#like there is so much more drama when it's the other way round | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stllmnstr · 4 months

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easy mode — a lee heeseung drabble

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: brother’s best friend au

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, (brief, non descriptive) vomit mention, veeeeery suggestive (but no explicit content/smut), sorry feminism I let heeseung win this round

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Lee Heeseung likes to do things the easy way.

It’s not that he’s lazy, just... efficient. A fan of the path of least resistance. He knows how to pick his battles and does so sparingly.

Heeseung minds his own business, keeps his eyes on the path in front of him and rarely lets them stray. And he definitely, definitely never pokes his nose into other people’s problems.

It’s a philosophy that keeps his head on straight, that allows his friendships to remain low-maintenance and sans drama. It’s what’s kept Jay at his side for the last fifteen years, even through the trials and tribulations of elementary school playground altercations, puberty-fueled fights in the middle school locker room, and most recently, the frustrating misalignment of their post-graduation work schedules.

Four years ago, Heeseung thought a bachelor’s degree would be his ticket to success, not a soul-sucking nine-to-five that leaves him itching for a drink or three most Friday nights. Luckily for him, Jay’s in the same boat.

But tonight, sitting next to his best friend on his favorite slightly wobbly bar stool, Heeseung almost misses the monotony of their usual Friday evening happy hours.

He’s nursing his third beer, which would usually go down like cold water, even though time and tipsiness have turned it lukewarm. Tonight, though, Heeseung’s eyes keep wandering towards the same corner table just over Jay’s shoulder.

And every time they do, the muscle in his jaw strains a little further. The beer on his tongue tastes a little more bitter.

Heeseung hates making things complicated. He doesn’t get involved. He doesn’t. But–

“Are you gonna do something about that?”

On the adjacent bar stool, Jay glances at Heeseung. “About what?”

Heeseung just keeps his eyes trained on that table, that spot over Jay’s shoulder.

Picking up on the hint even through the pleasant haze in his mind, Jay turns his gaze to follow Heeseung’s nonverbal cue. It takes him only a matter of seconds to locate what has his best friend in such a mood. Or rather, who. Although Jay isn’t quite sure why.

He’s digging for clarification when he looks back at his friend. “What do you mean? Did she do something weird?” It wouldn’t be exactly unlike his younger sister to do something slightly embarrassing in public.

Heeseung’s jaw just tightens further, betraying his annoyance. Finally, he puts words to his irritation, saves Jay from his suspense. “You’re gonna let that idiot put his hands all over your little sister in the middle of the bar?”

Jay frowns, turns over his shoulder once again to make sure he isn’t seeing things. He’s not. From this angle, at least, Sunghoon’s hands are at a perfectly respectable distance from you. Not that Jay could do much about it either way.

He tells Heeseung as much. “What am I supposed to do? Drag her out by her ear and force her to join a convent? Ship her off to a girls only boarding school?” Jay laughs humorlessly. He’s not exactly thrilled that you and your friends chose to patronize the same bar as him and Heeseung tonight, but he doesn’t want to linger on it either. In fact, he doesn’t want to do anything but forget his woes this evening, drown his sorrows in overpriced pints of whatever’s on tap. He’s perfectly happy with his back turned towards you. Out of sigh, out of mind and all that. “She’s twenty-two.”

And that wasn’t what Heeseung was suggesting exactly, but now that Jay mentions it…

“You’re okay with Park trying to play tonsil tennis with her then?”

“Dude,” Jay winces, setting his beer down on the bar, stomach suddenly queasy. “Gross. That’s still my little sister.”

Which is exactly the card Heeseung is hoping he’ll play. But all Jay does is sigh. If Heeseung didn’t know better, he’d think the exasperation was directed at him instead of the loser he’s pretty sure is currently trying to make himself Jay’s future brother-in-law.

Jay checks over his shoulder one final time for good measure. It confirms whatever he’s looking for. Mostly the fact that Park Sunghoon’s lips are too busy cracking mediocre jokes to be making sloppy passes at his sister in public.

Hoping to put it to rest once and for all, at least for tonight, he turns back to Heeseung. “Besides, it’s Sunghoon,” Jay reasons. He finds it in himself to reach for his beer again. “She’s known him since preschool. He’s practically like a second brother to her.” Jay takes a sip, misreading the rise in Heeseung’s agitation as familial affection. Trying to soothe it over, he concedes with a nod, “Or third, I guess. I’ll let you be her second.”

Like always, Heeseung lets it go. Goes with the flow, at least on the outside.

But even if he weren’t so committed to never rocking the boat, this is hardly the time or place to correct Jay’s assumptions that his feelings towards you are anything but brotherly. That, he decides, will have to be a revelation for another time. Preferably in a situation where Heeseung is well out of arm’s reach and Jay is in restraints of some sort.

Those, after all, are the only circumstances in which he could ever disclose just how decidedly not brotherly his feelings towards you are.

In fact, they’re a lot more aligned with that stupid game you used to make him play as kids. The one where you put on the white dress you’d gotten from your cousin as a hand-me-down, an assortment of grape juice, finger paint, and pasta sauce stains scattered along the hemline. The one where you’d gather a bunch of dandelions from your overgrown backyard and call them a beautiful bouquet. The one where you’d live out all your grandest six-year-old dreams of walking down the aisle towards a handsome prince with the latest Kidz Bop rendition of whatever love song was most popular on the radio setting the mood in the back.

The one where you’d drag Heeseung away from the player number two console, much to Jay’s unending annoyance, and force him to play the part of your groom. Even at six, you were a force to be reckoned with. An argument-winning fiend that even your older brother could rarely best in a fight.

Heeseung played along, more than anything, because he was scared to face your wrath if he declined. But he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t feel a little funny in his chest every time he watched you walk down a makeshift aisle made with your mother’s missing tablecloth.

And Heeseung doesn’t give a shit how long you’ve known Sunghoon. After all, what does Sunghoon know about your childhood dream to get married in a garden full of roses? Judging from the way it looks like he keeps trying to get you to try his drink, he doesn't even know you can’t stand the taste of Coke mixed with liquor.

But Heeseung knows. He was there the night you developed the aversion. The night you decided bottom shelf tequila and the soda you snuck from your parent’s fridge were your best friends for the evening after junior prom. The night he held your hair as it came back up a few hours later.

And he was there for the rest of it, too. All the little moments, the big moments, and everything in between that spun the tapestry of your formative years. The day you finally got your braces off and didn’t stop smiling for three weeks straight. The time you sprained your ankle trying to hide Jay’s favorite pair of sneakers in the alarmingly tall tree in your backyard. The night you cried for four hours straight when you found out Jake Sim from biology was a big, fat, liar that was indeed texting other girls for homework answers.

There may have been moments, tangled up in that swirling mix of memories, when Heeseung felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection for you. A desire to protect you from the world and a distinct sort of pride when he inevitably failed and you rose to the challenge anyway.

But Heeseung also remembers what it felt like to stand across from you as you recited your six-year-old brain’s attempt at recreating marriage vows, and he thinks he never really stood a chance.

Glancing over Jay’s shoulder again, Heeseung watches as you lean a little further into Sunghoon, straining to hear him over the cacophony in the bar. And the anger he feels in his gut is not brotherly in the slightest. Nor is the red, hot, scalding jealousy that burns his throat every time he forces himself to swallow it down.

Searching for a distraction, he busies himself with his beer once again, lets Jay’s unwanted evaluations fall to the wayside for the time being. Immersed in the dregs of his own despair, he almost misses it. The flash of movement as you slide out from your seat next to Sunghoon.

Heeseung mumbles some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom that Jay only partially hears before he’s stepping off of his bar stool, beer forgotten on the counter behind him.

Your footsteps are easy to follow as he traces the predictable path you forge to the opposite corner of the bar. Heeseung’s bathroom excuse was a good one, he’s pleased to discover, once he realizes that’s precisely where he’ll be meeting you.

The line is long, but it moves quickly. Only a handful of minutes have passed when you emerge again. This time, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give you the chance to walk back and make him watch you from a distance for the rest of the evening.

Instead, he wraps the skin of your wrist in long, precise fingers, drags you to the adjacent hallway where it’s empty, quiet. Secluded. Away from any wandering eyes or unwanted ears.

Any protests of yours are overtaken by surprise, and by the time you finally find them again, they’re replaced by questions.

Heeseung may be a captain of a steady ship, a firm believer in the merits of smooth sailing, but he’s never been able to resist the urge of liminal spaces like these. Moments with enough plausible deniability that Jay won’t have a reason to give him a bloody nose or threaten his life if he so much as looks at his little sister again. Exchanges that he hopes will linger with you long after the two of you have parted ways.

Desire for ambiguity aside, the position he puts you in is compromising no matter how you spin it. Your back against the wall, and Heeseung leans over you, cages you in like he’s after something other than your answers, something more. But the gap between your bodies is deliberate, a way for him to backtrack if the situation calls for it, an out if he needs it.

Your wrist is still in his grip, light but demanding, when he finally says, “Park Sunghoon? Really?”

“What?” You hope you can blame the obvious breathlessness in your voice on shock. “What are you–?”

Heeseung won’t leave you wondering for long. “You think he can handle you?” With the way you’re wrapped up in Heeseung’s hold, the challenge, the comparison is apparent.

Your shock morphs. Hardens. “Handle me? Am I a wild animal? I don’t need to be han–”

And, oh, this is Heeseung’s favorite kind of tightrope. His very best balancing act. He loves it, thrives on it, revels in it. This exchange of heated words that never go anyway but to your head. He hopes you’re seeing fucking stars.

Heeseung leans an inch closer. He’s breaching dangerous territory. He’ll blame it on the alcohol if he has to. Glancing at your eyes, holding your gaze, he doesn’t think he will.

“Who said anything about you needing it?” He’s so close you feel his breath on your cheekbone, ghosting across your temple. “I’m talking about what you want.”

Something unreadable flickers through your gaze before you’re masking it with contempt. As if Heeseung is nothing but a pest, a fly to swat at until it stops buzzing. “Awful presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Heeseung only grins. “I don’t know.” He leans in closer. “There are a few ways we could find out, though.”

If your breath stutters, you’ll disguise it as a scoff. “Pray tell.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Heeseung inclines his head in a mockery of an apology. For a moment, he lets his eyes do what they want. You feel the heat they track in their path from your nose to your chin back up to your molten gaze. “I’d rather show you, and I don’t think I can do any of the things I want in public.”

You hate the way he does this. The way he never says what he means. The way he skirts around things with such heavy footsteps but still leaves you feeling foolish for drawing obvious conclusions. The way your heartbeat stutters regardless. But tonight, you’ll hold firm. If he wants anything from you, he’ll have to spell it out. “What are you saying?”

Heeseung is as evasive as always. “I’m saying that Sunghoon’s too nice for you.” There’s a hard edge in his eyes when he adds, “You’ll eat him alive and still be begging for more.”

Fine. If he wants to play games, then you’ll roll the dice too. Make scathing comments and heated taunts with whatever numbers you land on. This time, it’s you that leans in. “Should I make sure to find you, then? When I’m all done with him?”

You can’t tell if he’s furious or the most delighted you’ve ever seen him. “Careful,” Heeseung breathes. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing at.”

“I’m not playing at anything.” It’s a blatant lie, but you’ve become well acquainted with denial, too. Picked up a few tricks from the ringleader himself. “You’re the one that dragged me here and started demanding that I ditch my friend.”

Heeseung smiles as if you serve no purpose but to amuse him. “You let all your friends look at you like that?”

“Only the ones I really like.”

But now you’re under his skin. “Careful,” he repeats, even lower this time. “I’m not as nice as him.”

You won’t heed any warnings, and especially not ones given from him. He’s all talk. All bark and no bite. You almost wish he would bare teeth, just once. “What are you gonna do?” Unblinking, you hold his gaze. “Handle me?”

A blurred line dissolves completely. Heeseung’s resolve slips, just a fraction. “Is that an invitation?”

“A challenge,” you correct, sliding out of his grasp, maneuvering away from his hold. This time, he has no choice but to turn as you begin to back away, to let his eyes follow your lead.

After his misstep, the results of this game are under your sole control. You have choices, ones that leave him in the dust and ones that put a trophy in his wandering hands. In the end, you discard it all. You have only one final demand for him. It’s a whisper that’s barely audible, “Rise to it.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to hear it twice.

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note: I was having serious heeseung brother's best friend brainrot on my friday evening and decided to make it everyone's problem. (you're welcome/I'm sorry). and thanks for reading! thoughts, comments, tags, reblogs, and screaming are appreciated as always <3

#enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung x you #heeseung x you #heeseung x reader #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #heeseung drabble

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f0point5 · 1 month

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As if you couldn't turn Max watching her breathe into a masterpiece, don't lie🙄 idk maybe they're driving around in her new car and they coincidentally see Elliot😂 would be a nice reprieve from *clenched teeth* freddie

Sooo.

I tried to incorporate a bit of Max watching her just breathe because it’s funny. But also Elliot. But also the car.

But also mostly I was just freaking out because the male perspective is so alien to me. This might suck. We’re going to be KIND if it sucks because I’m just a girl okay men don’t make sense to me.

Anyway, I’m deciding to name this one because this is what I was listening to when I wrote it.

✨set during winter break✨

Call It What You Want To

“How do you take this long to get ready?” Max groans in frustration, dragging his hand over his face.

He’s been waiting 45 minutes. Not the longest he’s ever waited for you, but he’s been looking forward to this night out for two whole days. After everything that’s gone on in the last couple of weeks, and how none of that is likely to be resolved before Testing next week, he could really use a drink or twelve.

“I’m almost done,” he hears you call back, your tone telling him you’re unbothered by leaving him waiting. “Do you want everyone to think you have an ugly girlfriend?”

Max opens his mouth to reply but closes it just as quickly. What is he supposed to say to that? That no one on earth has ever thought his girlfriend is anything less than breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that it stopped him for thinking you could ever be his girlfriend more than once? That sometimes during a race he looks at the tv screens on the track in case you’re on camera? That whenever he passes the picture of you in his hallway he thinks he’d have hung it up even if he didn’t know you, because you’d still be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen? No. He’s not saying any of that. Three months is way too soon to let you know that you could use his balls as earrings. It’s not like you need a bigger head.

“I want my girlfriend to get to the club before it closes,” he shouts, stifling a smile. It’s been three months, but he still likes saying girlfriend.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he hears you say, your voice getting closer as you make your way to the living room. “We can’t all just put on a t-shirt with a funny saying on it and-“

You stop when you round the couch and finally notice him staring at your slinky black satin dress. Actually, he’s staring at the parts of you not covered by the dress, which gives him a lot to stare at. He might just give everyone what they want and quit driving if they could promise him he’d only have to lol at you in this dress for the rest of his life.

“What?” You ask him, which has him blinking furiously, trying to focus. You’re holding out a pair of heels to him, the ones you bought with the gift card his dad’s wife had given you for your birthday.

“Nothing,” he says, taking the shoes from you. He shifts off the couch to kneel in front you, lifting your leg to put the shoes on your foot and do up the buckle. “You look good,”

Above him, he hears you chuckle, and then your fingers run through his hair. You’re petting him like a cat, and he’ll be damned if he ever admits how close he feels to purring.

“Why does that still sound like it’s painful for you to admit?” You tease, using a bit more of your nails on the final run through of his hair.

“It’s not painful,” he tells you winding the glittering strap around your ankle.

It’s not painful. Sometimes it’s a lump in his throat, or a tightening in his chest. Sometimes, when he’s on one knee in front of you like he is now, it’s an urge to say something he can’t yet find the words for. But no, it’s not painful.

He finishes with your other shoe, squeezing your calf gently before placing a kiss on the inside of your knee.

“You’re just painfully gorgeous,” he says as he gets to his feet. “Can we go?”

You roll your eyes at him with with a smile. “Your car or mine?”

********************

He chooses to take your car. Every time he gets in your Ferrari, he thinks about Vegas. He drives it often.

He weaves through the streets of Monaco with one hand on your thigh, and he can’t remember where the fuck he was putting that hand before you.

“The thing is, unless the contract gets sorted next week, he’s totally fucked,” you’re saying as Max turns onto Avenue Princesse Grace. There’s a gaggle of people outside with their phones out. Simply fucking lovely. “You’re not listening to me are you?”

Max turns to you, squeezing your thigh as the car slows. “Of course I am, Engel. Do me a favour? Just say fuck again, a bit slower,”

“You’re twelve,”

“You would not have gone out with me at twelve,” Max jokes, slowing to a stop in front of Twiga as a valet comes towards the car.

“You were cute at twelve,” you say, “fourteen is where it started to go haywire,”

Before he can respond, you’re getting out of the car, and immediately the camera phones are focused on you. Max follows you out, handing the keys to the valet as he tries to ignore the feeling of being hunted. He wonders if they know he can hear every word they’re saying. He wonders if they’d like him to take their picture and post it all over the internet. He watches you slink through the crowd towards him, not even bothering to pretend you’re not being watched.

It’s ironic, he thinks, he brings the spotlight, but you’re the one who shines in it.

Inside the lobby, you head straight for the elevator while he talks to the woman at the front desk- it’s a well rehearsed routine. Lando isn’t here yet, typical. He asks if they can send over some St. Tropez cocktails and some gin tonics, and texts Lando to hurry up, before turning to join you at the lifts.

Except, he notices, you’re not alone. You’re standing by the lifts, with a big smile on your face, explaining something to a guy with a familiarly large head.

Max has seen Elliot around a couple of times. Monaco is stupidly small, especially in the winter when it’s nearly empty. The two men always studiously ignore each other, because what is there to say? Max doesn’t know if Elliot knows that you’re together now, and he knows it shouldn’t matter, but it does.

He didn’t hate Elliot in Austin, even though he’d planned to. But then they’d met and Max found he really couldn’t hate someone who was as smitten with you as he was, as he’d always been.

He finds that he kind of hates Elliot now, though, as he gets close enough to hear you giggle at something.

“No. It was actually okay, just cold, you know?“ you stop when Max places a hand on the small of your back, where you dress is low enough that he’s touching your skin. You turn to him. “Oh, hey. Is Lando here?”

Max shakes his head.

“Typical.” You sigh. “Max, you remember Elliot, right?”

“Yeah.” He says, and they shake hands. How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” Elliot says with a shrug. His shirt matches your dress. Fuck him.

“Well, you can if you want,” Max jokes, except it’s not a joke because he hates those Britishisms. If you want to say something just say it. And if things are fine and you have nothing to complain about why make it sound- he just doesn’t like the guy. And he doesn’t like that you liked the guy.

Mercifully, the lift arrives, and when it does, Max steps aside.

“You take this one,” he says, gesturing to the open lift. Elliot looks like he wants to refuse out of politeness in the way only English people do, so Max forces himself to put everyone out of their misery. “It’s the least I can do,”

It’s such a dickhead thing to say, but he can’t help but smirk, and it does the trick. Elliot gives both of you a tight lipped smile and steps into the lift, pulling out his phone as the door closes.

You turn to face him, his hand falling away from your back as you fix him with a quizzical look. He waits for you to chastise him for his comment, then wonders fleetingly if you’re comparing him, in his silly t-shirt and tight jeans, to Elliot in his perfectly crisp chinos. Then he finds himself staring at your lips.

“Oh, right,” you say suddenly, tapping his shoulder. “That’s what I was saying. So this builder says he’s ordered all the materials, but he has to no contract. And my dad…”

Max listens to you talk, winding his arms around your waist in a way he’s still getting used to, and you smile at him in a way he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He promises himself then never to get angry with you when you’re getting ready. You’re worth the wait.

#max verstappen x reader

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herrscherofinsanity · 7 months

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Anything for you

Summary: Nayeon would do anything for her girlfriend, even getting over some of her biggest pet peeves.

Fluff

Im Nayeon x fem!reader

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: This is me being kinda back. In honor of Twice's 8th anniversary I wanted to write something for my ultimate bias; I'll be back simping for the aespa girls soon, I have lots of ideas... I just need to find time to write them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and also thank you for reading!

____________________

“Hey can you pause the movie for a second? I really need to go to the bathroom”, Momo whined as she got up from the couch making the other girls groan.

“You always do this!”

“It was just getting to the good part!”

“Can we kick her out?”

“Is one night of peace and quiet too much to ask?”

You chuckled, watching the chaos unfold; a warm feeling spreading through your chest when you felt your girlfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hold. You turned your head towards her, planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

“You find this amusing?” Nayeon whispered, not wanting to draw unwanted attention towards the two of you.

“I do” you whispered back, a playful grin on your lips, “you girls have quite the bond, I’m jealous”.

“There’s no need to be jealous, babe” she said, kissing your cheek “you’re my favorite anyway”.

Before you could reply, another voice cut you off. “What do you mean she’s your favorite?!” Chaeyoung complained, wanting more drama to unfold.

“Jihyo, the couple is being annoying… again”, Tzuyu said.

“Oh, leave them alone” Sana said, your girlfriend sent her a grateful smile, but Sana’s sentence wasn’t over yet. “Nayeon can’t help the fact that she’s whipped”.

The members laughed, teasing the two of you relentlessly. Your girlfriend shot you a defeated look, so much for spending a relaxing time together without any interruptions.

“What are we talking about?”, Momo asked as she made her way back from the bathroom.

“Nayeon being stupidly in love with y/n” Jeongyeon replied nonchalantly; your girlfriend silently sulked behind you.

“If you don’t mind, can I ask you two something?”, Mina looked towards you, a curious expression on her face.

You sent her a gentle smile, encouraging her to ask her question.

“When did you realize you were in love with each other?”.

An innocent question, but you felt as if you were about to go into cardiac arrest with the way your heart dropped. Nayeon wasn’t that far behind you, she felt as if the living room started spinning. On the other hand, both of your reactions left the girls feeling clueless. Why were you being so awkward? Surely you two had already… wait.

“W-well, we haven’t-” Nayeon began.

“Actually, I know the answer to that question!” Jihyo exclaimed, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“What could you possibly be talking about?” Nayeon hissed, shooting her fellow member a suspicious look; the whole interaction caught your attention.

“I would also like to know” you cleared your throat “…please”.

Nayeon looked at you with what you could only describe as pure panic, “baby, I really don’t think-”.

“Jihyo! What are you stalling for?” Jeongyeon exclaimed.

“Yeah! Go ahead and tell us!”

“Okay!” Jihyo exclaimed, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Gather ‘round kids! This is the story of how I realized Nayeon was without a doubt, head over heels in love with y/n!”.

____________________

Two months ago.

"You can't be serious".

"I swear! They kept calling us 'wig group', Sana was about ready to lose it" your girlfriend, Nayeon said, her tone full of amusement.

You laughed at her story, not fully believing it, but still amused by how creative her fans could be.

Im Nayeon, better known as Twice’s Nayeon, but to you she simply was Nayeon; the same girl who nervously asked you to be her girlfriend 3 months ago.

You two were introduced by your mutual friend, Yeri who had spent weeks going on and on about how she knew the perfect person for you to go out with. You were incredibly hesitant, but you eventually caved and agreed to give Yeri’s friend a chance.

Nayeon surprised you in the best of ways; after your first date, you couldn’t help but agree with Yeri, she really was the perfect person for you. The loud girl carved a permanent place in your heart for herself and nothing could come between the two of you; not the hate comments, not your companies, and definitely not the malicious rumors surrounding your relationship. Being with Nayeon was definitely worth it.

“We should get going, babe”, she said with a sad smile “you have a photoshoot and I’ve got an interview; we can’t stay any longer”.

As if to mock her, right in that second it began to pour. Nayeon looked at you in shock, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the troubled expression she wore. You knew perfectly well you would have to find a way to leave the small café you were currently hanging out at, your schedules depended on it, but still, a few extra minutes with your girlfriend couldn’t hurt.

“We’re going to have to make a run for it”, you sighed, the responsible part of your brain outweighing the not-so-smart one.

Nayeon looked at you with a frown on her face, her gaze kept moving between your frame and the raging storm outside. “You’re not wearing a jacket, y/n”.

You hummed, “it doesn’t look like this rain is stopping any time soon, we can’t afford to wait”.

“You’re going to catch a cold”.

“Maybe, but you know the deal, our relationship must not interfere with our careers” you rolled your eyes as you recited the same speech that had followed you around for the past month.

“Stay here”, she said sternly, “I’ll be right back”. You frowned, but followed her instructions. Not even five minutes later, Nayeon was back with a black umbrella in her hand.

“Where’d you get that from?” you asked her, she definitely didn’t have an umbrella when you got here.

“I just bought it” she grumbled, “I’m not going to let you get sick. Now come on, we really should get going”.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Jihyo was currently waiting for the rest of her members to finish getting ready, they had an interview lined up and who knows what else might get magically booked along the way.

In an attempt to entertain herself, the leader unlocked her phone and tapped on the Twitter app. She mindlessly scrolled through her timeline, nothing truly catching her attention; that was until she came across two familiar figures.

Several pictures of her fellow member and her girlfriend greeted her. Now, Jihyo wasn’t surprised by the pictures in general; Nayeon, despite the countless warnings, was always going out of her way to show off her relationship. What truly surprised the group’s leader was the fact that the eldest member had an arm securely wrapped around you, her other hand too busy holding an umbrella in an attempt to shield you both from the rain.

An umbrella?

Before Jihyo could think about it any further, Nayeon made her way into the dorm.

The first thing the oldest Twice member did as soon as she got home was throw the umbrella somewhere far away from her, a sour expression on her face. Jihyo let out a loud laugh, not believing the sight before her very eyes; the leader’s laugh finally catching the other girl’s attention.

“You’re such a simp, Im Nayeon”.

_____________________

Loud laughs bounced back and forth across the Twice dorm and Nayeon wished she could disappear. What would you even say to that?

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why did that make you realize she loves me?” the members gave themselves whiplash with how fast they all turned to look at you.

“You mean she never told you?” Dahyun asked.

“Told me what?” you asked nervously, Nayeon whined, wrapping you in an even tighter hug.

“Nayeon absolutely hates umbrellas, y/n” Jihyo explained. “She hates them so much, back when we were trainees, she used to wear a box on top of her head whenever it rained”.

“Even to this day!” Sana continued, “whenever our managers try to help her out with umbrellas she runs away” she giggled.

“But somehow all of that goes out the window when it comes to you” Jeongyeon smirked, “you have her wrapped around your finger, y/n”.

“Nayeon can’t have her princess getting sick” Momo teased.

The girls kept throwing jabs here and there, but you tuned them out, trying to focus your entire attention on your blushing girlfriend. You sent her a soft smile, she returned it immediately, feeling absolutely at ease once she saw that sparkle in your eyes.

“Do you really hate umbrellas that much?” you laughed.

Nayeon groaned at your question, feeling embarrassed all over again. “I do, I really really do”, she paused to steal a quick kiss from your lips, “but I love you way more”.

You beamed at your girlfriend, feeling on cloud nine when you finally heard her say those words you had been longing for.

“I love you too, Im Nayeon” you said, pressing your lips against hers in a sweet kiss.

“Jihyo! The couple is being annoying again!”.

_____________________

A/N: Everytime I think of a one shot I always have the idea that it will be roughly 500 words, and somehow I always end up going past 1k, oh well.

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any requests or anything like that feel free to let me know :)

#twice imagines #twice scenarios #twice x reader #nayeon imagines #nayeon scenarios #twice #nayeon #twice nayeon #im nayeon #twice fluff

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dollfacedsl1ut · 7 months

Note

Thoughts about ghostface aespa with sprinkles of g!p ?

!ghostface g!p! Aespa let’s talk about it….. this is the !nice fem popular reader version you can ask for the other one and I’d post it maybe..

a/n : ik there’s gonna be some type of typos AND IM SORRRRY SPARE ME PLEASE

content : murder (shocker), panty stealing, yandere themes, smut, mentions of a fivesome, the jock leaves reader for a rando.., unconsenual recording, reader gets leaked to the jock, groping, sexual corruption??, overall idk what this is you don’t either so yeah..

All members of aespa are in college and had their fair share of people they hated and wanted dead it didn’t matter who you were If you did something that angered them you were on the hit list which rounds up to 95% of the school especially the popular kids (they hated them so much) expect you, to them you were a actual person who didn’t care about luxury brands and cars or about drama / who was fucking who’s boyfriend while they were away to them you had a pure and innocent mind which made this attraction to you grow

It started off with stalking and obsessions to breaking in your dorm whilst you’re in classes maybe if they’re lucky enough you’ll be sleeping they stole various of things from miniature accessories you owned to clothing such as panties and bras..yeah you noticed stuff going missing but you just though you misplaced them or they got lost whilst you took trips to the communal laundry mat…

But one day there was a Halloween college party at a cabin in the woods, everyone was invited so everyone was there, the aespa girls took this as a good opportunity to start their killing spree.. the kill started off good they got rid of the people who would be missed by a minimal amount of people they enjoyed hearing their cries and their begs for forgiveness it just drove them too kill more that night but once you arrived it was like a switch flipped in their brains instead of their murderous mood they were more hyper and eager..

Their eyes scanned over your body looking at the way your costume hugged your curves the coils even see the out line of your panties, if they looked close enough they could tell you weren’t wearing a bra. The happy mood they once had flipped again once they seen who you brung, the jock that had the worse attitude and bullied people who didn’t have the latest car model needless to say they were pissed that you brung him out of everyone else on campus he was the worse guy you could’ve picked and they weren’t happy with you they were gonna make sure you never bring someone who isn’t them to another party..

They watched you and the jock the whole time, every single time you giggled, and felt uncomfortable by his sick jokes, but when he dismissed himself to “piss” they knew it was the perfect time for his death as well, the funny thing was he didn’t have too piss he was fucking another girl in the outdoor bathroom although they wanted to kill him there they wanted to make him feel overwhelmed with emotions so that’s when they finally approached you, you were scrolling on your phone drinking out of a red cup, the conversation was the best one you’ve had in years y’all had so much in common which turned you on although they haven’t showed their faces yet it was a turn on to have things in common it was Giselles idea to go to the bedroom to further explore this attraction..

Once y’all reached the bedroom it just felt like your panties were soaked right that minute the way their hands wondered on your body, the soft touches on your plush thighs, although you’ve never had a fivesome before you wanted to make this work the, sensations of them stretching you out felt so good you’ve never came this fast when you had sex but the way their cock filled you up so nicely you overall had the best experience besides the sounds of camera clicks you weren’t sure if that was your imagination or not you were too horny to be bothered with it, your body was sore and tired after it was finished you just wanted to take a quick nap, Karina and winter being the ones to wash you down and Giselle and ningning getting ready to send the videos and pictures of your sexual encounter with them to the jock,..

After you were sleeping soundly they knew it was time to start their next kill The Jock, after the recordings were sent to the jock they left kisses on your face Giselle might’ve left a slap on your ass and Karina might’ve groped your tits but it’s not like you would care much, the burner phone they used to send the pictures to the jock was ringing with messages angry to ones pleading for you to meet up with him so they did just that, He was pacing around in the back yard with his phone in his hand replaying the video just to hear your soft moans ring in his ears, they could tell he just finished fucking yet another girl and it seemed like you were the next, his pants were unzipped as his cock poked from between the hole in his boxers, They stood in the shadows until they eventually pounced on him ningning pinned his hands to ground as Giselle held down his legs, Karina replayed the sex tape over and over as the jock cried he knew they were the ones that fucked you and slutted you out the video replaying in his head even if the phone was no longer in his vision he couldn’t help it but feel blood rush to his dick watching you get fucked by 4 people at once wishing it was him and his friends fucking you instead, abusing your tight holes then leaving you alone crying and sore but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore to anyone he felt his body going numb as Karina cut into his chest blood gushing on the grass it just made them smile seeing yet another pathetic person being humbled but he wasn’t the first one they needed this to happened too and he certainly wasn’t gonna be the last..

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mrsensitive · 1 year

Text

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did

a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer . kind of an elaboration of a lil blurb i wrote a while ago so if it seems familiar no it doesn't 😋

You’d never been more grateful for Friday to roll around. You’d had what felt like the longest week from hell and just wanted to take your mind off everything, so when your new neighbour turned best friend Beau texted you to meet him and a couple friends at the bar, the thought that you wouldn’t know half the people there wasn’t enough to dissuade you from joining.

When you arrive, you’re quick to spot the group - Beau hadn’t lied when he said it wasn’t just the team, but he might’ve stretched the truth when he said you already knew some of the guys. A quick once over is enough for you to realise the only other person you really know is Brock. Sure, you had heard of the others from Beau’s stories and the fact that you sometimes watched the games, but you were starting to wonder if you should’ve just gone home to your bottle of wine instead.

Beau is quick to welcome you though, flooding you with the names of everyone you’d yet to meet and pushing you into the seat he’d just vacated.

“Wait here, I’m getting the next round,” he beams at you, a good few drinks in already. “Brock come give me a hand, bud.”

You try to get your bearings a little, looking around trying to commit names to faces since the only two people you knew had left, and you realise mostly everyone is in their own conversations save for the guy on your right. You pause, staring at him trying to remember his name as he watches you struggle, clearly bemused.

“It’s Quinn,” he offers after a moment or two. He’s laughing lightly and you relax in your seat a little. “Don’t sweat it.”

You breathe out a smile, “Thanks. I was getting there, y’know.” You pause, taking a moment to get a better look at him. “Hughes, right? I’ve seen you play before. You’re a great skater.”

“Oh uh…thanks.” He shifts a little in his seat. “Beau’s talked about you a couple times actually. So it’s nice to meet you finally.”

You can’t help your eyebrows from shooting up, both of you are equally surprised and amused that you’re even aware of the other. You’re half expecting Quinn to elaborate, scanning his face for any hint that what Beau’s said about you was any level of incriminating, but somehow, you find yourself a bit distracted by the way his hair is curling over his forehead.

Before either of you can say anything, Beau’s dropped a glass in front of you and inserted himself back in the conversation.

“So what was so terrible about work this week? What’s the drama this time?”

You let out a sigh, remembering why you’d dragged yourself here in the first place. “Oh, nothing new. They just decided to reschedule all our fittings so we barely had the right costumes prepared - which is just an embarrassing look for me, you know, even if it literally wasn’t my fault. I was running all over the place trying to make it work - and then on top of that I find out they’ve put our costume truck about three states over from where the set is so I’ve got to hassle someone about that and-”

“Costumes?” Your rambling is cut off by Quinn who looks much more interested than Beau, who, to his credit, has heard some variation of this story just about every other week.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a costume designer,” you explain, “I’m working on a movie at the moment.” For some reason you feel rather embarrassed that you didn’t clarify this to him before and you’re hoping the dim lighting is hiding the way you’ve started blushing.

“I’m going to take this as my cue to leave.” Beau says, already standing up to move across the table, “You tell Quinn the whole back story and I’ll come back when you’re done with that, okay?”

Beau, in fact, does not come back for the rest of the night but you’re so wrapped up in your conversation with Quinn that you don’t particularly notice anyway. Usually you hate talking about yourself, but the drinks have loosened you up and he seems so genuinely curious and intrigued about you. He asks how you met Beau, so you tell him the story of how his 7’s look a little too much like 1’s and you ended up getting so much of his mail that you had to go and confront him about it. You try to ask him about hockey but he seems rather adept at deflecting the conversation back to you every time. You can’t help but bask in the full attention he’s giving you and the more drinks you have, the more you find yourself quietly admiring his bone structure. You’re a little surprised to hear yourself laughing so much and how easily the conversation moves that you can’t quite remember how you ended up discussing how you both think roses are overrated.

You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you catch Brock nudging Beau and nodding his head towards you across the table.

“You reckon?” Brock asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, easily. I’ve been watching them all night.”

You pick up Beau’s call almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up? Do you need something?” There’s a tinge of confusion in your voice.

“What? No, I just- I have an extra ticket to the game tonight and I was going to offer it to you if you weren’t being so snappy.” Beau teases.

“Oh,” you let out a chuckle, “Sorry, you just never call. I do happen to be free tonight though, if the offer’s still on the table...”

“Great, I’ll send you the ticket,” you can hear him smiling through the line. “Don’t drive, I’ll give you a lift if you wait a little after the game. Stick around and say hi to some of the other guys too.”

“Sure,” you reply, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe score or win or something? I dunno, make it worth my night?”

“Yeah ok,” you can hear him laughing now, “Will do, just for you. See you soon.”

And even if you were only joking, the team does deliver on your request. You hang by the exit as you wait for Beau, congratulating some of the other guys on the win as they start to trickle out. When Quinn catches sight of you, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and you can’t help the way you mirror it.

“Hey Quinner, congrats on the game,” you greet him, “Big win!”

You’re mildly aware of the way your heart rate has picked up slightly since he stopped in front of you. You want to believe that it’s just because the handful of times you’ve seen him now have always been aided with a bit of liquid courage, even if you’re currently fixating on his slightly damp hair and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder. Quinn, however, is severely aware of the way his heart rate seemed to stop upon hearing the nickname leave your mouth.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realise you were going to be here?”

“Beau said he had an extra ticket last minute - enticed me with a ride home, so I’m just waiting for him now.”

“Yeah, he should be done with the interviews soon - you know, three point night and all,” he laughs, glancing back at the doorway in search of a sign of his teammate.

“Coming from you, mister record breaker!”

Quinn whips his head back around to you, eyes wide as he starts to mumble something to try and downplay his night. He knows he’s blushing from the way he can feel his cheeks burning but he’s hoping it could be disguised as some sort of postgame flush.

You can’t help but let out a laugh at how off guard your comment seemed to catch him. “Surely you’re going out to celebrate?”

“Oh, I don’t know… we’ve got an early start tomorrow…” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck and your eyes flicker to his bicep briefly.

“Hmmm boring,” you tease, “All work and no play I guess.”

Something in your tone has him grinning now. “No rest for the wicked,” he quips.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, you’ve had an audience for just about all of your conversation.

“Is this what he looks like when he’s trying to flirt?” Petey asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I guess. Or trying to, at least,” Brock answers, still eyeing the scene in front of him. “How long do we think til they do something about it?”

Beau’s appeared next to them at the door now too, smirking as he watches you and Quinn completely oblivious to everyone else.

“Wanna take bets?”

Quinn’s nervous. He’s already texted you to let you know he’s arrived but he’s expecting that you’ll have to turn him away last minute. He’s still in disbelief that he’s even here, despite the fact that you’d offered to have him visit you on set several times already, but he always thought it was just a throw away thing you would say to be nice. He only tells you this about the fourth time you’ve asked, the arrival of the post season working out with one of the quieter days of your schedule, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing in his face about it.

“Quinn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. Most of our conversations are about movies, so I just thought you might find it cool to see what it’s like,” you shrug. "I've watched you play games before so it feels kind of fair, right?’

As much as he protests that it’s different, you are kind of right, naturally. He thinks it is extremely cool that this is what you do for a living, and even cooler that you’d even considered to bring him along and show him a part of it. At least, cool is what he’s trying to convince himself he’s feeling about it all.

When he sees how excited you look, running out to meet him, he once again can’t help the grin that weasels its way onto his face. He holds out the second coffee cup in his hand to you.

“Hey,” he greets, “I brought you a coffee. I stopped on my way here but I didn’t really know what you usually get or if you prefer, like, hot or iced? So I just got you what I get which is-”

You’re pleasantly surprised and amused, letting him ramble a little before you cut him off, thanking him and groaning when you take a sip. “God, thank you. I’ve already had one today but I truly needed this.”

He’s relieved to hear it, immediately relaxing. “Hectic day then?”

“Kind of, but like… A controlled hectic you know?” You pause, giving him a once over, realising he’s a little less jittery than a minute ago - and also that he looks good. You’ve only ever really seen him in very weak bar lighting, or after a hockey game - but definitely never before lunch. The sun looks good on him you think, and you’re rather charmed by the outfit he’s picked out for the occasion but you’re quick to snap yourself out of your thoughts.

“Let me show you around!”

You give him a tour of the set, proudly pointing out how you managed to convince them to move your trailer closer, talking him through your designs you have pinned up and showing him some of the final costumes.

Quinn’s already wide-eyed, kid in a candy store at all of this, staring and asking if he can touch things. He almost doesn’t believe you when you say he can watch them film a scene or two. He’s amazed by the whole set up of it all, the cameras, the monitors, all the people who seem to be constantly walking places very quickly with a lot of purpose. You lead him to your little costume camp in the corner, letting out a chuckle at how impressed he is.

“Okay, look so I do kind of have to do my job and leave you alone here, but just stay where I tell you to, don’t get in the way and you’ll be fine.” You’ve barely finished your sentence when someone calls your name, so you’re pushing Quinn into an empty chair, wincing a smile at him and scurrying away.

You don’t really get a chance to check back in on him for a good hour or two, but Quinn’s barely noticed the amount of time that’s gone by. He’s shocked at the fact that he’s so close to actors who he actually recognises, but he’s even more in awe simply watching you in your element. He knew you’d downplayed your role to him but even so, he’s mesmerised at the way you’re handling everyone’s questions, how you’re there in between takes to fix collars and ties and things he hadn’t even noticed, at how almost out of nowhere, you suddenly seem to have this commanding yet gracious air of authority around you. He’s never seen or even pictured you like this but he’s completely caught up in it, not realising that one of the makeup artists has been watching his laser focus on you this whole time and sidled up to him.

He doesn’t quite hear her at first.

“I was just asking if you were the boyfriend?”

Quinn’s immediately blushing furiously and he’s only glad that you aren’t there to see it. “No- no, um. Just, uhh, just a friend is all.”

His response appropriately earns a raised eyebrow.

“Ahhh, okay. Gotcha. Sorry, was just asking,” she pauses, entertained by his spluttering, “She’s rather amazing, you know? Really great at her job and just incredible in general.”

“Yeah, I, uh- I know,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. There’s something in this stranger’s tone that has him slightly confused, wondering why he’s being told this.

She only hums in response before walking away, leaving him to try not to overthink the interaction. He quickly pushes it aside when he sees you making your way over.

“Hey,” you grin, coming to a stop in front of him, “Been having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” he perks up immediately, “Heaps.”

“Great, because we’re starting to wrap up. I’ll take you back out to the entrance, save you all the boring stuff, y’know?”

Quinn’s surprised that it’s already heading into the late afternoon when you exit the studio. He turns to look at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and mustering up as much sincerity as he can.

“Thanks again for having me. It was, um, it was really cool watching you do your thing.”

“Well thanks for finally taking me up on my offer,” you counter, “and thanks for the coffee. I’m glad you had fun, really." You pause, cocking your head slightly, “We’ll go watch the movie together when it’s out.”

This, Quinn is sure, is a throw away line, at least he thinks. You’re not completely sure if you meant it either, but you know you only said it because you knew he would take it as one.

A couple days later you get a text out of the blue from Beau, and then Brock.

Beau: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOOK QUINN ON SET???? I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR HOW LONG AND YOU’VE NEVER ASKED ME?!!?!?!

Brock: I like movies too :))

For whatever reason, Beau’s apartment had become the designated gathering spot. You’d already found yourself there a couple times already with the rest of the group, so you didn’t really question it when he ropes you into the games night he’s hosting, claiming they need another person to even out the numbers. It doesn’t occur to you to ask why he couldn’t have asked literally any of the other guys instead, so you don’t realise he has a whole catalogue of excuses ready to cover the fact that he’d been orchestrating a reason to get you and Quinn in the same room again.

If anyone were to ask Quinn why he was late, he also had his own list of excuses ready to rattle off before he’d admit the truth. He’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of time switching between three shirts knowing that he’d see you - and so what if you’d done the same, as long as nobody else knew?

Currently, you’re all way too many drinks in, lining up along the couch in preparation for the final tie breaking round of charades. Beau’s couch is definitely not big enough to fit six of you but you all squish in anyway, mostly too drunk or too determined to win to care. You should have expected this level of competition from a group of professional athletes; you've done a good job of keeping up all night, but you’re suddenly very acutely aware of how close Quinn is sitting next to you. You take another hard swallow from your drink before turning your focus onto Beau flailing his arms in front of you.

You manage to keep your cool through several rounds, but eventually you realise Quinn’s thigh has, at some point, ended up pressed firmly against yours. Immediately your whole leg is tingling and your face is flaming up, but Quinn doesn’t seem to show any signs of pulling away, or simply even realising. You blink, trying to refocus, but the only thing your brain seems capable of processing at the moment is the feeling of Quinn’s leg against yours through your jeans. If it weren’t for Beau’s overly dramatic reaction, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed that your team had already lost.

You move to lean back against the couch - which was a mistake, considering now your shoulders are brushing too, and someone might as well have set your entire body on fire. Your head is starting to spin - must just be the shots catching up, you try to convince yourself - and you’ve drawn your lips into a thin line in an effort not to combust.

Brock lets out a laugh, clocking your expression. “Alright, no need to be such a sore loser, princess.”

You can feel Quinn turning to look at you, even if you’re desperately avoiding his eye contact. Beau is looking at you now too, eyes flickering over the way you and Quinn are pressed into each other’s sides. He grins, gears already turning in his head.

You hope your laugh sounds convincing. “Yeah, didn’t realise I’d get so into it, huh?”

“We’ll just have to have a rematch another time,” Beau reassures you, well aware losing wasn’t the reason why you looked so distressed. He fakes a look at the clock as you stand up from the couch, having decided you wouldn’t have survived much longer if you didn’t move.

“Well I guess it’s getting a bit late. I think we’re all pretty far gone at this point so everyone’s welcome to crash for the night if you want," Beau offers.

“Dude,” Quinn pipes up, “There’s no way you have enough space for all of us.”

“Well, lucky a certain someone just so happens to live not so far away!” Beau is already shepherding the two of you out of his apartment, still wearing the biggest grin on his face.

Before you can even begin to protest, you’ve already found yourself standing next to Quinn in the hallway. A beat passes, the two of you staring at the shut door incredulously before you finally catch Quinn’s eye, both unable to help the fit of giggles that escapes when you catch each other’s expressions.

In hindsight, you think this is the exact moment where you lose the ability to deny to yourself that you see him as just one of Beau’s friends. His eyes are a little glazed over from the alcohol, and his lips are flushed the prettiest pink to match his cheeks which are pulled into the widest smile you’ve seen him wear to date, and for the first time you notice exactly just how full his eyelashes are.

“I guess I do have a free couch,” you breathe out once you’ve both calmed down.

“No it’s fine really, I can just get an uber home, don’t worry about it,” Quinn argues, the slight awkwardness of the situation finally hitting him.

“Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. Your car’s still here, isn’t it? I literally live down the hallway,” you pause, “... like Beau said.”

He swallows, blinking at you for a good while. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure then.”

He waits for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that actually the boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before wouldn’t like it if he stayed, or anything along those lines - something that would make the whole thing feel a little more believable, but instead, he just finds you looking at him. He doesn’t think he can handle that much longer without buckling at the knees, the way your eyes are searching his face, so he turns and starts walking down the hallway. He goes to ask what number your apartment is when he suddenly feels your soft hand slip into his.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe how nervous he suddenly seemed, maybe the way his hair looked perfectly dishevelled, or maybe in your intoxicated state you’d just finally decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m back this way, idiot,” you laugh at him before tugging him down the other way to your door.

Quinn is sure that his heart is thumping so loudly that you can hear it echoing through the silent hallway, or that you can somehow feel it where your fingers are laced through his but you’re being nice and saving him the embarrassment by not saying anything about it. He’s also hyper aware of how you didn’t drop his hand until you were both inside, even when you were rummaging in your pockets for your keys.

He glances around your apartment, following suit as he watches you kick off your sneakers. He’s overtly aware of the quietness compared to the chaos of just earlier, and the overwhelming sense of domesticity as he trails behind you into your home.

You watch him as he looks around, trying to find something to do in order to not get distracted staring at his nose. “Want some water?”

“Yeah actually, thanks,” he feels like he’s whispering, like if he speaks any louder you might realise that he is, actually, in fact, standing in your apartment and decide to kick him out.

He watches you reach on your toes to grab an extra glass from the cabinet and he finds himself endeared by it all - the way your shoes were lined up in the hallway, the sweater left draped over the couch, the lone mug left on your kitchen counter by your coffee machine.

He gestures at what he’s guessing is an open script left on the table next to an array of pens. “New project?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done reading through it,” you answer, “I won't be working on it for several months still, but I haven’t completely decided yet.”

“Is it shooting here as well?”

“Only bits of it. Looks like it’ll be mostly in LA though. And a couple other locations but it’ll be fun,” you shrug, handing him the glass.

“So you’re gonna do it?”

“Yeah, I think so. Script’s pretty good so far, and it’s an exciting team. Kind of like why not, you know?”

Quinn only manages to mutter out some sort of agreement. He’s surprised by his own disappointment at the idea that you could be moving out to LA, when in the grand scheme of things he’s only known you for about half a year. Thankfully, you interrupt him before he can think about it much more.

“Anyway, I’ll go get some blankets for you. Bathroom’s down that way, there’s extra toothbrushes in the first drawer.”

When he’s back, he almost crumples at the sight of you in your pjs setting up the couch for him. He notices you’ve refilled his glass before you turn around and shove a pile of clothes into his hands.

“Sweats for you, they should fit, I think,” you crinkle your nose. “My room’s down that way, just let me know if you need anything.”

He only manages to get out a small thanks in response. He’s staring at you, he knows that, but he can’t help how soft you look in the dim lighting.

You tilt your head, giving him a small smile. “Night, Quinn.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he mumbles.

He makes a mental note to both punch Beau and then thank him in the morning.

+ 1

Nothing ever happened after that seemingly eventful night. It’s now well into the next season and you’re thinking that this is just what the dynamic of yours and Quinn’s friendship is like. You’ve gone back to trying to convince yourself that it’s normal - like you also think Beau’s good looking, right? You had a bit of a crush on him too when you first met him, even if that came and went awfully swiftly and you don’t get anything even close to the same kind of head spinning giddiness when he talks to you. Quinn thinks he’s been less subtle about it all, and you think you’ve been dropping hints but apparently your efforts have only been evident to everyone else but each other.

You know that the team has a gala coming up soon. Beau’s mentioned it to you a couple times in his attempt to gauge how you would feel if he forced Quinn to take you as his date. When he tells Quinn his master plan to finally get the two of you together, Quinn almost chokes on his own spit.

“Ask her as my date?! You’re kidding right?” he practically screeches.

“No.”

Quinn stammers, trying to formulate some kind of reply. “I don’t- We’re not- … I’m not doing that.”

Beau groans. “You guys are both such idiots, I’m sick of it. It’s so obvious that you like her and I don’t know how you can’t see that she’s head over heels for you too!”

Quinn only stares at him in response.

“Why won’t you just ask her? The world isn’t going to implode.”

There’s a good minute of silence, the two of them staring at each other waiting for someone to break. Quinn finally sighs, taking a seat on the couch.

“Isn’t she leaving for LA soon?”

“Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you’re not actually this stupid.”

Quinn blinks. “I don’t know. Vancouver and LA are pretty far apart.”

Beau is just about ready to physically knock some sense into him.

“You’re not even in Vancouver half the time anyway. Plus she’s not moving away forever. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

When Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, Beau doubles down.

“If you don’t ask her, I will for you. I’m not lying but you can test that out if you’d like.”

Beau doesn’t believe that Quinn will do anything, but he doesn’t give him much time to prove him wrong anyway. He’s calling you that evening.

“What are you doing Saturday night in two weeks time?”

“What? Nothing, I don’t think.”

“Okay, great. You’re coming to the gala as Quinn’s date then.”

“I’m what?!”

“You heard me.”

There’s a pause.

“Are you home right now?”

“Ye-”

You hang up on him before he can finish the syllable and you’re storming down the hallway until you’re banging on his door. He looks rather calm when he lets you in, but you don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You point an accusing finger at him. “Explain it to me again. You want me to do what now?”

Beau rolls his eyes. “You’re free. Quinn’s free. Why not? It’s painfully obvious that you have this massive crush on him.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “No I don’t. And you’re asking me instead of him because?”

“Because he’s being an idiot, like he has been for almost an entire year now.” Beau looks at you and he can tell you could be convinced. “Just say yes. I’ll be there, the other guys will be there, there’ll be free food and drinks. Plus you’ll get to dress up! You’re always telling me you want to have an excuse to dress up yourself instead of other people!”

You can’t deny his last point. Literally just the other week, you’d sent him a link of this drop dead gorgeous dress you’d found whilst sourcing for your next project and complained to him about how you wanted to get it for yourself but had nowhere to wear it to.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. Just say you’ll come as his date. That’s it.”

You pause. Beau finds himself in his second stalemate of the day, but he knows you’re going to give in more easily. He listens to the tick of the clock in his living room, patiently waiting for you to cave.

“Fine.”

You don’t give him a chance to properly react before you’ve flung open his door, marched back to your own apartment and screamed into your pillow about what you’ve said yes to.

Beau should’ve known you were going to be insufferable leading up to the actual night. You spend the entirety of the next week pestering him about what the dress code is, how you have nothing to wear, what to expect, who else is going to be there. He gives you the same answers every time you ask and he promises to go dress shopping with you on Thursday. You’re only the slightest bit more relieved at this, but as soon as you agree, Beau’s texting Quinn that he has about a week to deliver.

Quinn had called you as soon as he saw Beau’s message, apologising and saying that he wished Beau had given him a little more warning so he could have asked you himself (he knows he wouldn’t have) and telling you that you don’t have to go if you didn’t want to. You were barely done freaking out about it yourself, but the way he sounded so completely flustered about it all through the phone was somewhat reassuring.

When you make your way up the stairs to your apartment on Wednesday evening, you find yourself actually excited to go pick out a dress the next day. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t pulled together some inspiration images, but in your defence, you were just good at your job. Your steps falter a little when you notice a package at your door, but as you get closer, you notice there’s a post-it note over it.

Been a minute since our mail got confused again :)

– Beau

You’re confused because you don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s definitely been addressed to you. You head inside to open it, brows furrowing when you start to recognise the fabric. Needless to say, your jaw is definitely on the floor when you pull out the same dress that you had sent Beau not too long ago. You’re scrambling to grab your phone to yell at him when you remember they’re currently playing a game at the moment, so you settle for a borderline blasphemous string of texts instead.

Hours later, when you’re still reeling, you get one single message in response.

Beau: Wasn’t me. Was all huggy :)

It feels like the last days left until the gala had gone all too quick yet also taken way too long. You felt like you’d been pulling your hair out about it nonstop, and it didn’t help that the guys had gone away on a roadie in between.

You’d started getting ready way too early. You couldn’t do up the clasp of your necklace since you weren’t used to having your nails done, leaving you too much time to start wondering if you’d maybe gone a little overboard with it all. You’d been pacing around your apartment for the past half hour trying to occupy your hands with something else instead, waiting for a more appropriate time to get changed. You think you must look like a deranged housewife, washing your dishes and folding your laundry with a full face of makeup and maybe too much diligence.

You’re so caught up in distracting yourself that the buzzer ringing makes you jump.

“Hey, come on up. I’ll unlock the door, I’ve just got to get changed,” you say over the intercom.

You run back to your room to pull on the dress you’d been fawning over for weeks, still not entirely sure how either Quinn or Beau had managed to work out the right size for you. You hear the door being opened and Quinn calling out your name just as you’re spraying your perfume.

“In my room!” You yell back, “One sec!”

When he rounds the corner and lays eyes on you, Quinn’s certain he’s turned completely into putty. He’s never seen you so dressed up and you look so breathtakingly stunning that he almost drops the bouquet in his hands.

You’re equally breathless when you turn around to face him. You didn’t realise that he’d gotten a tie to match, and you wouldn’t know that he’d dragged Petey to help him pick a new suit in an attempt to impress you. You’re both staring at each other for what feels like forever before either of you can manage a word.

“Um, hi,” he breathes, barely audible, “You look- you look really beautiful.”

You can’t hide the blush that’s creeping up your neck, but you don’t try to anyway considering his cheeks have gone a rosy shade to match.

“Thanks, Quinn. You look really good too.” You don’t notice how he flushes even deeper because you’ve finally noticed the flowers he’s holding, and even more so, how there’s not a single rose in the bunch. “Are those…?”

Quinn suddenly feels embarrassed about the fact he got you flowers. “Yeah, I um, I got- they’re for you.” He feels like a school boy all over again, mentally kicking himself for not being able to get a proper sentence out. He looks down at the stems, rubbing at his stubble. “Did I overdo it?”

You laugh, you’d been fidgeting with your nails the entire time.

“No, I think it��s really sweet.” You take the flowers from him, laying them down on your vanity when you remember your necklace.

“Oh, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get the clasp.” You hand him the chain and turn, moving your hair out of the way.

You can smell the waft of his cologne and feel his focus on the back of your neck, suddenly incredibly aware of how close you’re standing. Your mouth has dried, you're pretty sure your ears are ringing and you think you’re fully frozen in your spot.

“There,” Quinn mumbles, barely even able to get the word past the lump in his throat. He’s still thinking about how unreal you look and fighting the overwhelming urge to spin you around and kiss you right then and there.

You’re both snapped out of the moment when his phone starts ringing. It’s Beau, asking what time you guys are going to arrive.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. See you soon, dude.” Quinn answers, turning his attention back to you. “Ready to go?”

On the way there, you’ve somehow recomposed yourself to manage a somewhat normal conversation. You’re not sure exactly what it is that sent your nerves into haywire in the first place. The fact that you’re so done up, that you’re technically his date, or the fact that he seems just as antsy as you. He tells you he’s a little nervous about the speech he has to make, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance and try to reel your nerves in for both of you.

It’s a lot easier when you get there and see everyone else. You’re reminded that they’re your friends and that this is just another time you get to hang out, even if it’s a lot more fancy and official than what you’re used to. But when you finally go to take your seats after doing your initial rounds of mingling, you still manage to somehow knock your fork to the floor. You bend over to pick it up and you don’t realise Quinn’s covered the edge of the table with his hand until you bump your head into it. Before you can even say anything or just thank him for it, he’s offering to swap forks with you.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “Five second rule, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, but he’s already replaced the fork next to your plate with his anyway.

Brock and Petey have watched the whole exchange and share knowing smirks from across the table.

Everything else seems to go smoothly. Maybe it’s the soft touches on his arm or on your back, the blushing smiles and longing glances across the room, but something about tonight feels like tomorrow you won’t be able to pretend nothing happened.

Quinn’s speech goes well, and now everyone is up and moving around again. You hang back and let the long line of teammates and attendees go to congratulate him first.

Beau approaches Quinn, interrupting his train of thought.

“Now that the business part is done, you gonna finally make a move or what?”

Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of his head at the idea of this and also the volume at which Beau is speaking.

“Shut up,” he hisses, “She’ll hear you!”

“Doesn’t matter - she’s going to notice anyway with how hard you’ve been staring all night!”

“No I haven’t,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah ok, sure buddy. Just- no time like the present!” Beau claps him on the back and leaves Quinn to shift his gaze back to you. He’s starting to get lost in how at ease you look, talking to some of the other wives, when he realises Beau is right and you’ve caught him staring.

You make your way to him, prodding him gently in the shoulder.

“Told ya you didn’t need to be so worried.”

He’s blushing again. He can’t seem to get a handle on the effect you have on him.

“Yeah, it went alright, I guess. Made it out alive.”

“Well I, for one, think you spoke really well.” There’s a slight teasing in your voice, but you hope he can tell you mean it.

Quinn finds himself lost for words in front of you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s scanning your face and tries not to think too hard before he opens his mouth again.

“Can I kiss y-”

“Please.”

His hands are quick to find your waist and pull you closer as your hands find a place against his chest. The kiss is quick and rushed and almost all teeth from how big you’re both smiling, but you don’t mind it. You feel like the ground’s been pulled out from under you in one fell swoop and you’re free falling but somehow it feels like exactly what you needed.

When you pull away, Quinn’s wearing the goofiest lopsided grin you’ve ever seen and you can only imagine that you look the same.

“I, uh-”

“You’ve got lip gloss on you.”

You’re both giggling as he swipes over his lips with his thumb.

You’re so lost in him that you almost don’t register all the hollering and clapping from your table. Usually you would hate the idea of so many eyes watching you, but it all feels like such a long time coming that you can’t seem to be even remotely embarrassed about any of it.

#a result of the freak behaviour quinn has been displaying as of late... like sorry i am just a Girl #actually he did all that and then i turned around and wrote over 6.5k about him so . whats more freakish im not sure anymore #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #📝

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leclercss · 4 months

Text

Tainted Love, Part 10 (Charles Leclerc ft Lewis Hamilton)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8,

Part 9

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader, lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: the final part. it's been 84 years since i first started this fic. thank you for the love.

word count: 7k

taglist: @ironmaiden1313, @ru-kru, @buendiabebeta, @flwr-quicksilver, @ravioli19, @julesandro, @hornedravenclaws, @thatobsessedreader @pinkangelavenue, @queenofshinigamis, @notleclerc, @paullinne, @bisexualbith, @tempo-rary-fix, @bbygrlllllll, @teenagedreams-cl, @lunamelona, @leclerc16s, @palomaxaxaxa @viennakarma, @cmleitora, @angeliquekalampoka, @mirrae, @amalialeclerc, @roseseraj, @glow-ish, @janeholt3, @eviethetheatrefreak, @toppersjeep, @miniemonie2001, @angelwithoutmywings, @nichmeddar,

"[Y/N]!"

You don't really hear your name being called at first. You've been stuck in your own thoughts for the last five minutes, staring at something in particular.

"[Y/N]!" The voice is closer to you this time a round but it's still not enough to knock you out of the deep trance you've found yourself in. It's only when the plastic stick laying on the counter top in front of you is snatched away that you're pulled out of your trance.

"You can keep looking at that test all you want, it's not going to change the outcome".

Your eyes immediately shoot up as you see Lewis standing on the other side of the counter with a wry smile on his face.

"What? Huh?"

His smile softens as you struggle to muster up a few words. His sudden appearance and the sudden disappearance of the pregnancy test has clearly caught you off guard. So much so that your cheeks are slightly red at the fact that you've been staring at the negative pregnancy test more than you would like to admit.

"I said, you can keep looking at the test all you want. It's not going to change the outcome," he repeats. You're pretty sure the humour in his voice is to hide the disappointment (or relief) in his voice.

"Unless, you want it to be positive?"

You immediately shake your head. "No, oh God, no!"

Lewis chuckles once more, "It's okay, [Y/N]. If you don't want to have babies with me you can just say i- Owww!"

His hand immediately shoots up to his now sore bicep. No thanks to the punch that you've just thrown at it.

"It's not funny, Lewis," you try to stifle a laugh but the look Lewis is throwing at you as he rubs his bicep is only making you fail.

"And no, I don't want it to be positive," you continue. A lot more serious this time. "The last thing any of us need right now is a baby in the picture. Life is already a shit show, I don't need to add literal baby shit on top of that too".

Lewis smiles at you softly. He's still rubbing at his tender bicep. Drama queen.

"I know," he responds. "Would have been a cute kid either way though".

Because you and Charles are some of the most attractive men I've ever laid eyes on?

But you held back on expressing that thought out loud. The situation at home was still extremely raw. The fact that you and Lewis were having a conversation like this was almost a miracle. Especially after you learned that Lewis and Charles had a face to face meeting while you were spending some time in your home town. A conversation which Lewis had initiated. How he ever got Charles' contact details was something that you were too scared to ask about. Some things were better not knowing.

And while you were thankful that both of them left their confrontation without any physical bruises, there were clearly some internal bruises that still hadn't quite healed. Especially when Charles had looped you in on the conversation, distain in his voice any time that he mentioned Lewis. He was so agitated after the meeting that Charles had unintentionally ratted both Lewis and himself out on the fact that neither of them covered themselves in glory. Both of them using their sexual experiences with you to try and get one up on the other.

He didn’t ask you whether or not you had sex with him before you went to Belgium. When you had confronted Lewis about the meet up, he volunteered that information himself. It was his way of “being more honest in our marriage” before he ranted about Charles being arrogant and entitled. How ironic.

You were initially angry at their behaviour but you somewhat understood it. It was childish and pathetic for the both of them to use you having sex with them as some sort of dagger into the other's heart but they were desperate. Trying to salvage whatever they could from your relationship. And who was to say you wouldn't behave the same way if the roles were reversed?

You feel your breath catch in your throat as Lewis is staring at you.

"Because that kid would have the most beautiful mother," Lewis finished his sentence, his voice ever so gentle.

His words leave you without any words of your own. You feel your heart strings tug as his words sunk in.

You hadn't realised a tear was running down your cheek until Lewis wipes it away with his thumb. His eyes meet yours and you begin to feel your body slowly melt as under his gentle touch.

While, to his credit, Lewis was there for you when you began panicking about your period not arriving and offered his support, this moment was so delicate and intimate. And it had been the first moment like this since you had returned from Belgium a few days ago where you could almost feel you give yourself to him.

And while your relationship was still at one of its lowest points, it felt nice to have a moment like this and appreciate that deep down, you've always loved each other. Even if at some stage in your relationship you had grown to dislike one another.

As the two of you are still looking at one another, you feel your hand reach up and lay it on top of the land Lewis has rested against your cheek. Your fingers eventually lacing into his.

You were savouring this moment with him.

You stood like this until the two of you were interrupted by Roscoe. He'd clearly been missing some attention from the two of you and decided that dropping a slobber-coated toy onto your feet was the way about getting your attention again.

"Thanks for that, Roscoe," you joked as you kneel down to pick up the toy and begin to play with your beloved pet. And as you do so, you can't help but notice that Lewis' eyes remain fixated on you.

As you played with Roscoe, your mind drifted to what lay ahead for you. You weren’t ready to let go of Roscoe. Surely you’d come up with some arrangement either with Lewis but you weren’t sure how emotionally ready you were for all of this.

You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose before Roscoe decides that he’s ready to lay back on the sofa for a while. You decide to follow him with Lewis not far behind.

As you sit on the sofa beside Roscoe, you’re a little surprised that Lewis decides to take a seat on the other side of you. He takes your left hand and intertwines it with his own. He’s smiling to himself but he looks sad.

He stays silent for a moment, before finally letting you know what he’s thinking. “It’s weird holding your hand and not feeling your wedding ring”.

You let out a little sigh before resting your head on his shoulder. “I know. I feel naked without it”.

Lewis begins to play with your fingers. He’s touching you as if he’s remembering every last millimetre of your body.

“Why do you think your period is late?” he asks you quietly.

“Probably stress,” you tell him. “High levels of stress can affect my cycle”.

He nods. His tattooed fingers are tracing the palm of your hand. Memorising every little line.

“Have you told him?”

He doesn’t want Charles’ name mentioned in your home any more. He told you this before you left for Belgium a couple of weeks ago. And out of respect for your marriage, with what little hope there was left in it, you obliged with Lewis’ wish.

You sigh once more, “No. I haven’t”.

He doesn’t think you catch it but you see the glimmer of joy that quickly flashes across Lewis’s face. For him, it’s a small victory. When you found yourself in a state of panic last night, realising that your period was over a week late, it was Lewis you had come to. You had trusted him to get you a pregnancy test this morning. And you had trusted him to wait with you while you waited the two minutes for the result.

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out,” he had told you.

You had nodded, not saying much. Once the negative result showed up on on the test, he had pulled you in for a hug as he waited for your reaction.

He didn’t know what outcome he would have wanted. The possibility of you having a child with him excited him. But then the realisation that it could also be Charles’ angered him. And so he said nothing.

But as he sits here now, with your hand in his and your head on his shoulder. He feels some sort of hope. Maybe he was delusional. You had taken your wedding and engagement rings off after all. But you were here with him. And it was him that had supported you through the pregnancy scare. Not Charles.

You looked around the living room, taking in all of the furniture and decor that you and Lewis had bought over the years. Wondering how you were going to divide it all up. It was a job you could save for another day. But you didn’t have long before you had to figure it all out.

“Are you excited about the idea of New York for a year? Work must be happy that you said yes”.

You feel Lewis let out a deep exhale while your head still rests on his shoulder.

When you had returned to London a few days ago, after a couple of weeks at home, Lewis had received a call from work about an opportunity in New York. They were expanding operations and needed a man on the ground to oversee the project. And as Lewis spent a lot of time in the US over the years, they felt like he was the perfect man for the job. And they needed someone ASAP.

And with your marriage in tatters and having spent the day before looking at Charles' smug face, Lewis seized the opportunity without a second thought. That was until you arrived home and he broke the news to you. He was moving across the pond. After a heated discussion, Lewis finally admitted that he didn't know what that meant for the two of you. He was keen to fix things between the two of you but he couldn't go back on his commitment.

If only the commitment of a lifetime together had meant just as much when all of this started almost two years ago, you thought.

“Yeah, I mean I love New York. It’s my second home. But there’s just so much to do before the move in six weeks,” he replies. “My mum said she’d take Roscoe for us. Until I figure out if it’s a more permanent move”.

“That’s good”.

“You can visit whenever you want though. She doesn’t need me there to want to spend time with you,” he continues.

You look up at him and smile.

“I think she prefers you to me, anyway,” Lewis scoffs, causing you to let out a giggle.

“Not possible, Lew”.

You pause before asking him, “Did you tell her everything?”

He shakes his head. “No, not everything. But she knows that we’re separated,” he tells you. “What about you? Did you tell your mum everything?”

“No. Same as you. I’m not ready for the lecture she’d give me,” you sigh.

Lewis half-heartedly chuckles.

“So she doesn’t know about him?”

“No, she doesn’t,” you sigh once more.

Your hand has still been in Lewis’ the whole time, his fingers still tracing every millimetre of your skin.

“You know, work said they’d be able to get a visa for you,” he tells you quietly.

You lift your head from his shoulder and look at him.

“You what?”

He looks at your hand in his for a moment longer but finally lifting his eyes to look in yours.

“They said they’d get you a visa for the States. So you can come to New York with me. We can start fresh,” he sounds nervous. “We can start a new life. A new city, a new beginning.”

You don’t say anything. You’re just trying to process what he’s told you.

“We've always dreamed about New York, baby. This could be our chance to make things right. I want to make things right.”

Your mind flashes back to the first time that you stood outside Charles’ building. You’re just as nervous this time around as you call Flat 807. Charles has made sure that Joris and Riccardo weren’t home, he’d save you from their rathe for today. He just wanted you to himself. It’d been long since he’d been able to do so.

As you’re buzzed into the building and make your way towards the lift, your conversation with Lewis about New York is still rattling around in your brain. Well, it was more of a proposal from Lewis rather than a two way conversation.

He’d told you about an apartment he found in Greenwich Village. You were a big fan of the show Friends so it was the perfect area in Manhattan for you both. It had an extra room, perfect for a walk in wardrobe for you both. Or even a nursery if you guys were ready to start a family. He’d clearly taken inspiration from your recent pregnancy scare. He then told you about how Roscoe could eventually move over and how you could spend winter weekends skiing in Vermont with spring and summer weekends spent in Miami or the Bahamas. It was your choice for a do over. The past forgotten. The future full of possibility.

Just thinking about it made you feel dizzy. And you couldn’t allow it to occupy your mind any longer. Especially not when you were about to see Charles for the first time since he came to see you at Whitney’s.

You pushed the idea of New York to the back of your mind and made your way out of the lift as you reached the 8th floor. You see Charles waiting for you at his front door.

Your heart skips a beat at seeing him again and you immediately run towards him. He’s just as desperate to see you as he pulls you in for a hug, burying his face in your neck. Indulging in the feeling of you again.

"I've missed you, amour," his voice is so gentle in your ear.

Your hand makes its way to the back of his head, your fingers already getting lost in his long locks.

"I missed you too, Charles".

You embrace each other for a little longer. It's the closest you've been in so long and it feels so fulfilling to have him cling onto you like this.

As you fingers softly massage his scalp, you turn your head slightly to place a gentle kiss on his ear. While subtle, the kiss causes Charles to lift his head so he can look at your face and your eyes immediately connect with his.

"Hi, baby," you whisper. Your fingers are still lost in his hair.

"Hi, amour".

The smile that's on his face is almost enough for you to just want to grab his hand and run away with him forever. He looks so happy. It's the smile he gave you when you told him you loved him for the first time.

Despite what your body is telling you, your mind flashes back to a couple of days ago when you had that intimate moment with Lewis. And you were almost ready to give your everything to him. And that's how you feel now. But you can't help but feel guilty.

"Are you okay, amour?" Charles asks you. A hint of concern in his voice.

You've gone quiet for a few moments and so you nod to reassure Charles. You need to get Lewis out of your head. And so you lean in and kiss Charles.

The feeling of his lips on yours soon allows you to forget about your husband. As Charles' hands make their way to cup your face, you feel the image of Lewis in your mind drift away.

The two of you slowly make your way into Charles' apartment, lips still attached. You stumble your way into the kitchen where Charles lightly presses his body against yours so you're backed up against the counter. He eventually peels his lips away from yours.

"Merde, I don't think you realised how much I've missed you," Charles says with a light chuckle. You can't help but smile.

"I know, I've missed you too. I can't believe it's been almost three weeks since I've seen you".

"It's the longest we've ever been apart, amour".

You can't help but let out a light-hearted laugh. It felt good to see him after all this time. Bar from having to behave in public around your friends and, erm, husband, yourself and Charles could barely stay apart from each other once you were in close distance to each other.

You always seemed to find a way back to each other. And here you were once more, in his arms. His face ever so close to yours. The smell of his aftershave subtly lingering in the air. He was intoxicating.

"How was Belgium?" he asks you.

"It was fine," you respond. "Nothing ever really changes there though. But it was nice to see my mum. It'd been a little while".

He nods. "Yeah, I know the feeling. It's been a while since I've been back to Monaco," he says before pausing for a moment. His eyes quickly scan your face before continuing, "Did you speak to your mum about what's happened?"

You shrug your shoulders. "A little. I mean, I told her things haven't been great between Lewis and I. That we were spending time apart".

Charles nods once more. "How did she take it?"

You let out a sigh. "I mean, she was upset that I've been having a hard time of it. But honestly, I think she's a little relieved. Her and Lewis didn't always see eye to eye".

Charles can't hold in his laughter.

"I feel like I've heard that once or twice before".

You roll your eyes playfully. The grin on Charles' face right now is bordering on smug.

"Yeah, well, he's a polarising character. You either love him or you don't," you sigh while crossing your arms across your chest.

Talking about Lewis in front of Charles is a lot harder for you this time. The memory of the last few days is coming back to the front of your mind again. The pregnancy scare, Lewis, New York. Talks about babies and new beginnings. The nervous feeling is growing in your stomach once more.

Your mind continues to race. Only when you feel Charles place a hand on your cheek do you snap out of it.

"Amour?"

"Huh?" you ask, suddenly started. "Did you say something?"

Charles shakes his head. "Don't worry about it?"

"No, Charles, what did you say? Sorry, my mind went blank," it's a little bit of a lie. You can't tell him that your mind keeps drifting back to Lewis.

He lets out a little sigh before asking, "Do you still love him?"

Fuck! You so weren't ready to answer this question.

And the longer that Charles looks at you, waiting for answer, the more nervous the feeling in belly grows. You lick your lips. And as you run hand through your hair, hoping to find the courage to answer Charles' question, you notice his eyes move towards your hand.

Your left hand.

While you're caught off guard, Charles grabs your hand and pulls it towards him. He inspects it closely, taking in a sight that he's never seen before. You're ringless.

"Charles," you begin but stop as he looks up at you. You're unable to read the look in his eyes.

"You're not wearing your rings?" he asks, his voice almost silent.

You shake your head, you need to find your words.

"Charles... I have to-"

Charles saves you from having to find any more words. You're ringless and for Charles, that's enough proof and the answer he'd been looking for.

Your hand still in his, he lunges towards you and catches your lips in a sloppy kiss. The desperation of being apart from you for so many weeks is getting to him. And now, seeing you without your wedding rings, he can't be without you any longer.

The kiss is messy as the two of you grow more and more hungry for one another. Your tongues have found their way into each others mouths as you claw and grab onto one another in any way that you can. Your hands in his hair. His hands on your ass. Your hands under his shirt, the feeling on his chiseled abs being glazed over by your finger tips. His hands kneading your breasts.

At one point, Charles' hands make their way to the back of your thighs as he lifts you up. Your legs instinctively make their way around his waist. Lips still very much attached, Charles leads the two of you two towards his bedroom. You're slow in navigating the hallway. Banging into walls and furniture along the way.

As soon as Charles manoeuvres his way to the bedroom, he kicks open the door before placing you on the bed. His lips never leaving yours.

The desperation of needing one another only intensifies as the two of you begin to strip one another. Clothes are being pulled off one another in record time, finding themselves in every corner of the bedroom. Your lips even stay attached as Charles fiddles with the hook on the back of your bra while you pull down his boxer briefs. His penis didn't take long to become hard and fully erect. The absence of your body for three weeks and the lonely nights of imagining your touch was enough to have him hard and ready.

"Oh shit," you gasp as you feel Charles fingers graze your folds. You hadn't even noticed him remove your panties from your body.

You hiss again as he pushes his fingers past your folds before his fingers begin to make circling motions on your clit.

"Mhhmmm," you groan. Charles' warm breath is hitting your face and you open your eyes to see his face practically against yours. He's looking into your eyes, watching you as you begin to squirm and groan at his gentle touch.

"Did you miss me?" he whispers, applying more pressure onto your clit.

You nod as you let out a groan, your head falling backwards. As you shut your eyes once more, you see a flash of Lewis' face and immediately open your eyes.

You're grateful that Charles is toying with your clit as you let out a squeal at the image of Lewis.

What the fuck is happening? you ask yourself. You've had sex with Charles, more times than you can remember and yet Lewis never came into your head before. But today, he won't leave you alone.

Needing to occupy yourself, you wrap your hand around Charles' member and begin moving your hand up and down with consistent strokes. Your thighs jerk at the sound of Charles growing in your ear.

"Shit," Charles groans at your touch.

Your lips find each other's once more in another wet and sloppy kiss as you both play with one another.

"Do you want me to lick you out?" Charles grunts into your ear before he begins sucking your lobe. Occasionally licking at the skin beneath your ear.

"Yes," you pant.

Charles wastes no time and quickly makes his way down to the bottom of the bed. He doesn't spend time playing with your breasts or with teasing you any longer. He's hungry and he wants to hear his name roll off your tongue again.

You look down at Charles as he takes a familiar position between your legs. He makes sure his eyes are connected with yours before he leans forward to suck on your clit.

"Oh, God," you instantly cry out as you feel his lips on you. Your thighs jerk once more.

Charles releases your clit from in between his lips so he can give your pussy a long, wet lick.

"Say my name".

You moan at the sound of his voice, so deep and commanding.

As you open your mouth to say his name, Charles takes your clit between his lips once more.

"Oh my god, Charles," you squeal.

Charles begins his assault on your pussy once more and your hands find their way to his hair so you can release some of the tension by pulling at the strands. His face is practically buried against your thighs as he devours you. He's takes in the sight of you squirming before him. Your moans are like music into his ears. He pushes your hips back down towards the mattress before sliding two fingers inside of you.

"Oh, fuck. Charles, I can't," you whimper.

Your pussy is throbbing as Charles' fingers move in and out of you.

"Can't what, baby?" he teases.

Your eyes immediately shoot open at the sound of Charles calling you baby. He never calls you baby.

"Shit, I-," you begin but he plunges another finger into you.

"Do you want to cum?" he chuckles. However, his laugh is anything but innocent.

You nod, hoping that your orgasm ends whatever the fuck is going on in your head right now.

And it does, as you moan and let your body reach it's peak, you look down between your thighs once more as Charles laps up all of your juices.

He puts aside any opportunity for you to return any oral favours as he climbs on top of you, positioning his body in between your legs as he prepares to push himself inside of you. But before he does, he looks at you for permission.

"Are you okay to go?"

You nod, unable to find your words as you come down from your orgasm.

Charles wraps your legs around his waist before lining his dick up against your still throbbing pussy. He takes a moment before he pushes himself in side of you. The both of you moaning simultaneously.

While you adjust to his penis inside of you, he places his hands either side of you head. His face close to yours once more. Your juices glistening his lips and stubble.

His hips move slowly at first, aware that you may still be sensitive from your recent orgasm. As his hips begin to pick up a rhythm, Charles leans down to place a kiss on your lips. As your lips move against his, you let your hands roam across his chest and torso. Letting your fingers dance along his skin.

His movements are finding some momentum as Charles is thrusting in and out of you. Moans rolling from your tongue as you feel his cock moving deep within you. You're taking in every movement and thrust, letting him kiss you however he pleases.

"I... I love you, amour," Charles whispers into your ear.

Tingles run through your entire body as he confesses his love for you. At first you moan at his response, after all he is fucking you. But you let one of your hands run up to his cheek, making sure that his eyes are looking into yours, before you tell him,

"I love you, too".

It's enough for Charles to pick up his pace and begin thrusting into you even quicker than before. The two of you moaning more and more frequently.

Charles takes you by surprise as he takes your hand. It's your left hand. And he's wrapping it around his throat so you're lightly choking him.

You look at him, surprised. But he doesn't let it stop him. If anything, he fucks you harder.

You've never choked him before. You notice that he's running his fingers over your hand that's over his throat.

Wait.

He's not just wanting him to choke you, he wants to feel your hands on him because you're no longer wearing a wedding ring.

You try not to let this phase you. After all, you've thought about Lewis more times than you would like since you came to Charles' place. You won't let him get into your head as Charles makes love to you.

"Merde," you hear Charles groan. He's clearly enjoying the feeling of your hand around his throat while you have no idea how you feel about this. It’s all so new and out of character for Charles.

"I prefer it when you choke me instead," you joke. You feel a sense of relief as Charles laughs.

"Anything for you, amour," he pants as he lets your hand go before he gently places his hand on your throat.

"I don't want to go this long without you again," Charles grunts. The movement of hips becomes more sloppy as he nears his peak.

"I love you, Charles," you whisper as you feel yourself reach your own high. A knot tying in your stomach.

He leans down to place another kiss on your lips before he tries to pick up the pace.

"Fuck, I love you," he moans. He thrusts into you a couple more times before finally releasing himself inside of you.

Charles collapses down on the bed beside you. The room is also silent aside from the two of you panting, recovering from your orgasms.

As you lay on your back, you feel Charles' arms wrap around you, pulling your body against his. He places a gentle kiss on your temple.

But you can't seem to get rid of the feeling that's in your stomach. And the longer the two of you try to recover, the larger the knot becomes.

You almost flinch at the feeling of Charles' fingers brushing your hair out of your face.

"Sorry, amour, didn't mean to startle you," his voice is so sweet and so warm. He pulls you closer to his chest, not wanting to let go of you.

"I... I can't believe it," Charles begins.

The knot in your stomach won't go away.

"I, I wasn't actually sure if you'd leave him, you know," Charles continues. "When you left for Belgium, I thought it'd be okay. But when I met Lewis that day, I was a bit sceptical. He said that the two of you had sex before you left. I tried not to believe him but the longer you were away, I started to believe it may be true".

It's like he has word vomit. He can't stop talking. He's so relieved that you're here.

"But then you said you were back and you wanted to meet. I was a little hopeful but you never know how these things go. But when I saw you get out of the lift and when I saw your face, I just knew it was all going to be okay."

He leans down to place a kiss on your lips. He's so excited.

"And then I saw you without your rings. I... I can't quite believe it. But it's real. And you're here, with me and we-"

"Lewis is moving to New York," you blurt out.

Fuck, that isn't what you wanted to say. But Charles is so happy and he can't stop talking.

But now he has, and he's looking at you. He's a little confused but he's still happy.

"He's moving to New York?"

You untangle yourself from his arms as you sit up against the headboard. Charles follows suit.

You look at him and nod. Charles can't help but smile as he takes your hands in his.

"That's good, right?"

You gulp. "He's moving in a few weeks".

Charles nods. "Okay, well if you need somewhere to stay, you can always stay here. We'll figure it out, okay? We'll get somewhere of our own if you want? But the important thing is, we can be together".

'Charles..."

"What’s wrong, amour?"

You let out a sigh as you close your eyes.

"I... I ... Lewis is going to New York and he wants me to go with him".

The End.

(There will be a sequel please don’t kill me)

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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familyvideostevie · 1 year

Note

OH EM GEE LOVED THAT GRUMPY X SUNSHINE FIC WITH JAMES SO MUCH, I was wondering about a grumpy!sirus and sunshine!reader/ sunshine and sunshine protector (omg that trope with a platonic marauders 😩😩) I lvoe your writing so much babe <333

thank you thank you! here is some grumpy!sirius and sunshine!reader. i still don't know that i've got this trope totally down correctly but hope you like it anyway! :) | fem!reader, fluff, 1k

You can hardly hear Remus when you pick up the phone. You check the clock on the wall. It's time for him to be at the pub with James and Sirius, so you're not sure why he's calling.

"Hello?" you say.

"Oh, thank fuck," Remus cries. If he's cursing, you know something is up.

"What's wrong? Is Sirius there?" You expect that maybe he's gotten into trouble with another patron or that he's let his phone die and asked Remus to tell you.

"Is that her? Did you get her? Beg her, Remus. Tell her I'll buy her drinks for a week!" James is shouting in the background to be heard through the phone.

"I'm handling it," Remus calls back. You pull the speaker away from your ear as he does. What is going on? "Sorry," he says, much quieter now. He must have cupped his hand over the microphone. "Listen, can you come out to the pub? Our regular one?"

"But it's boy's night," you say. They invite you round more often than not, but it's important to you that they get to have their time as mates, too.

"I know," he sighs. "But--" There's a bit of a commotion and a lot of cursing and then James comes on the line.

"Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, can you come 'round? Your boyfriend is being miserable and it's going to get us kicked out. And this is my favorite spot!" Your stomach ties itself in a knot. Sirius? He hasn't texted you about anything concerning beyond reminding you that he'd be home later than usual.

"Is he okay?" James must hear your concern because he backpedals.

"Oh, yeah, he's fine, love, honest. We just ran into that tosser Lestrange on the way over and he's a bit sour. Family drama, and all that. Can you just come and get him to chill the fuck out, please?"

You're already reaching for your purse. It still makes you a little giddy that everyone knows you're the one who Sirius responds to the most. For some reason you can always bring him out of a mood, and you like doing it. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes or so."

"Is she coming?" Remus calls from the background. "Can I have my phone back now, please?" You end the call and shove your feet into your shoes and head out the door. You're not really in a pub-going outfit, but it'll have to do. You know that Sirius won't care much.

When you get to the bar you shoulder your way to the back where you know they'll be. Familiar faces call out your name and you wave to them, dispensing smiles and greetings with genuine happiness.

Your heart swells when you finally get to the back booth. Sirius is sat on one side, glaring at the beer in his hands. James and Remus are chatting to some other friends close by. As soon as you take a step towards your boyfriend, he looks up, like he sensed you coming. And his entire body transforms. He sits up straighter, his hands loosening their grip on the glass. He doesn't smile, not quite, but his jaw unclenches and his pupils dilate.

You beam at him. He quickly scoots out of the booth to greet you, hands outstretched as you reach for him in turn.

"My girl," he says, kissing your cheek before pulling you in for a hug. "What are you doing here?" Sirius rarely sounds delighted unless he's talking about how his club crushed their rival or how he managed to trick James into glueing his hand to his face, but this is pretty close.

You shrug in his hold. "Got bored at home." He pulls away and smoothes his thumb over one of your eyebrows.

"Hmm," he says. "Try again." You laugh, loudly and freely, and that does get him to smile. Only a little, but you count it as a victory. His smiles are like treasures and you keep them all in a lock-box in your chest.

"Remus called," you tell him honestly. He makes an annoyed noise, looking over his shoulder to glare at his friends. Both of them resolutely keep their gaze elsewhere.

Sirius leads you back to the booth and you settle in next to him, thigh pressed to his. He drapes an arm around you. Seeing that the danger has passed, James and Remus slide in on the other side.

"I told them not to bother you," Sirius says, frowning. But his hands betray him, one curling around your shoulder and the other resting warm and heavy on your kneecap.

"As if this is a bother," you scold. "Plus, James said he'd buy my drinks." You look at your t-shirt -- and old one of Sirius', and frown. "I wish I had thought to change, though."

"No," he says quickly. His fingers tuck under the collar to press into your bare skin. "No, I like this."

"It's fucking magic," Remus mutters from the other side of the booth. "Unbelievable."

James has his head in his hands. "It's like he didn't tell me to shove my head up my ass ten minutes ago." Sirius flips them off and leans in close, pressing his lips to your ear.

"It's obvious you're wearing my shirt," he says, voice gravely. You flight the urge to shiver. "Got me thinking all kinds of inappropriate things over here."

"Alright, you're going to get us kicked out for a different reason," James whines. You look at him and he winks. It's obvious that you're the keeper of Sirius's happiness and no one minds all that much, considering they love him. You all do. It's the easiest thing in the world.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Text

Jungkook

𝓘 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓨𝓸𝓾 (say it back): Sour 🔞

You know people think you're just using him. And he knows that people think he's just getting used by you. And maybe it's time for him to stand up, and make some things clear.

Tags/Warnings: Girly!Reader, Introvert!Jungkook, non-idol AU, opposites attract AU?, established relationship, Angst, Major Fluff, some drama, Slice of Life (like Good Girl AU for example), mc is kook's biggest simp, kook is kind of overwhelmed by her love sometimes, but it's fine they both cute, Jealousy oh no, possessive kook!, multiple rounds, boob slapping like.. once, cumplay, creampie oops²

Length: Long, didn't count oops

A/N: There is no taglist. There is no taglist. There is no taglist. There is no-

-> Masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━.~°♡°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

"Ah, by the way!" His trainer asks, while Jungkook quietly unwraps his hands after his boxing training. "I wanted to ask you, who was that girl you were with when you came here earlier?" He asks, referring to you.

Jungkook doesn't really know any other girls besides you, after all. So it has to be you- you've tagged along to the boxing studio with him, leaving him to walk inside on his own however since he'd offered to simply take you along, so you could go to your appointment at the hair salon while he was working out, and bring you back home once he was done.

"..my girlfriend." Jungkook says, continuing to unwrap his other hand before flexing the fingers a bit. It's a bit odd to say it out loud- but not a bad-odd. Just unfamiliar.

Maybe because he doesn't say it much.

Maybe he should.

"Really?" His trainer wonders, looking genuinely surprised for a second as he looks at Jungkook- who feels a bit challenged, almost. Jungkook has noticed that the start contrast between you and himself has caused some people to look at him with almost something akin to pity- as if he's the prey in the cougars claws, about to be chewed and spit out once you're done with him. He gets it- but at the same time, it irritates him to no ends, because you're pretty much the sweetest cursing little angel he's ever met up to this point.

So it's unsurprising that his answer might sound a bit more offended than he's intending it to. "Yes." He answers, brows lowering.

"Oh, wow." His trainer seems to catch up on his mood. "No offense, really! Just- surprising, you know?" He tries to explain himself. "You're always so quiet, and you know… Are you sure she's in it for the right reasons?" He asks, and at that, Jungkook puts everything down to look up at his trainer with a serious face.

"What are you implying?" He demands to know.

"Man, I'm just saying! You know, I know girls like that. They use guys like you! They might fuck you well but-" He tries. "-I just-"

"You want to fuck her instead, is that it?" Jungkook calls him out, and by the look on the guy's face, Jungkook had hit the jackpot. And just as he gets up to walk closer, the door opens, and you walk in with a rustling paperbag that smells like takeout food.

"Uh.. am I interrupting something?" You ask, a little unsure- and both men stare each other down for a bit longer, before Jungkook walks off to walk over to you instead, hand on the back of your neck as he gives you a short but heated kiss- rendering you a bit speechless for once. He's never this bold in public.

What's going on?

"I'll go shower real quick, okay?" He tells you, and you just dumbly nod, left by yourself as he walks past his trainer into the changing rooms and showers.

"I'm just- not gonna ask." You just say, more or less to yourself as you sit down in a chair close by, throwing one leg over the other before pulling out your phone.

"He's just having a bad day." The trainer tells you, walking closer. "So, you and him?" He asks, and you nod at that, big grin on your face.

"Yep!" You chirp, tapping away on your phone.

"Don't make him spend all his money on you." The trainer tells you, somewhat joking- though you can hear the hint of honest threat in his tone, which makes you stop what you're doing. "I know he's a softy, but come on. Just cause he's easy doesn't make it right." He says, and you become a bit insecure at that.

You know that's what most people must think of you- but hearing it said out loud makes it sting just a bit more.

You want to stand up for yourself like you always try to do- but somehow, you can't, not in this moment. Not because you don't want to- but because you're just realizing how little people think of Jungkook. You're not even the victim here. It's not your place to even be offended in the first place.

You can take the weird rumors about yourself, the glances and looks, the stereotypes and boxes people put you in. But the fact that just because Jungkook cares, and loves, and treats the people around him with kindness, he's seen as someone weak and pitiful, just makes you angry. Because if you stood up for him right now, it would only cause more issues- the guy in front of you would only feel validated in his opinion, would never let your boyfriend live it down that his own stupid dumb girlfriend had to defend his poor self from the world.

"I'll send you my cancellation for my membership via E-mail." Jungkook suddenly says as he emerges from the showers, grabbing his bag before he helps you stand up from your seat, brushing down the back of your skirt with his palm. He almost instantly reaches for your small bag as well, holding it for you while you put your phone away.

"Hey man, I was just looking out for you-" The trainer starts, but Jungkook puts himself between him and you as if to prove a point, calmly speaking.

"Don't. I'm very much capable of doing that myself." He says, simply takes his bag to throw over his shoulder before he takes your hand in his, and leaves the gym.

It's only in the car that you dare ask what's happened. "Is it because of me?" You wonder, and Jungkook perks up at that, face completely devoid of the anger he'd had just a few minutes ago.

"What do you mean?" He asks, even his voice not in the slightest irritated any longer.

"At the gym, earlier." You say, opening the paper bag to steal some fries for yourself. "Like, you said you'll cancel your membership and stuff. And you love boxing." You shrug, and he shakes his head.

"I think I just realized that I need to start putting my foot down." He offers, changing lanes as he drives you both home. "And the membership was also pretty overpriced anyways. There's other gyms I can check out." He tries to joke, though you don't seem too convinced next to him.

"You know I'm not using your for, you know, sex and money right?" You ask him, and his eyes widen. "Like, I really really do love you-" You begin, and he laughs.

"I know that, don't worry." He tells you. "Is that what he told you?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"Lot's of people think that." You huff to yourself. "Comes with the style, I guess. And like, I'm not mad about that- I don't really care if people think I'm a money-grabbing whore." You laugh, making him cringe. He doesn't like you talking about yourself like that. "But it just makes me mad that people think you're a pussy who needs to be babied all the time." You complain.

"So you're getting angry on my behalf?" He chuckles, and you nod, crossing your arms.

"I hate when people don't take you seriously." You huff to yourself, staying quiet the entire rest of the ride until you both reach his apartment where you're staying over at tonight- when his arms reach around you from the back, his face hiding in the crook of your neck where he kisses the skin.

"I love you."He hums, and you shiver at the sound of that sentence. He doesn't say it often, his love language non-verbal, rather expressing his feelings in acts of service or fleeting touches. So whenever he does say it, it's special. "And I'm.. really happy you're my girlfriend, you know that?" He says, and you shrug.

"I'm.. you know, I'm sorry I'm always so much trouble." You sigh, but he shakes his head.

"You're not." He denies. "I need to.. say it more often to people. You know. Stop introducing you as.. you, but as my girlfriend instead." He tells you.

"You don't have to-" You start, but he chuckles.

"No, I do." He argues gently. "Because I can't stand it when people think you're easy to get. Or that you're someone that's available in the first place." He complains, walking you closer to his small bedroom, where he suddenly picks you up and let's you fall on the bed, your body bouncing from the impact a little.

"Jung-" you start, but he's already crawling closer to you on hands and knees, leaning in.

"You're mine." He almost growls under his breath, kissing you feverishly. You're not sure what's gotten into him, but you're also not complaining- or maybe you do, as you hear fabric rip and buttons drop to the floor around the bedroom.

"kook!" You whine. "That was one of my favorites-!" You complain, while he's busy pulling your skirt from your legs.

"As if I care." He growls, before he pulls you closer by the backs of your knees. "I like that lingerie though." He almost purrs, hands pulling on the straps of the lace body, letting them snap back against your skin playfully so.

"Yeah I like it too-" You pout, crossing your arms. "-So don't break it." You huff, making him raise one of his brows before he moves to push your wrists into the bed up above your head.

"I won't promise anything." He comments, before he leans down to kiss you, lips eager to claim your breath while his hands roam around your body, grabbing onto the softness of your breasts before they travel lower, over your sides, stomach, one pulling your leg up, while the other moves between your legs.

Your toes curl as he finds a way to slip his palm inside, teasing you for a good while before he throws his shirt over his head, shedding the rest of his clothes as well, before he grabs at the lace bottom of the lingerie.

It rips as he creates an opening, making you whine.

"I'll buy you a new one." He hums, one of his hands pumping his cock before he guides himself into your leaking core, pushing in slowly to help you adjust. "I'll buy you ten, I don't fucking care."

"You'll rip them all.." you sigh partially because of the feeling of him filling you up like this.

"Damn right I will." He chuckles darkly, pulling out before he pushes back in.

It's the start of what you think you know by now- but he's catching you off guard as his hips move at an aggressive pace, skin against skin echoing in the room as he clenches his jaw, a hard grip on your thighs, making you wonder if he'll leave bruises.

You wouldn't mind if he did.

Your head spins as you're left taking whatever he gives you, one of his hands leaving your thigh to instead pull down some of the straps on the upper part, pulling out your tits for him to see freely move. He can't help but grab onto one of them, hold it before he slaps it once just to see how it feels.

You, meanwhile, feel like you're having an out of body experience. You can hear yourself moan almost obscenely, whining and whimpering as he pounds into you, but its like your body doesn't respond to you any longer, as you arch your back and curl your toes.

And like the devil he is, he doesn't slow down. Instead, he grabs your hips, and adjusts you to lay over his thighs, gaining the ability to aim even deeper inside. And your body freezes up as you hit your orgasm full force, thighs shaking violently as he slows a bit, erratically moving to reach his own high as well, your cunt clenching around him tightly.

And as he finally cums, pushed as far inside you as he can, he finally gains back the ability to year, and notice his surroundings.

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, your eyes are closed, skin shining in a light layer of sweat as he can't help but run his hands over the pale pink lace lingerie covering your body.

You're just so pretty.

He moves the straps and lace around, helps you out of the garment, slipping out of your core for a moment, causing you to whine in complaint. "So pretty.." he hums, as he finally has full access to your bare skin, lips peppering kisses from your stomach up to your neck, hands never staying still. "All mine." He speaks against your skin, when you feel him suddenly harshly suck and bite at your neck and shoulder.

"J-jungk-" you stammer, legs rubbing against one another as he chuckles.

"Already wanting more?" He wonders, and you nod, hands clinging onto his arms. "Think you can take it?" He jokes, and you nod again.

"Please-" you beg, and he leans back, pulling you with him to straddle his lap, adjusting you properly on his still sensitive cock. You've never had sex in this position before,but you immediately decide that it's one of your favorite- the way he holds you, his body all over you, the way he's able to provide such an immense feeling of safety and comfort to you, is otherworldly almost.

Or maybe it's just jungkook himself. You're not sure.

He's overly sensitive but pushes through that first wall, moves a lot slower and more sensual now as he helps you bounce on his lap, before you instead start to roll your hips into his- earning a very vocal response from him as he holds onto your ass, assisting you in your motions while your hands are on his back, nails scratching a little over his skin.

And he loves it, loves the idea of wearing your marks just as much as you do his.

He really should show his love for you more often. It's still a bit odd to him why you're with him in the first place, but he should stop trying to figure that out- because that's not what it's all about, isn't it? Your relationship doesn't need any other reason to exist than live alone, and love is something you both have a lot of.

The love for your body, your mind, your soul. The love for the way you nap around whenever you can in the most random of places. The love for your random kisses you place on his cheek, on his neck, on his hands, on his shoulders. The love for your cooking, your care and your hugs at night.

He's got so much love for you, and he should show that.

He's sure he can't cum again, but he knows he's reaching his second orgasm however, hips moving erratically just like yours as you pick up your pace, lips chasing after his, as he licks at your lips, open mouthed kisses sharing breaths as you reach your highs.

You cling onto him for a good while after, feeling him fill you up once more as his cock spurts his release up your cunt, making it leak out down your legs, as he lays your limp body back down on the bed, pulling out.

His hand can't help but try and push his seed back in- and when he notices he can't, he instead uses it as lubricant to instead let his thumb circle over your pulling clit, a frail whimper coming from you as he softly lures another orgasm out of you, his breath finally normalizing as he watches his cum leak out of you.

He's tired, exhausted, but forces himself up at least to help you and him clean up and so you go pee, while he simply throws the stained sheets into the wash. Neither he nor you get dressed after showering and drying up, rather opting to sleep wrapped in simple blankets on the couch instead, holding each other close.

And the pain in his muscles the next time he wakes up is so worth it-

Just like the honestly amusing sight of you struggling to walk straight.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

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Propaganda

Madhubala (Mughal-e-Azam, Barsaat Ki Raat, Mr. & Mrs. '55)—The Venus of India; heart-throb of all who saw her; responsible for the sexual awakening of every single desi lesbian I know (including me!) And my god, she is breathtakingly beautiful. Look at the subtle grace with which she moves, and that smile - the kind of radiant smile that can make you laugh with sheer delight, or cry because of its hidden pain. Those wild curls! That Cupid's bow! The way she tilts back her head and smiles at you with mischief dancing in her eyes! She has a way of looking at the camera that makes you feel she's sharing a private joke just with you; it's something about that quizzical twist of the lips and eyebrows. As an actress, she is inimitable; she seems to effortlessly inhabit roles ranging from a heart-broken courtesan to a laughter-loving socialite. Fun fact : she's had quite the fan following in Greece! Stelios Kazantidis even wrote a song as a tribute to her.

Olivia de Havilland (Adventures of Robin Hood, Gone With the Wind, The Heiress)— The woman who took on the Studio System at the height of their power and Won! A double Oscar winner! Is magnetic and beautiful in everything she's in and gave us all the juicy scandal with her sibling rivalry with Joan Fontaine! Before the Oscar Slap was the Oscar sister snub! Also everything she wears in Robin Hood she makes beautiful even a purple green and orange monstrosity how does she do it! Anyway this scene is one of my old Hollywood favourites

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Madhubala:

An icon of Bollywood, who was well known for her beauty and has continued to inspire performances and songs into the 21st century. She was at times described as "the number one beauty of the Indian screen" and "the biggest star in the world".

SHE IS EVERYTHING AHHH. JUST LOOK AT HER SMILE-

She's been nicknamed the Marilyn Monroe of India and was one of the highest paid actresses in the Hindi film industry (the term Bollywood did not exist yet) during the 1950s. Also an extremely talented dancer and singer

SHE'S JUST SO STUNNING, like seeing her eyes IMMEDIATELY CAPTIVATES YOU, THE DANCING, THE BEAUTY!!!!!!!!! She worked in Bollywood for over 20 years and passed away at a sad early age of 36, BUT THE IMPACT SHE HAD WAS UNMATCHED!!!!!

That sassy sideways glance she does always has me WEAK AT THE KNEES. And when she's making silly faces at the camera to mimic someone ahhhh my gay little heart <3

Olivia de Havilland:

She is just perfection. She has a smile that is looks like it is barely holding back, and yet so reserved as well.

Broke the contract system and won freedoms for actors (the de Havilland Law is still in effect I believe). 2 time Oscar winner. Beautiful and smart

She legally challenged the movie studios' unfair contracts and won, setting a precedent for other actors to be treated more fairly. This was at great cost to her financially and essentially getting her blacklisted for years but the resulting judicial opinion is still known as the De Havilland Law and has won her a great deal of praise and admiration.

Her performance in The Heiress is one of my all-time favorites, she’s so good at making melodrama feel real and grounded without sacrificing any of the passion/drama.

Serenely beautiful, she struck a balance between crowd-pleasing fluff and prestigious drama. Famously at odds with her equally successful sister Joan Fontaine, she was too much of a lady to ever say anything public. Successfully sued Ryan Murphy for portraying her as a saucy gossip in Feud.

the period costume + eye patch combo in That Lady is just an absolute serve

She has the most adorable and cherubic face and voice

#olivia de havilland #madhubala #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

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miraclewoozi · 2 months

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HIGH FIDELITY, PT 2. -c.hs

getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking one very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time?

( PART ONE )

pair ; vernon x fem!reader. content ; strangers to lovers. up-and-coming musician!vernon x record store owner!reader. fluff, angst, smut. (MINORS DNI). warnings ; drinking + alcohol is a big theme pretty much throughout. mentions of past relationship breakdowns. reader experiences a lot of stress, anxiety and feelings of doubt, reflected in self sabotage. mentions of sickness (acute). wc ; 12.2k ( ~38k total. ) disclaimer ; this fic was inspired by rob + liam in the series high fidelity and is therefore pretty influenced by the show. if you’ve watched it, you’ll probably see a lot of similarities! i just felt so drawn to vernon in this kind of role that i really wanted to try and put a spin on it. i do not claim that every idea behind this is original. notes ; been working on this one for a while. hope you enjoy it.<3

smut tags : making out. some groping. some 'first time together' shenanigans. oral (m rec) & ball sucking hehe. he has a big cock because i have an agenda to push. implied f rec oral. implied multiple rounds. PLEASE let me know if i’ve forgotten anything.

The clock on your bedside table reads somewhere between 4:00 and 5:00 in the morning when you resign from trying to fall asleep and force yourself to sit upright, fed up of tossing and turning between your now too-creased sheets, brain stuck in a foggy, hellish limbo. Your mind won’t shut down. Your body won’t rest. Birds are starting to chirp outside and you can hear them clear as whistles through the cheap window that doesn’t quite seal shut to your left. Your eyes squint in preparation as you reach for your lamp and flood the room in yellowish light, drawing your knees up to your chest.

You’ve spent so much time in your own thoughts that you’ve begun to feel systemically unwell. Your stomach twists and aches, your eyes are so dry it hurts to even blink and there’s an ache behind them that started as an annoying throb, but has grown over the hours into a roaring flame. From the hairs on your head all the way down to your toes, you feel like you could burst.

You wish you had it in you to cry. To let it out. Keeping this pent up is no doubt making you feel a hundred times worse, and you think it would be nice to feel something other than the endless swooping of the spiral you’re well and truly making your way down. Your alarms are going to go off in a few hours. I can’t let anyone see me like this, you think. I can’t work in this state.

You throw ideas around in your head for a little while, thumbs tweaking over your phone as messages get typed, edited, deleted, and repeat. Part of you thinks maybe you could manage. Just tough it out and put on a brave face, because actually, what right do you have to be hiding away when you’re the one who ran out one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met? But you just know something will go wrong, even if you tell the boys that you need to camp out in the office for the day. When you need peace and quiet, you can never find it behind that creaky old door. When was the last time you got a full admin day without being called through to help with a problem or deal with a drama? And truly, the idea of facing the world right now makes you feel like you could be sick.

Sick…

Could you—?

You’ve never enjoyed taking sick days, even on occasions where you’ve really needed them, when you’ve woken up feeling like you’re knocking at death’s door. Sometimes, you swear the guilt that it brings ends up making you feel ten times worse than whatever your ailment is doing to you in the first place. But your exhaustion lets impulse take hold and you’re already sending a message into your group chat with the boys before you can talk yourself out of it, biting the inside of your cheek as the little indicator pops up on your screen. Delivered.

Well. You’re committed now, whether you like it or not.

Not feeling so hot. I won’t be in today. Take it easy, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Sorry.

You pick your comforter up off the bed and wrap it around your shoulders like an extravagant, well-padded cape, trudging your way through the apartment until you’re stood, barefoot and cold, staring into the bright light of your refrigerator. Somehow in the seconds between pulling the handle and now, you’ve managed to forget what is what that you were hoping to find. More out of spite for how the bulbs are currently bleaching your retinas than because you want it, you pull the milk from its home in the cradle of the door and fix yourself a glass to take with you and put it on the coffee table back in your living room.

Without an ounce of grace, you throw yourself onto your couch: your head rests against the arm of the seat like you’re in the apartment of a sketchy therapist, and you’re wrapped up in your duvet as if it’s a sleeping bag, treating yourself to the luxury of a slightly different ceiling pattern to stare up at. And it could be the change of the room that finally manages to drag you under, or it could be the total fatigue of the emotional rollercoaster that has been your last twenty four hours…

But your glass of milk goes completely untouched as you eventually drift off, either way.

Of course, it’s not for nearly long enough. Barely an hour after finally managing to fall asleep, your phone starts to vibrate harshly against your chest. You tap at the screen blindly, hoping to shut off what you assume is your alarm; when it’s still buzzing a few seconds later, you reluctantly open your eyes, fighting back a sob. It’s not your alarm – it’s an incoming call. Why would it be anything else?

“Hello?” You grumble, putting the phone on speaker and resting it on the couch cushion next to your head. The energy expenditure of holding the device up to your ear feels mammoth.

“Ohh, you sound terrible.” Seungkwan’s voice sounds more taunting than it does concerned, but you pin that down to a symptom of his over-familiarity. “You’re sick?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“I heard there was something going around,” Seungkwan tells you. Great, you think. Good to know. Now go away. “Yeah – one of my cousins… ah, what did she say…”

“Hey, man, I really-...”

“That’s it. She said she was love sick.”

You sigh so hard you think it’s a miracle you don’t pass out.

“Don’t–”

“You better make sure Vernon gives you plenty of Vitamin D, today,” he harps on. “It’s quite the disease. I heard it can really–”

“Seungkwan!” You snap, finally, grabbing your phone and barking straight into the microphone. He doesn’t need to know that you’re stretching the truth to its absolute limit, but you certainly won’t let him keep believing that you’re calling out just to get laid. “Knock it off, okay? I’ve been awake all night.”

(You suppose you should be glad that that much really is true.)

He falls silent, and you don’t know if he totally believes you, but a few breaths later, you hear his voice through the speaker again. He’s softer, this time. Quieter.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, hesitating a moment before he goes on. “Try to get some rest, all right? I’ll swing by after work and check in with some food, and… if you need anything, just text me?”

You’re immediately overcome with guilt at the sharp change in his demeanour, and it does nothing to settle the way your insides are writhing inside you. You clear your throat and pull your duvet up to cover your face, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

“I will,” you mumble. “I’m sorry – thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. You can hear the front door to his own apartment slam shut and his breaths pick up as he starts to rush down the stairwell of his building. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

“Hey–” he rushes, before you can hang up the call. “Rest up. Run a bath, drink plenty. Love you.”

You cringe a little, but not enough to stop you from saying it back. Sort of.

“Yeah. You too.”

Nobody could ever accuse Seungkwan of not being a man of his word. As irritating as he can sometimes be, as determined as he is to get on your every last nerve, you’ve never known him fail to come through on a promise.

Not long after 6:30pm, you hear a series of knocks at the front door of your apartment. You’ve managed to squeeze in odd shifts of sleep throughout the day and though your head is still in a mess, you feel significantly less irritable than you were this morning. Cleaner, as well. One of your (several) naps took place in the bath, where you laid there and let the hot water draw some of the anxieties clean out of you to float towards the ceiling amongst the lavender-scented steam.

In the knowledge that Seungkwan’s expectations of you are quite literally zero, you don’t bother to fix the one leg of your sweatpants that’s rolled up before you heave yourself off the couch and go to let him inside. He stands in the doorway with a bag of takeout food in each hand, all wind-flushed cheeks and that brilliant smile, and you feel like your stomach settles almost straight away when you see him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, toeing off his shoes as he comes inside and lets the door close behind him. He sets the bags down on top of the small table by your front door and cups your face in both of his hands, squeezing your cheeks and frowning down at you. “You look awful.”

“Wow, thanks,” you huff, squirming to get out of his grip. “I was going to say I feel a little better, but…”

“You look exhausted,” Seungkwan clarifies, picking up the bags once more and following you through to your living room as you start to walk away from him. “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t realise you were actually… this bad…”

“This is doing wonders for my ego,” you grumble. “Keep it coming. Really.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, no. By all means, continue to kick a girl while she’s down. Super classy.”

Your best friend flops down onto your couch with an exaggerated huff at your petulance. You curl up in the armchair instead, bringing your knees up beneath you.

“Do you think it was something you ate?” He asks, refusing to give into your bickering and changing the subject matter instead.

You shrug your shoulders at him. “I don’t-... I mean, it was more of a head… thing?”

He sucks his front teeth. “What, like a migraine?”

“Sort of?”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” He asks. “You’ve had a migraine before. Was it that or not?”

“Well, it’s difficult to-... It wasn’t exactly…”

“Okay.”

Seungkwan interrupts you as you hesitate again, swinging his legs off the couch and resting his elbows on his thighs, leaning as far towards you as he can while still remaining seated. He wrings his hands, plays with his fingers, lips drawn forward in a stern-looking pout.

“I thought something was up this morning on the phone, but I didn’t wanna push it because you sounded mad. Now I know something’s wrong with you. What’s going on?”

You swallow hard and cross your arms over your chest, dropping your gaze away from Seungkwan’s very intense one.

“Nothing,” you lie.

“Bullshit.”

“Seungkwan!”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, tipping his head forward and running his hands through his hair. He’s never been a coddler, always one to prefer the tough-love approach: it’s no surprise that he doesn’t appear any softer when he looks back at you. “But we both know that’s crap.”

You can feel your pulse starting to quicken the longer he stares you down. It’s as if he’s burning two great big holes into your head, laser-beams where his pupils ought to be. He’s the master of the hard stare, and you know he won’t move until he hears the truth.

Maybe I should just tell him. Maybe it’ll help…

“Look, I don’t care how famous he thinks he’s gonna be, if Vernon upset you last night, I’ll kick his ass myself.”

And there are the alarm bells. In hindsight, maybe you should’ve seen this coming; it’s not that far of a reach, and given the few facts that he actually knows, you can’t blame Seungkwan for jumping to this conclusion. It’s quite effective in triggering you to speak up, too. (You think that maybe, this was on purpose. Attack where you’re likely to defend. He knows you like the back of his hand.) In an instant you’re sitting upright with your feet firmly on the floor and you’re shaking your head at him like a dog trying to get itself dry.

“No, no, no, back it up,” you rush. “It’s nothing like that. He hasn’t done anyth-... God, it’s not him.”

“It better not be,” Seungkwan tells you. His voice still has that dark edge to it, and you’re not sure how exactly to stamp it out. “I’m serious. If he’s done anything-...”

“He hasn’t,” you say more firmly. After a couple slow breaths, you clasp your hands together, swallowing your pride. “The food’s gonna go cold. Go grab a couple glasses and-... whatever else from the kitchen—”

“Only if you tell me what’s happening,” he says, slowly pushing himself up to stand.

You don’t assent with words, but you don’t have to. You look up at him and nod a couple of times and that’s all he needs. Seungkwan strides off through the doorway, leaving you to shakily exhale away the stress that is once again squeezing at your lungs.

Once the containers are laid out on the table, food is divided up, utensils are handed over and he’s poured you each out a glass of soda, Seungkwan sits back on the couch. He doesn’t prod you, or ask you again – he doesn’t need to. You know what he’s waiting for. Even so, he allows you a few mouthfuls of your dinner first: seeing as this is the first substantial thing you’ve eaten all day, you silently thank him for the generosity.

“All right,” you say, gulping down a few mouthfuls of your drink to re-lubricate your throat. “Okay. Fuck – you’re gonna wanna make yourself comfy for this.”

The only way he moves is to pick up one of the food cartons and settle it on his thigh. Oh, how you wish you were joking. But if he really doesn’t want to heed your warning…

“You know I went on that date the other week?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek. Seungkwan nods at you, lifting a helping of noodles out of the carton.

“With the hitter and quitter,” he confirms. “I remember.”

“Right,” you say. “Well – okay, wait, no. That’s a bad start. He didn’t do anything either.”

“I mean…”

“Not the time.”

He lifts his free hand up in surrender and gestures for you to continue as he slurps his food into his mouth. You clear your throat, bouncing one leg so rapidly that the decorative candle holder on your mantelpiece starts to rattle.

“So… it was before the date. I was on my way to the bar, walking down past-... that convenient store. You know the one Chan keeps going into ‘cause he’s got the hots for the person who works there on a Friday night? Yeah, I was walking down that way. Actually running on time for once, and-...”

You falter, sucking a breath deep into your lungs. It causes your next words to come out more strained than they ought to.

“I ran into Jaehyun...”

Seungkwan swallows just in time to prevent himself from choking on his mouthful of food, but his eyes still shoot wide and you think his chest convulses a little bit anyway. His is a name you haven’t mentioned in a while, but he clearly hasn’t forgotten who it belongs to.

Because, well… how could he ever forget?

Your ex-partner. Jaehyun.

The ex-love-of-your-life, Jaehyun.

The man who asked you to marry him after three and a half years of dating only to leave you, heartbroken and alone, six months later because he wanted to travel the world and there was too much that you couldn’t bring yourself to leave behind, Jaehyun.

How could Seungkwan forget when he had been one of the people who helped drag you through what was not only the worst break-up, but one of the worst times of your entire life?

Aside from the other week, it’s been… nearly eighteen months since you saw him last. Almost a year since you let yourself talk about him. Even sitting in your own apartment with a box full of your favourite food in your hands, a sense of dread chills you from head to toe just going so far as to say his name. But you’ve started, now, so you might as well finish.

“…right outside that stupid fucking store.”

Your voice cracks when you say it and you hurry to set your dinner down on the floor to free up your shaking hands. You cup them over your mouth, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths. It helps enough for you to be able to continue, even if you still feel a bit like you’re drowning.

“I thought he…” Seungkwan starts, putting his own food down and slipping off the couch. He comes to sit on the arm of your chair and puts a hand around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “When did-...?”

“Yeah, uh… apparently he moved back a couple weeks ago,” you swallow, leaning into your friend’s embrace.

Seungkwan looks down at you and you look up at him, all misty-eyed and drained. There’s more. He knows there is, but now he waits for you patiently, giving you all the time in the world to get through this and to let it out and to lean on him. He doesn’t butt in. The quiet feels worse than the talking.

“He’s with someone now. They, uh— they met in Paris. Just over a year ago.”

Seungkwan finally dares to make a noise and breathes out heavily, so loud that it’s almost a groan.

“Y/n,” he sighs, tightening his hold around you. “Shit – I’m so sorry,”

You shrug, staring across the room to where your record player sits on top of a low cabinet, lid open, table collecting dust.

“For months, I sat here feeling… fucking, sorry for myself,” you say, barely above a whisper. You swallow around the lump in your throat and shake your head. “This whole time, refusing to get back on the horse ‘cause I thought maybe-... but he was-…”

The room goes quiet again as you lose the words you want to say and Seungkwan just rubs small circles against your arm. The problem is that you know this doesn’t explain why you called out of work today. It doesn’t explain what happened last night, and you’re not sure where to begin with that either. Especially seeing as the last time your best friends saw you and Vernon, the sparks flying between you were nigh-on visible.

“I thought I was handling it, you know?” You sigh, leaning harder into Seungkwan’s soft sweatshirt. “Like… yeah — it hurt… but I was okay? I guess. And then Vernon fucking… kissed me last night—“

“He— what?”

“Hang on — no, he… I wanted him to.” You fumble with a thread hanging off the sleeve of your t-shirt as you talk. Why is this all so difficult? At the same time, why does it feel so juvenile to say out loud? “I just… I don’t know…”

Your wall clock tick, tick, ticks away in yet another painful fall of silence.

“How bad was he?” Seungkwan asks when you struggle to elaborate.

You assume this is an attempt to shatter the gloomy atmosphere and lighten your mood a tiny bit; it works, you suppose, because despite yourself, you laugh drily. Not without nudging your shoulder into his ribs, though. He deserves it, and you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that it does make you feel a little better.

“He wasn’t,” you groan. “Don’t—… you’re such an ass.”

He pulls himself away from you at the sound of your laughter and moves to sit on the edge of your coffee table instead, careful not to disrupt any of your food while keeping himself close enough to you that he can hold both of your hands in his and soothe his thumbs over your palms.

“You freaked out on him, didn’t you?”

He sees straight through you and truthfully, no part of you is surprised. No part of you tries to fight it, or reject his assumption, or even question why that’s the first explanation he leapt to. You just nod, looking to where your best friend’s fingers are currently the only things holding you together.

“Ran out his apartment like the building was gonna burn down,” you sigh, still laughing but harshly now. He squeezes your hands gently, urging you to look up at him. You do, slowly. “It’s ruined everything.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Seungkwan tries, narrowing his eyes at you when you scoff your obvious disagreement. “No, seriously. Anyone can see the poor guy’s got it bad for you.”

“Even if that’s right, you didn’t see his face,” you say. “God, he isn’t gonna wanna look at me ever again.”

“Have you spoken to him today?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Maybe if you explain what happened–”

“Oh, sure,” you snort. “‘Hey, Vernon. Sorry for running out on you like a lunatic yesterday. I ran into my ex recently and when you kissed me, it reminded me of being with him and I got freaked out and had to dash. Hope you don’t mind.’ God.”

You try to draw your hands back but Seungkwan just holds onto you tighter. “We’ll workshop it,” he says firmly. “Do you like him, or not?”

“Seungkwan–”

“That wasn’t an option.”

You scowl at him. “It’s not that easy.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes,” you stress finally, groaning through it. “Yes – I do.”

Seungkwan’s face lights up for a second, his eyes sparkling, lips lifting. You’re half expecting him to say ‘I knew it’. Half expecting him to try and be all deep and philosophical and a little bit motherly, as he sometimes does, especially when you’re upset. He’s always been a sucker for a happy ending. But this isn’t a happy ending, you remind yourself, squaring your jaw. It’s past that, already. It isn’t going to happen, you just know it.

“Stop being so fucking hard on yourself,” he tells you, squeezing your hands one last time before he lets go and moves back over to the couch so he can finish eating before his food goes cold. “If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”

You’re not sure what’s in the air right now, but this has been one of the busiest weekends that you can remember. Both yesterday and today, almost as soon as the store opened, your first handful of customers came through. Apart from about an hour around lunchtime, you don’t think there have been any periods of time where you’ve not had someone milling around the shelves. It makes a nice change, really, from some of your weekend shifts – hours at a time where the dust starts to settle and hardly anyone disturbs the bell above the front door. But this means you’ve been in full customer-service mode basically all day, and you’re starting to feel exhausted from keeping up the persona.

Still. There’s only an hour or so left — you can push through, and when you get home, there’ll be a nice, hot bubble bath with your name written all over it.

The bell chimes again just as you finish serving a group of teenage girls. You watch them scurry away, excitedly giggling about their new albums and you look towards the door with a smile already plastered on, all ready to greet the new customer until your eyes lock with theirs.

A ‘hey, how’s it going?’ stops somewhere midway up your throat, a pathetic little ‘huh?’ sound escaping you in its place. You’re frozen all of a sudden; you and the man who just came in both stand perfectly still, staring at each other like a pair of bunnies in headlights. It takes you forever to register the strap wrapped around his fist, the purse that hangs just below his grip. My bag, you think to yourself, but the voice that narrates your thoughts is hushed for the first time ever, too. Everything in your head gets sucked away into a little vacuum. The only thing left is him.

“I-… thought you might want this back.” Vernon breaks the quiet first. Your throat runs dry. In a flash, the noise in your brain is as loud as it’s ever been and in amongst all the chaos of thoughts and questions and apologies, you can’t pick out the words you actually want to say.

He slowly unravels the strap from around his hand and takes a few steps closer to you, inching towards the counter.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he hurries to assure you. Your heart aches for how reserved and nervous he looks. It doesn’t suit him. You hate it. “It’s okay. I’m… really sorry, about the other night. I didn’t mean to—” A deep breath. “I’ll see you around.”

Vernon lays your bag so delicately on the wooden surface that you could be forgiven for thinking he was handling an explosive. Then, he takes one, two, three steps back, before turning and heading to the exit.

“Wait—” you call out to him, finding your voice at the most critical time, right as his fingers curl around the door handle. “Wait—, please.”

He spins back around to face you as you slip out from behind the desk. His left brow lifts higher than the right but otherwise, he gives nothing away. He doesn’t even say anything as he stands there, pushing his hands deep into his pockets.

You swallow around the golf ball sized lump taking residence in your throat and clasp your hands together in front of you, wringing and twisting and accidentally popping one of your knuckles in the process. “I shouldn’t have run out on you like that. It wasn’t fair.”

Vernon chews this over in his mind but ultimately just shrugs his shoulders at you. What is there to say? He surely agrees, but he seems so adamant to ensure you don’t feel bad about it happening that he just… says nothing. Again. It’s kind of maddening, even if you fully get why.

“No, I mean it,” you try again. “It wasn’t you. It’s nothing you did.”

“We really don’t have to do the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ thing,” Vernon offers, his cardboard-like posture softening. There’s even a little bit of a smile on his face, you think — but it’s not the kind of smile you’ve grown used to seeing on him. It doesn’t reach his eyes; he looks kind of like someone who has read their cards and accepted their fate. “Seriously. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you stress, stepping closer to him again. You sigh deeply. There’s something almost relieving about the position you find yourself in. You suppose this really is crunch time; it’s now or never. “Can we… talk? About everything?”

“What? Here?” Vernon asks.

You glance around the store, at the few people doing a very poor job of pretending to be minding their own business, and frown. He’s right. This isn’t the time, or the place. The problem is, you have a feeling that if you send him away, he may not decide to come back and listen to you. In his defence, why should he? He’s already done more than the decent thing and brought you back that which you abandoned in his apartment; several of your previous conquests would have shoved the bag and its contents either in the trash or the back of a closet somewhere. This is more than you could have hoped for.

You hold a finger up to him and ask him to stay where he is, and though he looks a little bewildered at the gesture, he ultimately doesn’t move. You rush off out the back to the storeroom where you banished Chan an hour ago, on account of his raging hangover and your low tolerance for his whining about it; you’re genuinely surprised to find him working, and actually alphabetising the records you got in a few days ago like you asked him to.

“Hey. Can you do me a huge favour?” You ask, not announcing your arrival and subsequently scaring Chan out of his skin. He jolts as he hears your voice and claps a hand to his chest, exhaling hard. You don’t entertain his dramatics, though. There’s no time. “I need you to close today.”

“Huh?” He asks, still acting as if he’s trying to catch his breath. “I thought–”

“Please.” You wave him off, knowing he’s about to ask about the task you gave him. “We can look at this together tomorrow. You did great. It’s just an hour – is that okay?”

He chews the inside of his lip, almost looking disappointed. To be fair to him, he did look like he was in a groove when you appeared, but he doesn’t argue with you as he puts down the record in his hand and picks his phone up off the table to his right, silencing the catchy tune that was playing while he organised.

“Of course it is,” he says, holding his hand out for your keys and starting to walk towards you. “Everything okay?”

“It-...” you start, faltering as you place the store keys in his waiting palm. Your default response was about to be ‘it’s fine’, but you’re trying harder these days to stop pretending, especially around him. So you swallow, nodding your head, flashing him a tight lipped smile. “I’m about to find out.”

“Oh? Is it…?”

A brief pause later, not before cringing at how predictable you’ve apparently become, you say, “yeah.”

Chan claps you on the shoulder as he skirts his way around you, leaning in to give you a sort of side-along hug on his way. You stretch your arm across his waist and pull him closer for a moment, trying to drive home how much you appreciate this. He doesn’t comment on the uncharacteristic display of affection, and you want to find out why, but Vernon isn’t going to wait around for you forever.

“Go get him, tiger,” Chan whispers.

“I owe you, big time,” you promise.

He winks at you before he disappears through the door and you follow him briefly, but as he does a round of checking in with your customers and making sure they don’t need any help, you hurry off to grab your jacket from the office.

Vernon is exactly where you left him when you come back out into the storefront, hands unmoved from where he stuffed them into his pockets earlier, rocking back and forth on his toes and looking around from wall to wall. You think perhaps he took your request slightly too literally and the fact that even his feet are in the same position as before you left is reminiscent of a puppy commanded to stay, but if anyone here is at liberty to start poking fun, you think that it certainly isn’t you. Instead of trying your luck, you lock the office door and walk up to him, returning his polite, yet slightly awkward smile.

“You’re not, like, super busy right now or anything, are you?” You ask him.

His brows crease and his eyes shift side-to-side before they land back at you. He shakes his head.

“Did you maybe wanna… take a walk?”

Vernon nods this time, still not moving or even pulling his hands out of his jeans. His elbows are locked out and the length of his arms means his shoulders are raised quite some way. He could not be more uncomfortable looking if he tried, but he doesn’t say no and nothing on his face gives away that he wants to reject your proposition, either, so you’re the one to take that tentative first step towards the door. When you do, he follows.

You left the store at least ninety seconds ago and still, neither of you have said anything yet. Honestly, it’s taking all you’ve got not to just burst and let it all out; it’s building and building and your stomach feels tight, but it’s less of a knot and more like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes are dipped to the ground, incredibly aware of every step he takes, in what you realise now are a gorgeous pair of platform boots tucked up beneath his baggy jeans. He’s at least an inch and a half taller than the last time you saw him.

“Your friend,” Vernon starts finally, pausing before he continues. “Is he always so… you know?”

“What did he say?” You ask, peeking over to him. Trust Chan to start getting —

He hurries to shake his head. “Nothing. He just… kept looking at me. In a weird way, like…”

“Like he knows something you don’t, and he’s not gonna tell you, but he wants you to know that he knows it anyway?” You supply.

“Yeah— exactly like that.”

“Mm. That’s just… Chan.”

“Huh.”

“It’s worse when they’re together,” you say. He breathes out a chuckle and you feel his elbow bump into your upper arm. The distance he put between you when you fell into step outside the store has reduced, you realise now; you’re not sure when, or if it was on purpose. Did he move closer once you started speaking? Was it just so he could hear you better? Or…

Either way, despite being side-by-side, he still feels a hundred miles away from you. This isn’t enough.

“You get used to them, though,” you add, trying to stay on track. “I swear.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Jokes aside, he still won’t look at you for longer than a few seconds, which tugs at something deep in your chest. Discomfort clings to you, and even if it does seem like you’re making some progress, you can still feel unease radiating off him. A cheap laugh at the expense of your friends who aren’t here to defend themselves won’t fix that which you took a wrecking ball to a few nights ago. This needs to be heartfelt and genuine, and more importantly it needs to come out right.

But when you open your mouth to speak, still searching your brain for the right way to explain why you acted the way you did, there’s nothing.

How wonderful would it be for the perfect explanation to just tumble from your lips calmly and evenly, and for it to make everything okay? But the reality is that your throat runs dry as petrol fumes make their way through your parted lips. You hold your tongue again just a second later, sighing quietly.

You’re starting to feel like a lost cause when Vernon breaks the silence for you, again. He slows his steps to a halt when he eventually says, “so.”

“So,” you repeat, freezing mid-stride as you go completely tense. It’s like you’re staring into oblivion’s wide open mouth. “I-… don’t really know where to start. I’m sorry.”

“The beginning’s usually pretty good?” He offers.

You nod. “How much did you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with telling me.”

If anyone on this Earth deserves a medal for their patience, it’s Vernon. You still haven’t turned to face him yet, your eyes fixated on the traffic signal some fifty yards away from you and you’re pretty sure if someone poked you too hard, you’d shatter into a million tiny pieces. But, as impossible as it seems all the while you try to get your thoughts in a reasonable order, you manage to swallow your nerves.

It’s crunch time. It’s now or never.

The explanation you give him is messy. Disjointed. But once you start, it becomes difficult to stop: you end up sparing very little detail and circle back on yourself no less than three times. You tell him about how you were engaged and about the breakup, the run-in, your shitty date, gesturing with your hands to emphasise the most important parts. When you start to move again, Vernon makes his steps bigger until he’s walking alongside you. He never interrupts you. He acknowledges every sentence when you pause for breath. Encourages you to keep going when you fall over your words.

“… and—... I guess I just lost my head. But it wasn’t your fault.” You swallow hard before you continue, “I’m… really sorry.”

He nods slowly, taking his time to digest everything.

“Don’t be,” he says, lightly bumping into your side. It’s a very small reassurance that he’s not going to walk away, but it means much more to you than you’re sure he meant it to. “I get it.”

“I—”

“No, like. I get it.”

“Yeah?” You ask, only understanding when you catch the very pointed look in his eyes.

“For sure.”

Of course, it makes sense. Vernon’s young. Attractive. Nice. Talented. He must have been with people before. Hell, you think he surely leaves a trail of broken hearts everywhere he goes. He gets it.

“We dated for like… five? Years. Her name was Nari,” he tells you.

A few seconds later, you watch him start to shrug off his jacket on one side and expose one of his toned arms to you. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t need to air his dirty laundry out if he doesn’t want to when he twists at his elbow; you catch sight of a tattoo you remember having seen the night he wore that black singlet on stage. Two lily flowers blooming up the inside of his bicep.

It’s so pretty. Intricate. The line work is beautiful, the petals shaded with hundreds of little dots. You wanted to ask about it that night, but you never found the right chance, and now—

Lily?

It takes you longer than you’re willing to admit to join the dots, but when the penny finally drops, so does your jaw. Vernon slides back into his sleeve with a big, entertained smile and a little shrug.

“Mhm.”

“Oh my God?”

“I know.”

It’s not that you’re laughing, per se. This isn’t your baggage to laugh at, no matter how unbothered Vernon seems to be by what he’s just revealed. But you do rub your hand over your face and cover your lips, shaking your head in disbelief as a breath that contains the edges of a bemused chuckle escapes you. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind; if anything, it appears to give him a boost to keep talking.

“I got that on our third anniversary,” he goes on to explain. “A couple years later… She called it quits. Turns out there was another guy. I thought about lasering it, but… apparently that hurts worse than getting the tattoo in the first place, so…”

“That’s…”

“It’s whatever,” Vernon says, shaking his head. “They’re my mom’s favourite flowers too. That’s what almost everyone else thinks it’s for.”

You haven’t looked back up at his face since the unveiling, not until now. When your eyes meet again, Vernon tilts his head in the direction you’re walking and continues down the street, spinning now so he’s walking backwards but still facing you. “I just mean... It’s okay. I get it.”

The moment you’ve caught up to him and you’re back by his side, he turns to face front, just in time to avoid a collision with a streetlamp. The lingering awkwardness starts to fade to nothing; you can see it in the way he holds himself, and you can feel it in the way you do, too. Everything relaxes. Your neck, your shoulders, your fists. It all ebbs away.

“It really wasn’t anything you did,” you clarify once more.

“So you keep telling me,” Vernon quips, tips of his ears turning pinker by the moment. “It’s okay, I swear. Do you want me to walk you home?”

You accept his offer and lead him down a side-street, picking up a completely unrelated conversation now to purify the air. Before you really know it (what was that everyone always said about time flying?), you come to a stop outside your building. Vernon’s sentence fades away when you stop moving; instead he stills, glancing sideways, and you nod confirmation at him with a lopsided smile.

“This is me,” you say, reaching into your back pocket for your keys. “So…”

“So,” Vernon echoes, glancing around again. “Can I like, lay my cards out, real quick?”

You nod.

“I like you.” He shrugs, now toying with the leather bracelet around his wrist. “Like, a lot. But…”

But. You feel like you should have seen this coming. But. But. Of course there’s a—

“I’ve got some shows coming up out of town and I need to see some family, I’m not gonna be here from tomorrow for like, three weeks...”

Oh.

Well. On one hand, it’s not what you thought. It’s not a flat-out rejection. It’s not a shut down. On the other? You bite the inside of your cheek and look at your hands, playing with your keys to keep them busy. Under any other lens, three weeks isn’t really a very long time at all. You’re pretty sure that the milk you bought yesterday is going to last longer than that. But three weeks… this early into things?

That’s longer than you’ve even known him.

“… and I thought, if you wanted — I could… take you out. When I get back. For real. Maybe.”

Oh.

“Like…?”

“Like… on a date,” he confirms, rubbing the back of his neck. “One where I’m not like… fresh off stage and all gross and shit.”

Relief replaces anxiety on both his face and yours when you let out a quiet laugh.

“I’d really like that,” you say, twitching fingers suddenly still. “Yeah.”

“I’m not asking you to like, wait around, or anything,” he says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, fumbles with it, and just barely manages to soften the fall with the toe of his boot before it lands screen-up on the concrete. “We’ll just see how it goes. And it gives you some time to… deal with things. Whatever you’ve gotta do.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest as he bends low to pick his phone back up, smoothing his thumb over the small scuff on the protective case. It seems remarkably undamaged otherwise.

“And if you’re still interested, then…”

“Interested?” You ask with a small grin.

“Aren’t you?” Vernon asks.

“I—...” You think about playing coy, but when he’s been so open with you about where his head’s at, it feels so silly and childish to bother pretending. That playful ‘I might be’ gets swallowed back. Instead – “Yeah. I am.”

“Cool. Then we’ll figure it out. At your pace, okay?”

“Okay.”

He grabs his earphones out of his other pocket, slides one in, and is about to step back away from you when you do something you don’t really expect yourself to. Something you’ve never done to a man you can barely even say you’re ‘seeing’. You close the space between you and, as if to lock in your words, push forward onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you say when you fall back down to your heels. If he wasn’t so dumbstruck, you feel like he’d be about to ask what you were thanking him for; as it stands though, he’s frozen, blushing, and the only reason you can tell he’s still alive is because he can’t stop blinking at you. “For… giving me another chance.”

He still can’t quite find his voice, so Vernon just shakes his head, clearing his throat. (No need, he wants to say.) Alas, his lips just open and close soundlessly.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” you supply for him. He takes in a deep, mind-clearing breath and nods his head.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

You see the apples of his cheeks lift as he presses his thumb against his phone screen and restarts whatever song he was listening to when he walked into your store. A brilliant smile consumes his face. It only grows as he turns away from you and walks off down the street.

For a second, you think it’s all very smooth. Movie-like, even.

Then, he stumbles over a crack in the pavement. When he glances back to pray you didn’t watch it happen, he catches you snickering into your fist. He shakes his head and continues on, leaving you to fumble with your key in the lock before you finally let yourself inside.

You overslept.

Sort of. You heard your alarm go off straight away but you might have snoozed it, and when you heard it sound for a second time, you turned it off completely, telling yourself that you just needed one more minute. You just wanted to rest your eyes for a few more seconds. There wasn’t any danger of you going back to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, you practically fell off your mattress in a panic when you realised that there had, in fact, been a big fucking danger.

You were still able to wash up well and make it to work on time, but you had to sacrifice your morning coffee stop after seeing that the queue at the register was going to take too long. For years, you’ve refused to consider yourself to be the kind of person who relies heavily on a caffeine kick first thing in the morning, but today? It’s barely ten thirty and you’re seriously flagging: like you’ve never known what energy is, like you’ll never feel it again.

(You blame the fact that when you first looked at your phone today before rolling back over, there was no ‘good morning :)’ text to entice you out of bed. But you’re trying really hard not to think about why that is, nor why it was such a deciding factor.)

So, when the bell above your shop door jingles and you’re forced to stand upright (a change your back doesn’t thank you for when it has to readjust from the previous hunched position you had adopted over the countertop), you groan quietly. Nonetheless, your tired eyes crease at the corners as you smile at whoever it is that’s come across the threshold.

After a second, your eyes refocus; when you can finally make out their features, it’s as if someone gives you a shot of adrenaline.

“Oh my God,” You say breathlessly, brushing your hair back and moving to stand up fully unsupported. “I thought you weren’t back until Friday?”

“Change of plans,” Vernon grins, scratching the back of his neck. “We drove through the night. I got home like… an hour ago.”

This is the first time you’ve ever seen him dressed down, and hell, does he look incredible. Gone are the ripped jeans, scuffed boots, the leather jackets and chunky rings. Grey sweatpants and an oversized white hoodie (alternatively: the brightest outfit you’ve witnessed him in thus far) drown him, blurring out his usually so distinct frame. You pin both of these things as the reasons you hardly recognised him when your eyes were refusing to cooperate. Paired with what Seungkwan would call ‘dad-sneakers’ and completed by messy hair and tired, soft eyes?

If you could jump his bones right here, right now… God, you would.

“But hey, it’s nice to see you, too,” he adds facetiously.

“Quiet down,” you groan, fighting the urge to run over and envelop him in a hug. You’re not sure that he’d mind if you did, but you also don’t quite know if you’re ‘there’, yet. “Obviously it’s good to-...”

His arms, both of which have been stuck behind his back since he arrived, now move around to the front, revealing to you a takeout cup and a little brown box from the coffee shop down the street.

“Oh, shit. It is so good to see you.”

Vernon laughs, coming closer until he can set them both down on the counter. “If it’s wrong, Seungkwan gave me your order, so.”

You start to wonder how on Earth your employee and your… Vernon managed to have this conversation without you knowing. Does Seungkwan have his number? Did they happen across each other on one of their socials? Did Vernon call into the store while you were out in the bathroom a little while ago and ask? But whatever happened, you quickly stop caring to find out: popping the lid off your cup, the aroma of your favourite coffee immediately fills your senses. It’s so overwhelming that you think you might start to cry.

“Oh my God. You’re the best,” you sigh, wrapping your fingers around the cup and taking a long sip, eyes rolling back into your head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Vernon laughs, rolling up his sleeves before folding his toned forearms over his chest. “I got you a-... okay, they only had those gluten free brownies in, and I’ll be honest, I don’t know if they taste the same as the normal ones but… like, he said you hadn’t eaten today and I know you said you liked brownies before, — if you don’t like those ones, it’s okay! I can go back, it’s–”

He trails off, cheeks turning pink when you tilt your head to one side and feel your brow go soft. He asks, “why… are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re so cute,” you say, putting the cup down gently so as not to splash your drink all over the counter.

“Huh?”

“You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” Vernon says, shaking his head.

You almost definitely hear a floorboard creak and quiet shushing sound from just around the corner towards the back room. You don’t call out your eavesdropping friends for trying to listen in on your conversation, though: it barely even crosses your mind. Besides... you can’t take your eyes off Vernon, even if you wanted to. He looks so soft. Like he needs to sleep for a whole twenty four hours, and he must feel like it too, but he came here first.

“So,” he starts, tapping his right thumb against the inside of his left elbow. (The reason why he came so quickly starts to become evident. He just couldn’t wait to ask.) “You don’t have to commit to anything right now…” The silver of one of his rings glints with every tiny movement. “…but, I was just wondering–”

Smiling at him over the top of your coffee cup, it feels like your heart could burst.

“I was just… wondering… if you’d thought any more about letting me take you out?”

You’ve been texting him almost every day since he left. He’s sent you a hundred and one pictures of statues and cool buildings and nice looking food and the sky, and far more animals than you think you’ve ever actually seen in real life. You’ve spoken to him about your strange customers. What’s going on with your friends. Sent him recommendations for songs that you discovered on obscure albums that you pulled out to play over the speakers.

One night after one of his shows, he called you. He was a little bit drunk at the time, chilling in his hotel room with a pizza as he informed you that he’d snuck out of an after-party super early but couldn’t get to sleep. With an audible pout, he went on to confess that he was feeling kind of lonely, that he just wanted to hear your voice: one thing led to another and you stayed up talking to him until he passed out at nearly 4 o’clock in the morning.

To put it simply…

“I’d still really like that,” you say. It’s incredible to you that you can see every one of his features brighten up.

“Okay,” he breathes, unwinding his arms and pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants now instead. “Okay, cool. I’ll… text you later? We’ll figure something out?”

“All right,” you agree. “Now go rest up, okay?”

He laughs as he swears that he’ll go back home and get some sleep, and with that, Vernon takes his leave. You’re once again alone, but this time you have a drink that could only hope to make you feel as energised as he does, and a treat nowhere near as sweet as him.

You aren’t complaining, though, and neither are the two men that miraculously reappear the moment the door closes again.

The smile Vernon leaves on your face doesn’t falter for the rest of your day.

You suppose a big part of the reason you haven’t dated anyone in a while is because you can’t stand the ‘talking stage’. That weird little limbo where you’re never sure if it’s too early to make certain jokes, where you’re checking and second-guessing all your texts, where you can’t figure out if someone’s really into you or if they’re just blowing up your phone to pass the time. The awkward small talk. The ‘getting to know each other’ part. The ‘why haven’t they replied yet — was it something I said?’ anxiety.

Thankfully, with Vernon, that’s not really something you have to worry about.

While he was away, you learned that he’s the kind of guy who just spews random facts at you in the middle of his day and then forgets to check his messages for three hours. Sometimes those facts are interesting things about himself. Other times, you’ve known him to shoot you a text just to announce [ just found out tigers have striped skin as well as fur. wild ].

(On one such occasion, Chan caught you giggling at your phone in the middle of a quiet Thursday afternoon, zooming in on a picture of Vernon’s heart shaped birthmark. This put a swift end to checking your messages while you’re at work.)

[ btw, im allergic to peanuts ], he told you one evening. Completely unprompted, just after dinner time. You spilled half of your glass of juice down your front in panic when you put two and two together and scrambled to ask him if he was okay. [ near miss, dw about it! just felt important haha ], he replied, and your response was just a picture of your newly stained t-shirt and a request for him to never do that to you again.

He can drive — at least, he has his licence — but he doesn’t have a car. He chooses public transport, and he tells you that it’s because he likes not having to worry about fuel prices and it’s ‘healing’ to zone out of reality on the train until he reaches his stop. He tells you that he came up with the melody and two verses of one of his favourite original songs on the bus to his parents house, and one time, he dropped a giant cockroach on a class field trip to the zoo because it tickled when it crawled over his palm and he didn’t like it.

(You later discovered that this piece of information was triggered by the appearance of a large bug in his shower.)

Last night, as you settled into bed after a whole evening of back and forth, he told you that he has all five of the top scores at the piano game in the arcade downtown, and that he has an approximate 75% success rate on claw machines. When you replied saying you hadn’t been to an arcade in about two years, he was horrified. Enough to send 7 broken heart emojis back to back, as individual messages. [ shakespeare himself couldnt write a tragedy that sad ], he said.

But, harrowed as he was by your admission, it did give him an idea.

That idea is exactly how you end up standing side-by-side at a basketball shootout game on Friday night. It’s how he ends up winning one of those cute reversible octopuses — true enough, on a claw machine — which he gives to you immediately. It’s how you watch him hunch over a pinball machine for twenty five minutes before he loses his ball, how you end up tied after four games of air hockey, at which point he calls it quits while citing a ‘cramping hand’.

It’s also how you deliver his ass to him in not one, but two rounds of bowling.

“All right — all right,” Vernon laughs, holding both his hands up in defeat as your final ball takes out all ten pins at the end of the alley. “You made your point. Damn.”

You shrug your shoulders as you walk back in his direction, picking up your glass from the table and sipping your soda through your straw.

(Though the arcade has an entire menu of cocktails, some of which you’ve never even heard of, the thought of navigating an evening alone with him under the influence of alcohol was totally unappealing after last time. Thankfully, Vernon agreed. You quietly think that being stone cold sober has made tonight even more enjoyable.)

“I told you,” you say when you finally sit down. He puts an arm around your shoulders straight away. Naturally, like it’s instinct. Like it’s a position he’s adopted a few hundred times before. “I’m undefeated.”

“We’ll see,” he says, tapping out a rhythm on the ball of your shoulder. “I still think you just got lucky.”

“So,” Vernon says once your leisurely stroll back lands you outside his place, kicking the toe of his left sneaker into the concrete. “What… are the chances that I get a do-over?”

You blink at him a few times, tilting your head. “What do you mean, a do-over?”

Does he not think this went well? Gods, it’s probably the best first date you’ve ever had, but what on Earth else could he mean by that? Did you say something earlier, and not realise? Has he not had fun? What does he m–

“I got these new coffee beans,” he says. “While I was away — and I figured something out with the-… the machine? So— ”

Ah. There he is.

You smirk at him, patting the outside of his bicep and rolling your eyes. When you glance down, Vernon is pulling out his key, thumbing over the ridges down the one side. He reaches for the door, happy to take your teasing as confirmation that yes, you’ll come up. Yes, he gets his ‘do-over’...

…but leave it to you to fall for the world’s dorkiest rockstar.

As he slips the key into his apartment door, there’s a steady pressure against the small of your back: the same one that’s been there ever since he gestured for you to step out of the elevator before him. One of his palms rests over the fabric of your t-shirt and you feel weirdly tingly because of it. He gently guides you inside once the door falls open and doesn’t move away when it’s locked again behind him.

With an anticipatory shiver, you turn around to face him. You make a point to leave just a matter of inches between your chests. To have your eyes soft, patiently waiting.

Vernon’s hands are - for the first time ever - cold when his fingers hesitantly come up to either side of your face, tilting your head up so that he can see you better, unobstructed by any shadows. You gasp at the contrast between them and your flushed, warm cheeks. He swallows thickly at the sound.

“Is this… okay?” he asks, gaze darting between the space separating your eyes from your lips. “We can slow it down, if you want. I just—...”

Your own hands find home against his chest in response, fingers curling into the muscle beneath them. Not harshly, definitely not so much that it could hurt — just enough that it makes him puff himself up a little bigger. Enough to make him square his shoulders as he drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth.

“Vernon,” you say quietly, pressing him backwards. Balling his t-shirt into your fists, you send him stumbling over his own feet before his shoulders find the wood of the front door. A quiet grunt escapes him on impact, but he just holds you closer. “Shut up ‘n’ kiss me. Please.”

Clumsiness aside, the moment he obediently ducks his head and presses his smiling mouth to yours, you feel weightless. Even when you tilt forward onto your toes to meet him halfway, it’s as if you’re not even touching the ground anymore: clouds beneath your feet have you floating. Everything about it is so very different from the last time.

It’s so much easier. Not just for you, either – you can feel it from him as well. Your collective baggage has been left out in the hall, barricading the door, shutting out the hesitation and nervousness and leaving you together, wholly alone, to just… be.

Vernon gets increasingly more brave as the seconds tick by. When you separate for air, his head tilts the other way, lips a little parted, hot breaths fanning over your skin as he meets you again, and again, and again. It’s the perfect give and take. Firm one second, waiting for you to chase him the next. The soft sounds he starts to make are amplified as his tongue presses against your bottom lip: he tests the waters, groaning into the heat of your mouth when you so happily invite him into it. He drinks you up for all you’re worth.

One of your hands uncurls from his chest and moves up to his head instead, threading into his hair at the top of his neck. It feels just as soft as it’s always looked, sliding through your fingers. A gentle pull makes him whine. He draws away from you. His lips are pink and shine with the gloss you touched up in the elevator’s mirror, his lids are heavy, his pupils blown, and looking up at him feels like staring into the sun; you physically can’t keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard to look away.

You tuck yourself into his neck as a compromise, laying gentle pecks everywhere you can reach. His aftershave leaves a bitter taste on your tongue as you touch the tip to a stretch of skin just beneath the harsh cut of his jawline, but the way he shudders and drops his hold down to your waist makes the sting in the back of your mouth all worth it. You only stop when one of his hands sinks lower still and he squeezes at your ass, making your eyes roll back.

He mistakes your surprise for hesitation, though.

“Is this… okay?” he asks, tipping his head back and pressing his crown into the door. Though he doesn’t withdraw his palm from your backside, he also doesn’t pinch at you again. You press your hips backwards, pushing into his touch to encourage him, with this green light he starts to knead at your cheek over the top of your skirt.

“You have no idea how hard it is to keep my hands to myself around you, do you?” You say, slipping one up the hem of his t-shirt as if to prove your point, splaying your fingers out over his stomach.

He takes a shallow breath, hovering with it in his lungs, holding back from saying something. You get there before he can.

“I want you,” you say certainly, pulling back from where you’ve been nestled into his shoulder so that you can look him in the eyes again. He releases that breath and his face flushes when his eyes find yours, moving both of his hands back up to your waist, tightly gripping at you as if his life depends on it as he nods.

“I just… I really don’t wanna mess this up,” he adds quietly. “I—”

When you kiss him again, hoping to further assure that you’re just as into this as he is, he reciprocates, sure. You can tell straight away that there’s a little less bite though — a stiffness to him. He doesn’t relax into you the same way he did a few minutes ago.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, falling back onto your heels. Is this because of the way things went last time, or are you going too fast for him? Selfishly, you hadn’t considered that could be a barrier. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, you know that right? It’s okay.”

You make to step away from Vernon, unwinding your arms from around him to give him some space but he refuses to let you go too far. His hold on you is just as firm as ever.

“Trust me, I want to,” he says. “It’s just–...”

You stay silent, waiting for him to finish. He chews at his bottom lip, his blush deepening right in front of your eyes. To try and steady him, you lay one of your palms over each of his biceps, saying, “Whatever it is – it’s all right.”

“I just… haven’t been with anyone since…”

And when you laugh, it’s not at him (at least, not for the reason a fly on the wall might initially assume). You drop your forehead down onto the muscle of his chest, feeling his heart’s erratic rhythm underneath his clothes as you loop one arm back up around his neck.

“I thought you were about to tell me something awful,” you chide him through your giggles, lightly swatting at his shoulder. He starts to loosen up beneath you, his own body beginning to shake with laughter too. Those strong arms pull you flush against him, the gentle shift of his weight from one foot to another rocking you both side-to-side. “Like– like you were secretly married or you realised you didn’t actually like me, or something. Jesus.”

He stays quiet for another few seconds, but even without speaking, you can feel how he shakes his head above you. You look back up at his face and brush his hair out of his eyes, fingers lingering on his brow when you’re done.

“It’s okay,” you tell him for the third time. The last wisps of anxiety start to fade from his eyes, replaced with the same look he’s been wearing since he showed up at your apartment door earlier this evening. “I don’t care — I promise, I’ll go easy on you.”

The kiss that follows lands hard and with it, Vernon succeeds in wiping your brain empty. You can barely remember what you were even giggling about a few seconds later.

“Don’t want you to go easy,” he insists against your lips. Then, he’s wallowing up your breathy sighs as he licks into your mouth again, pressing your tongue with his own, reminding you that he’s absolutely not incompetent, just rusty.

When you make it into his bedroom, confessions and various articles of your clothing forgotten out in the hallway, you separate from each other long enough for you to be able to to lay one hand on his bare chest and push him down onto the mattress. He bounces on the foam and pushes up on one elbow, watching as you sink down to your knees and press kisses down his stomach while your hands deftly take care of the button on his jeans.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You say to him as he lifts his hips up and lets you pull both his jeans and his boxers down in one sharp movement.

“M’not gonna want you to,” he laughs breathlessly, pushing a hand through his hair as he kicks the remainder of his clothes all the way off and nudges them away to the side. “But yeah. Okay.”

He looks so pretty like this and you can’t help but think he’s even prettier when the first time you curl your fingers around his length, his jaw falls slack and his fingers curl into the bedding underneath him. You drink him in and he watches you do it; your mouth is watering, desperate to feel him press down on your tongue, and you feel a pull towards him that you’ve never felt towards anyone before.

“God,” you whisper, shuffling on your knees to get a little closer.

“Okay?” Vernon asks. He tilts his head to the side and you nod up at him.

“Just… had a feeling you’d be…” you trail off, tugging a few times to feel its thickness in your fingers. Why are you mesmerised by it, a little? What the hell has gotten into you? “But it’s actually bigger, and—”

He laughs quietly and falls back onto the bed, crossing an arm over his eyes. “Shut up,” he groans.

“Yes, sir.”

You lean towards him and gather saliva on your tongue, dragging it from base to tip before closing your lips around the head. He gasps softly and holds onto his next breath, angling his head back further; you give a satisfied hum and slide a little further down.

The glide is made smoother by the spit your tongue left behind and that which mixes with his pre-cum in your mouth. As you start to bob up and down, some dribbles out past your lips so you start to move your hand, too, smearing the mess all over his cock. When it bumps the back of your throat — and on assessment, you realise there’s daylight between your lips and your fist — you squeeze your eyes closed and whimper softly, holding him in place while you adjust before you can take him deeper.

“Fuck— just like that,” he gasps out in a shattered groan when you start to move a little more fluidly, no longer too intimidated by your gag reflex preventing him from slipping down your throat. Your hand and your mouth work in tandem to get him riled. Every sound he makes feels like someone injects lust straight into your veins. When you look up at him from between your dewy lashes, you ponder that you’d watch him fall apart from this angle a hundred times a night forever and still not get bored.

Your jaw starts to ache from the thickness of having him in your mouth and the way he’s restraining himself from fucking his hips up to meet you tells you that he’s too polite to ask you for more. You suck harshly one last time before pulling away with a ‘pop’, using only your hand to pump his length as you shift down to gently suck one of his balls into your mouth.

The sound he makes is so fucking melodic. You think he’s made a similar one before when he lifts into a falsetto, and you’ve never felt more powerful than you do right now. Knowing you have someone with such a commanding presence eating out of your palm could really do something dangerous to your ego. It’s a bit of a miracle, therefore, that you recognise his desperate tapping at your shoulder, but the second you feel it you settle back from him, looking up at his impossibly tense abs and his blissed-out face.

You catch on quickly and feel your features split into a grin at the realisation. When it takes him a second, you know it’s because he’s still trying to remember the mechanisms it takes to breathe. Bless his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pushing himself to sit upright and running a hand through his hair. “It-… fuck, that was so…”

“What happened to ‘I don’t want you to go easy’ huh?” you tease, resting your chin on the top of his left thigh, grinning up at him.

“I’m gonna come if you keep going like that,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief at himself. “And trust me — I want to, but…” He swallows hard. “Not yet.”

You nod slowly up at him, starting to get up off the floor. You stop in your tracks when he says, “I’ve gotta taste you first. Please.”

Maybe it speaks too much to the quality of some of your previous lovers, but his desperation takes you a bit by surprise. You blink at him, ignoring how your thighs burn with the position you’ve frozen in.

“If— that’s okay?” He adds. “I’ve… been thinking about it? A lot. Especially since-”

“Shut up,” you breathe, finally standing all the way up. He shuffles back further onto the bed and you quickly move to straddle across his hips, one hand coming up to hold his jaw in place when you’re in place. “Of course it’s okay.”

You lean in for an impossibly needy kiss, only breaking away when you physically can’t breathe anymore. Vernon’s eyes flutter open at the same time as yours do and as you reach behind yourself with one hand to unclasp your bra, he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

(He tells you that you are no fewer than three times before you fall asleep a few hours later.)

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated. there's approx a scene and a half left for part 3 and then we're all done with this baby! stay tuned for that, coming soon.<3 p.s. no i will not apologise to jaehyun, this is what he gets for making me feel insane. thanks !

#vernon fanfic #vernon imagines #vernon x you #vernon fluff #vernon angst #vernon x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #kpop fanfic #vernon smut #seventeen smut #j writes.#svt smut #re. high fidelity.#*

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