to fulfill a hidden agenda, driven by a desire for revenge against your family. The love and assurances you believed in were now clouded by a chilling revelation, leaving you in a state of shock and betrayal.

Click

In the sudden darkness, every creak of the floor beneath your cautious steps echoed through the house, a symphony of dread playing in the silence. The weight of the unknown assailant's presence hung heavily, suffocating the very air you breathed. Your trembling fingers fumbled for your phone, desperation rising as you attempted to call Eunji for help, but the device felt foreign and cumbersome in your anxious grip.

Before the call could connect, a vice-like grip clamped around you from behind, the cold edge of a knife pressing menacingly against your neck. Panic set in, and your mind raced through the horrifying possibilities of what this intruder might do. The chilling voice that whispered into your ear shattered any semblance of security, laying bare a sinister knowledge about your husband's actions.

"Have you found out about who your husband truly is?"

As you closed your eyes, you clung to a prayer for rescue, desperately hoping that someone, anyone, would come to your aid in this supposedly secure haven. The slight pain from the knife's pressure served as a cruel reminder of the peril you found yourself in, each second dragging like an eternity.

Summoning the courage to question the intruder, you choked out, "Who sent you?" The tightening grip around your neck conveyed a chilling refusal to answer, and the revelation hinted at a darker truth about Seungcheol, unraveling the very fabric of the reality you once believed in.

"The person who sent me wants the department store you have."

In a surreal twist, the lights flickered back on, momentarily blinding both you and your assailant. Seizing the opportunity, you instinctively flipped away from the unknown threat, your heart pounding in your ears as you sprinted towards the bedroom. The slam of the door, the metallic click of the lock, and the thudding of your own heartbeat created a cacophony of tension in the enclosed space.

As you sought the hidden gun, the room felt like a battleground, the seconds ticking away in sync with your frantic breaths. Dialing Myungho, your voice trembled with urgency, "Send police to my house, someone's trespassing and tried to hurt me!" The air became charged with a sense of impending danger as you awaited assistance, realizing that the sanctuary of your home had been shattered, leaving you vulnerable and exposed to a threat that had breached even the most intimate corners of your life.

Seungcheol's heart raced as he sped towards home, two police cars in tow. The tension in the air was palpable, and he exchanged a concerned glance with Kim Mingyu, who was navigating through the traffic while contacting the dispatcher for an alternative route. However, the gravity of the situation became evident when Mingyu's expression shifted, and their eyes met in the rearview mirror.

"They are heading to your house, sir," Mingyu relayed the alarming news.

Seungcheol's furrowed eyebrows betrayed his growing anxiety. "What do you mean?"

Mingyu swiftly removed his earpiece and pressed harder on the gas pedal. "Someone's trespassing your house and trying to hurt Mrs. Choi."

Upon arrival, Seungcheol rushed into the house, his senses heightened by the impending threat. The scene unfolded before him – you seated on the kitchen counter, Myungho tending to a wound on your neck, and police officers meticulously investigating the incident. The sight cut through Seungcheol like a knife, and his eyes locked onto yours as he approached.

Without a word, he enveloped you in his arms, a mixture of relief and concern etched across his face. The chaos in the house seemed to fade into the background as Seungcheol held you close, silently vowing to protect you from any harm that dared to breach the sanctuary you both called home.

Seungcheol's concern was evident as he gently inspected the wound on your neck, his expression softening in a mix of worry and tenderness. Faced with the undeniable proof of your vulnerability, he couldn't help but ask, "What did he do to you?"

A hesitant smile played on your lips as you replied, "So you know him..."

Myungho, ever considerate, discreetly stepped away, allowing the two of you a moment of privacy. Seungcheol's eyes remained fixed on yours, a silent acknowledgment of the tumultuous situation that had unfolded.

Pulling you into his protective embrace once again, Seungcheol's concern escalated into frustration. He directed his anger toward Mingyu, demanding to know why there wasn't proper security in place when the intrusion occurred. Mingyu bowed apologetically, promising to investigate the lapse.

As the commotion settled, Seungcheol engaged with the police officers, his anger simmering as he learned the details of the trespasser's actions. His insistence on swift justice was clear, emphasizing that whoever had harmed you should be held accountable.

Once the room cleared and additional security measures were put in place, Seungcheol finally had the chance to sit with you. As you handed him the file of the Department Store Ownership Transfer, a heavy silence filled the room. The shared understanding between you two spoke volumes, acknowledging the depth of the betrayal that had unfolded.

In that moment, the room held the weight of unspoken emotions, and Seungcheol's gaze lingered on you.

The room hung heavy with the weight of revelation as you confronted Seungcheol. The truth, once hidden in the shadows, now stood exposed, unraveling the carefully woven fabric of your marriage.

"He wants Seri Department Store," you mumbled, your arms crossed, standing defiantly before Seungcheol. Frustration radiated from you as you ran your hand through your hair, grappling with the gravity of the situation that had unfolded.

"My life," you paused, "was worth of that store!"

Seungcheol shook his head, attempting to deny the painful reality. "Baby, no..."

"Don't call me that! You had the same intention!" The words burst out from you, a sharp accusation that hung in the air. It was a yell, a rupture in the calm facade of your marriage.

"You've been lying to me..." your voice faded, replaced by hot tears streaming down your cheeks. The vulnerability you revealed was a stark contrast to the stoic persona you had been trained to adopt.

Seungcheol's throat went dry, words catching in the tangled web of emotions. He took a deep breath, his heart breaking as he witnessed you, the strong and composed figure, breaking down in front of him. Wiping your own tears away, you showed a side that was rarely seen by anyone.

In that moment, Seungcheol loathed himself for causing the tears and hated that he couldn't be the one to comfort you. "I never lied to you," he finally uttered, but the truth seemed feeble against the magnitude of the situation.

You threw a letter at him, a tangible representation of the deceit that had taken root. "Then what is it? You're trying to fool me by marrying me. You're into my property, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol's voice matched your intensity, "Yes, I was! But I've been delaying..." His tone softened, desperation lacing his words. "Because I fell for you, for real. And I've been trying to stop my uncle for the revenge."

The room echoed with Seungcheol's explanation, his vulnerability laid bare. This was a side of him you had never seen before, and in this moment, as he bared his soul, the fragile bridge between betrayal and redemption trembled in the air.

In that vulnerable moment, Seungcheol shed the facade of superiority and power that he often wore. Tonight, he laid bare his emotions, doing everything in his power to make you believe in the sincerity of his love for you.

"I'm aiming for a hotel abroad and offered him the condition that we won't involve anyone from Lee Family, from your family, including you. He agreed. But little did I know he had sent someone to hurt you." Seungcheol approached you, gently rubbing your arms before his hand traced the tender area on your neck.

"They hurt you," he declared with fiery intensity in his eyes. Seungcheol sighed, his chest filled with anger, and he closed his eyes, seeking solace in looking at your face. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry for everything."

Your hand caressed his cheek, and your lips met in a kiss that started calm and slowly transformed into something more passionate and charged with desire. As the kiss broke, leaving both of you gasping for air, his eyes opened, fixated on you.

"Promise me, this won't happen again," you whispered, and he immediately nodded. His lips sought yours again, but you playfully dodged, pulling your head away from him.

He looked at you with longing, whispering, "Baby..."

You licked your lips, making a demand, "Say that you love me."

"I love you," he replied without hesitation.

"Say that I'm more than that store." Your hands roamed to his stomach, then gradually went down to his hardness. Seungcheol groaned under your touch, "You're more than that, baby. You're worth the world," he whispered into your ear. His hands explored the warmth of your skin under your blouse, his member pressing against you.

"Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling the hem of your blouse. You nodded, and soon both of you stood there, stripped of the barriers that concealed your vulnerability.

He kissed your lips again, guiding your hands to his shoulders. "I love you, I love you so much." The words hung in the air, reaffirming the bond that transcended the complexities of the world outside.

Myungho entered your room, holding the file that contained detailed information about Choi Junggan, your husband's influential uncle who seemed to have a significant impact on Seungcheol's life since the passing of his parents.

"How about the guy who attacked me last night?" you inquired, your focus shifting from the file to Myungho. As you scanned Junggan's list of properties and business history, you nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing the extent of Junggan's influence on Seungcheol's business trajectory.

"Cops captured him. He hasn't said anything about the person who hired him. But it's definitely Choi Junggan. He's the only one who's into your property," Myungho revealed, shedding light on the tangled web of motives and alliances.

Seungcheol's revelation from the previous night suddenly made a lot more sense. While delving into the file Myungho had handed you, a realization struck you—the depth of Junggan's control over Seungcheol's life since the tragic loss of his parents when he was just a high schooler.

Understanding that Seungcheol, as the sole heir to his parents, had been manipulated by Junggan to make your family pay for something you were yet to uncover, you recognized that the only way to unveil the truth was by confronting the man himself. The file in your hands became a key to unraveling the intricate layers of a past that had been concealed for far too long.

"Could you do me a favor, Secretary Seo?" you inquired, and Myungho nodded politely, ready to assist. "What is it, Mrs. Choi?" he asked.

"Are you personally close to Kim Mingyu?" you questioned, prompting a quizzical expression from Myungho. He responded, "I guess, we regularly meet at the pub blocks away from your house."

A smile played on your lips as you outlined your request, "I need you to find out about the properties my husband has been eyeing recently, possibly around Hong Kong and Singapore. I need all the details."

Myungho, respecting your privacy, sought clarification, "May I know what this is for, ma'am?"

"I want to buy them first, before my husband could," you calmly stated, leaning back in your seat. Myungho noted the determination in your eyes and quickly understood that Choi Seungcheol had underestimated the strength he was up against.

After few hours, a familiar figure approached your office. Seungcheol, clearly agitated, entered the room after signaling Mingyu and Myungho to stay outside. Your eyes met, and you became aware that your husband, Choi Seungcheol, had an undeniable issue with anger. He took control of the switchable glass, making the room opaque, a move that intensified his presence. He looks so hot like this.

"I thought I made it clear this morning that you shouldn't be at work after what happened last night?" Seungcheol voiced his concern, frustration evident in his demeanor.

You nonchalantly replied, "I was safer here than in your house, Seungcheol," rising from your seat and approaching him.

Seungcheol sighed, massaging his temples, "Baby, please don't do anything."

Your hands gestured in confusion, "I don't do anything," you replied with a shrug.

Concerned about the dangers posed by his uncle, Seungcheol attempted to explain, "My uncle, he could be pretty dangerous."

Understanding his apprehension, you nodded, "He is. Great to hear that you and I are seeing him from the same boat."

Seungcheol stepped forward, gently grabbing your hand and placing it on his cheek. Closing his eyes, he savored the softness of your touch before pecking your hand. As he opened his eyes, a soft smile adorned his face.

"Trust me, please," he earnestly begged, "Trust me, baby. I'll take care of him."

You bit your lip, confessing, "I want to help you."

Seungcheol shook his head, "I don't want you to get hurt. You were almost... killed last night. I won't ever let that happen again."

You nodded, whispering, "I know," and offering him a reassuring smile.

Attempting to steer the conversation back to a professional tone, you asked, "What are you doing here, by the way?"

Seungcheol, catching the shift, followed suit, "I have a meeting scheduled with Mr. Lee. Surprised to learn that it wasn't you leading the meeting with investors."

Concerned for your well-being, he inquired, "Are you okay?"

You assured him with a nod and a quick response, "I'm totally fine. I have a business trip to attend; I'll be home pretty late tonight."

Seungcheol nodded in understanding, seeking more details, "Where to?"

With a calm smile, you disclosed, "Singapore."

"Okay, you got my attention now..." Junggan's voice resonated from the phone speaker as Myungho handed you his phone, subtly mouthing, "Choi Junggan."

You chuckled upon hearing his first words, "Great to know that. You started it first by sending a poor man into my house," you replied, gazing out the window at the nighttime view of Incheon as the plane descended.

Junggan's laughter echoed through the call, "What a feisty girl! Yeah, Seungcheol has captured him, hasn't he? He was honest when he said he loves you."

A smile touched your lips, "Why? Is it hurting you? That your 'one and only doll' finally betrayed you? He's not a doll, Choi Junggan. He's your nephew."

Junggan scoffed, getting straight to the point, "What do you want?"

"Stop controlling my husband, and I'll give you the hotel," you proposed, offering a straightforward agreement.

You could hear the old man laughing, "You really bought a hotel just for my nephew?"

You sighed, "He's not just your nephew; he's my husband."

A sly smile crept into Junggan's voice, "But his worth is more than a hotel, isn't he?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his audacity. Even in this situation, with you acquiring properties he had his eyes on in Singapore, Junggan remained arrogantly composed. The negotiation had just begun, and it seemed like dealing with him would be a game of wit and strategy.

"A hotel and 3% of your department store shares?" Junggan negotiated in a sly tone.

"Here's the thing, Mr. Choi," you paused, "I actually want to give you the department store. I thought about that, honestly." You could sense his excitement at the prospect. "However, I don't think my late mother-in-law would be happy if I give her precious building to someone who has been very deceitful and manipulative toward her son, Mr. Choi," you continued, and your words resulted in a moment of silence.

A confident smile played on your lips; you knew you had him.

There was a pregnant pause before he asked, "How do you know?" in a tone that betrayed his vulnerable point—Seungcheol's mother, a person Junggan held very dearly in his heart.

"I have my sources," you said, "just like you have Eunji as your source."

Before the phone call could reach its conclusion, Myungho subtly indicated that it was time to go, as Seungcheol and your grandfather were eagerly awaiting you for a late dinner.

"You need to decide, Mr. Choi. Time is ticking," you said before decisively ending the call. The negotiation had just begun, and you felt a sense of satisfaction at holding the upper hand.

The starry night welcomed your landing at the international airport, and you were ready to disembark when Myungho suddenly announced that he had left an important file on his seat. He urged you to go ahead since your car was already waiting outside. Unusual for Myungho, who typically had other business to attend to, you signaled your new driver to head home immediately.

As you traversed the city streets, a notification alerted you to a text from Myungho. With a sigh, you muttered, "He won't ever let me rest," before opening the message. A shiver ran down your spine as Myungho requested that you inform Seokmin, one of Seungcheol's drivers, that Myungho would be waiting for him in his office since he couldn't reach him personally.

You put your phone down, inhaling a heavy sigh silently. Seokmin was assigned to drive you home, but whoever was behind the wheel of this car was certainly not Seokmin. You refrained from looking at him, sensing that he had been eyeing you through the rearview mirror. In response, you swiftly sent Myungho your location with a concise message:

"Send me help."

Seungcheol's heart raced as Mingyu delivered the alarming news of your kidnapping on the way home from the airport. His mind immediately pointed fingers at his own uncle, considering the recent threatening call and the ominous words echoing in his ears: "Betray me again, I'll let you know the consequence."

He had been cautious, attempting to shield you from the dangerous business involving Choi Junggan. However, your determination to help him and seek revenge had taken an unexpected turn. When Mingyu, panic-stricken, revealed that you had purchased the property intended for Seungcheol's uncle, the pieces fell into place. You aimed to confront Junggan directly.

Seungcheol had just spoken with his uncle an hour ago, and now the shocking news of your kidnapping left him reeling. It appeared Junggan had anticipated Seungcheol's plan, orchestrating a betrayal that ran deeper than Seungcheol initially thought. The threat wasn't just about revenge; it was a move calculated to protect his money laundering activities.

During Seungcheol's time as Junggan's assistant, he had diligently documented evidence of his uncle's illicit activities. Those notes and additional proof could be the leverage needed to finally put Junggan behind bars. As a mix of fear and determination surged through Seungcheol, he knew he had to act swiftly to save you and dismantle the dangerous web his uncle had woven.

As Seungcheol continued to make urgent calls to his lawyer, Mingyu updated him on the situation. The news of Seokmin found unconscious at the airport heightened the tension. Mingyu, sitting in the driver's seat, couldn't hide his frustration as he chuckled angrily. Your location, frozen for the past 10 minutes, signaled that the kidnappers might have discarded your phone.

"Myungho has informed the police to track your wife's location. They must have thrown her phone," Mingyu reported, the concern for your safety evident in his voice.

Seungcheol sighed, realizing the urgency of the situation. In a moment of clarity, he remembered placing a GPS on your wedding ring, a precaution due to your tendency not to update him about your whereabouts. Swiftly, he shared your latest location with Mingyu, who promptly relayed the information to Myungho and the authorities. The race against time had begun, and Seungcheol couldn't shake off the fear that gripped his heart, praying that they would reach you in time.

"Sir.."

Seungcheol's heartbeat quickened as Mingyu's revelation about Myungho having something important to share reached his ears. The car's atmosphere shifted into an air of tension, each passing second increasing Seungcheol's anxiety. Mingyu, with a look of concern on his face, executed the announcement with a gravity that made Seungcheol's gut twist.

As the speaker crackled to life, Myungho's voice trembled slightly, an unusual undertone of nervousness underscoring his usually composed demeanor. Seungcheol's instincts sharpened, sensing that whatever news was about to be delivered carried weight.

"Sir, I'm sorry for not telling you this before," Myungho began, the apologetic tone heightening the tension in the car. A heavy sigh punctuated the pause before he revealed the bombshell, "But your wife..."

The moment hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications. Seungcheol's mind raced, contemplating what revelation could follow, unaware that the news about to unfold would reshape the stakes of the impending rescue mission.

"She's pregnant."

Seungcheol's heart skipped a beat as the revelation about your pregnancy echoed through the speaker in the car. The gravity of the situation suddenly multiplied, intertwining the fear for your safety with the concern for the life growing inside you. The realization struck him like a lightning bolt, and for a moment, he felt a mix of emotions—fear, panic, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

Mingyu, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, glanced at Seungcheol with worry etched on his face. Seungcheol took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts.

"Myungho, I... Thank you for letting me know," Seungcheol finally responded, his voice carrying a mixture of shock and concern. The news added an extra layer of urgency to the already critical situation. The thought of you, pregnant and in danger, fueled his determination to bring you back safely.

"Let's focus on getting her safely," Seungcheol instructed, his tone more resolute. The drive to rescue you became not only a mission to save his wife but also an imperative to protect the life growing within you.

Opposite to the confidence in his words, Seungcheol's hands tightened on his phone. A sharp pang of guilt surging through him like a current. The revelation of your pregnancy, a joyous occasion under different circumstances, now bore the weight of his past actions. Learning that you hadn't shared this significant news with him triggered an ache in his chest, a feeling of betrayal intertwined with remorse.

As he absorbed the reality of your pregnancy, Seungcheol couldn't escape the haunting guilt that you might perceive his lack of knowledge as a testament to your distrust. He couldn't shake the notion that your choice to keep this life-altering secret from him was a consequence of the distrust seeded by his initial motives for marrying you. The revelation of his original intentions – driven by revenge against your family – added a layer of complexity to his guilt, a realization that his past deeds were casting a long shadow over your relationship.

The darkness of the night seemed to mirror the turmoil within Seungcheol's mind. He wanted to protect you, cherish you, and share in the joy of impending parenthood, but the ghosts of his actions stood as barriers between them. The weight of guilt pressed on him, magnified by the realization that your silence might be a form of self-preservation.

In the confined space of the car, the echo of Myungho's revelation resonated with Seungcheol's internal struggle. Your trust, or lack thereof, became a tangible force, a barrier he needed to dismantle. As he raced against time to rescue you, Seungcheol grappled with the urgency to bridge the emotional distance that had unwittingly grown between you. He yearned not just to save you physically but to rebuild the trust that now seemed more fragile than ever.

The phone rang, and Seungcheol's heart skipped a beat as he saw the caller ID – his uncle. Answering with a trembling hand, he braced himself for the chilling exchange that awaited him.

His uncle's voice, dripping with malevolence, cut through the silence of the car. "Seungcheol, my boy, I see you're on your way to retrieve your dear wife."

Seungcheol's grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Let her go, uncle. This ends tonight."

A sinister chuckle resonated through the line. "Oh, but my dear nephew, it's just the beginning. You see, you've been quite the disappointment, trying to dismantle my plans."

The image of you, bound and unconscious, flashed on Seungcheol's phone screen, and his breath caught in his throat. His uncle's voice continued, each word a venomous threat. "I've sent you a little preview of what's to come. A taste of the pain she'll endure unless you comply with my demands."

Seungcheol's jaw clenched, a mixture of fear and rage fueling his determination. "Enough of this, Junggan. I won't let you harm her any further. Tell me what you want."

His uncle reveled in the power he held. "Simple, my boy. You come alone, or she pays the price. I've arranged a charming little place for our reunion. You have twenty minutes, Seungcheol."

The connection severed, leaving Seungcheol with a chilling ultimatum. The car accelerated, racing against time, each passing second amplifying the desperation in his heart. The road blurred beneath the car's tires, mirroring the whirlwind of emotions raging within him.

In the dimly lit room where you were held captive, your unconscious form became a pawn in this deadly game. The timer ticked down, a countdown to a confrontation that would determine not only your fate but the unraveling of a family's twisted legacy.

Seungcheol arrived at the designated location, the eerie silence of the abandoned building sending a shiver down his spine. He motioned for everyone to stay back, keeping a solemn promise to Junggan, who had threatened unspeakable harm if he defied the rules. Mingyu stood by his side, holding back your team and Myungho as Seungcheol ventured into the decaying structure by himself.

The building exhaled a musty breath, its walls stained with the remnants of a dark past. Shadows danced ominously in the corners, and the creaking floorboards echoed through the desolate halls. The air hung heavy with tension, a palpable reminder of the impending confrontation.

As hedelved deeper into the labyrinthine structure, the distant sound of a knife being sharpened reached Seungcheol's ears. Each scrape against the blade reverberated through the corridors, amplifying the sinister ambiance of the place. The echoes seemed to mock him, a haunting reminder of the imminent danger that lurked in the shadows.

Your captor's sadistic preparation was evident, the chilling sounds intertwining with the apprehensive silence, painting a grim picture of the confrontation ahead. Seungcheol tightened his grip on the makeshift weapon he had grabbed on his way in, steeling himself for the horrors that awaited him within the dimly lit recesses of the old building.

In the eerie ambiance of the dilapidated building, Seungcheol cautiously followed the echoes of his uncle's cold welcome, each step a tense reminder of the impending confrontation. The air was heavy with anticipation as he approached the dimly lit room, the shadows casting an ominous backdrop to the unfolding drama.

As Seungcheol entered, the scene before him unveiled a tableau of despair. There you were, seated vulnerably on a worn-out chair, your eyes reflecting a mix of fear and relief at the sight of him. A masked figure, an ominous silhouette in the dim light, stood menacingly beside you, wielding a gleaming knife at your neck—a silent threat that echoed through the room.

Junggan, concealed in shadows, initiated the negotiation, his demands echoing with a sinister undertone. The metallic edge of the blade against your skin served as a cruel incentive for Seungcheol to heed his uncle's commands. A choice lingered in the air—sacrifice his empire or risk harm befalling you.

Seungcheol, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, dared to question his uncle's malevolence. "Why, Uncle? What satisfaction do you derive from causing such pain? Is revenge worth the torment you're inflicting?"

In response, Junggan unraveled a tapestry of resentment and bitterness. He confessed that his hatred stemmed from the belief that Seungcheol wasn't his son but the offspring of the brother who had allegedly stripped him of everything.

Seungcheol, eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and desperation, couldn't fathom the depth of his uncle's resentment. "Is this the only way you see to settle your grievances, Uncle? To use me, to hurt her? What did she ever do to you?"

Junggan, his voice dripping with venom, responded with a sinister chuckle. "You've always been the pawn, Seungcheol. A pawn in my game for justice. Your existence is a constant reminder of what was taken from me."

As the masked figure tightened their grip on the knife, you winced, and Seungcheol's resolve solidified. "If it's revenge you seek, hurt me, not her. She has nothing to do with your vendetta."

A wicked smile played on Junggan's lips. "But that's where you're wrong, Seungcheol. She's entwined in this web of revenge just by being a part of your life. The Lee family took everything from me, and now, through you, I'll take everything from them."

Seungcheol's fists clenched, grappling with the reality of his uncle's malevolence. "There has to be another way, Uncle. We can find a resolution without resorting to this brutality. I'm willing to face consequences, but spare her from this."

Junggan, unmoved by Seungcheol's plea, continued to press his demands. "Relinquish your shares and your position, or her suffering will be just the beginning. Your family will pay for the pain they've inflicted on mine."

In the tense exchange, Seungcheol's mind raced, searching for a solution that would save you from the impending danger. The cold metallic resonance of a sharpening knife underscored the urgency of his decision, knowing that every passing moment brought you closer to the brink of harm.

The reminiscence of past grievances escaped from Junggan's mouth—the CEO status taken by Seungcheol's father, the love of his life, Seungcheol's mother, passed away after an accident made by Lee Family after a debt they couldn't afford. Betrayed by the nephew he saw as a means to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his, Junggan revealed that Seungcheol's actions had thwarted his grand plan for vengeance, fueling a burning desire to settle the score against a family he deemed responsible for his life's misfortunes. Desperate to thwart the unfolding tragedy that hung heavily in the air, his voice quivered with a potent mix of fear, anger, and an enduring undercurrent of love that defied the years of familial discord.

Seungcheol's plea cut through the tense silence, the gravity of the situation reflected in the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Uncle, you can't let this happen. There has to be another way. I won't let you harm her," Seungcheol implored, his eyes betraying a deep-seated concern for you, the woman he loved.

Junggan, shrouded in malevolence, reveled in the chaos he had orchestrated. His response dripped with vindictiveness.

"Seungcheol, you were always naive. You're a mother's son indeed, but you've betrayed your bloodline by siding with the Lees. Her family took everything from me!" Junggan's voice echoed through the desolate space, carrying the weight of years of perceived injustice.

Seungcheol, clinging to a glimmer of hope, pleaded for reason.

"I can't change the past, but causing harm won't right those wrongs. This cycle needs to end," he urged, his gaze unwavering despite the ominous figure holding a knife to your neck.

Junggan, driven by a festering bitterness, pressed on with his ultimatum.

"Your father and your in-laws stripped me of everything. Now, you'll pay the price unless you give up your shares and the CEO position," Junggan declared, the shadows accentuating the grim determination etched on his face.

Seungcheol, sensing an opening, sought common ground in an attempt to alter the course of events.

"I know you loved my mother. Is this what she would want? Revenge? Darkness?" he questioned, hoping to kindle a spark of humanity in his uncle's hardened heart.

A moment of hesitation flickered in Junggan's eyes, caught between the allure of vengeance and the echoes of a love that once defined him.

Seungcheol seized the moment, his voice resolute as he proposed an alternative.

"Let's find a way out of this darkness, together."

Seungcheol, desperation etched across his face, pleaded with his uncle. "See me as my mother's son then, as someone's son you truly loved. Is this what she would have wanted for us? For me to cause harm to the ones I care about?"

Junggan's cold gaze wavered for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of humanity breaking through the hardened exterior. Seungcheol seized the opportunity, buying precious seconds, knowing you were attempting to free yourself from the restraints.

"I know you've suffered, Uncle. I can't change the past, but I refuse to perpetuate this cycle of pain. Let her go, and we can find a way to heal, to break free from this darkness."

The room hung in a tense pause, Seungcheol's words echoing as he desperately sought a crack in his uncle's resolve. As you managed to loosen the ropes around your hands, you prepared to make your move.

Unable to sway Junggan, Seungcheol saw your decisive action. In a split second, you turned the tables on the masked assailant behind you, catching them off guard. Seungcheol seized the distraction, lunging at his uncle, attempting to overpower him and put an end to the sinister plan unfolding in that dimly lit room.

The deafening sound of a gunshot pierced the air, sending shockwaves through the dimly lit room. In a twist of fate, the bullet veered off course, sparing you but hitting the masked assailant square in the chest. The mysterious figure crumpled to the ground, revealing the chaotic tableau that unfolded before you.

Seungcheol, reacting with primal instinct, unleashed a barrage of punches on his uncle, Choi Junggan, driven by a potent mix of fury and the need to protect you. The room echoed with the collision of fists against flesh, a visceral symphony of retribution.

Heart pounding, you sprinted toward the chaotic scene, brandishing the knife you had managed to acquire. Desperation fueled your every step as you aimed for Junggan, determined to end the threat he posed. But the abrupt sound of another gunshot halted your advance, freezing you in place.

A searing pain gripped Seungcheol's stomach as he staggered back, a look of disbelief in his eyes. The room seemed to warp as your husband, once a pillar of strength, struggled to maintain consciousness. Panic clawed at your throat as you rushed to his side, frantically calling his name.

Meanwhile, the room buzzed with the arrival of law enforcement, finally catching up to Choi Junggan's malevolent pursuits. He was apprehended, the weight of his crimes hanging heavy as he was led away in custody. Mingyu and Myungho, responding swiftly, joined the chaotic scene.

Fingers trembling, you cupped Seungcheol's face, desperately trying to keep him conscious. The room spun, an unwelcome dance of disorientation as you fought against panic threatening to consume you. Mingyu and Myungho, sensing the urgency, swiftly called for paramedics, their voices a cacophony in the chaotic aftermath.

Seungcheol's eyes fluttered, struggling to focus on your face. The pain etched across his features intensified your desperation. "Stay with me, Seungcheol," you pleaded, your voice cracking with a mixture of fear and determination.

Myungho ushered the paramedics into the room, and their swift, practiced movements conveyed a sense of urgency. Assessing Seungcheol's condition, they worked efficiently to stabilize him. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the lingering tension in the room as they set to work.

Mingyu, his expression etched with concern, hovered nearby, a silent pillar of support. The paramedics, clad in their clinical attire, exchanged urgent words, and the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment became a lifeline, a fragile connection to hope amid the chaos.

As Seungcheol was carefully placed onto a stretcher, your hand found his, the warmth of your touch a reassurance. "You're going to be okay," you whispered, more a declaration to yourself than to him, as if willing the words to manifest into reality.

The next day dawned with an incessant buzz of media activity outside the hospital, a swarm of journalists hungry for details about the tumultuous events that unfolded the night before. Cameras clicked, microphones were thrust forward, and questions were fired in rapid succession, creating a chaotic backdrop to the already tense situation.

Mingyu and Myungho, the steadfast guardians in this storm, ensured you were shielded from the relentless media frenzy. Their combined efforts allowed you moments of respite, a precious chance to attend to Seungcheol's side while navigating the whirlwind of investigations and inquiries.

The hospital became a temporary sanctuary, its walls offering both refuge and scrutiny. You moved through the corridors with the weight of exhaustion and concern etched on your face. The ordeal had left a lasting impact, and the layers of shock and fear demanded a toll on your stamina.

Mingyu and Myungho orchestrated a delicate balance, managing the influx of information while insulating you from the relentless bombardment of reporters. Their dedication ensured that you could focus on being by Seungcheol's side, a quiet force in the midst of chaos.

Seungcheol remained unconscious, a silent figure in the sterile hospital room. The aftereffects of the surgery lingered in the air, and the medical equipment surrounding him hummed a somber melody of monitoring and healing. As you sat by his bedside, your gaze flitted between the rhythmic blips on the monitor and the unconscious figure before you.

In the periphery, Mingyu and Myungho dealt with legal matters, fielding inquiries, and liaising with the authorities to ensure justice prevailed. The investigation into Choi Junggan's malevolent actions continued, unveiling a tapestry of deception and betrayal.

The quiet hum of the hospital room enveloped you as you maintained a vigilant watch over Seungcheol, waiting for the moment when he would stir from his unconscious state. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, creating an atmosphere of hushed expectancy.

Days turned into nights, and your presence by Seungcheol's side remained unwavering. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors provided a constant backdrop, a metronome marking the passage of time in the silent room. Mingyu and Myungho, the ever-dedicated allies, took turns supporting you, ensuring you had moments to rest amidst the persistent vigil.

Then, a subtle change began to unfold. The stillness in the room seemed to shift, and Seungcheol's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the muted hospital lighting. The quiet anticipation gave way to a surge of relief as his gaze met yours.

For a moment, silence enveloped the room—a tableau where words seemed insufficient to capture the depth of emotions. You reached out, your hand finding his, and a faint smile played on Seungcheol's lips. The shared understanding transcended spoken language—a silent acknowledgment of the trials endured and the connection that persevered.

"My love," Seungcheol's voice, though weak, carried a resonance that resonated with the shared experiences of the tumultuous days. The weight of unspoken words lingered in the air—apologies, gratitude, and the silent promise of a shared path forward.

Mingyu and Myungho, attuned to the subtle shifts in the room, discreetly stepped outside, giving you the space for this intimate reunion. The hospital surroundings faded into the background as you and Seungcheol navigated the unspoken intricacies of the journey you had weathered together.

The initial frailty in Seungcheol's voice strengthened, and he began to piece together the fragments of what had transpired during his unconscious interlude. As you recounted the events, Seungcheol's expressions mirrored a spectrum of emotions—from disbelief to anguish and, ultimately, a steely resolve.

Seungcheol's concern radiated as he carefully examined you, his eyes searching for any signs of injury. Your sigh carried a blend of exasperation and affection, and a soft slap on his arm punctuated your reassurance.

"Stop worrying me! You got shot, but luckily it didn't hit anything vital," you said, your words laced with relief. Yet, as the weight of the recent events pressed down, a tear found its way down your cheek, betraying the underlying emotions.

Seungcheol, witnessing your vulnerability, regarded you with a mix of disbelief and tenderness. "Hey, I'm okay now," he gently assured, reaching out to wipe away the escaping tears. "I'm fine, just some pain in my abs. Don't cry."

As Seungcheol's fingers brushed against your cheek, attempting to alleviate your tears, a nuanced connection unfolded. Your laughter, tinged with both relief and lingering anxiety, echoed in the hospital room. Seungcheol's fingers delicately wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that transcended the spoken words.

"I thought... I thought I almost lost you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. The emotions of the past days surged to the surface, and you found solace in Seungcheol's reassuring presence.

Seungcheol's thumb brushed against your cheek, capturing the stray teardrops. "You won't lose me. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." His words carried a depth that resonated with the shared experiences, the trials that had tested the foundation of your relationship.

The intertwining of your fingers created a silent pact—an unspoken vow that traversed beyond the confines of the hospital room. The fragility of the moment, juxtaposed against the resilience you both exhibited, rendered the air charged with a profound understanding.

As the hospital surroundings faded into the background, you and Seungcheol navigated the uncharted territory of post-trauma healing. The physical wounds, while mending, paled in comparison to the emotional labyrinth that lay ahead.

Seungcheol's voice, a soothing cadence, broke the quietness. "We'll get through this, together. No more secrets, no more hidden agendas. Just us, facing whatever comes our way."

A week later, as Seungcheol was discharged from the hospital, you embarked on a dual mission—preparing a grand welcoming party for his return and orchestrating a surprise announcement of your pregnancy. The air was charged with anticipation, both for the joyous reunion and the revelation that would shape the next chapter of your lives.

Amidst managing company affairs and attending to Seungcheol's recovery, you meticulously planned the party, envisioning the moment when you would share the news with your closest circle. The guest list included your parents, Mingyu, and Myungho, each holding a special place in your journey.

Unbeknownst to you, Mingyu and Myungho had discreetly informed Seungcheol about the impending announcement, adding an extra layer of excitement to the occasion. They playfully briefed him on the need to feign surprise later, turning a heartfelt moment into a delightful act.

As Seungcheol made his way home, a swirl of nerves accompanied his anticipation. The idea of feigning surprise added a humorous twist to the heartfelt revelation, highlighting the camaraderie that had formed between him, Mingyu, and Myungho.

The echoes of laughter and warmth from the party venue set the stage for the surprise, with decorations and joyful chatter creating an atmosphere of celebration. You, with a radiant smile, welcomed everyone, your eyes holding the secret you were about to unveil.

Seungcheol, aware of the impending revelation, played his part with an endearing mix of anxiety and excitement. His eyes sparkled with the anticipation of a scripted surprise, concealing the joy that brewed within.

The party unfolded seamlessly, filled with genuine happiness, heartfelt congratulations, and a shared toast for the growing family. Amidst the festivities, Seungcheol's feigned surprise added a touch of playfulness, creating an unforgettable memory that blended sincerity with a lighthearted twist.

As you stood together, announcing the impending arrival of a new member to your family, the room brimmed with love and shared joy. The surprise element, a collaborative effort with Mingyu and Myungho, added a layer of laughter to the celebration, underscoring the support and unity that defined your close-knit circle.

As the echoes of laughter and celebration subsided, the warm glow of the party lingered in the air. The night wore on, and eventually, you found yourselves in the quiet intimacy of your home. The day's excitement had settled, leaving only the serene presence of you and Seungcheol, cuddling on the bed.

Seungcheol, ever the sweet and caring husband, wrapped his arms around you, creating a cocoon of comfort. The genuine happiness from the party still radiated from both of you, making the shared moments even more precious.

Hours ago, Seungcheol had brilliantly acted out the surprise of your pregnancy announcement, and now, in the quiet solitude of your bedroom, his tenderness shone through. He whispered words of love and anticipation, expressing his joy at the prospect of becoming a father. Every touch and caress conveyed the depth of his feelings, creating a cherished connection between you two.

"You know, Seungcheol," you began, your voice carrying a feigned hurt, "you didn't have to pretend to be surprised about the pregnancy. I know you already knew back in the hospital."

Seungcheol's expression shifted from affectionate to a mix of surprise and amusement. His eyes met yours, registering your playful accusation. You continued, maintaining the facade of being a little upset.

"I appreciate the effort, but I would have loved if you asked me about it in person," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Seungcheol, realizing the playful charade, chuckled softly. "You caught me," he admitted, a sheepish smile gracing his lips. "I just wanted to go along with the surprise, make it special for you."

You let out a melodious laugh, the earlier faux-disappointment dissolving into shared amusement.

Seungcheol, still holding you close, caressed your cheek and spoke with a sincerity that touched your heart. "I just want every moment, every announcement, to be special for you, my love. Our journey together, especially with our little one on the way, means everything to me."

You smiled, your heart brimming with love for the man beside you. "And it is special, Seungcheol. More special than any surprise. I'm grateful for every moment we share."

He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, sealing the sentiment with affection. "I love you, more than words can express."

"I love you too, Seungcheol," you whispered, cherishing the quiet closeness of the night and the promises it held for your growing family. The future, once shrouded in uncertainty, now felt full of hope and the enduring strength of your bond.

As you both drifted into a peaceful sleep, the echo of those three words lingered in the room, a sweet lullaby that embraced you in the warmth of love and the anticipation of a beautiful journey ahead.

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