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kaciidubs · 4 months

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24 to 25 [Merry Christmas] | 8 Days of SKZcember

Prompt: meeting each other's family for the first time over the holidays

❣ Summary: There was a first for everything, and Christmas in Australia was definitely one of them. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 2.07k ❣ Warnings: Fluff, comfort, Chris is a doting boyfriend, slight humor, the whole Bang family is here ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, and Baby, Reader is referred to as Baby, and Love, unedited, this was meant to be short, not over 2k words ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ SKZcember 2023

Having family living in a different part of the world often meant having to visit whenever time off would allow; however, having a boyfriend in the industry whose family also lived in a different part of the world apart from your family meant those visits were even rarer.

“...and once again, we would like to thank you for flying with us this Christmas eve.”

Toying with your fingers subconsciously, you glanced out of the window of the plane at the vast expanse of land thousands of meters below, your stomach doing flips in the meantime.

“Baby?”

A soft touch brought you out of your thoughts, turning your head to see Chris’s hand covering yours with a gentle squeeze added for good measure.

“If you’re nervous about the landing just close your eyes - you can even close the blind if you want?”

Your heart fluttered and you had to stop yourself from swooning at how cute he was, squeezing his hand back with a small smile, “It’s not the landing that I’m nervous about, Channie - well, not entirely nervous about.” Looking down at your entwined hands, you deflated slightly in your seat, “I’m just worried they won’t… like me, you know?”

You were both currently on your way to Australia to visit Chris’ family for the holiday; the decision being made after a long winded debate and heavy consideration over you not wanting to take the opportunity away from his visiting home, and him not wanting you to sacrifice seeing your family just for him - the resolution resulting in two plane tickets and the promise of the next vacation dedicated to your hometown.

Chris scoffed your name lovingly, “You’re worried over that? You know my mom adores you, and my dad asks about you whenever he calls - and you already know how Hannah is, you guys basically talk everyday! Hell, even Lucas brings your name up, you know how rare that is?”

“Hannah doesn’t count cause I’ve already met her - but your mom, dad, and Lucas? We’ve only ever talked over the phone, it’s different from meeting in person - what if I’m not what they expected?”

“Love, look at me.”

Looking at him with a soft pout, he gave you a comforting smile, eyes shining with a fondness you’d fallen for time and time again.

“My family is going to love you, because I love you, okay? They’ve heard me talk about you so much that my mom actually started threatening me to bring you to visit!” When you cracked a smile at his confession, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, “Everything’s going to be fine, yeah?”

Giving him a small nod, you watched as he pressed a small kiss to your knuckles just as the seatbelt light turned on and the plane prepared for its final descent.

It wasn’t long until the plane touched down and you were both following the line of passengers toward baggage claim and car rentals, Chris claiming that having more than one car would be best this time around.

“Alright,” he clapped his hands, seat belt buckled and car running, “Hannah knows we’re on our way - apparently Dad’s busy grilling and Mom’s running around trying to make sure the house is in order.”

“And your brother?”

“Waiting to catch Mom’s reaction when we walk through the door, I’m sure.”

The time between the car pulling out of the rental lot and rolling down the familiar streets of Chris’ childhood neighborhood seemed too short to be true, and you found yourself fidgeting with the strap of your seatbelt as you looked through the window.

“Baby, you’re doing it again.”

Huffing out a short laugh, you shook your head, “I’m just excited - nervous, but excited. Don’t act like you wouldn’t be doing the same thing if you were meeting my parents!”

He puffed out his cheeks, “I wouldn’t!”

“Chris, you practiced talking on the phone for ten minutes before we video called my family for the first time.”

His silence was enough for you to laugh harder, cooing at the blush tinting his ears as he pulled the car into the driveway.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to gather your bags - or, rather, for Chris to gather the suitcases like the gentleman he was while you handled closing the trunk after - and make your way up the short path to the front door.

He looked at you with a glittering smile, tilting his head toward the entrance, “Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, you tried your best to quell the butterflies in your stomach and nodded, signaling him to ring the doorbell.

The sound of muffled barking soon followed suit, Berry readily alerting the home of their potential guests.

“Coming!”

No less than a second later, the door swung open to reveal a bright eyed Hannah, a wide smile stretching her lips as she practically flung herself into your arms with an excited squeal of your name.

“You made it! Oh my god, hi! Welcome to Australia!”

You hugged her back with a laugh, “Thank you! It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I’m here too, you know.” Chris muttered, though the smile on his face betrayed any attempts of annoyance he tried conveying. “Your older brother? The person you grew up with?”

“Exactly, I grew up with you which means I’ve seen enough.”

“Hey!”

Breaking from the hug, she led you both into the house as she went to find the rest of the family, leaving you and Chris in the foyer with a very excited, yet curious Berry.

Your boyfriend wasted no time in crouching down, baby voice in full effect, “Hi, Berry! Berry! Hi! I missed you! I missed you so much!”

The king charles spaniel jumped onto his arms, panting happily before falling back down with a series of excited barks and tail wags, then turning her attention to you with similar gusto.

Bending down, you offered your hand for her to sniff with a small smile, “Hi, Berry, it’s nice to meet you! Chris talked about you so much, part of me thought this trip was just to see you and no one else.” When her curious sniffing stopped, she ducked her head under your hand for you to pet her, which you graciously accepted, “Oh, aren’t you the cutest? You’re the best girl, aren’t you?”

The sound of footsteps broke you from your puppy praise break and you stood just in time to see his mom rushing around the corner with a bright smile on her face, “Oh my goodness!”

Taking the initiative, Chris stepped forward with an equally wide smile, an air of sheepishness surrounding him as if he were a teenager bringing home their first partner. “Hi, mom.”

She wasted no time in pulling him into a hug, holding him in her arms as much as she could despite how grown he had become - the epitome of a mother’s hug, always ready to cradle their child no matter how much they’ve changed.

Your heart swelled at the display, catching a few murmurs of how much she missed him and how big he’d gotten until she pulled away to look in your direction.

“I feel like I’ve heard so much about you already that I don’t even need an introduction,” she laughed, letting her son out of her arms to stand next to you, “but I’ll let him tell me anyways, I know he’s been practicing this moment.”

“Mom, really?”

“That’s hilarious,” Lucas snickered from the sidelines, which gave you the chance to notice him holding his phone, most likely recording for future memories.

Huffing lightly, Chris took your hand in his and you squeezed in earnest, watching him relax considerably. “Mom, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend,” he turned to you, a warm smile on his lips, “and this is my mom, the person responsible for giving me life.”

“And your good looks,” she teased, stepping forward to bring you into a hug similar to the one she gave him; welcoming, comforting, accepting. “It’s so nice to finally meet you - pictures do not do you justice!”

You could feel yourself melt in her embrace, your previous nervousness vanishing into thin air, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Bang.”

“Oh, please, it’s an honor finally meeting the person who’s responsible for my son being this happy,” holding you at arms length, she gazed at you with sparkling eyes, “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Just as you went to give another complement, the smell of grilled meat wafted through the air and Chris all but floated off of the ground; a weary sigh escaping him as he eagerly looked toward what you could only assume to be the kitchen.

“I missed dad’s grilling so much.”

“Good, cause he’s been at it all day,” Hannah shrugged, looking at you with a smirk, “He made one of everything - I’d like to think of it as pregaming Christmas dinner.”

Their mom let you go and headed through the hall, “I’ll go help with setting the table - Chris, your room is all set if you want to drop off your suitcases and give her a quick tour, other than that I’ll call when dinner’s ready.”

He gave her a short hum in response, sharing a quick hug with Lucas and a brief introduction between the two of you before guiding you to his old room - or, better known as the room you’ll be sharing for the next few days.

“If the bed’s too small, I can always camp out on the floor, you know.”

You scoffed out a laugh as you danced your fingers along the carefully laid out blanket, “You say that as if we don’t practically sleep under each other already - this is perfect, baby.”

You couldn’t help but take in the details of his old room, scanning over the posters and pictures that decorated the walls, and spotting the board of medals that laid propped against the floor - not that it was hard to miss considering the wide array it held. Before you could get entranced by any more trinkets and hidden gems, his hand gently grabbed yours and he pulled you into his space, trapping you in his arms with a careful gaze.

“How are you feeling so far? If you’re tired from the flight I can always ask my dad to save you a plate for later, he’ll understand and-”

“Baby, I’m okay!” Wrapping your arms around his waist, you smiled up at him, “I’m not tired, and I’m not worried anymore - meeting your mom made me realize I had nothing to be scared about, and just from smelling your dad’s food I know we’re going to get along just fine!” You narrowed your eyes slightly, tilting your head with a soft pout, “Are you okay? Not that I hate the sudden check in, but you seem stressed, Chris.”

Heaving a deep sigh, he ultimately relaxed in your arms, a tired smile falling on his lips, “I’m okay- more than okay, actually, I’m just…” He stared at you, brown eyes warm with love, “I guess I’m just excited over having you here with me, with my family - I want to make sure everything’s perfect and I’m not pushing you into things too soon.”

Cooing at his sentiment, you laid your head on his chest, surrounding yourself in his scent and warmth. “Channie, you’re not pushing me into anything, you hear me? I’m happy we decided to come here, and even if we haven't been here long, I already feel more than welcome.”

His hold on you tightened a bit more as he rested his cheek on the top of your head, grounding himself in the moment until his mother’s voice floated through the hall.

“Chris! Food’s ready!”

“Well,” pulling away from him, you shot him a teasing smile, “ready for your first family dinner featuring your extremely brave girlfriend?”

He chuckled at your antics, “My brave girl, for sure - I was born ready for this.”

As you led the way out of his room, his phone vibrated in his pocket and he snuck a glance at the screen to see a text from your mom; your family’s flight still on schedule to land tomorrow morning.

Biting back his grin, he sent a quick text in return before grabbing your hand and guiding you toward the dining room.

“Dad, there’s someone I’d like you to meet!”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay

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#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #bangchan fluff #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader

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moonstruckme · 5 months

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hi! i hope you're having a good day<3 i was wondering if you could write a remus x fem!reader where they aren't really dating but everyone knows they like each other (them included) where r has kinda mean friends? like, they leave her out of everything and she constantly feels bad about it. and ever time she tells remus he's like "you should drop them, you deserve better" and he's just trying to get her to see that she deserves better?

Thank you <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 736 words

Remus can feel a heaviness building where you sit on the couch next to him.

He lets his eyes slide subtly in your direction, and you’re frowning at your phone. Not an upset frown, no pursed lips or drawn brows, just a slight downturn of the corners of your mouth. You look defeated, and Remus can’t abide it.

“Everything alright, love?”

Predictably, you soften like butter at the endearment, and your expression as you turn to him is kind if not happy. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, and Remus pretends not to know it’s a lie. He waits. Your eyes drop to his shoulder, one thumbnail picking at the other distractedly. “I just wish…I wish that if my friends were going to hang out without me, they’d at least not post so much about it.”

A familiar ache starts up in his chest. “Oh no. What’ve they done?”

You shrug like it’s little to you, but he sees the way you press your lips together, the faint redness creeping up from your neck. He hopes you don’t cry, if only to spare his delicate heart.

“They’re all at Hannah’s place, I guess. Going to go see the new movie premiere.” You laugh. It sounds raw. “I actually asked them if they wanted to go do that tonight, and they all said they were busy.”

The frailty of your voice works like glass shards, cleaving Remus clean open. “Darling,” he says, and he doesn’t care that you’re not official enough to acknowledge the endearment in its full capacity. You both know he means it well enough. His hand slides atop yours the way one tempers one ingredient by adding a tiny bit of another before the rest. You soften at his touch, and Remus goes all the way, curling his arms under yours to give your back a firm squeeze. “I know you’re sick of hearing it from me, but they really don’t deserve you.”

A tiny drop of warm wetness slides from your face to his shirt. His own fault, really, but if a good cry is what you need he’s ready to indulge you. “I just want to know what it is about me that makes me so terrible to be around,” you weep, and Remus crushes you to his front unthinkingly, a protective ire swelling within him. He wishes he could go to your friend’s house and give these girls a talking-to right now, but you probably wouldn’t thank him for it. He settles for dragging his palm up and down your back, hip to shoulder and back again.

“Don’t say that,” he pleads with you.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your sigh is a stilted, shuddering thing. “I’m putting you in an awful position. I don’t mean to fish for compliments.”

“I know,” he promises, his hand stopping where Remus can feel your heart beating through the material of your shirt. “And I’m not saying it out of any sense of obligation, but you really are lovely to be around. I mean” —he pulls back so you can see his face, hoping the sincerity in it will make some headway against your self-doubt— “would I be here if you weren’t?”

You give him a small smile, thin-lipped. “You’re very nice.”

Remus laughs, wrapping his fingers around your upper arms and barely restraining himself from trying to shake some sense into you. “I’m not that nice. But okay, Sirius would never hang around anyone he didn’t actually like, can we agree there?” He takes your silence for acquiescence, and, with a gentle smile, goes on. “Every one of our friends sees how kind, and smart, and lovely you are. They” —he shoots a pointed look at your phone— “are the only ones who don’t. That’s how I know you’re not the problem, sweetheart,” he says, softer now. “They are.”

You look him in the eyes as you take a deep breath. This one goes in and out steadier than the last, and some of the tension in his own chest eases. “Thank you,” you tell him.

Remus can’t help himself; he pulls you in for another hug, selfish to his core. “No thanks necessary,” he says firmly.

“I guess the only thing to do,” you say, voice muffled against his shoulder, “is to stop trying to make plans with them and hang out exclusively with you.”

Remus laughs. He doesn’t hate the sound of that.

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bxtchycaprisun · 6 months

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let it be me | a. anderson ONE-SHOT

summary: you’d been avoiding your best friend for weeks, and she was determined to figure out what was wrong. she never would have guessed your absence was due to your repressed romantic feelings, which she also happened to share.

notes: fem!reader, bsf!abby, softdom!abby, porn w/ a plot, mutual pining, friends to lovers, angst but in a fluffy way, SMUT, fingering (both receiving), pussy eating (r!receiving), thigh riding, dirty talk, lots of pet names, i think that’s it?

a/n: i know this isn’t obstinate, but it’s wlw season and i’m WOMANLESS, so i needed to write some smut.

MDNI!!! sexual content. comment if you want to be added to my tag list

(named after the ray lamontagne song)

you and abby never fought.

attached at the hip from the start of elementary school, the two of you were never seen without each other. and as new friend groups came and left, you and abby always stayed inseparable.

you were so close that she’d even followed you out of state to your dream university after you’d graduated high school.

despite the feelings that emerged in your early teen years when abby had grown taller, and the impact of her various high school sports was clear on her toned arms, you never dared to express your changing perspective of her.

other than some consistent cuddling most friends would consider crossing a boundary, the lines of your friendship never thought to cross between platonic and romantic. you figured that if she were to ever return your feelings, she would have by now.

and even though you two were only friends, in a way, she was yours, and you were hers.

or at least, that’s how you saw it.

that was until you saw her out with angela, her chem partner who you’d heard her complain about dozens of times, a girl you thought she hated. and they were drinking coffee and eating pastries at the east campus cafe, you and abby’s cafe.

and though you knew your perception of your relationship was nothing but a fantasy, it almost felt like a betrayal to see her like that with someone else. but of course, you couldn’t actually be mad at her for it, nor would you explain what was making you so upset.

so you did the one thing you thought was logical, you avoided her.

knowing that she would see right through you from the beginning, and demand that you tell her what was wrong, you tried to be strategic about it.

but you couldn’t a thing past your best friend, the girl who knew you like the back to your hand.

and you had no idea what you were in for if you continued your fit.

…

it had been two weeks since you sent abby the text, and now, as she laid belly down on her crammed dorm bed, she was rereading it.

y/n: oh my god abs, i’ve got the worst week coming up everrr. hannah scheduled me like double the hours i’ve asked for and i’ve got two exams! fmlllll

abby: damn, i’m sorry bun. still room for me in that schedule of yours?

y/n: you know it abby. text you later, off to work

the conversation didn’t worry abby much initially. but looking back on it, she saw it in a different light.

you didn’t make time for her. and she was determined to know why.

abby sat up in her bed, furrowing her brows as she remembered the date. it was a wednesday.

she opened back up her texts, quickly typing out her message.

abby: what time you coming over tonight? it’s october, so we can officially make our movie nights halloween dedicated :)

she pursed her lips worriedly as she awaited your response. she had been shot down daily over the last couple of weeks, always given the same excuse. work, exams, stomach flu, etc.

abby knew something was up, she just needed one final confirmation.

y/n: shit, i totally forgot! i promised i’d take my coworkers closing shift since she opened for me. next wednesday i promise!

abby felt her heart sink, the situation becoming all too real and unavoidable. you were angry at her, and she didn’t have a clue why.

she scrambled out a message, quickly pressing send and biting the inside of her cheek as she watched the unchanging screen.

abby: are you mad at me? please tell me what i did, and i’ll fix it

she watches with a tight chest as the bubble of your response appears and disappears. and as ten minutes pass with no text back, she throws her phone down on the bed, groaning into her hands.

if it had been anyone else, she’d assume you were just busy at work. but this was you.

abby sprung up from the bed, throwing on a jacket and slipping her feet swiftly into her beat up sneakers. the sneakers you’d bought her for her 16th birthday.

she swung open the door, grabbing her things and moving swiftly down the stairs and out her dorm hall. she tucked her hands under her arms, pulling her hoodie over her head as she walked through the breezy fall air.

she rounded the familiar block and pushed into the entrance of your dorms.

and before she could think twice, she brought her fist up to your door, banging loudly with her other hand stuffed in her pocket.

“open the door!” she says sternly, already hearing your movement in the dorm.

you pull the door open with a displeased grunt, but as you recognize the rosy cheeked girl in front of you, your eyes widen.

“a-abby?” you stutter, staring up at her with a guilty expression.

she stares at you, taking in your loose sweats and braless tank. you weren’t at work, and you certainly weren’t getting ready.

after a long pause, the reality of the situation setting in, abby speaks up.

“you lied.” she murmurs, her voice low.

you cast your gaze down, stepping back to let her in silently. you knew you weren’t gonna get out of this one.

she shoves her way into your room, shutting the door loudly and pulling her hood off to look down at you disapprovingly.

“so,” she huffs, throwing her arms up and crossing them against her chest. “are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

you sigh, pinching your temples. “nothings… nothings going on i just-” you begin before being cut off abruptly.

“nothings going on?” she repeats desperately, “y/n, you’ve avoided me for weeks!”

“i- i haven’t avoided you,” you reply breathlessly, stepping forward. “i’ve been really busy.”

“oh right, busy,” she scoffs, “just like how you’re so busy right now?”

you bow your head silently, avoiding her burning gaze. “i- i can explain..” you say slowly, although you sure as hell didn’t want to.

“great!” she snaps, “good, let’s hear it.” she shifts her weight back and forth on her legs, her figure now trembling with anger and desperation.

you look up at her with pleading eyes, trying to find away to avoid this conversation if you had any hope of keeping your friendship the same.

you were so disappointed with yourself you felt like you could cry. for years you’d stuffed your feelings down, terrified not just of rejection but of your own selfishness.

abby was the perfect friend, she was everything you could ask for and more, and yet your inconsiderate mind desired more. and when she didn’t give that to you, you pushed her away.

abby watched your expressions alter, staring at you with her mouth agape. “well?” she asks in a final, breathless plea.

when she doesn’t get a response, her mind jumps to the only conclusion she could think of.

“you’re… you’re seeing someone?” she whispers, her face falling.

your expression twists in confusion and frustration at her accusation, shaking your head fervently. “what? what are you talking about?”

“you are, aren’t you?” she presses on, taking a step forward.

you roll your eyes at the irony of her words. “no okay, i’m not seeing anyone,” you huff, the attitude clear in your voice. “you’re the one that’s seeing someone,” you murmur, back turned to your best friend. your eyes widen at your own words, cursing yourself for letting that slip.

you hear abby’s breath falter behind you. “what?” she asks, voice somewhat amused which annoyed the hell out of you. “did you say i’m seeing someone?”

despite knowing how childish you were being, you narrow your eyes, continuing on with your antics.

“well you are, aren’t you?” you say with a pout, tilting you chin up at her.

at this, abby laughs at you. “y/n… are you talking about angela?” she says with a smirk. “i’ve been trying to tell you about that, so much happened!” she exclaims and you nearly feel like breaking down then and there.

your expression drops, lips curling into a proper frown as you turn away from her once again. she stutters as she sees your change in demeanor.

“yeah right, i’d just love to hear all about angela,” you mutter, unable to meet her piercing blue eyes.

“no no.. it was bad, okay, it was really bad,” she chuckles, rushing over to grab your arms and turn you to face her. but as she takes in your distressed expression, abby’s mouth hangs open, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place in her mind.

“hey, hey, what is it?” she cooes, her voice softened as she brings her hand to cup the side of your face, stroking your cheek.

when you don’t respond once again, her back straightens, and she drops her hands from your skin, staring down at you in contemplation.

“you’re… you’re jealous,” she says quietly, her words laced with certainty.

you shake your head, stepping back from her with worry as she figured it out. “no, why the hell would i be jealous?” you heave, but abby doesn’t let you get away.

“because you like me,” she asserts once again, hands going for your wrists as she reaches out to you.

“hey, look at me, hey..” she brings her face close to yours, lowering to your height. your arms go limp in defeat as she holds you still, grabbing your chin gently to make you look at her.

as she studies your face, the way your eyes crease with uncertainty, she knows.

“you do..” she whispers.

the only thing you can do is drop your head in shame, praying silently that she would agree to just forget this conversation completely and return to your blissful friendship.

your murmur is nearly inaudible as a small “i’m sorry,” passes through your lips.

abby inhales sharply, taking your cheeks into your hands and lifting your head to face hers in a quick motion.

“oh sweet girl… don’t be sorry..” she breathes, brushing her thumb over your bottom lip.

she stares at you for a moment, chest heaving with her uneven breathes, contemplating the same action she’d been dreaming of for years. the action she never thought she’d get the opportunity of doing.

and just as your eyes meet hers, they flutter shut to the feeling of her lips pressing against yours.

you sigh against her, the tension easing from your muscles as she guides you gently against the door, running her hands desperately, yet hesitantly over your arms and shoulders.

the touch, the way her lips gently parted yours, her tongue rolling into your mouth with a soft hum, it was foreign, yet so painfully familiar.

this was abby. your abby. the girl who had been attached to your hip for a decade. the girl you had convinced yourself never to kiss and never confess to out of fear of ruining your perfect friendship.

and you couldn’t be happier as she did it for you.

you bring your arms around her broad shoulders, pulling her against you as your noses clashed together in a desperate kiss, her hands getting rougher and more curious, and so do yours. you tug her hoodie up over her head, touching her chilled skin from the cool fall air outside.

you feel her calloused palm reach below your shirt, grazing the soft skin on your belly, inching upward to your unclothed breast. you feel her hand suddenly stop, her mouth pulling away from yours.

“abby-” you call out her name in a slight moan, digging your fingers into her hair and tugging on her braid. you knew what she was thinking. you knew she thought she was rushing things, but you didn’t care. you’d waited so long.

“i know.. i know..” she nods, eyes nearly shut as she peers down at you, leaning in again to kiss you, slowing her rhythm and taking her time with you.

you whine into her mouth, brows furrowing as you grabbed her hand, trying to pull it towards your chest once again, and she chuckles against your lips.

“so needy,” she smiles, but with how shaky her voice is, she sounds almost hypocritical.

“neglected you for so long, huh?” she grins, kissing the corner of your mouth gently.

even though abby hadn’t had many relationships or sexual partners, mostly thanks to her hopeless pining towards you, she was undeniably more experienced than you.

you could feel the hesitance in her fingertips, the uncertainty in her eyes. knowing she didn’t want to rush you, you grab her cheek, pulling her lips away to speak.

“then don’t make me wait any longer,” you whisper, eyes looking up at her pleadingly as your thighs squeezed together, desperately trying to relieve the ache between your legs.

abby smiles, not missing a beat to crash her lips to yours once again, and this time her hand travels up your chest without hesitation. you whine as you feel her thumb brush over your nipple, and arch your back against the wall.

she dips her head down to your neck, peppering kisses along your throat, and sucking soft marks onto your skin. she groans as she hears your quiet moans, feeling like she could cum on the spot. she’d envisioned how you would sound so many times, but to actually hear it was so much better.

“you’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” she hums, large palms needing your tits as she pushes your legs apart with her knee, and slots her thigh in between them. “sound so fucking pretty”

your face is red and hot as you let out a quiet whimper in response, grabbing on to her toned stomach to pull her closer. as you feel the friction of her muscular thigh against your clothed cunt, you absentmindedly grind yourself against her.

“there you go, sweetheart,” abby praises you, hands leaving your tits to hold onto your hips. she gently guides you against her propped leg, and leaves small love bites below your ear as she whispers to you. “tell me if we’re going too fast, okay? you tell me.”

you shake your head, hips picking up their rhythm as you try to chase that sensation that slowly builds in your cunt. “not too fast, abs. i want more, please?”

normally, you would care about sounding too desperate, but since this was abby, you couldn’t hold back. even in this unfamiliar situation, you were comfortable with her. and even more importantly, you needed her so bad.

“you want more, huh baby?” she cooes, smiling ear to ear as she helps you keep up your pace. suddenly, her hands push your hips back off of her, and you whine in disappointment. before you can protest the loss of contact, she brings her hands to the hem of your tank top, pulling it off your chest in a swift motion.

her palms return to your waist, guiding you quickly against your small bed, her lips instantly connected with yours once again. she pushes you gently down, situating herself between your legs, and hooking a finger at the hem of your sweatpants.

the fabric is tugged down to your ankles in seconds, and she tosses the pants across the room with a shit eating grin. you can’t help but look up and giggle at her as she crawls on the bed to meet you, kissing up your stomach and on the fat of your chest.

“whatcha laughing about, pretty girl?” abby smirks as she sucks hickeys onto your skin. she tried her best to sound stern, but she couldn’t help but melt as she heard your laugh.

“nothing, this is just weird,” you can’t help but admit with blushed cheeks. “i just… never imagined we would be doing this..”

“oh?” abby says with faux surprise, “so you’re telling me… you didn’t imagine me doing this?” she asks mischievously as she takes on of your nipples into her mouth, sucking gently.

you’re breathing falters and you let out a small gasp, handing falling the the back of her head as she runs her tongue over your hardening nipple. “n-no i mean… i imagined it… just didn’t think we actually ever would.”

abby smiles against your skin, kissing her way down your stomach and settling between your thighs. “what would you imagine, bun?” she asks teasingly as she kisses just above your underwear. “would you picture me doing this to you? dream about my mouth on your cunt?”

with that statement, abby drops in between your legs, pressing her face against your panties and inhaling dirtily. she shakes her nose against your clothed pussy, nudging your clit deliciously. you cry out into your hand, instantly squirming from her touch.

you felt her start to kitten lick your clint through the fabric, causing you to let out an deep whine. you lift your head with hazy eyes, listening to her soft growls against you, which only made your stomach whir.

“abby pl-ease,” you say brokenly, desperately bucking your hips upward to chase the friction you needed, “stop teasing me…”

“m’not teasing…” she mumbles, her voice low as she runs her tongue flat against your underwear, applying pressure to your folds.

“a-ah, please!” you moan, feeling your cunt gush with more arousal.

“you are teasing me, you are-” you begin your protest when she suddenly yanks your panties down from your hips, and before you can process it, her hot mouth is licking a stripe from your hole to your clit.

you release a borderline pornographic moan at the sensation, eyes rolling to the back of your head. she doesn’t waist any time to start sucking at your clit with vigor, and alternating to lap up your juices.

you’re nearly shaking at this point, your chest heaving with every breath and hips twitching from every touch she gives you.

“fuck- i love the way you taste bun…” abby moans into your pussy, her hands keeping a bruising grip on your waist. “knew you’d taste good.. so fucking good…”

she already sounds pussy drunk as she flattens her tongue against your clit, helping you grind your hips against her mouth however you wanted. you continuously tried to close your legs around her head, completely overwhelmed by how good she was fucking you, but each time her palm would catch your leg, only pulling you further apart.

“gotta stop squirming, baby,” abby would growl as your thighs continued to tremble and your arms would thrash around aimlessly. you respond with an apologetic whine, already too cloudy minded to form words.

when you continue to move in her grip, she finally pushes your knees against your chest, keeping you firmly pinned with your cunt fully exposed for her.

“look at that…” abby cooes as she gives your pussy a small slap before dipping her mouth back down to your hole, lapping you up quickly.

“how many fingers you want, sweet girl?” she breaks away from your cunt to ask you breathlessly, before returning to suck at your clit.

you whimper from the added pressure of the position, head falling weakly against the pillow as you tried to clear your thoughts.

“ngh.. don’t know… o-one..?” you manage to muster, but you can’t already feel yourself tipping over the edge. anything abby gave you, you would take.

“hmm…” abby smiles against your pussy, keeping your legs pushed up with one hand while bringing the other down to slide through your folds.

you groan as you feel the tips of her fingers prodding at your hole, unconsciously pushing yourself against them. “we can do two…” she whisper as she slowly inserts her middle and ring finger into your pussy, hissing through her teeth as she feels you clench around her.

“relax baby… it’s only me,” she comforts you as she curls her fingers experimentally inside of you. you let out a soft cry, back arching against your mattress as she explores your insides.

abby watches your expression carefully, her tongue giving your clit small, stimulating licks as she searched for the spot that made you scream.

when she felt the spongy area deep in your core, and watched as you jolted against her fingers, panting out a moan, she knew she found it. she gave you one last lick, collecting the juices that leaked around her fingers on her tongue, she crawled up to your face with her fingers still deep inside of you.

her strokes were slow and gentle at first, teasing that spot with an almost unbearable pace. her eyes met yours and she positioned herself above you, but her pupils were darkened.

“i want to go harder,” she whispers, her voice low and full of lust. “can i do that, bun, can i go harder?”

you nod and quickly, grabbing onto her neck and pulling her lips against yours, moaning at the taste of yourself on her tongue. “please… so close..”

she didn’t need to hear another word before her pace turned from gentle to hammering. the air is punched out of you as she drills her fingers into your pussy, curling upward and hitting that spot with every thrust.

you were crying and moaning out her name, grabbing onto anything you could as she continued her rough assault on your hole. obscene squelches from your pussy fill the room, and your face blooms from embarrassment.

abby kisses you sweetly, in sharp contrast to the brutal pace of her fingers. you wrap your arms around her, hoping for a bit of her comfort to ground you in this moment. she immediately recognizes your need, bringing her forehead against yours as she fingered you.

“that feel good baby? yeah?” she whispers, her voice sultry as her palm rubs perfectly against your clit.

“m’gonna cum.. abby.. oh my god,” you cry out, fingernails digging into her back without even realizing. she clenched her teeth, the stinging pain only enhancing her desperation.

“that’s it sweet girl..” she mumbles, her pace unbreaking. “cum on my fucking fingers- let it out.”

without missing a beat, you feel your hearing practically go out, white hot pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm crashes down on you. you shake, mouth open in a silent moan as you ride out your high, abby’s fingers never ceasing. your final sound comes out in a shattered moan, your eyes rolled back as you grind your hips into her fingers, feeling the best high of your life.

“good girl…” abby praises, her fingers slowing down even so slightly as she watches your expression.

“good. fucking. girl.” she finishes, her pace coming to a stop as she feels you tense up from the overstimulation.

you fall against the mattress, your face completely red from your post-orgasm, and your chest heaving with every breath. abby takes her fingers out of you, shoving them into her mouth and licking them clean.

you watch her in amazement as she lowers down to your face, pressing her lips against yours gingerly. you smile against her, pulling her closer by your shoulders until she practically falling on top of you.

“y/n,” abby giggles, trying to remain propped up from her elbows. “i’m gonna crush you!”

“don’t care,” you shake your head with a wide grin.

she smiles, kissing you again, but this time with a little bit more desperation. her tongue slips past your lips, massaging the inside of your mouth.

you tug on the waist band of her sweats, looking up at her with a pout. “take ‘em off,” you whine.

abby smirks at your plea, shaking her head. “so bossy,” she mumbles, pulling down her pants and tossing them aside. you instantly spring up on your knees, smashing your lips against hers.

abby flinches a bit, startled by how quickly your fingers find their way to the waistband of her boxers. you yank them down her muscular thighs, diving your much smaller fingers between her folds as you kiss her sweetly.

“woah- baby,” abby breathes, her voice almost failing her as she grabs onto your wrist. “what’re you doing?”

“returning the favor, silly,” you grumble against her lips, smiling as you feel just how wet she is. “i think i got you a little excited,” you giggle.

“no.” abby shakes her head firmly, “you’re not the one that gets to tease me.” she tries to sound stern, but the shake in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

it wasn’t often that abby was on the receiving side. but staring down at you, with your eyes blown wide staring at her dripping cunt, she couldn’t help but grow just as desperate. she needed this too.

you palm her aching pussy, watching in awe as she bucked her hips against you, bringing her hands up to clutch the headboard. you hold your breath to surpress your own moans at the sight, wanting to only hear her soft sighs and the dirty sounds of her wetness.

“fuck… yeah like that,” abby groans, head falling back, and her knees trembling as she stays upright for you, not even realizing how she’s furthering spreading her thighs, and grinding into your palm.

she felt herself getting red the moment she realized she was already about to cum. but the pleasure was too consuming, and she was too pent up to feel any embarrassment.

the second you slipped your middle finger into her folds, your thumb instantly finding her clit, she toppled over the edge. she released a strained moan, instantly falling against you. she props herself up on the headboard to keep up her weight, and lets her head fall into your neck. she brings one hand down to cover yours, keeping your palm in place as she practically humps your fingers. she rides out her orgasm in shuddering breathes.

you watch her in shock and awe, remaining silent as she started to come down. she pulls your hand away, burying her face further into your neck with a deep sigh.

“did you just..” you begin, and she could practically hear your smile.

“yes..” she groans, rolling her face towards yours and pressing her lips at the base of your throat.

your grin widens as you stare up at the ceiling, stroking her back carefully. abby lifts her head, and secures her arms around your waist.

in a quick movement, you are rolled on top of her, your legs intertwined. she holds you tight to her chest, kissing the top of your head affectionately. you blush as you feel the stickiness between both your legs.

“we’re a mess,” you say softly, smiling up at her.

“leave it for now,” she whispers, fingers tracing shapes on your bare back. “wanna stay like this for a minute.”

you lay there in silence, listening to each others slowing breaths. and in that moment, you knew this was what it was supposed to be all along.

abby’s words come out in a content hum, her fingers affectionately pinching at the soft fat below your ass.

“sorry for making you wait so long, sweet girl.”

“you’re forgiven.”

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson fic #abby anderson one shot

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monzabee · 1 year

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you'll change your name or change your mind - cl16

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Summary: The one where you find your way back home, even if the journey takes longer than you think.

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bianchi!reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: mentions of jules and his accident, ANGST, talks about college acceptances in the US but it’s not accurate because i’ve never applied for US schools, mentions of alcohol and underage drinking/clubbing (only in the US though), mentions of a fake id, mentions of cheating, fighting, charles being stupid and not realising it, talks about processing grief, GRIEF, survivor’s guilt, talks of therapy, friends to lovers y’all.

Request: “The Charles fanfic was so good!! Can you write more angsty but happy needing Charles? I think it’s be cute for a man who loves Monaco so much to got to wherever his girlfriend lives Ike London or nyc often and deal with that. Maybe she hates monaco lol” + “if your requests are still open, max or charles + “you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” thanks!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i decided to give into the whole angst thing and i can honestly say that i’m having a great time. i wanted to include Jules somehow in this one because i’ve been seeing some edits on tiktok and let me tell you proofreading was a bitch because i kept crying. also, my spotify kept bringing up lorde and hannah montana songs, so there you go. this was definitely a hard one to write and i know it’s messy, but all feedback is appreciated. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Monaco is full of memories. It’s filled with memories of your childhood, your parents picking up you and your siblings from school in Nice, and getting the train to Monaco for your brother to compete in karting races. It’s filled with laughter, and ice cream, and friends. It’s also filled with fears, loss and uncertainty, and you suppose that’s why you didn’t ever want to go back. But you find your back there every time, even if it is only for a couple of days at a time. Although it reminds you of the bad times, it’s hard to erase the good ones completely.

Charles is just one of the people Jules brought into your life. He was right there since your birth – apparently, the Leclercs were visiting your family in Nice when your mother suddenly went into labour. You will always be thankful to Pascale and Hervé for stopping Jules from choosing your middle name to be Michael Schumacher. Neither Charles, nor you will forget the type of shenanigans you got up to as little kids, there is only a year difference between the two of you after all. There’s that one time you stole Charles’ kart and tried to go down the road, in which he caught you but instead of ratting you out to Lorenzo and Jules, who were supposed to be looking after you by the way, he helped you get it down the stairs and passed you his helmet as he explained how to go about it. Neither of your brothers were impressed by your ability to go fast or Charles’ sudden interest in maybe becoming a race engineer if the whole driver thing doesn’t work out. There was also the time when the two of you, along with Arthur, snuck out from a family friend’s wedding to only get lost in a city in the South of France; Charles got so stressed that he forgot how to speak French and proceeded to ask how to get back to the venue in Italian for the rest of the night. Needless to say, the two of you are there for each other no matter what; you stayed together through heartbreaks, wins, losses, losing Jules and Hervé, funerals, weddings and much more. The majority of your time together is spent in your family’s house in Nice. Charles doesn’t mind the half-hour journey, an hour if he decides to go back but he hardly ever does. Sometimes, he manages to convince you come to Monte Carlo for the day by bribing you with promises of sunsets and ice cream, but he will always drive you back if you insist you want to go home without any complain.

The first time you bring up the topic of moving, you’re in your last year of high school; by that time, Charles is already racing in Formula One, so your time together is limited to breaks between the races. However he tries his hardest to be there for you, from talking you through breakdowns that occur after long study sessions, to looking up pre-med programmes for you to apply all over the world. You never wanted to live your entire life between Nice and Monte Carlo in the first place, so is he is more than happy to help you explore your options. Your application results arrive when he’s on break between the races, so the two of you sit on the small table in his Monaco apartment’s kitchen, the light from your laptop lighting up both of your faces as you open up the emails one by one. You’re most anxious about your application to Columbia, which is 3.462 miles away from Nice, and 3.993 from Monte Carlo. By the time you finish opening up all the emails, both of you are sitting there with a silence between you. The acceptance letter still open on your laptop is congratulating you for your offer to join Columbia’s pre-med program the following September.

“Yes,” He looks at you expectantly, “Accept it, Y/N, you shouldn’t be even thinking about it!”

“Yes?” You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that simple, Charles–”

“But it is!” He argues, a big smile on his face. You can tell he is proud of you by the look in his eyes and the way his emotions carry through his voice. “It’s your top choice of school!”

“It’s also in New York, it means that there will be an entire ocean between us!”

He shrugs. “So?”

“So?” Your eyes widen in surprise, you start staking your head a little without being aware that you are doing it. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Chérie,” Charles coos, pulling your chair by its leg to bring you closer to him and wrap a supportive arm around your body. His chest rumbles from his low laughter as he presses kisses to your hair. “We’ll be fine, look at everything we’ve been through, and we’re not even that old.”

You scoff, hitting his chest in an attempt to get away; you start furiously typing on your computer. “You are old,” you point to him with a tilt of your head, “I’m not, though.”

He rolls his eyes and turns his concentration to the tab still open on your computer, “You’re going to accept the offer, though, right?”

You end up accepting the offer. Charles and his family is there alongside yours to send you off on a plane to New York City. Both your mother and Charles’ have tears in their eyes as they say their goodbyes, with your father giving you a similar look. Being the youngest of four siblings, it must’ve been hard to send their youngest all the way across an ocean, but they let you know that you have their support in every step of the way. With Charles’ schedule for the remaining races scattered all over the world, he tells you not to force yourself and to enjoy your first months as a college student.

You surprise him in Austin, though. Arranging this surprise is definitely not the easiest, but you ask Lorenzo for his help and he is more than happy to make arrangements for you. It’s the end of Friday’s last practice session when you surprise him in the Alfa Romeo garage. He almost walks past you, to get rid of his helmet when you say his name, but once he realises it is you he quickly pulls in for a hug. “What are you doing here?” He asks you while laughing with glee.

“Heard there’s an immunology seminar in town about the effects of talking a shower and then going out without drying your hair.” You answer with all the seriousness you can muster.

“Really?” He asks in confusion, taking his helmet and balaclava off and trying to fix his sweat-soaked hair.

You hit the back of his head lightly, shaking your head in disbelief. “No! I came here to see you race, you idiot!”

He shakes head in understanding. “Oh, oh!” His eyes widen once again with recognition this time.

“Yes, oh, now come on, we’re going out.” You’re quick to add, “To dinner because airplane food sucks. We’re going out clubbing after the race, though.”

True to your word, you go clubbing after his race on Sunday, which Charles is not entertained by. He’s paranoid by the fact that you are in the club with them in the first place, which should not be happening because you’re underage. He keeps silent as you show the bouncer your id, which he knows is a fake, by the way; as he sends Lorenzo an incredulous look, his older brother’s reaction consisting off a shrug of the shoulders makes him more paranoid.

“Y/N, you should not be drinking.” He voices his concern, as you’re on your second drink of the night. “This is wrong.”

“How is this different than me drinking back at home?” You argue with your eyebrows raised. “You don’t tell me I can’t drink when we’re back home.”

“Because it is legal for you to do so there!” Charles exclaims, somehow gathering the attention of some of the clubbers nearby, but he offers them an apological smile and then turns back to you with his voice lowered. “You’re not twenty one, ergo – you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Pfft,” You shrug him off, “You’re stupid, and I’m bored. You want to dance?”

You help Charles to move into his flat in Italy when he starts racing for Ferrari. Though he still lives in Monaco full-time, he rented a small place in Maranello to stay when he’s travelling. It’s an emotional event, which has both of you sitting on the floor of his new apartment going through boxes of old photographs. He finds one of his brothers and Jules with you, standing in front of a karting ring with big smiles in all of your faces. You fingers involuntarily trace over your brother, your eyes misting when you think about the day.

“He was so young,” You whisper, having to swallow a sob which threatens to escape.

Your eyes linger on the photograph for a while, and Charles quickly understands that you were not talking about the photograph as the tears you were trying to hold back find their way onto your cheeks. “He was.” He agrees; there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what losing a family member does to a person, and he understands you in a way most people cannot.

You offer him a sad smile through your tears. “He would be so proud of you.”

“He would be also so proud of you,” He whispers right back, leaning closer to you so that he could wipe away the few stray tears. “In fact, I am pretty sure he is.”

“Stop it.” You laugh softly through your tears as you push yourself to get off the floor, and dry under your eyes with your fingers as you look across the room. “Oh my god, Charles, we have so many boxes to go through.”

He gets up after you and looks around the dusty living room as he attempts to get rid of the dust on his clothes. “We do, don’t we?” He watches as you kneel in front of an unopened box and slice through the tape with a knife, and starting to go through the items in the box. He watches you go through the items silently for a while, noticing how seriously you take the task. His eyes linger on the frown on your face for a while, the way your eyebrows scrunch in question, or how you tuck a stubborn piece of hair, which escapes from the braid in your hair, to the back of your ear. He stalks closer, gently gripping one of your wrists and pulling you to your feet. “Dance with me.” He asks – which comes off less as an ask and more of a demand, which causes you to playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Charles, the boxes–” You try to argue.

His laugh is laced with mischief. “The boxes will still be there, chérie, just one dance won’t change anything.”

You try to come with arguments in your head but all your attempts are quickly thrown out the window when you realise just how green Charles’ eyes actually are. “We don’t have any music.” You try to offer as a measly argument.

Charles raises his eyebrows as he wraps his arms around your waist after making you wrap yours around his neck. “We don’t need any music, Y/N.”

So you give up in any attempts in stopping him, as he starts to slowly sway both of your bodies from side to side. You let out a chuckle when he stars, terribly, humming to an old song you used to hear on the radio. “This is stupid.” You mumble as you keep up your pace with his movements.

“You seem to keep calling me that.” Charles recalls, making both of you laugh in recognition. “I need to tell you something important.”

“So tell me,” you encourage him, motioning him to continue.

“I met someone.” He announces, a small smile playing on his lips.

You breath get stuck for a moment, in which you remind yourself that Charles is waiting for your reaction – most likely a supportive one at that. “Wow, Charles.” You breath out and give him a smile, which you successfully manage to pass off as a supportive one, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice breaks off in the end. “I’m so happy for you.”

You’re not stupid – thinking that either of you could stay single forever is an unrealistic one. But it hurts to imagine him with another person while he looks at you like that makes a part of you crumble up into a ball on your bed and cry. And that’s just what you do when you go back to the hotel that night (because the house is still unliveable when the two of you decide you’re done for the day). You try to keep your sobs as quiet as possible because you know Charles is in the hotel room next to yours. As you’re looking out the window, watching the night sky light up with stars in Maranello that night, you tell yourself you, somehow, need to move on from your best friend.

The next time you see Charles is during Christmas time. You have a tradition – Lorenzo, Charles, Jules and you, a tradition, which Arthur joined once he was old enough. It’s a peculiar one. While it’s not uncommon for most families to watch Christmas movies during this time of the year, your choice of movie has not Christmas elements in it at all. Every Christmas, the four of you watch The Sound of Music. It’s a silly tradition which was born out of boredom and lack of movies one Christmas, but it’s a tradition you managed carried out every year.

You can still remember Lorenzo complaining because “It’s three hours of songs about whiskers and bass clef.”

While Jules gives his best friend an unamused glare, both you and Charles try to mimic the Frenchman who you idolise. “It has nuns, songs, Nazis and familial love, Lorenzo, what more could you ask for?” He shrugs as he turns his attention back on screen, “Plus, Julie Andrews is hot.”

“Why would she be hot?” You remember asking, the woman on the screen not seeming uncomfortable by the weather.

“No reason,” Jules assures you, wrapping one of his arms around you.“Watch the movie, shortcake.”

And yes, while it might be stupid to watch the same movie, which has no Christmas value at all, every year on Christmas day, it’s a reminder that you have each other even if you’re not always together. So when you sit down to watch the movie that Christmas, there is a bad feeling in your stomach when you realise Charles is not there to watch it with you. If his brothers also find it weird that he’s not there they don’t make a comment, neither do you, for that matter. You try to push it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment, telling yourself that even if this is a tradition between the four of you, it’s not the end of the world if you fail to do it. So you smile, and have fun throughout the day – when you’re watching the movie, or when you decide to hold a gingerbread house competition (Arthur wins, by the way), or when you sit down to have dinner with your families, and it makes you feel a thousand times better.

It’s late when he comes home that night, Lorenzo and Arthur have already passed out on the couch with you trying to read the anatomy textbook on your lap in the low light.

“Hi.” He greets you as he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“Hi.” You whisper back, trying not to wake up the boy sleeping next to you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was a good day.” He answers truthfully, and then motions the book resting on your knees. “Aren’t you going to go to sleep?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay here tonight.”

He doesn’t argue as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Okay, good night, chérie.”

One thing about Charles, is that he is very secretive about his relationships – to the point where he won’t introduce someone to you or his family if he doesn’t think the relationship is going somewhere. So, when he brings over Charlotte for lunch the next day, there is a buzz around the house. The lunch goes well, you think. Charlotte is sweet, and the two of you talk about many things including your universities; she’s very impressed that you want to go into the medical field and you tell her that architecture must be a pain in the ass to study and she agrees with a loud laugh.

When Pascale asks them what they did for Christmas yesterday, Charlotte leans against Charles’ arm as she answers, “Oh, nothing. We just stayed home and watched that old movie – what was it again?”

“The Sound of Music.” Charles answers, his eyes are focused on his hands, and you know this, because your eyes don’t heave his frame until Arthur forces you to carry the dishes into the kitchen.

“We’ll do them, maman,” he announces when Pascale attempts to tidy up the dishes, “Y/N will help me, won’t you?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, the voice coming off from you not matching the sunny disposition you present to the rest of the room.

You carry the dishes Arthur passes to you to the kitchen, holding your breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and you succeed, too. At least until Arthur comes after you, carrying more dishes and places them next to the other ones near the kitchen sink. You start scrubbing them with intensity, your sniffles and the sound from water whooshing around in the sink filling the room. Arthur pulls you against him as you lean your forehead to his shoulder, or where you can on his arm due to your height-difference, as you start quietly sobbing. Arthur turns the tap on as he lets you cry into his shoulder.

The two of you return to the dining room after the dishes are done, and continue the conversation as if nothing happened. After Charlotte announces that she should be on her way, you walk her to the door with everyone, the two of you exchanging numbers as she makes you promise to go shopping with her the next time you’re in Monaco. You agree with a chuckle and tell her only if she teaches you how to draw because your “Anatomy notes are seriously suffering.” After she gives Charles a kiss and leaves, Charles turns to you.

“It’s just a movie.” He says in a low voice.

“You’re allowed to have fun with your girlfriend, Charles.” You assure him and pat his shoulder for good measure. Then, you turn to Arthur, who is watching the exchange with a confused look on his face. “Want to play a round before I leave?”

“Sure,” he agrees and the two of you move into the living room to play a round of F1 on the PlayStation. He sets it up for you as you try to get comfortable on the couch, trying to get rid of the feeling of unease as Charles watches you from the other side of the couch. “Who do you want to pick?” Arthur asks you, the cursor hovering over his choice – who is of course his brother.

You stay quiet for a moment and answer him in a calm voice, “Give me Max.”

Charles scoffs from the other side and pushes himself off, his arms crossed over his chest. “Rich, Y/N, just rich.”

“What?” you ask him with faux innocence and a shrug of your shoulders.

His voice is accusatory when he snaps, “Stop being childish for a moment.”

“Oh, I’m being childish?” You ask him, getting off the couch as well.

“Yes, you’re being extremely childish right now.” He agrees, nodding his head. “Glad we at least agree on that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask again while narrowing your eyes.

He scoffs, “It’s just a stupid movie.”

“I didn’t say a fucking word about the movie, Charles.” You point out, mimicking his pose as you cross your arms over your chest. In reality, it’s a short attempt at trying to hide your shaking hands. “But it’s not a stupid movie, it’s tradition.”

“Traditions can be broken from time to time.” He argues.

“I didn’t say they couldn’t.” You shrug, trying to appear indifferent to the man in front of you.

“Maybe if you tried to stick around for more than three days at a time, you wouldn’t be so upset about these type of things.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Charles, maybe you should–” Arthur tries to stop his brother, but Charles waves him off.

“Sometimes I think ‘Did I do something?’, but then I realise that maybe the problem is not me–”

Though you’re shocked by his words, you find yourself assuring him, “It’s not, it has nothing to do with you.”

Both you and Arthur can see something snaps in him, causing him to raise his voice. “Then what is it? Tell me so I can fix it and you can stop running away!”

You shake your head, your arms which are wrapped around you becoming tighter as an attempt to provide yourself some sort of protection. “You can’t fix it, Charles.”

His arms become undone as his fists ball on either side of his body. “You don’t know that–”

“No you can’t!” You scream, somehow more tears flowing from your eyes. “You can’t bring Jules back because he’s dead, and you can’t fix me because I’m not a toy! You think I want to live this way? You think I want to go back every damn time I set foot in this city because I just hate it here? I can’t bear the thought of staying here because of the fact that my brother died while I was here and I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.” You point a finger towards him, your voice gradually becoming louder to match his. “He was dead by the time I got back to the hospital and they told me he couldn’t hold on any longer, how do you think that makes me feel every time I feel like I’ve overstayed in this city, huh?”

“You need to stop living in the past, Y/N.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see you’re letting the past hold you back?”

“‘Letting the past hold me back’ do you even hear yourself right now? I am trying my best to move on!”

“By moving across the ocean?” He asks you, “By leaving the people you love you behind?”

“You– you can do this!” You scream as you walk towards him and jab your finger against his chest. “You told me to take the offer, you told me to move away because you were so sure we’d be fine.”

“Well maybe I was wrong.” He whispers, grabbing both of your wrists to stop you from poking him and curling his arms closer to his chest.

Your eyes widen with a furious look in them, which makes him realise he sees more of Jules in them than before. “Screw you, Charles.” You struggle against his hold, hitting his chest with your fists with every word as you scream, “Screw you for trying to dictate how I process my grief, and screw you for acting so indifferent.” You win your struggle in the end, taking advantage of the fact that he is both distracted and speechless to get out of his hold and quickly grab your things.

“Where are you going?” He asks you as you’re putting your coat on.

“Anywhere but here.” You snap at him, refusing to meet his eyes.

Arthur quickly comes near you with a concerned look, “You shouldn’t be driving right now, at least let me drive you.”

You give him the warmest smile you can muster up, “I’ll be fine, ThurThur,” your eyes find Charles’ as you continue, “Don’t ever change, okay?”

After the disastrous Christmas last year, you two didn’t talk for a whole year, even though the people around you tried their hardest to bring you to talk to each other. Even Charlotte tried to trick you into spending time, claiming that she had a work emergency just as you arrived at the lunch you two scheduled to find Charles sitting there – you quickly left without being seen and spent the day walking through the marina because “Fuck Charles if he thinks you can’t spend more than three days in Monte Carlo.” He spends Christmas with Charlotte again, but unlike this year, you don’t feel sad about his absence, choosing to call it growth when reality it’s actually packing it away to deal with it another time.

The two of you eventually do make up, though, when you go to one of Arthur’s races to support him and run into Charles on the track. You talk between breaks, both of you succumbing and apologising to each other for the things you’ve said – him more than you, but you still apologise for the way you’ve acted afterwards. Arthur has a strange smile on his face when he finds you, releasing a relieved breath when you told him that you’re fine and you’re going to take baby steps.

“Good,” he smiles, “maman was about to lock you onto Charles’ yacht.”

Your therapist calls is ‘survivor’s guilt’. Yes, you have one of those now because although you want it to be false, you think a part of what Charles said might be right. She explains to you that it’s a natural response where someone has suffered a loss and you didn’t. This confuses you, though, because even if the loss in question is the death of your brother, you weren’t there to experience it with the rest of your family. Dr. Gambini is there to explain that “Although it implies experience, it doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t not feel the loss of something you didn’t get to suffer.” So, you go through the therapy experience to try to understand your own feelings, which makes you think maybe it is what you should be focusing on in the first place. It’s an overwhelming feeling, understanding things about yourself which you didn’t before – the things you used to feel slowly gain meaning as you go about it. You’re proud of yourself when you talk about it to your parents, and they tell you that they are proud of you for giving it a go. Charles joins you in one of your sessions – it’s Charlotte’s idea, actually. He tries to understand why, and how he can help you – he leaves the session feeling proud of you for taking care of yourself.

A few months later, you get a phone call from him when you’re in the middle of the week when you are studying, while all of your friends are away for spring break. His voice is thick with tears as he tells you that it’s over between him and Charlotte, but refuses to give you a reason when you ask why. It leaves you confused in New York, but when he asks you if you can come home for the weekend, you don’t hesitate to book a ticket for the next flight out. He’s shocked to find you standing in front of his door, but pulls you in for a hug anyway. Neither of you care about the duffel bag that hits the floor at your feet, even when you’re stumbling over it to get to him. You don’t talk, but hold each other throughout the night. He offers to cook for you, but you decide that ordering pizza is a better solution than trying to each what Charles attempts to cook. So, you end up deciding on pizza and a movie.

You look at him confused when you realise which movie he’s selected, “It’s not Christmas, Charles.”

He sits down on the couch, and pulls you under his arm as he reaches for the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. There’s a nostalgic smile on his face which you cannot understand. “I owe you two screenings of this movie, Y/N. Now eat your pizza and watch it.”

So, the two of you watch the movie in silence – with silently laughing in relevant scenes and Charles even attempting to sing the Lonely Goatherd, which leaves you in tears because of how much you’re laughing. At the end of the night he walks you to the guest room in his apartment and pulls you for one last hug, whispering, “Thank you for coming,” into your hair.

“Of course, Charles.” You whisper, turning your head and softly pressing a kiss to his shirt-covered chest. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.

He’s in the kitchen when you wake up in the morning, focusing so intently on something on his phone to notice you. You ruffle his hair as you make your way through the kitchen to make some breakfast for the two of you. “Good morning to you too, you grump.” You tell him, when you finish getting out the ingredients for the breakfast you have in mind.

“Morning, chérie.” He answers, in a non-committal voice.

“And to think I was going to make you pancakes.” You sigh as you halt the movement of your hands and lean against the counter.

A playful smile is on your lips when Charles excitedly raises his head. “Pancakes?” He asks in a soft voice.

“I was going to add chocolate chips, too, but you didn’t say good morning to me and now I don’t think I’m in mood to be honest with you.” You shrug, starting to put away the bowls you took out.

He quickly comes behind the counter to tickle some sense in you, and you use the bowl in your hands as a shield as you start laughing. He gives up after a while, pressing a kiss to your temple and fixing some of your hair which fell out of place during the ‘fighting’. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Wow, you actually want to help me cook for a change?” You coo, ruffling his hair again and hitting his hip with yours to get him out of your way. “Go wait on the other side, you grumpy baby.” He complies to your directions to sit on the other side of the island, but doesn’t bother with his phone this time. You make a motion towards his phone on the island with your head as you crack the eggs into the bowl. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just some problem with the car.” He answers. “I might need to go to Maranello for a day or two. When is your flight back to New York?”

“Oh– I can change it if you know the date–” You start to say, but he quickly cuts you off.

“What? No, I don’t want you to go back.” He quickly says, shaking his head. “I just thought you might want to come with me rather than stay here.”

“Oh,” You say, looking around. “It’s not a problem, I can stay and study.”

There is a confused look on his face. “Stay? Here?” He asks over and over again. “Here? Stay? Alone?”

“Yes, Charles, I can manage to stay by myself.” You sigh. “I did it last summer for a month, you can trust me, alright?”

“You were in Monte Carlo for a month, last summer? How did I not catch you at all?”

You let out another sigh, “In case you don’t realise, I’m very good at avoiding you.” You continue when he gives you yet another confused look as you start mixing the batter. “Charlotte told me to meet her at a restaurant but it was a set up for me to meet with you, so I got in the car and drove away. It was probably the closest we got to each other.”

“Wow.” He looks at you with wide eyes. “Just, wow.”

You roll your eyes and glare at him. “Stop looking at me like that. My classes are all online this semester and Dr. Gambini thinks it’s good for me to spend more time here; it’s supposed to help me get closure, or something.”

He gives you a big smile. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, his smile quickly mirroring on your own lips.

“Yeah.” He breathes out. “And you can stay here all you want! And cook me breakfast, you know.”

You let out a laugh this time. “I can get my own place, Charles.”

“But then who will cook me breakfast?” He asks with a small pout.

“You are a child, Perceval.” You laugh at the way he looks at you, with his elbows bent over the counter and his upper body leaning over the stove. “I’m only cooking you breakfast; you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me after this.” You joke.

You turn around to look in the cupboard for the chocolate chips as you hear him mumble, “Too late.”

You almost hit your head at the open cupboard door when you turn right back to look at him. “What?” You walk towards the island as you mumble out, “No, no, no, no, don’t say that. You just broke up with your girlfriend, Charles.”

“We broke up almost five months ago.” He announces, no hint of joking in his voice. “Right before the Abu Dhabi race.”

“That’s not true.” You say, shaking your head. “I spoke to Charlotte; she told me everything was fine.”

He shrugs, then offers you an explanation. “We announced it a couple of months later, but we’ve been broken up for a while.”

“But then why did you call me a couple of days ago to tell me it was over?” You ask him, visibly confused.

He looks guilty as he admits. “I– I don’t have a good answer for that.” He stalks over to the other side of the island again to trap you between himself and the marble in an attempt to prevent you from evading. “All I can say is that I love you.”

“Oh, wow.” You say, suddenly you can find the right choice for words. “Say that again for me?”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“Now in French?”

“Je t'aime.”

“In Italian?”

“Ti amo.” He laughs this time, leaning down towards you to bring his face towards yours. “You done?” You nod your head with a giggle escaping past your lips. “This would be a perfect time to say something, you know.”

“Oh, right.” You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

“What?” He asks in horror.

“Yeah, thank you. You know, for the–”

“Chérie!” He exclaims with his eyes wide.

You continue your giggles as you place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards you, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you too, chez moi,” my home/place. The pancakes are long-forgotten when you pres your lips on his to give him a kiss, somewhere in the universe your twelve year-old is high-fiving with herself, but you are happy to be finally home.

#monzabee #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst

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writingforstraykids · 1 month

Text

I owe you a kiss Pt.4

Pairing: Minchan x femReader (mention of Jisung/Felix)

Word Count: 5903

Summary: Chan arrives at the hospital to be there for his family in person. The news they receive about you aren't what they expected and Minho can't help but blame himself. Your husbands try to navigate their life as you recover.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, mention of blood, mention of a panic attack, coma, mention of sleeping pills, mention of throwing up (no further descriptions) min feels guilty, anxious!min, soft!chan

A/N: I sure hope you don't hate me as much as last week...🥺🖤

PART THREE | PART FIVE

Chan's heart drops to his stomach as he sees him. Tears stream down his face, and he looks terrified. Truly terrified. There's blood on his shirt, there's blood on the hand he uses to try and wipe away his tears. “Minho, fuck, where are you?”

“Hospital” is all he gets out.

“Why, what…Minho, where's Y/N?” he asks, his stomach tightening in fear at the pained sound that leaves Minho when your name is mentioned. “Min?”

Minho's breathing picks up, and he clutches the fabric of his pants tightly, trying to steady himself. “Someone crashed into our car, I-I swear it wasn't my fault. T-The airbag didn't open a-and-,” he breaks off with a sob. “Channie, there was so much blood,” he whimpers.

“Where's Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible, blank fear taking over him.

“She's in surgery right now. Channie, they don't know if-” he can't say it, but meeting Chan's terrified eyes, he knows he gets it. “I'm so sorry,” he buries his face in his knees with a heavy sob.

Tears fill his eyes and he hates himself for not being there and able to hold him tight and not let go. “Minnie, baby, I'm sure it's not your fault,” he says gently and gets up, grabbing his suitcase. “Hannah!” he shouts through the house, not caring that his parents already went to bed. He needs to get back home as soon as possible.

Hannah is there in a few seconds, a little shocked by her brother's distraught look. “What's wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“I need to get home right now,” he tells her, and she nods gently. “Min, I'll figure this out, I promise. I'll be there as quickly as I can, okay?” Hannah's worries deepen at the timid answer Minho gives. “I know you have other things to worry about, but please let them check up on you, okay? I wouldn't want you to be hurt and notice too late.”

“Okay, Channie,” he sniffles. “What if she…?”

“Don't think that way,” Chan tells him softly. “Y/nnie’s a fighter, she'll push through. I'll let you know when I'm at the airport.”

Hannah already started packing her brother's suitcase, glancing at him worriedly as he exchanged goodbyes. “You look like shit, what happened?”

“They got into an accident,” he says and already dials another number. “They don't know if Y/N..,” he breaks off, and Hannah pulls him into a tight hug.

“She'll be okay; she always is,” she promises. “Now go call your fancy staff and get your VIP privileges; I'll pack.”

“Thank you,” he nods.

Minho looks up from his chair as the door to the room opens, and Felix slips inside. “What are you -?”

“Chan called and told me you could use someone,” Felix explains. He takes off his jacket and sits down next to him. He offers his hand, and Minho takes it, squeezing it gently. “Any news?”

“No,” he whispers timidly. “Still nothing,” he says. It's an hour ago that he called Chan. Someone checked up on him after cleaning the blood from his face and hands. “I didn't get hurt,” he says, and his face grows pale. “She was unconscious before I could do a thing, hit her head pretty hard. Felix there was so much blood,” he says mindlessly, as if he's giving him the facts on a new comeback.

Felix hums gently and rubs his shoulder. “I stopped by your place and got you some clothes. Maybe go and change, hm?” he suggests, spotting the blood on his shirt.

Minho stands up in a routine move, grabs his clothes, and locks himself in the bathroom. He meets his reflection in the mirror and closes his eyes, shivering softly. Fuck.

Felix glances up as he comes back and nods towards the small sofa in the corner of the room. He sits down there and pulls Minho into a hug. “I'm so sorry, Min.”

“It's not your fault,” Minho says tiredly and relaxes a little in his warm embrace. It's the first time something as shocking as this has happened, and none of his partners are there to hold his hand.

“I know,” Felix nods gently. “But still. You've already had a rough few months with Chan feeling like shit and then leaving.”

“Life is shit sometimes,” Minho shrugs, and his eyes flutter close when Felix starts running his hand through his hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.”

The flight back home has never felt as long as today. Never. About two hours ago he had gotten a message from Minho, short and simple, but it was enough.

Kitten🖤: She'll make it.

Chan quickly makes his way out of the airport and stops at home for ten minutes. Felix had told him to get home first, take a quick shower, and change clothes. None of them knew how long they'd be stuck at the hospital. Chan got into his car after and drove to the hospital, rushing up to your floor as soon as he knew where. Opening the door, he sees Felix sitting on the sofa in the back and gives him a quick wave.

Minho is by your bed, head resting on his arm on the mattress and seems asleep. Dried tear streaks cover his face and Chan's throat tightens at how exhausted he looks even in his sleep. And then there's you, looking as pale as the sheets, your head wrapped up safely. Your hand lies in Minho's, and only your chest moving tells him you're alive. Chan finds himself in Felix's arms before he fully registers the scene and hugs back tightly.

“Hey, mate,” Felix whispers, not wanting to wake Minho up. “I'll leave you to it, yeah? So that you know Minho does blame himself for what happened. We don't know when she'll wake up, but the doctor said she will.”

Chan nods gently before flashing him a tired smile. “Thank you for being here.”

“Obviously,” Felix snorts and gently pats his chest. “Welcome home, I guess.”

A little later, they're alone, and Chan timidly steps closer to Minho, sitting down on the chair next to him. His hand finds his lower back almost naturally and he very gently picks him up into his lap. A soft protesting sound leaves Minho's lips but he's too tired actually to question the action. Minho curls up in his arms, the way he always does, as if deep down he knows it's Chan. Chan makes sure he's comfortable and plants a tiny kiss on his hair, soothingly fondling his head. Only then did it hit him how much he had missed you two.

Minho wakes up later, feeling warm and comfortable. He subconsciously cuddles close before his brain slowly picks up on Chan's so familiar scent and the way his body feels against him, and he sits up straight rapidly. “Channie,” he breathes out, his eyes getting teary.

“Hi, kitten,” he says softly and presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he confesses quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he asks gently. “Lee Minho, if you blame yourself for what happened now, I will smack your ass. Not in a good way.”

A weak laugh escapes him, and he gently shoves his chest. “Of course I do. I'd rather get hurt than her.”

“She'd say the same if it were you,” he says and gently rubs his shoulder. “Nevertheless, it's not your fault.”

“Channie?” he whispers timidly. “I really don't believe that and…,” he trails off with a sniffle.

“I'm here now, let it out,” he says softly, and Minho's head drops down in his chest with a broken sound. Chan holds him tight, trying to make him feel as safe and comforted as possible. Minho shuffles into his lap, straddling him and pulling him into a tight hug. They hold onto each other firmly and find comfort in their shared pain for a bit. “I'm so sorry I wasn't there.”

“Don't,” Minho stops him, burying his hand in his hair. “You're here now.”

“I didn't mean what I said in that call,” Chan tells him nevertheless. “I was planning to surprise you for your birthday in two weeks after.”

Minho sniffles softly and squeezes him. “Yeah? So you've been getting better?”

“I have,” Chan nods and kisses his cheek. “It's still not completely, but it's so much better.”

“That's good,” he tells him. “I'm proud of you, Channie.”

“I love you,” Chan says gently. “So so much.”

Minho smiles a little at that and takes a deep breath. He is better. “I love you too, Channie.”

Minho firmly holds Chan's hand as they lean against the wall opposite your room. About twenty minutes ago, the doctor sent them away as you started to tremble. Since then, no one has talked to them. Another doctor shuffled into the room, and Minho could tell Chan was getting anxious from there on.

Chan grows awfully quiet next to him, staring at the floor and seeming like he's far away. Minho is shaking a little, tapping his fingers against his thigh anxiously. Chan soothingly rubs his knuckles and squeezes his hand for the tenth time. “They said she'd be okay, right?” he asks.

Minho glances at him awkwardly. “They said she'd make it…whatever that means for the rest.”

Chan huffs softly and nods, Minho is right. “Am I the only one feeling like throwing up?”

“God no,” Minho laughs weakly. “Have been since the accident.”

Chan glances at him worriedly. “You should've told me.”

He shrugs tiredly and cracks his neck with a soft moan. “I always am when I'm worried. There's nothing you could've done.”

Chan nods and traces his eyes up and down his body. “But you're not dizzy? Are you having a headache? Or anything?”

Minho steps in front of him and takes both of his hands. “I'm okay, physically. They checked everything, I promise,” he tells him softly and Chan pulls him into a hug. He lets him, only then noticing that Chan is shaking himself by now. “Deep breaths, we'll be alright.”

“Okay,” Chan whispers.

“We'll be okay,” Minho repeats himself as if to convince them both.

“Okay,” Chan nods, and Minho pulls back from him as the door opens. Their hands don't part as the doctor leads them to an office nearby and asks them to sit down. Chan looks like he's about to throw up now and Minho is dancing at the edge of a lingering panic attack.

“Mr. Lee, you've asked me to wait for a proper update on your wife's state until your husband arrives,” she starts out, and Chan gently grabs Minho's hand, squeezing it. “I have an update on the condition of your wife and I'm afraid it isn't what you'd like to hear. The impact injured her frontal bone, which punctured her brain. We could fix this with the surgery,” the doctor tells them.

Both of them are smart enough not to be too relieved already. “And besides that?” Minho asks timidly, not having missed that warning before.

She gives him a compassionate smile. “Well, for one there'll probably be the usual aftermaths like nightmares or even fear of sitting in a car again. That isn't everything, though.”

“Stop sweet talking and tell us what we're dealing with, please,” Chan says kindly, heart thumping in his throat.

“Your wife seems to have suffered more trauma than we thought, especially after the surgery. She's in a coma, and we don't know when or if she'll wake-.”

“If?” Minho asks, barely audible, his hand slipping from Chan’s. “But…you said she’d make it.”

She flashes him a compassionate smile. “That’s before her body shut down, she seemed stable before. I’m really sorry.”

“For fucks sake,” he breathes out and slowly pushes himself up from his chair. “You’re saying there’s a chance she’ll never wake up again? What then? You expect me to tell you when to turn it all off?”

“Minho,” Chan speaks up gently and turns in his chair to face him. There’s nothing but blank fear in his eyes, and he looks at the doctor in front of them so desperately it breaks his heart. “It’s not her fault.”

“No shit, Chan!” Minho snaps at him, and Chan’s gaze grows firm.

“Don’t do this. Not here,” he says calmly, and Minho scoffs at him.

“My image as an idol is the last thing I care about right now, Mr. Golden Boy,” he presses out and shakes his head, leaving the room without another word.

Chan sighs heavily and turns back at the doctor, smiling apologetically. “I apologize, he didn’t mean it.”

“I'll be quick,” she assures him kindly. We don't know how soon she'll wake up again. In case she does, someone has to take care of her. I know you're both very busy. Is there anyone else, just in case?”

“Besides a friend of hers not really, no,” Chan says worriedly. “Her family doesn't live exactly close.”

“If she can go back home soon…Mr. Bahng, there's a high chance this will take months, maybe a year, until she fully regains her abilities. We don't know how bad it'll affect her yet, there's a potential for memory loss. I will inform you about eventual treatments and everything when it's time. I'm really sorry and I wish you and your husband the best of luck and strength with this new situation.”

Chan exchanges another few words before quickly rushing outside and trying the closest bathroom as the hallway is empty. Luckily, Minho seemed to have forgotten to lock the door. Minho's on his knees, retching even though there's nothing left. Chan crouches down behind him, gently rubbing his shoulders. “Hey, baby, deep breaths.”

Minho whimpers and falls back against him, sobbing. “Please, please tell me this isn't true. Not our sweet Y/nnie.”

Chan swallows down tears, trying to stay strong for both of them. Minho has been carrying everyone's shit on his shoulders for too long now. It's time he steps up again. “It'll be okay, we'll be okay,” he promises and rocks him gently as Minho allows himself to break down in his arms. “Shh, it's okay, Minnie baby, it's okay, I got you.”

Chan stares at you, deep in thoughts, trying to make sense of the past few hours. The thought of you possibly never waking up again is killing him. He feels guilty for not being there those past months. What if he missed all this time with you? Just because he hadn't been feeling so well? His chest tightens, and he sucks in a sharp breath, subconsciously reaching for Minho next to him. Every word dies in his throat, seeing his husband. Minho stares at the floor, hot tears running down his cheeks and pressing his lips together tightly in an attempt to hold back his sobs. His hair falls into his face, stomach twisting with guilt the longer he thinks about what happened. Chan swallows hard at the sight of his husband, trying not to break down. His shoulders tremble with the impact of his suppressed sobs, and he sniffles softly. Chan gently rubs his back and watches him worriedly as he pushes himself up. He quickly reaches out for him and stares up at him with wide eyes. “Please don't leave,” he whispers, swallowing down his own fear but not fully succeeding. “Please,” he adds, tears brimming his eyes.

Minho looks at him and shakes his head. “I can't breathe in here,” he confesses through tears and shakily holds Chan's hand. “I just wanna go home, please, I’ve been here for hours,” he whimpers.

Chan looks at him quietly before nodding. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. They're both exhausted and need some sleep. You wouldn't wake up that soon, and they both could use a break. “Okay, I'll drive us home; my car’s outside.”

“For telling you to get yourself together…more or less,” he says and stops at a redlight. “That wasn’t very supportive of me.”

Minho exhales, relieved, and shakily holds onto his hand as Chan gently says his goodbye to you. They leave the hospital in silence, and Chan drives them back home, soothingly rubbing Minho's knee. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Minho asks tiredly, staring at the many buildings passing by.

Minho laughs weakly and rolls his eyes at himself. “It’s okay, you were right. There’s nothing she can do about it right now…Also, I’m sorry for calling you a golden boy.”

“Please, as if I’d take that to heart after those past few months,” he snorts, and Minho smiles at him tiredly.

“I missed you,” he admits and grabs his hand, squeezing it. “It’s good to have you back.”

Chan smiles softly and brings their hands up to his mouth, planting a kiss on his knuckles. “I’m here now, yeah?”

Minho hums quietly in response, and Chan starts driving again.

Back home, Minho stands still for a moment, and Chan watches him worriedly as he starts shaking. Minho sucks in a sharp breath and clutches his chest, bending over with a whimper. “Hey, hey, babe,” he panics a little as Minho sinks to his knees with a groan, curling up and sobbing loudly. “What’s wrong?” he asks, worried that Minho got hurt and just didn’t tell him.

“I'm so sorry,” he whimpers as Chan gets down on the floor next to him. “It's all my fault.”

Chan shakes his head and holds onto him tightly, leaning down. “No, don't say that,” he tells him and helplessly rubs his back. “It's not your fault, baby.” His heart races with how intensely Minho sobs beneath him, and his stomach turns painfully. He has never seen him break down like this in all those many years he has known and then loved him. “Come here, please,” he whispers, tears making their way down his face. Now that they're back home, he can let them flow freely and allow himself to let it out. He heaves him into his lap, and Minho clings onto him firmly, allowing himself a little comfort in his husband's arms. Chan rocks him in his arms, trying to calm his own troubled mind.

“I’m sorry, Channie,” he whimpers and Chan hugs him even tighter in response.

One week later

“Min, baby?” Chan asks, coming back upstairs. “You're ready yet, we gotta-Minho?” he asks worriedly as he spots his husband lying in bed fully dressed. He bites back a sigh and sits down at the edge of the bed. “Min? What's wrong?”

“I don't want to,” he says quietly, seemingly staring right through him.

“What do you mean? We made a promise to stop by every day,” he tries gently.

“I can't go there, okay? Not today,” he shakes his head and subconsciously curls up a little. “I hate hospitals, I hate that she's there, I hate that she's hurt, and there's nothing I can do about it.”

“We should try to be there for her as much as we can, baby,” Chan argues carefully and brushes his hair from his face.

“It’s not like she notices if I’m not there or not,” Minho says.

“The doctor said there’s a chance she can hear us, kitten, remember?” he asks patiently.

“I don’t talk anyway,” he argues weakly.

“Min,” he sighs softly.

“I can't go there, Channie. Please don't make me go there,” he shivers, his eyes brimming with tears. “Please,” he whispers shakily.

Chan crawls into bed and pulls him in close, soothingly running his hand through his hair. “Shh, baby, it's okay.”

“I'm sorry, Channie,” Minho hiccups and buries himself deep into his chest. “I fucked it all up, I'm so sorry.”

“No, Minho, none of that,” he says firmly and shakes his head. “This isn't your fault, none of it.”

“You weren't even there, you don't know that,” he whimpers.

Chan pulls back and cups his face, making him look at him. “I might haven't been there, but I'm here now. I know my husband would do anything to keep that girl of ours safe. I know you would've swapped places in an instant, and I know you'd never put her at risk like that.” His thumbs rub along his cheeks soothingly, and he searches his eyes desperately. “Minho, this isn't your fault, and I’m sure she knows that. She loves you so much, and so do I. Don't blame yourself for something you had no control over.”

“Please don't make me go there again,” he sniffles timidly, eyes wide and filled with guilt.

“I'll go on my own, it's okay, Min,” he assures him and kisses his forehead. “Try and get some rest okay?”

“I keep dreaming about it,” he shakes his head and rubs his face tiredly. “I keep hearing her scream, and then her head hits…Channie, I'm fucked.”

Chan hums gently and rubs soothing circles on his lower back. “If it doesn't get better, we'll get you some help, yeah?” he suggests, and Minho nods tiredly. “For now, I'll give you one of my pills, and you'll be sleeping like a baby.”

“Okay,” he nods gently. Minho gets into some more comfortable clothes again and takes the pill, curling up in his arms. Chan plays with his hair and hums softly, lulling him in with every passing minute. “Love you, Channie hyung.”

“Love you too, Minho baby,” he says softly and kisses his head. Once Minho's actually asleep, he tucks him in and makes sure he's comfortable before he leaves to go and see you. Chan stays with you for a while, talking to himself, telling you about whatever comes to his mind. If he could, he’d stay here all day, but there’s still loads of work to catch up with, and he doesn’t dare leave Minho on his own for too long.

At the company, Chan slowly strolls down the hallway to their practice room and hears the music blasting. He opens the door and finds Felix and Jisung practicing their newest dance. He gives them a tired wave, and Jisung quickly turns off the music.

“Didn’t we agree on you staying home for a few days?” Felix asks him and raises his eyebrows at him.

“It’s suffocating,” he shakes his head, and Jisung glances at him worriedly.

“He’s not getting better, huh?” he asks, and Chan shakes his head.

“I can’t blame him. He was the one driving; I’d blame myself, too. It’s just…today, he simply couldn’t get himself to go to the hospital with me,” Chan tells them quietly and stares at the floor. “I can’t fix this, and it’s driving me insane.”

“Hey,” Jisung says gently. “When you were feeling like shit, neither of them tried to fix you. They held your hand when you needed it and let you go as you needed some space. You can’t fix any of this, just be there for him.”

“I’m trying, Ji, I swear,” Chan huffs, frustrated, tears burning in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“And what would have that changed?” Felix asks gently. “The only difference that could’ve been would be you driving. You think Minho would stand here any differently now then?”

“I hurt him,” Chan says and they frown at him softly. “We got into a fight, and Y/nnie took him out for dinner to cheer him up because I’ve been a complete asshole. She texted me, saying how hurt he was and…maybe he would’ve reacted more quickly and-.”

“Chan,” Felix says firmly. “We’ve seen the footage, there was no chance. The other driver was drunk and racing down that street. There’s nothing he could’ve done. If you truly don’t blame him, you can’t blame yourself either. If you’re saying you made him too caught up in his thoughts to prevent the accident, you’re not only blaming yourself here.”

Chan tiredly rubs his face before nodding. “Yeah, okay, sorry.”

“You should get back home and get some rest,” Jisung says softly and pulls him into a tight hug. “There’s no use in staying here and beating yourself up, worrying about Min when you could be with him right now.”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods and squeezes them both tightly. “I’ll just sort a few things out, then I’ll be gone, promise.”

“Alright,” they nod and wave goodbye.

So three hours in total later, Chan gets back home and quietly glances into their bedroom. Minho's still deep asleep, and Chan decides to join him while he works. He sits down on the bed next to him and gently runs his hand through his hair, turning on his laptop. He sighs softly, spotting the fading bruises on his arm and the healing cut right below his hairline. Of course, Minho had been hurt by the impact as well, but the shock and gravity of your situation made him downplay his own injuries. Chan only found out accidentally when they took a bath two days ago to relax a little. “Oh, kitten,” he whispers to himself and shakes his head at him.

Minho wakes up another three hours later, rolling away from him drowsily. His brain feels fuzzy, his vision is foggy, and he needs a moment to comprehend he's awake. He rubs his face with a groan and blinks heavily, trying to stay awake. Turning onto his back, he spots Chan next to him and squints at him. “Why the fuck are they so strong?” he rasps, voice laced heavily with sleep.

“Well, because I need them to sleep,” he chuckles and gently fondles his hair. “You slept alright?”

“Mhm,” he hums sleepily and stretches his body with a low groan. “How's Y/nnie?” he asks timidly.

“No changes yet,” Chan tells him and thoughtfully stares out of the window. “Min?”

“Hm?”

“I think you should take a break,” Chan says, not looking at him.

Minho shoots up and stares at him. “Why?” he asks dangerously low, suddenly fully awake.

“You're exhausted, baby. You deserve a break,” Chan says, glancing at him.

“And it's just that?” Minho asks sharply, and Chan frowns at him. “Not because you think I'm losing it?”

“What? No,” he quickly shakes his head. “I swear it's because you're exhausted, you worked double with me gone.”

“More like triple because you do way too much, but yeah,” he snickers before huffing softly. “Yeah, okay, you're probably right. Can you sort that shit out?”

Chan smiles knowingly. “I already did. You're on break for a month besides group interviews that get recorded or those two live performances we have coming up.”

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing. “That won't stop me from dragging you home from the studio if you stay too long.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promises and squeezes his hand. “You’re okay?”

“I know,” he giggles softly. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“You’re a menace, Chan,” he shakes his head. “If you don’t cut back a little, you’ll end up overwhelmed and overworked again in a month.”

Minho’s eyes flicker away from his, and he nods firmly. “Of course I am.”

“Kitten?” he asks softly. “Can you promise me something?”

“Depends,” he squints at him suspiciously.

“I need you to be honest with me. If you’re struggling, feeling lost, or overwhelmed, let me know. No matter where I am, no matter how late it is,” Chan says, and Minho stares at him quietly for a minute. “Minho?”

“I can try,” he whispers and searches his eyes. “No, I will try. I promise. Just…don’t expect too much, you know how I am.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chan nods worriedly, and Minho gently kisses his cheek.

“I’ll be fine, I always am,” he says.

One and a half months later

After skipping that one time, it took him a week to go back to the hospital. After that, he didn’t miss a day, sometimes coming here with Chan and sometimes, when Chan’s schedule didn’t fit, coming on his own. He couldn’t deal with not seeing you and talking to you, even though you never answered.

Minho greets the nurse with a kind smile and nervously clutches the flowers in his hand. “Any news?”

“Not yet, Mr. Lee,” she says gently. “She’s stable, that’s what counts. It isn’t getting any worse. Don’t give up hope.”

Minho nods gently. “I won’t,” he says before excusing himself and stepping into your room. He closes the door quietly behind himself and sighs softly, seeing you. “Hey, Y/nnie,” he says gently and makes his way around the bed, replacing the old flowers with the ones he brought. “Got you some flowers…you would like those,” he says and sits down on the chair next to your bed. For a while he simply watches you, watches your chest rising and falling, your lashes resting against your cheeks. The bandages around your head are gone by now, and he hesitantly reaches out, caressing your cheek. “God, I miss you,” he sighs softly and braces himself on the mattress, taking your hand between his. “It’s so quiet at the house now when Channie’s working. Sometimes, I’m stupid enough to believe you’ll come around the corner every second and ask for cuddles. Or ask if I can make you dinner, I miss cooking with you so much,” he rambles on mindlessly. “You’d be surprised how much has changed since you’re not home. Chan is home before twelve every night, can you believe that? He’s really taking care of himself now, you’d be so proud. Also, he asked me to teach him some things around the kitchen, I think he did it so I wouldn’t get bored. I’m seeing a therapist now…never thought I’d ever need that. Apparently, there’s more stuff in my life I need to work through besides that stupid accident. She’s nice, you’d like her,” he says and trails off for a while. Your face before his eyes gets blurry as his eyes brim with tears and his throat tightens up.

It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel like shit about what happened. It’s okay to feel guilty. As long as it doesn’t stop you from moving on with your life and eventually smiling again. He doesn’t know how often he heard those first three sentences in the past few weeks.

Minho inhales shakily and squeezes your hand in his. “I miss you so much, honey. I miss your laugh, I miss acting stupid with you, I miss holding your hand or pulling you close and swaying you through the kitchen. I miss holding you when you’re asleep, and I never thought I’d miss carrying the grocery bags for you this badly. Fuck, I miss your voice and those beautiful eyes looking at me like I deserve all the love you have for me,” he sniffles softly and presses his trembling lips together for a second. “Can you try and wake up soon, Y/nnie honey? I can’t stay strong forever,” he presses out, and his shoulders shake with a suppressed sob. He doesn’t notice the door opening and flinches a little as someone wraps his arms around his waist. Chan’s familiar scent surrounds him, and Minho instinctively leans into his touch. “I’m okay,” he whispers.

“I know,” Chan answers quietly and kisses his cheek. “Some days are just harder than others.”

“Yeah,” Minho sniffles softly and stays in his arms, your hand in his pressed against his face. “You’re early,” he speaks up after a while.

“We finished early,” he nods and mindlessly rubs his side. “Thought I’d stop by and pick you up.”

“Thanks, love,” he says gently. He doesn’t feel safe driving yet, and Chan made sure to pick him up personally whenever he could. Minho pulls back from you with a sniffle, gently resting your hand on the mattress. “No update yet, but they told me it’s a good sign that her state isn’t getting worse.”

“Okay, that’s something,” Chan nods, agreeing, and gets himself a chair, lifting Minho in his lap. “You wanna talk about today?” he asks, gently rubbing his thighs.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asks, turning in his hold. Chan nods understandingly and squeezes his hand.

“That’s fine,” he says, resting his head on his shoulder. “You know you don’t have to tell me about therapy, but I’m there if you want to.”

“I know,” Minho smiles thankfully and watches you thoughtfully. “I see her every day, and still, I miss her like crazy.”

“Yeah, me too,” Chan nods. “I’m so glad to have you still…I’d go insane on my own.”

“Oh, me too,” he chuckles softly. “You wanna leave? Or can we stay for another bit?”

“We can stay as long as you want to, kitten,” he promises.

One week later

Minho unlocks the front door to your house and drags himself inside. After a quick visit this morning he had been at the company, practicing for an upcoming performance. It’s been two months since you fell into a coma, and according to the doctor, you’re slowly starting to make progress. She told them there was a high chance it wouldn’t take all too long anymore for you to wake up. Minho didn’t care one bit how long it would still take. The fact that you’d wake up again had been everything he needed.

He frowns softly at how quiet the house is. Shouldn’t Chan already be home? Minho slips out of his shoes and calls out for him, getting no answer. “Channie, love?” he asks again, strolling into the living room area. His eyes widen at the sight in front of him, and he covers his mouth in shock. “What the fuck?”

The living room is dark but illuminated by the many strings of light adorning the walls. A huge bouquet of red roses rests beautifully in a vase on top of the sofa table, and the sweet scent of fresh brownies lingers in the air. Minho turns at the sound of the door opening and sees his husband stepping inside with a bottle of wine. “Channie?” he asks softly.

Chan’s eyes widen, spotting him, and his face falls checking his watch. “Hey! You’re home early,” he protests.

“Obviously,” Minho giggles and frowns at him. “What’s all that about? Did I miss something? It’s not our anniversary, right?” he asks worriedly.

Chan puts down the bottle of wine and shakes his head. “I just realized it’s been six long months since I did something nice for you with everything going on. I wanted to surprise you and - no, why are you crying?” he asks softly.

“Sorry,” he giggles through tears. “Happy tears, I swear,” he promises and messily wipes his cheeks.

“Fucker,” he breathes out as his own eyes fill with tears seeing him beaming with joy after all this time.

Minho giggles wetly and closes the distance between them, hugging him so forcefully it makes Chan stumble for a moment. “You’re so sweet.”

Chan smiles brightly and buries his face in his shoulder. “I love you so much, kitten.”

“I love you too,” he whispers and pulls back, beaming at him. They sink into each other’s eyes and Minho can’t help giving in to the invisible string pulling them closer. Their lips meet in a slow, sweet kiss and Minho melts into him, hand buried in his curls.

“I worried this would be too cheesy,” Chan giggles breathlessly as he pulls back for a moment.

“Don’t you ever dare stop being cheesy, yeah?” he whispers.

“Never,” he promises, giggling, and seals the deal with another soft kiss.

PART THREE | PART FIVE

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @kailee08 @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @harshaaaaa @lost-in-avoidance

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monzamash · 9 months

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it's impossible to win — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.5k summary – when you buy concert tickets with your ex but break up a couple of months before the gig, do you go or cut your losses? rating – mature (sexual references, coarse language) a/n – this was inspired by a lovely ask i received during my 2k celebration and based around the band alexisonfire x masterlist

just sent you the AOF tickets.

i told you to keep yours. you love them as much as i do. read

The glow of your phone was too bright, too harsh and so was the reality you didn’t want to face any time soon. You couldn’t keep them. How could you when the reputation of being the ‘notorious ex girlfriend of Daniel Ricciardo’ – man of the people, loved by millions shadowed you everywhere you went?

He was loved more than most and certainly more than you.

She was never good enough anyway; a parasite, they said when the news broke on the petty gossip pages, exposing that you and Daniel were no longer together, itemising every little detail of your downfall for the world to see. Those years of memories, years of loving privately disappeared and in its place were painful ones to heal. They were the best years of your life, or so you thought – blissfully unaware of the distance slowly growing between you and the man you loved more than most – but it wasn’t enough.

You weren't enough to fight for and especially not enough to love more than driving around a racetrack eight months out of the year. He was never there, out of sight and out of mind, leaving you battling for his attention. You weren’t cut out for it, simply put by him while on the other side of the world. It started as a late night phone call to ease the ache in your chest and to keep him close but he couldn’t have been further away. Physically and emotionally. Drifting.

“Babe, this is what you signed up for.”

“No, it’s what I tolerate – it’s what I sacrifice to love you.”

You broke down, knowing this was the end of your relationship and the only thing you could genuinely put your name to. You had lost yourself completely to his life, no longer something you could call your own. Abandoned dreams and forsaken friendships all so you could be there for him; drawn in to his world, naively consumed by his safety and the promise of a life lived together, not divided by oceans – lost to the fishes.

That was until you re-emerged from the lavish hotels and the private planes, sans Daniel – sans your soulmate. The day you ended that phone call, you knew he would be the hardest one to let go of; eternally the one that got away and the one relationship you would have to tell future boyfriends about. And they would probably gasp and ask, not the formula one driver? and you would have to nod and quash their insecurities because everyone loved Daniel.

But nobody loved him more than you do – did. Not even close.

“He said you should use the ticket and honestly, I don’t even think he’ll show up. He hasn’t come to anything we’ve organised since you two broke up – he’s not the kid we knew back in high school anymore… That’s why you dumped his arse, right?”

Right, but you couldn’t say that.

“I didn’t dump him. I just…” Just told him that he’s wasted the best years of my life chasing him around the world.

“… Said that if he couldn’t be there when I needed him or spent more than two seconds a year with me then I couldn’t do it anymore. And that’s it.” Well, not exactly.

“Sounds like a dumping to me and rightfully so. Look, I love Danny but he’s hard to be friends with, let alone pretending to be in domestic bliss with…”

Yes, but you respected Daniel too much to admit that. Hannah was his friend too, all of them were. You were kids all grown up, now adults wading their way through the treacherous seas of the real world, pretending like they had it all figured out. Ungracefully and riddled with anxiety but finally immune to bullshit and aware of what to expect out of an adult relationship.

The standards were higher now than when you were young and in love. Daniel was your childhood best friend, after all. Or more accurately, the boy you met on the first day of high school, all crooked teeth and bundles of frizzy brown curls. You were acne-ridden and shy, the weirdo girl, they called you until you became friends with Danny. He knew everyone and was loved by everyone – that was the one trait that had followed him through life.

He was the class clown and a cute distraction from the torture of high school but you weren’t the only one who thought so. Lunchtime quickly became your favourite part of every day because you got to sit beside him and eat your Vegemite sandwich, knowing all the other girls in your year seethed seeing you with him. 'That weird mole and Riccardo being friends doesn’t make sense' they’d whisper thinking you couldn’t hear them. But you could and they were right about one thing – you were only friends.

The slightest scent of a spring breeze reminded you of the hours you spent sat under the shady gum trees, watching him playing footy with the other boys while you fiddled with your walk-man and scratched the discs beyond repair as you changed them out, battling with the Sony aux chord that was hanging on for dear life by a slither of duct tape. You were fifteen when Daniel handed you a burnt CD with a hand-drawn skull in the shape of a heart and the letters AOF written in bold black sharpie, smudged from his impatience.

“What’s this?” You asked with squinted eyes, looking up at him and the blistering sun.

“The best fucking album you’ll ever hear.”

He told you years later that he was so proud of himself, thrilled that he was showing you new music. His competitive streak wasn’t exclusive to the karting track – no, it snuck its way into everything he did, specifically when it came to album recommendations and especially with you.

“It’s called Watch Out by Alexisonfire… you know, that punk band I said you would love. Give it a try. I promise it’s better than that fuckin’ Offspring album you won’t stop listenin’ to.”

“Well even if I do like it, I wont tell you now dickhead.”

But he was right. So infuriatingly right. You loved it, maybe because you loved him. He was your best friend, your closest confidante, your twin flame – all cheesy grin and beautiful brown eyes. Lips so full that whenever he spoke, you couldn’t look away. Dangerously entranced by your best friend. A label that haunted you every time it slipped from his tongue and one you desperately wanted to rip off like a band-aid.

You thought those feelings would be the kind of ones you'd painfully bury and take to your grave, heartbreakingly unrequited – until you found a hand-written note crumpled up at the bottom of the ripped CD sleeve. The blotchy blue pen and creases in the lined paper made it hard for you to read his distinctive, yet messy boyish cursive.

song 4 – side walk when she walks (made me think of you)

The sound of frantic clicking bounced off your lilac coloured walls as you skipped to track four; a spinning screech filled the anticipated silence before the sound of a melodic guitar filtered through the muffled headset.

Dressed to kill, you look so right I am drunk with lust tonight Your wounds are opening wide And they might be just my size

Warmth rushed to your chest, your neck and up to your cheeks when you realised what it all meant. And it wasn’t the last time Daniel made your body feel like it was on fire, sitting on his messy bedroom floor and kissing until you couldn’t breathe, the soft sounds of your new favourite band playing on his stereo – heart beating so fast you could’ve died, happily in his arms.

But you weren’t horny teenagers anymore and that memory was blurrier now than it had ever been. It had been muddied with all the sad ones, the fights and the tears – the irreversible emotional damage that you had done to each other. You weren’t a saint, god knows and you took full responsibility for your part and so did Daniel. But that was where it ended – in a seemingly amicable split.

No love lost, only misplaced for a while.

It felt like all eyes were watching you as you walked into the small club, ears already tingling with the reverberation bouncing off the blackened walls – if only they could talk. Musky bodies and the hint of cigarettes filled the air while your combat boots stuck to the floor with every step you took into the lion’s den, making your path to closure hard fought. Maybe it was a sign to turn back; anything could’ve convinced you to swing by the exit on your left until you saw him.

He was dressed head to toe in black with a cap securely pulled over his eyes, hiding away from the curious ones. In any other crowd it would’ve been a piss-poor disguise, so obviously him but he blended in with the dark walls and the growing crowd, all wearing the unofficial uniform of an elder emo – baggy sweater, ripped skinny jeans and torn up Vans. And you were no different.

"You made it!!", a friend greeted, pulling you into a rib-crushing hug while you took in the circling faces. There were a few you never thought you would see again, people who were only your friend by proxy and ones he’d picked up along the way. And it was clear by the way everyone greeted you that he hadn’t dragged your name through the mud, maybe he kept the details of the break up quiet like you.

But the reality for Daniel was that he was too broken to even process what had happened. He came home to an empty apartment after a double-header with no way to contact you, to make things right. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night and he wasn’t entirely convinced that the couple of months you’d been apart was enough either. And he was right. The sharp pain in his chest and the way his hands shook when he saw you confirmed it. He was fucked.

“Fuck,” Daniel groaned and turned to his mate, “What am I doing here, man…”

All he could do was let out a soft laugh and pat his friend on the shoulder, “You’re an idiot.”

Daniel readjusted his cap and let out a strangled, “I know.”

You promised your friend that you’d be fine, like water off a ducks back. All the side glances and murmurs meant nothing to you anymore, the insecurity you had now was nothing compared to when you were actually dating Daniel. Consumed in his bubble, unable to escape the crushing scrutiny. Another wag bites the dust, they said, gone with no explanation other than your obvious absence in the paddock.

It didn’t matter anymore; nothing could hurt more than losing him.

But you still felt it, bubbling away in the pit of your stomach. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night, especially when you thought it would last forever. Nostalgia won the battle against the wound in your chest for a moment, still festering without treatment – knowing the only person who could heal it was miles away emotionally but was now in your line of vision. Seeing him in the flesh hurt more than you’d anticipated, more than you could’ve ever imagined. You still loved him, after everything.

The bubbles of excitement quickly dissipated and twisted into knots when you thought about what you had lost – a wave of anxiety washed over, churning away at any ounce of courage you’d mustered to even turn up to this stupid fucking show. You were cursing yourself, cursing your friend who had convinced you that he probably wouldn’t even turn up and that the odds were in your favour. She was so, so wrong.

“Ignore him and come dance.”

She was in damage control, dragging you away from the small gathering of friends and Daniel, who couldn’t tear his eyes away. His warm stare burned holes through your leather jacket as he watched you walk off into the crowd – and away from him again. It was becoming a habit of yours that he loathed. The house lights felt like a spotlight on your bruised ego but you pushed through the warm bodies, putting as much distance as you could between you and your past. The support band sounded great, mostly because it drowned out the soul-crushing thoughts swirling in your mind and brought you some much needed reprieve from your pity party.

You didn’t feel like yourself at all – you were the shell of the woman you used to be and you certainly weren’t the woman you wanted to show up as either. Strong, independent, single and thriving – you were none of those things, entirely the opposite in every way, so you had to dig deep and fake it. And you were a great actor but not tonight.

Not when you felt a gentle poke to your bicep. The lights rotating and strobing above made it impossible to see who was standing beside you, hand offering an icy bottle of Corona with a wedge of lime. It nearly slipped from your shaky fingers when you grasped it, whispering a soft thank you as the house lights went down and the swell of the surging crowd rumbled under foot.

“I wanted to have a chat but…” Daniel pointed to the stage, yelling over the drummer that had taken his rightful place behind his kit.

“Maybe later?” And you nodded yes, sending him a reassuring smile as the band began to play.

You could be diplomatic and hear him out – you owed yourself that at least and deserved closure from all the unanswered questions.

Daniel kept his distance, knowing he was in the wrong and that letting you go was the biggest mistake of his life. And it wasn’t long until his heart stalled in his chest when he heard that painfully recognisable guitar riff filter through the thick air, the one he couldn’t listen to without thinking of you and he could see the way your eyes glazed with tears when you heard it; the opening chords to the song he had dedicated to you all those years ago on that stupid burnt cd.

Maybe you missed him too.

“This ones called side walk when she walks.”

You reached down, without even looking and grasped his hand that was hanging loosely between your stiff bodies. Daniel interlocked his shaking fingers with yours and squeezed them as your head dropped to his shoulder, resting there while you both swayed to the music. You felt safe for the first time in months, comforted by his presence.

Of course you missed him. He was your person.

And this was your band; the band you shared together for over half your lives, their songs played while you fell in love with one another. They were the band you lost your virginity to, humming softly in the background and wishing that feeling would last forever. You remembered blasting ‘to a friend’ in the car on the way to your graduation and Daniel nearly getting pulled over by the cops, laughing until your sides hurt. And they were the band you would always save for your road trips along the coast, both there in Los Angeles and back home.

These were the songs that soundtracked your life with Daniel.

They were your band – and they’d brought you back together.

a//n – this was wildly self indulgent so if you hated it, let me know lol but also lmk if you liked it because i loved writing it x masterlist | askbox

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 writing #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #monzamashmasterlist #monzamash

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lovebotmo · 4 months

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like the movies

chapter one - falling behind

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1199

author’s note: i am so excited for this first chapter. im forcing myself to pace these so i don't get burned out LMAO. i hope you enjoy this first installment!!! also not beta read so fight me.

song inspiration: "like the movies" by laufey

“Why haven’t you ever dated, Y/n?”

While the question had been relatively simple, its forwardness sent you into a coughing fit while sipping your coffee at breakfast. Sitting across from the inquirer, Luna Lovegood, you quickly mopped up your spill while throwing her a dirty look. The conversation at your table that morning in the Great Hall had consisted of relationships, past, present, and mind-numbing, wobbly-kneed crushes, but you hadn’t expected the focus of the chat to turn towards you.

To your right, your dearest friend, Hermione Granger, quickly jumped to your defense. “It’s not that simple, Luna. There are a number of perfectly good reasons why someone does or does not, in Y/n’s case, date!”

Hermione seemed absolutely content with her answer, patting you gently on the back with a kind smile. Her sympathy made you groan before you dropped your head into your hands. “For the love of Merlin, can we please discuss something—”

Ginny Weasley plopped down on your right, eager to give her two cents on the matter of your abysmal dating record. “I mean, you’ve had people interested in you, right? None of them have piqued your fancy? What’s his face—um…Lee Jordan! He asked you out a few months ago, right? What about him?”

“What about Cormac?” asked Hannah Bones. “I know he’s a bit of a tosser, but he’s not bad to look at. I sit next to him in Transfiguration, I could introduce you!”

Increasingly irritated with the course of the conversation, you piped up. “Thank you, Hannah, but I’ve got no interest in—”

Ginny interrupted, “What about one of my brothers? They’re bloody idiots, no doubt, but I’m sure I could put in a good word. What’s your type? Hmm—you into the whole cheeky thing Fred and George have going on—”

“Enough!” The four girls stared at you and your face that could easily rival a tomato with its present scarlet hue. A silence washed over the nearby tables in the Great Hall. A few odd looks were thrown at you from the surrounding students before their conversations recommenced. “As much as I appreciate your intense interest in my lack of relationships, I don’t feel like fleshing it out over cinnamon rolls and sausage links at 8:00 a.m. in the morning, if you lot don’t mind.”

The girls quickly began to apologize before you hushed them. “It’s totally fine, seriously, I just don’t want to get into it. We’re all good. Promise.”

As if sensing that you weren’t entirely ‘good,’ Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione beat her to it. “Y/n and I have got to get going if we’re going to make it to Potions. We’ll see you guys later, alright?” You could have snogged the life out of Hermione for the offered escape route. You and Hermione both knew you had another thirty minutes before your first class, but what the three girls didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. After swiftly packing up her things, Hermione linked her arm with yours, whisking you away from the other three.

Even though your next class was in the dungeons, Hermione steered you towards an unfamiliar corridor, one she had likely found on the vast number of adventures she, Harry, and Ron had found themselves in over the years. Arms still intertwined; she sat you both on a bench. After sitting in a few moments of silence, you squeezed her arm and spoke, “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

Returning your squeeze, she smiled. “I figured you could use a break from that inquisitive lot. They can be a bit much, altogether at once. Merlin knows how they’ll react when I tell them about Ron and me.” The two of you looked at each other in stunned silence before bursting into laughter. Hermione laughed at the imaginary image of shock and disbelief she imagined would appear on Ginny’s face. You laughed, however, at the thought that anyone could be unaware to the obvious affection shared between the couple. You doubted that Filch, perhaps the most oblivious man to ever inhabit Hogwarts, couldn’t see the feelings that had steadily been growing between Hermione and Ron since their first year. Feelings you had yet to experience at Hogwarts, despite your desperate desire to.

As if sensing your thoughts, Hermione peered into your face before softly speaking, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I won’t push you or anything, but I just want you to know you have an ear if you want one.”

Considering her words, you peered at the ceiling that seemed miles away. Of all the people you knew at Hogwarts, Hermione might have been the best to unburden yourself to.

You turned to look at her before speaking. “Well, it’s like this. Take Lee Jordan for example—when he asked me out, he found me after Defense Against the Dark Arts and just said, ‘Want to go out sometime, L/N?’ And that’s it! I mean, it took him all of four seconds to ask—and I don’t know…I asked him why he wanted to go out with me—which let me tell you he gave me quite a funny look because of my question—before he said, ‘Well, you’re fit and nice.’

Hermione laughed at Lee’s simplistic answer before you continued. “Don’t get me wrong, it was a fine answer, and I appreciated the ‘fit’ part especially,” you said, winking at Hermione, “But that was the whole exchange. No real effort, no deep interest in me. It was simple.”

Hermione smiled at you, “But you don’t want simple, do you?”

You shrugged. “I guess not? Believe me, I don’t want a live performance where the man of my dreams serenades me with a homemade song listing my manifold of attractions.” This time you joined Hermione in her laughter. “I’d rather die on the spot, honestly, than endure that, but the point is I don’t want to be asked out just to be asked out. I want someone who’s thought about it, someone who’s noticed the little things about me, and lets me know that he has noticed them. I want to be wooed, goddammit!”

Hermione pealed in laughter for a solid minute before she managed to catch her breath. Smiling, she replied, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be ‘wooed’, Y/n. Godric knows Ron could stand to do a bit more ‘wooing’ when it comes to us.”

Turning your body fully to Hermione, you took her hands into yours, earnestly. “You don’t think I’m asking for too much? Being too high maintenance? I mean, I suppose we are young and still learning after all and—”

“Y/n, no. There is nothing wrong with wanting to know if someone truly likes you and wanting them to show it.” She squeezed your hands in assurance.

“Are you positively sure, because honestly—”

“I am absolutely sure, Y/n.”

“One hundred percent sure?”

“What do you think absolute means, Y/n?”

“…Point taken, ‘Mione.”

“Now then,” she said, standing and dragging you along with her, “we really must head off to Potions if we don’t want to be late.”

Trotting behind her, you smiled at your ever-punctual friend, “Yes ma’am.”

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nicohischierz · 10 months

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cruel summer: nico hischier x devs!player

you loved spending your summers with nico in switzerland. this summer was no different.

except nico’s ex-girlfriend was in town and made it her mission to spend every waking moment with him.

you found out she was back one morning when you were seated outside his childhood home with his mother, katja, learning some swiss-german.

nico’s ex had spotted katja and shouted a greeting, running over to the older woman and embracing her in a hug.

katja returned the gesture, although she did furrow her eyebrows when she looked over to you. the woman was shocked to say the least at her arrival.

“andrea, i didn’t know you were back. how are you?” katja asked gesturing to take a seat next to you.

andrea smiled and took the seat, not even looking at your side. “well i missed this place so much, i thought i’d get on the next flight and come home,” she explained.

you weren’t sure whether to introduce yourself or to leave, so you sat in silence until luca came out and noticed andrea.

“y/n, nico and i are going on a hike do you want to - andrea?” the older hischier brother stopped and looked between you and andrea.

the woman in question got up and launched herself into luca’s arms “oh i’ve missed you luca! it has been far too long since we’ve hung out,” she cried.

whilst andrea was preoccupied with luca, katja leaned across to you and whispered “i don’t know why she is back but i would tell nico to watch out,”

and katja was right.

for the past two weeks, andrea would come over to the hischier house early in the morning and follow nico around like a puppy.

whenever nico was sitting next to you andrea would be on the other side of him. if he needed something andrea would hurry to get it for him.

you never actually got a chance to talk to her until tonight. two weeks after the girl had made her appearance, katja and rino were having a dinner to celebrate your extension with the team.

“i don’t think we’ve formally met, i’m y/n, nico’s girlfriend,” you introduced yourself, holding a hand out to her.

andrea shot you a smile, which you could tell was fake, and returned the gesture. “andrea. i thought you were his teammate?” she questioned.

luckily, nico was behind the two of you and answered her question. “she is my teammate and my girlfriend,”

the answer made you smile. so you leaned up and pecked his lips, leaving your boyfriend a blushing mess.

that night, andrea continued doting on nico which made you feel like a bad girlfriend. upon reflection, you realised nico spent most of his time taking care of you than you did taking care of him.

that night you texted jack.

it was almost immediate when he replied your plane ticket attached and the promise to pick you up. he also assured you that your doctors appointment had been booked.

there were only five people who knew about your secret. nina, katja, your mother, ellen and now jack.

with a sigh on your lips and a quick glance over your shoulder, you thanked the hischier family for accommodating you before luca drove you to the airport.

nico woke up to a cold bed and a pit in his stomach. he thought you might’ve joined his brother on a morning walk but when he saw luca trailing in without he worried.

“where is y/n?” he asked.

his family didn’t say anything. it didn’t help that andrea took that exact moment to walk in and place a kiss on nico’s cheek, despite him pushing her away.

“she’s gone,” nina replied, grabbing her plate and bumping into nico’s ex. she had enjoyed spending time with you and was excited for what you had planned for tonight.

nico was stunned. you wouldn’t leave him like that, not after everything you’ve been through.

“what a shame, she seemed like a nice girl. nico i wanted to tell you alex and hannah wanted us to join their date,” andrea butted in.

rino left the room to call you and katja just shook her head.

“stop it!” nico yelled.

“all you’ve done since you’ve been here is folllow me around and it’s annoying. now get out of my house, i don’t want to see you!” he continued.

andrea faltered suddenly before she made her way to the door, embarrassed of her actions.

“luca, please tell me where she is,” nico pleaded with his older brother.

“she went to michigan,”

nico booked the next flight out with only one thought in mind. he took a cab to jack’s house hoping his friend could help.

but luke answered the door and near slammed it in his face again.

“luke please, i just need to know if she’s okay,”

but luke left the door and called his oldest brother. quinn, being the more level headed brother walked out of the house to talk to nico.

but before quinn has the chance to close the door and drown the inside noise out nico can hear you yelling.

“luke hughes you did not just tell a pregnant woman to lie on the floor!”

those words made nico freeze but quinn just shook his head and told nico to follow him.

#nico hischier x player!reader #nico hischier imagine #nicohischierz writes

488 notes · View notes

dollfaceksj · 10 months

Text

met him last night | ksj (m)

➥ PAIRING: seokjin x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: You’ve worked in the office with Kim Seokjin for quite some time but you never really pay attention to him. He’s basically your stereotypical introverted nerd with complimentary glasses decorating his eyes and sweater vests clinging to his torso. Coincidentally, you bump into him outside of work. You’re in for the shock of your life when you find some stuff out about him.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ plot twist ⋆ porn with plot

➥ CATEGORY: two-shot

➥ WARNINGS: wild & flirty taehyung (cause why not?), strong language, tension, sexual tension, nerd!seokjin, plot twist, two-faced seokjin? basically hes not what he seems like, reader is a bit of a hypocrite, mentions of biphobia/misogyny, awkward interaction in a grocery store, mentions of sexual acts, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 10.9k

a/n: aaaa im glad this is finally out i just wanted my own ver of a hannah montana story man. jkjk but yeah i hope u enjoy <33 lmk what u fink.

a/n 2: pt. 1 is pretty slow but pt. 2 has all the mind-blowing filthy smut i promise✍🏽

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

to: Y/N.Y/L/[email protected]

from: Karen Smith

This is the 3rd time this has happened! I demand to speak to anyone that’s in charge.

“Ugh, she won’t stop complaining,” you groan as you finish reading another email from the same customer who’s been complaining for 4 days straight because the delivery man delivered her package to her neighbor.

You’ve tried to explain multiple times that he had no choice due to her absence at the time of delivery but she’s adamant on letting you know she doesn’t approve.

You rub your eye with the knuckle of your index finger, careful not to smudge your eyeliner or mascara before you let a loud sigh push past your lips and slouch in your chair.

Your co-worker and friend, Taehyung, glances over at you from the desk next to yours with an amused grin on his lips. “I dealt with her last time. Good luck, she won’t let up.”

With a turn of your head, you finally meet his gorgeous eyes that glimmer with mischief and it annoys you to the core. Your glare throws imaginary daggers at him, an irritated scowl forming on your face.

“All she did was order some balloons and confetti. I’d understand if she had ordered something expensive like a phone or console,” you mumble in annoyance, your eyes flickering to the bottom right corner of your monitor to check the time.

It’s 3:34PM. Under 30 minutes until you get to clock out. You swivel in your chair, head thrown back as you stare at the ceiling, lost in thought. You close your eyes, allowing the built-in ceiling-air-conditioning to softly fan over your face while you think about what a shit week you’ve had.

“You’re too frustrated. Thought about fucking it out of your system?” You hear Taehyung’s deep voice way closer than it was before, making you snap your head in the direction of said decibels.

He has rolled over in his chair, now sitting right next to you with a shit-eating grin on his lips. You merely grunt in response, lifting your leg and placing your foot against the edge of his seat’s cushion right in between his thighs in one swift motion, missing his groin by a hair before you kick his chair back in the general direction of his desk.

He laughs as he aimlessly rolls back to his desk, grabbing onto the edge of the wooden surface belonging to his desk before turning to fully face you.

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His tone does sound more serious but you just wave your hand at him in dismissal as you return your attention to your inbox that’s bursting with emails waiting for a response from you.

“You offering?” you tease, playfully, without looking at him, eyes still fixed on the screen in front of you.

A deep chuckle leaves his throat before he continues, “If you’d asked that a week ago, I would’ve fucked the shit out of you.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you turn to look at him but this time it’s Taehyung that’s avoiding eye contact, eyes glued to his screen as his long fingers gracefully dance over the black keyboard in front of him. Taehyung has always been flirty, has always made dirty jokes but that’s what they were. Jokes.

This time, he says it like it’s a confession. Like he’s serious. And you hate to admit that it rattles you to the core.

“Be normal,” you mumble, uncertainty coating your tone as your hands fidget with the bundle of papers to your right, pretending to look busy and unbothered.

He glances at you for a moment before shrugging and saying, “I’m not lying.” He returns his gaze to his computer, right hand draped over the cursor as the clicking of his mouse sounds louder than ever.

“But as you know that cute guy asked me out again and I can see it going somewhere,” he explains as he brings his other arm up, leaning his elbow on his desk and bringing his hand up to rub his lips with the tips of his fingers.

You idly blink at the side of his face a few times, eyeing his side profile. He truly is a sight to behold. A chorus of swear words start clouding your mind. Taehyung was down to fool around with you and you didn’t take that opportunity? You must be fucking crazy.

Well, in your defense, he wasn’t obvious about it. But you do wish you’d gotten to spend at least one night with him, just to see what you’re missing out on. He has never hidden his wild lifestyle, partying every weekend, meeting new people everyday, it makes you so very curious because you aren’t like that at all.

You like staying home, you like being in bed, you like rewatching your favorite shows on Netflix.

The soft knock on the door to your office snaps you out of your thoughts, your head automatically turning to look at the door as it’s being pushed open.

One of the long-term interns turned employee pushes his face into the room, politely bowing his head at you and Taehyung as his eyes peek at you above the rim of his glasses.

You’re acquainted with Seokjin but he’s really quiet and doesn’t really engage in much conversation, though, he’s always been polite and has never made you uncomfortable or anything.

He did once buy you a brand new, expensive keyboard and cursor because he felt so guilty for spilling your cup of coffee all over them. He kept apologizing even when you told him it was okay. He returned the following day with a new set and insisted on installing it for you.

Or another time when you left him speechless for buying him a box of chocolates for Valentines day, despite the fact you had bought one for everyone at work. He almost dropped to his knees to thank you, which made Taehyung burst into laughter as you tried to stop the giant with broad shoulders from being so dramatic.

You always do your best to be nice to him because everyone at work kind of dodges him, in fear of having an awkward conversation or assuming he’ll start rambling about his Pokemon card collection.

He has never said anything about owning a Pokemon card collection or anything of the sort. It’s just one of the many dumb stereotypical jokes they’ve made up about him, simply because he graduated top of his class, wears dorky sweaters, has glasses sitting on top the bridge of his nose and is socially awkward.

Or is he? They’ve never attempted to even have a conversation with him that lasted longer than 30 seconds.

With you, he isn’t awkward. He’s quiet but he’s not awkward. Yes, you have to do most of the talking which can make it awkward for you but he’s just a guy that keeps to himself. Who wouldn’t when they get treated like this?

He walks further in, muttering a low ‘excuse me’ before turning his body to address you, “Y/N, are today’s report files done?” Seokjin quietly asks you, referring to all the complaints you have to print out that need to be on your manager’s desk at the end of every day.

You nod and point your chin towards a bundle of files on your desk. He smiles at you politely and you return the smile, unfortunately, yours is fake. You’ve had a shit week and you can’t bring yourself to start small talk with him like you usually would.

He must’ve noticed you’re not in the mood so he just gives you a curt nod and takes the bundle of papers, fingers wrapping tightly around it as he spins on his heels and heads out of your office again. He disappears as quickly as he appeared.

You don’t pay much attention to him as you return your gaze to the screen in front of you, a quiet sigh leaving you as you continue to do what you’re paid to do.

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You absolutely hate going grocery shopping on Saturdays, which is why you usually don’t. But when you swung the door to your fridge open and found out you had run out of milk, it had you cursing like a sailor. To think you’d have to start your Sunday morning without your mandatory bowl of Frosted Flakes and cup of coffee has you grunting in annoyance as you reach for a plastic store basket.

You sling it over your forearm and start walking around the store, already knowing your way around your go-to supermarket. Your eyes trail some of the new products, fingers silently tapping the handle of the basket against your forearm. You make your way to the refrigerated dairy section of the store, eyes skimming the see-through glass doors until you find what you’re looking for.

You fill your basket with some cheese, yoghurt and 3 bottles of whole milk before closing the glass door and turning on your heels. You start heading towards the checkout counter because you don’t want to be here any longer than you need to but your feet slow down in their pace once your eyes fall on a rack of condoms.

Your eyes scan the different brands, the different sizes, the different flavors. Even multiple types of lube hang on rods in front of you and Taehyung’s words instantly come rushing back to you.

Is he right? Should you just fuck it out of your system?

You aren’t the type to really have one-night-stands but Taehyung is. And he’s the happiest, most carefree guy you know. His happy-go-lucky attitude is branded on your brain wrinkles and you crave that same carelessness.

Before you can even let your rational self talk you out of it, you reach for a random box and turn it over, eyes skimming over the small white letters on the package.

Pffft. Extra thin for maximum stimulation. Ultrasmooth inside for a more natural feel. Made from premium latex.

Your eyes linger for a moment longer before you hear your name coming from somewhere on your right side.

You turn your head to look at the person, only to be met with the quiet long-term intern turned employee you’ve worked with for a few months now, Kim Seokjin. His fluffy brown hair is draped over his forehead like always, kissing the edge of his signature silver-rimmed glasses. His plump lips are big and pink, stretching to give you a polite smile.

“Oh, Seokjin?” you say with surprise in your tone, the box of condoms in your hands completely slipping your mind.

With a single nod of his head, his gaze slowly drops down to the box of rubbers in your hands that you’ve been ogling at.

“Having trouble choosing?” he asks in a neutral tone, the question catching you off guard.

You glance at the condoms again with a frown as if you’d forgotten you were even holding it, heat instantly rushing to your cheeks and ears in embarrassment. It’s only now that you realize you’re still holding a pack of rubbers that are made to cover a penis before it enters a hole.

You quickly place it back in panic, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips, “Oh, I uh.. I was just curious,” you mumble, shaking your head at the fact you let that lunatic talk you into checking out condoms in public. Damn you, Taehyung.

“Are you sure? I can answer some questions you may have.” His words are so well enunciated and polite that it relaxes you a bit.

You’re both adults. Adults have sex. This shouldn’t be embarrassing, not in the slightest.

His soft tone reassures you that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about so you glance up at him for a moment. You idly stare at him for a few seconds, committing his features to memory.

He’s quite beautiful. Very beautiful actually, you always seem to forget that fact about him but you’re reminded of it every single time you’re near him. Unfortunately, his personality isn’t really anything interesting so you don’t feel that attracted to him.

“Y/N?” he says with his brows pinched together, hidden behind his fluffy brown locks.

You must’ve been ogling him like a fucking freak for him to be calling you out like this. Fuck.

“Oh, right,” you blurt out, “well, I was wondering…” You don’t even know how to go about this but his calm and soft demeanor makes you feel at ease, despite your heart racing in your chest.

You continue, “I just wanna have some as backups at home but I’m not sure which size or brand to choose.” You’re relieved that you managed to say that without stumbling over your words but the hiccup in your chest is still being persistent as hell, though. You can’t help but be a little embarrassed.

“This brand is good,” he says without hesitation, pointing at a black box before tugging it off the metal rod and handing it to you. “Size medium is your safest option. They fit most people.” The words leave his mouth so nonchalantly, as if he’s talking about the weather.

If he notices how surprised you are at his reaction, he doesn’t show nor comment on it.

“If they don’t fit a regular medium then they’ll usually have their own.” His eyes finally meet yours as the words leave his lips, still no sign of judgment or disgust on his features. It makes you drop your tensed shoulders in relief.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” you reply quietly, nodding your head as you process his words. It makes sense, of course. If someone has an unusual size, they’ll have their own condoms, no? Whether that be too small or too big.

“Thank you, even though that was more than a little embarrassing,” you chuckle to deter the embarrassment you’re experiencing at the moment, placing the black box of condoms in your basket before turning to face him again.

There’s a flicker of something unusual in his eyes and it catches you off guard for a moment but he quickly offers you a smile, his perfectly straight pearly whites making an appearance. You try not to be stereotypical but you can’t help but wonder whether that must’ve been the result of braces.

“Anytime.”

With that, he spins on his heels and disappears behind a corner at the end of the aisle. You slowly exhale the deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding and press the back of your hand against your cheek, the heat from your cheeks spreading through your skin, knuckles and fingers.

You gently shake your head in hopes of cooling down and head toward the checkout counter, waiting your turn as you unload your unpaid products onto the black conveyor belt.

The line is slow but at least it’s moving. When it’s finally your turn, you offer the cashier a polite smile as you reach for your wallet but you’re stopped by a hand on your elbow. You snap your head in the direction of the person that’s touching you, only to be met with familiar beautiful brown eyes behind thin silver-rimmed glasses.

“Sorry, I’m kind of in a rush. Do you mind me butting in?” Seokjin asks, holding up the products he’s holding in his hand. You’re surprised by the sudden interruption but you shake your head, muttering a quick ‘of course not’.

He quietly thanks you and begins by placing a bag of coffee machine capsules, a bag of Doritos and a small black box onto the conveyor belt, next to your stuff.

He walks around you from the back and presses his card to the payment terminal, paying for all your stuff as well. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, lips slightly parting as you watch him bag your goods.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say as you tap his bicep to get his attention.

He simply shrugs his shoulders and offers you a kind smile, his hand coming up to the bottom rim of his right lens, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with the back of his index finger. You suppose paying for your stuff is his way of thanking you for letting him cut in line.

Your gaze shifts toward the products that he hasn’t bagged yet, the black box of condoms catching your eye. You pick up the box, thinking they’re yours but you notice the golden ‘XL’ letters immediately. That is definitely not the same box. Is he buying you another box of condoms as a thank you?

What does an ‘extra large’ dick even look like, though? That sounds ridiculous. “I thought you said mediums were fine?” you chuckle as you turn the box over to examine it properly.

“Oh,” he pauses, “those are for me.”

His words process in your mind a little too slowly to your liking. As soon as you realize what he just told you, your head snaps in his direction and he’s already looking at you with a small awkward smile on his pretty lips.

You absentmindedly blink at him a few times, your mind screaming at you to say something and end this excruciating awkwardness.

“Oh,” you start, “oh! Right, yeah. Of course. My bad.” You drop the box of condoms back onto the counter as if it burned your hand, heat spreading through your face, ears and neck all over again. And your burning cheeks had just started cooling off from the previous encounter, great.

A soft chuckle escapes his throat quietly, his head shaking in dismissal. “It’s fine. No worries,” he says as he gathers his stuff and loads them into another plastic bag before handing you yours.

“I’ll see you at work,” he pauses as he turns to look at you one last time, “Have a good weekend, Y/N.”

And just like that, he turns around and starts heading out, an air of his confidence still lingering around you. Your eyes intently watch his retreating figure as if you’re in a trance, his broad shoulders on display in the black shirt he’s wearing.

You can’t believe that just happened and what’s more unbelievable is how calm and nonchalant he was about the whole thing.

At work he seems so introverted, so shy, so timid. But today, he approached you, initiated small talk and even helped you with your concerns about fucking condoms.

Not to mention the fact that you just made him tell you that he has a monster in his boxers.

What the fuck just happened?

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Your legs lazily carry you toward your desk the following Monday, feet dragging across the floor and shoulders slouched. Taehyung greets you from his desk as chirpy as ever and you simply nod in response, plopping down into your seat with a grunt.

He laughs at your grumpiness with a shake of his head before he returns to the work that’s waiting for his attention. You bring your hand up to shield your mouth as you quietly yawn, desperately in need of some coffee. You glance to the side, batting your lashes prettily at Taehyung with your hands clasped together under your chin.

Taehyung turns to look at you, an amused frown on his face. “What do you want?”

You pout at him, tilting your head to the side as you continue to bat your eyelashes. “Coffee,” you innocently say, making your eyes big and doe-like.

He laughs and shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his index fingers. He leans back with a loud groan and slouches in his seat, staring up at the ceiling with his hands on his stomach as he turns in his chair from side to side.

He loudly sighs. “Only because you’re my favorite co-worker.” He finally gets up, yanking his phone out of the charger and tucking it into his pocket.

“I’m the only co-worker you see!” you exclaim with a scowl, watching as he blows you a kiss and heads out of your shared office. You childishly huff and cross your arms, spinning in your chair as you stare at the ceiling. You should at least start your PC up but you don’t think you could even get your brain to work and do something as simple as that.

You snatch your phone off your desk and check the time, 8:05AM. Too fucking early to do anything. You grunt and toss your phone back onto your desk, playing with the earring in your earlobe as you wait for Taehyung’s return.

It doesn’t take long for him to enter the room again, two cups of steaming liquid in his hands as he pushes the door open with his hip. He struts up to you and places the cup next to your keyboard. He brings his free hand up to flick the back of your head, causing you to yelp in surprise.

You snap your head in his direction, one of your hands flying up to the back of your head and your other hand reaches out to hit him but he quickly dodges you with a giggle, making sure he doesn’t spill his own cup of tea—he hates coffee—and burn his fingers.

He plops down in his seat and takes a sip, humming in delight with his eyes closed as the warm liquid slides down his esophagus. He pulls his lips away from the rim of his cup with an obnoxious ‘ah’ exhale which makes you groan in response.

You’ve never met anyone as annoying as him.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculousness and huff, a small smile on your lips as you eventually mutter a quiet ‘thank you’ to him. You take a sip of your coffee and moan, enjoying the taste on your tongue.

“So, how was that date?” you ask him, remembering how he mentioned something about the cute guy asking him out again.

To your surprise, he groans and puts his paper cup down on his desk with a loud thud, almost spilling the piping hot liquid everywhere. “He was a fucking asshole about me liking women as well so I called it quits.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, a slight stinging in your chest at his words. People can be such assholes.

“Oh, that’s horrible. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” You turn your chair to face him, a small pout on your lips.

“It’s okay, I fucked his friend anyways.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you scrunch your nose up at the shameless confession. You’re grateful you weren’t sipping on your hot coffee because that information would’ve easily burned your throat.

He snorts at your reaction, picking up his cup and taking another sip of his lemon tea, hissing at the heat on his tongue. “What about you? How was your weekend?” he asks you after he’s swallowed it down, eyes curiously glancing at you.

You shrug your shoulders. “It was fine. Boring.” The last word leaves your lips in a mumble, downing the rest of your coffee in one big gulp after it cools down a bit.

“I told you to loosen up, didn’t I? Have some fun, you’re young, you should be enjoying your twenties.”

His words instantly throw you back into Saturday, a twitch in your eyebrows as you recall the bizarre scene clearly.

“Oh, my God,” you mumble, staring at the computer in front of you before turning to look at him with big eyes.

Taehyung’s eyebrows raise in surprise before scrunching together, tilting his head to the side in curiosity as he looks back at you. “What?”

You pinch the tip of your nose and sniffle to prepare yourself as you think about how to explain your strange incident from this weekend. “What do you think about Seokjin?”

His frown doesn’t let up. “The quiet intern?”

“Yeah.”

The confusion on his face turns into complete perplexity, the question catching him completely off guard. “Uh? I mean…” He confusingly shakes his head to collect his thoughts.

“Pretty cute, tall, broad shoulders, geek, boring as hell,” he pauses. “Why?”

You nod to his words as you listen, agreeing to what he’s saying, “Would you believe me if I told you last Saturday he…” you begin, slowly processing the words you plan on saying out loud for the first time since it happened. “…He bought me condoms?” you finish, still uncertain about it as the words leave your mouth.

He instantly lunges at you in his chair, big eyes and a big shit-eating grin on his lips. “Wait, what the fuck? What are you talking about?” He gets out of his chair and places his big hands on the armrests of your chair as he hunches directly over you.

You sink into your seat, a bit surprised by his proximity as he leans into your face like he’s trying to decipher whether you’re lying or not. You try to ignore the lump forming in your throat. Taehyung is still a very attractive man after all, even if he’s your friend.

“Yeah, and it’s all your fault. If he didn’t see me ogling the condom section like a fucking weirdo because you told me to loosen up, that awkward interaction wouldn’t have happened.” You push your hand flat against his hard chest to push him back but he doesn’t budge, too intrigued by the exciting events of your boring weekend.

He laughs when he tells you, “Oh, that nerd wants to fuck you so bad.”

You screech, adding your other hand to his chest which finally allows you to push him off. He laughs loudly, running a hand through his fluffy golden locks as he stumbles back a bit. He still looks absolutely flabbergasted.

“No, you freak. He was being nice,” you mumble, disregarding the thought completely.

“Tell me everything,” he says with a smirk as he leans his butt against your desk, facing you with his arms crossed over his chest.

You explain the entire thing in vivid detail as you remember it, mind wandering to the way Seokjin’s brown eyes stared at you as you picked up his box of condoms. The image will never leave your mind.

You look around to make sure no one’s going to barge into your office and hear you talk about the strange conversation you’re having with your co-worker about another employee’s private matters (and parts). “Then after he paid, I picked up that box and he said those were for him.”

“Oh, so he actually fucks.” He strokes his chin at the new information. “What size were his condoms?” Taehyung can’t help but smirk, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

Your response is just a grunt, your attention returning to the computer in front of you. You completely ignore his question in hopes he’ll drop the topic but he’s Taehyung.

“What? Is he walking around with a little dick? Or is he blessed?” He nudges you with his hip, causing you to groan loudly as you try to push him off your desk. “Come on, I went and got you coffee.”

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips as you look up at him, guilty about the fact you’re about to reveal private information about another colleague. “XLs.”

You watch as his expression completely becomes that of a cartoon character. Eyes widened, jaw dropped, eyebrows raised.

“Shut the fuck up!” he beams. Grabs you by the shoulders. Shakes you slightly. You childishly groan his name but you make no efforts to stop him.

“Damn, who would’ve thought?” he mutters as he drops his hands from your shoulders to lean back against your desk, hands tucked into his pockets. He blankly stares ahead, eyes glued to the white wall in front of him as he continues to think about the revelation. “Shit. Nerd with a big dick. I should’ve called dibs.”

“Get back to work, you horndog.” You nudge his hip with your elbow, finally getting him to go back to his chair with a low chuckle.

“How long until you think he tries to make a move on you?” Taehyung purrs, taking a final sip of his tea. He crumples up the paper cup. Tosses it across the room. Completely misses the trash can. He isn’t the athletic type.

You shake your head in dismissal, a scowl on your face. “He’s not going to make a move on me, he was just being nice,” you say before you pause and momentarily glance at him to add, “don’t make it weird.”

He chuckles lowly, muttering a quiet, worthless apology. He begins, “Well, just because he’s big doesn’t mean he knows what to do with it. It’s not about the size of the wave but about the motion in the oce–”

You cut him off with a loud groan, “That’s enough out of you, freak.”

With a final laugh, he finally drops the topic of your timid co-worker’s penis and returns his focus to his work.

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The rest of the week goes by so damn slow. And so does the next week. And the week after that. And the one after that.

It’s been weeks, months. Work is taking its toll on you again. It makes you twice as excited about going out to eat with a few of your friends this Saturday.

When Saturday afternoon finally rolls around, you take your mandatory everything-shower. You take your time washing your body and hair, shaving every nook and cranny of your body and exfoliating your skin.

You feel good.

Once you hop out the shower and wrap a fresh towel around your naked body, you saunter into your bedroom. You reach for your phone, unlocking it by typing in your passcode and instantly checking the groupchat.

[3:54PM]

Olivia

The reservation is at 6, don’t be late!

Olivia

I’m looking at YOU Taehyung

Taehyung

Now why am I in it

Taehyung

See how I do nothing and still get pulled into shit

Olivia

😒 Shut up

Hoseok

you get pulled into shit because you’re always at the center of it

Taehyung

Yall are some hating ass people bro

[4:01PM]

You

no ur just dumb

Taehyung

Oh I’M the dumb one OK

You roll your eyes and chuckle as you toss your phone onto your bed, getting ready to do your hair and makeup after you’ve slid on your black lace panties and matching bra.

After you’ve finished styling your hair exactly as you like it, you start with makeup.

You keep it pretty minimal. You hold your hand mirror in front of your face and get to work. You just color your brows in a bit, apply some concealer and bronzer. A pretty shade of blush to the apples of your cheeks and pretty wings of liner on each outer corner of your eyes. You pick up your phone to text Taehyung, in desperate need of a second opinion.

[5:13PM]

You

falsies or no falsies

You apply a coat of mascara while you wait for a response, making sure not to get any black clots stuck in your lashes. You soon apply a nice brown lip liner and a nude-peachy liquid lipstick on top, giving you the perfect kissable pout.

Your phone vibrates.

[5:15PM]

Taehyung

Falsies. Always falsies

[5:15PM]

You

👍 thnx

You chuckle as you apply lash glue to your pretty cat fake eyelashes you got from some random drugstore and place them on your desk gently as you wait for the glue to get tacky.

Your phone vibrates again.

[5:16PM]

Taehyung

I honestly don’t know what the fuck falsies even are but the more of anything the better

[5:16PM]

You

fake eyelashes dumbass

[5:16PM]

Taehyung

Oh. Show me the difference?

You sigh in exasperation as you apply fake eyelashes to only one of your eyes, tinkering with the band in the inner corner of your eye, tongue poked out at the corner of your mouth in concentration.

Once you’re satisfied with the lashes, you glance into your vanity mirror to see what it looks like from afar. You put your phone up and open up the front camera, staring into the camera with a sultry look to emphasize the difference of fake lashes versus no fake lashes, but with a peace sign to make it somewhat playful.

[5:19PM]

You

(image attachment)

You fight the urge to nibble on your bottom lip, to not ruin your perfect lip look of tonight as you anxiously wait for his response. You’re running out of time and you still have to get dressed.

[5:20PM]

Taehyung

Both are nice but definitely with

[5:20PM]

Taehyung

You look good

You smile to yourself when you read the message, beginning to prepare the other fake lashes.

Once you’ve wrapped up your makeup with a spritz of setting spray directly onto your face, you fan it down with your hand and place your hand mirror back in its rightful place.

You get up from your little vanity and head towards your closet, fishing out the white silk button up that compliments your waist and chest so beautifully and the black knee-length pencil skirt that hugs your ass and hips so well, making you want to bend yourself over any surface.

You snap out of your ludicrous thoughts and quickly slip your clothes on for tonight, walking up to your vanity as you’re buttoning up your shirt. You reach for a gold layered necklace and wrap it around your neck, leaving the top 2 buttons unbuttoned so you can flaunt your pretty necklace.

You pick up your favorite perfume and spray yourself with the sublime scent, humming in delight as the scent enters your nostrils.

You push the needles of the small golden hoop earrings you fished out of your drawer through the already existing holes of your earlobes, clasping them up and turning to look at yourself in the mirror one last time before sliding a gold bracelet onto your left wrist.

You grab your small purse, tucking your phone and lipgloss inside as you head into your hallway, pushing your feet into your black pumps before unlocking your front door and heading out, making sure to lock up behind you.

You look and feel good for the first time in a while. Tonight’s going to be fun.

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Your night is filled with laughter and chitchat, surrounded by people you enjoy being around.

“He was so drunk he literally threw up all over that poor girl’s Louboutins.” Olivia goes on and on about the crazy night she spent with her best friend, Hoseok, last weekend. Taehyung is enjoying the outrageous story, laughing and slapping Hoseok’s shoulder as he listens to every word.

Hoseok, who has visibly reddened in his face, groans loudly, “You literally snorted so hard at that guy’s joke that you spat in his eye.” He shoots back in defense, ready to start their signature back and forth sibling-like bickering.

They continue on and on but it’s nearing 8PM and your social battery is running out.

As if he could read your mind, Taehyung waves a waiter over and asks for the check.

Taehyung had offered to go for drinks somewhere else but Hoseok and Olivia have to get up early and do some volunteering in her hometown’s new pub that’s co-owned by her parents.

You’re thankful, though, you really just want to go home. The night life just isn’t for you, you just want to cuddle up in your bed, watch a sappy movie or thrilling series and go to sleep. Like you do pretty much during all your weekends.

You excuse yourself to go to the restroom but on your way there, you hear your name being called.

Spinning on your heels, your eyes scan the area, trying to locate the voice that called out to you. Your patience is running thin and you’re about to continue your strut to the restroom until a soft hand gently cups your elbow.

You turn your head to look over your shoulder, met with chestnut brown eyes and big plump lips. It takes you a moment to recognize him without his fluffy hair draped over his forehead and no glasses decorating his eyes.

Your frown must be getting to him because he speaks up again, “Forgotten my name, have you?” he teases, dropping his hand from your arm.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise when his familiar voice booms in your ears, flabbergasted by the sight in front of you.

He’s wearing a 2 piece black suit, a beige dress up shirt under his black suit jacket, unbuttoned at the top. Even his damn neck is gorgeous, how is that possible?

His brown hair is in a side part, forehead and eyebrows on display, his bangs kissing the ends of his brows. You weren’t even sure he had eyebrows because his hair was always covering them. His signature silver rimmed glasses are nowhere to be seen and you assume he must be wearing contact lenses.

He’s absolutely fucking gorgeous. You already knew that but literally, what the hell?

Your brain is screaming at you to answer him already and not ogle him like you want to drop onto your knees and give him the sloppiest blowjob of his life.

“Of course not,” you blurt out, “Seokjin… right?” you finish, uncertainty in your tone.

He chuckles at your playful guess, not taking offense to your doubt. “Yeah,” he pauses, “what are you doing here? You look fantastic, by the way.” His gaze drags up your figure quickly and your heart jolts in between your lungs, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Oh,” you begin, “thank you. I was out with some friends. What about you?” You have to pretend that compliment didn’t just make your insides clench.

He scratches the back of his head with a defeated smile. “I was supposed to go on a date but I think I got stood up because she was supposed to be here 20 minutes ago and she’s not answering her phone,” he chuckles with an air of embarrassment.

Your heart sinks to your stomach at his words. People are such fucking assholes.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, placing a comforting hand on his bicep. Your hands tense on his arm because touching his hard bicep isn’t a smart thing for you to do right now. “I never understood how people can bring themselves to do something like that. It’s such a shitty thing to do.”

He simply shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll wait 10 more minutes and then go home,” he muses, glancing down at the silver watch wrapped around his left wrist.

You slowly nod as you drag your gaze up his body. Wow. You can’t stress this enough. He is absolutely ethereal.

“Enjoy your night, Y/N.” A smile stretches onto his lips as he takes a step backwards, still holding eye contact with you before he turns on his heels and returns to his table which isn’t far from the restrooms.

You stand there for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts before you silently make your way into the restroom with a heavy heart.

How unfair. He’s such a sweetheart, why would anyone treat him like that? He’s respectful, well-mannered, absolutely gorgeous and allegedly has a big dick. He’s a complete catch.

You abruptly put a stop to your own thoughts. What kind of a hypocrite are you?

You literally don’t pay him any attention because he doesn’t ooze confidence or act like a bad boy with a foul attitude that are beasts in bed. You are one of the assholes you’re complaining about.

With a long glare at the mirror in front of you, staring yourself down in disgust, your heart won’t let up. He doesn’t deserve this. No one does.

You reapply your lipgloss after making up your mind, retouching some of your makeup and fixing some of the hairs that are out of place before you strut out of the restroom and return to your table.

You glance at Seokjin on your way to your table but he’s immersed in his phone, absentmindedly scrolling. Your heart sinks at the sight again.

“Took you long enough, I already paid,” Taehyung mutters, nodding toward the empty seats that once belonged to Hoseok and Olivia.

“I’m staying here.” Your words make him glance at you in surprise, a slight raise to his brows.

“What’s going on?” he pries because he’s Taehyung.

You shake your head quickly, dismissing the concern in his tone. “Everything’s okay,” you say in a reassuring tone.

“Why are you staying here?” he asks, eyes furiously scanning the area.

You obnoxiously sigh, he won’t stop prying so you might as well just tell him. “Seokjin got stood up and I feel bad for him. I’ll join him for like… half an hour.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you for a moment, tilting his head to the side as he processes your words. There haven’t been any note-worthy incidents between you and Seokjin since the condom-thing so Taehyung never brought him up again but just as you thought he could finally act like an adult, a smug smirk creeps on his lips.

“You’re definitely getting fuc–”

“Out.” You cut him off, pushing him toward the exit.

He laughs as he heads out the door of the restaurant, throwing you his attempt at an ahegao face from behind the glass of the window outside. You roll your eyes in exasperation, holding up your middle finger in response before you start making your way to Seokjin’s table.

He’s still on his phone, elbows on the table as he mindlessly scrolls through whatever app he’s on.

You inhale deeply before approaching him, pulling out the chair opposite of him and plopping down on it.

This catches his attention. He peeks up at you from his phone, eyes glancing at you through his brows in surprise and confusion.

You return the eye contact and place your own elbows on the table, slightly leaning forward to close some of the distance between you two.

“Long time no see,” you joke.

He frowns for a moment longer before he chuckles and he locks his phone, turning it face down onto the table next to his utensils. “What’s up?”

You stare at him for a little while longer while he awaits your response in confusion. You part your pretty lips to speak, “That date is probably not coming. Thought I’d join you for a while, I don’t have any plans anyways.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, thick lips parting to say something but no words come out. He leans back into his chair, a certain look in his eyes that you can only describe as intrigue as he shuts his mouth again.

You tilt your head to the side, pretty eyes still intently watching him with a glimmer of something in your eyes that even you can’t put your finger on.

“That’s nice of you. Why, though?” he asks, voice neutral as if he genuinely just wants to know why you would do that.

You bring your shoulders up and drop them right away. “I just wanted to.”

He glances at you for a few seconds. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes but it’s gone by the time you’ve realized it’s skepticism. “It’s not out of pity, right?”

Your heartbeat stutters for a moment at how his voice seemed to drop an octave when he asked that, sweat forming on your palms. You quickly compose yourself and shake your head. “No.”

“Well then,” he says as he glances at the seemingly expensive watch wrapped around his left wrist, “would you like to order something?”

“Nah.” You shake your head at his offer because you really just want to go home but quickly realize he must not have eaten yet, since he was waiting for someone that never came. “But you must be hungry, right?”

He brings his fingers up to his face, absentmindedly rubbing his shaven chin as his eyes continue to study you. “Yeah, but I heard the food here takes quite some time to get to your table so I was just planning on leaving and eating something at home or something.”

“Hm,” you hum, fingers fidgeting with the hoop earring in your right earlobe. “I have some leftover lasagna at home. Would you like some?” The words leave your mouth before you can even think them through. Why the hell would you invite him into your home?

Thankfully, Seokjin is more of an introvert who also prefers the comfort of his own home, so he’ll probably decline.

“Sure.”

Your chest visibly stutters but you quickly compose yourself and rise to your feet in a hurry, hoping he won’t notice the nervous switch in your demeanor. “Cool, let’s go,” is all you say as you scramble to gather your purse.

He wordlessly blinks at you a few times before quietly chuckling and reaching for his phone as he tucks it into the pocket of his slacks.

He calls a waiter over and explains the situation before walking up to you, trying to get through the sea of bodies that are present. He finally reaches you as you wait for him by the exit of the building and places his hand on the small of your back as he motions for you to walk out the door first.

His touch, not even directly to your skin, sends an instant volt of electricity down your vertebrae. Stop suddenly acting a fucking fool around him when you didn’t even notice his presence before, you think to yourself.

“Did you come here by car?” he asks, taking his car keys out of his pocket before turning to look at you.

You shake your head. “Taehyung came to pick me up.”

He nods to your words whilst leading you to his car, warm hand still on your back. “Kim Taehyung? From work?” He leads you to a black Mercedes and you don’t know a lot about cars but this one looks insanely expensive. How does he have the money to own a car like that with the same salary you have?

“Oh uh,” you say as you snap out of your thoughts, “yeah.”

He opens the door to the passenger seat’s side for you and holds your hand for support, his other hand protecting your head as you get in.

Wow. Who would’ve thought he was such a gentleman?

It’s a stark contrast from when Taehyung called you a sexy bitch and told you to hop in his car earlier this evening.

Seokjin closes the door on your side and makes his way around the front of his car to the driver’s seat. Your eyes stay glued to him like a moth to a flame as he makes his way in, your heartbeat quickening again.

Why are you so nervous? It’s all Taehyung’s fault and his crazy scenarios.

“Earth to Y/N?”

You must’ve seemed lost in thought for too long because your nostrils suddenly fill up with a vanilla and musk scent, making you snap out of your filthy mind. Seokjin has leaned into your body, arm reaching across your chest as he tugs the seatbelt from your side over your torso and clicks it into the buckle.

Your breath is stuck in your airways as you freeze at his proximity, your palms growing sweaty again. “Oh, sorry.”

You don’t look at him as he leans back into his seat and buckles his own seatbelt, surprisingly not commenting on your apology. He presses a button on his dashboard, making the car roar to life before he places his hand on the back of your headrest and looks over his shoulder.

He starts backing out of the parking spot despite having a camera right above the car radio. Old habits die hard, you suppose.

You glance at him for a moment but immediately regret it. He is so fucking hot.

He must’ve sensed your eyes on him because for a moment, he makes eye contact with you whilst he’s still reversing out of the parking slot. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes as his eyes briefly meet yours before he looks back over his shoulder again.

He didn’t smile or anything, just glanced into your eyes and returned his attention to backing out of the parking spot.

Heat instantly rushes to your face and you turn your head to look out the window on your side, forcing yourself to not make the same mistake of gawking at him again. Not when you’re so close to him, at least.

He turns on the car radio after asking you for your home address and typing it into the built-in navigation system of his car before he accelerates and starts driving to your destination.

“Not to pry but are you and Taehyung…” His voice gets quieter as it reaches the end of his sentence, eyes still looking at the road in front of him.

“Huh?” You turn your head to look at him, mesmerized by his amazing side profile.

He slightly turns his head to look at you for a moment before returning his attention back to the road, a look on his face as if to tell you it’s obvious what he’s hinting at.

“Oh,” you say as you realize what he’s implying. You shake your head quickly and blurt out, “No, not at all.”

He only nods to your response, eyes unwaveringly staring ahead of him.

The rest of the car drive is uncomfortably quiet, the soft pop music playing is the only thing that’s keeping this silence between you two from being excruciating.

Luckily, the drive isn’t long and you’re in front of your apartment complex in less than 10 minutes. As you reach for your purse and unbuckle your seatbelt, Seokjin has already gotten out of the car and jogged to your side to open the door for you.

He holds his hand out for you to take and you do, hoping to the Lord that he can’t tell how sweaty your palms are. You swing your legs out of the car, placing your heels onto the concrete with a loud click as you get out. You let go of his hand to smooth out your skirt but really, you’re just wiping the sweat off your palms.

He locks his car with a button on the car keys and follows behind you as you fish your keys out of your purse, opening the door to the entrance that leads to the lobby.

The walk up the stairs is silent aside from your obnoxious heels clicking against the tiles, making you wince with each step you take. You make it to your front door and unlock, walking in and kicking your heels off. There’s a significant difference in your height now but he doesn’t comment on it and instead neatly places his shoes by the door as he closes it behind him.

You lead him to your living room and motion for him to sit down while you go and warm up the leftovers.

“This is a nice place,” he muses as he sits down on your couch, looking around to scan the room.

You quietly thank him as you disappear into the kitchen, taking the container out of the fridge and pulling open the cupboard to grab a plate for him.

This is starting to feel like it’s going to be a long night.

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With the empty plate of lasagna remnants on your coffee table, you’re seated right across from Seokjin who is on the couch opposite of you. The two of you had some small talk about work and cooking recipes whilst he ate but the silence has been going on for about 2 minutes now and it’s becoming uncomfortable.

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, he speaks up, “You don’t have to sit so far, you know. I don’t bite,” he says with a teaseful tone. “Unless you want me to.”

The words that leave his mouth so smoothly single handedly knock the oxygen out of your lungs, cause a twitch in your lips and bring a raise to your brows. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his face, his smug face. Did he drink earlier?

“Did you have something to drink back in that restaurant?” you nervously chuckle, clasping your hands together to stop yourself from fidgeting in front of him.

His shoulders bounce with the way he chuckles, slightly shaking his head. “Would I have driven us here if I drank?”

It almost sounds like he’s mocking you and heat starts bubbling in your stomach at the way the words rolled off his tongue so smugly.

“What’s all this then?” you ask, waving your hand in a circular motion in front of you, aimed at him.

He tilts his head to the side in question. He silently reaches for his glass of water and a small smirk creeps onto his lips when he speaks after taking a sip and says, “Elaborate?”

The bubbling heat in your stomach has seeped to the rest of your body, burning in your veins all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

You stare at him for a moment longer before saying, “This façade. This persona or attitude you’ve got going on.”

The barely-there smirk stays glued on his lips, his hooded eyes make his gaze feel that much more penetrating.

“Façade?” he repeats, bringing his hand up to rub his chin, the silver watch around his wrist glaring in the light coming from your corner lamp.

“Yeah, you’re nothing like how you are at work.”

He slowly nods to your words, a glimmer of mischief flickering in his eyes that have gone from pools of honey brown to bottomless pits of jet black. “What makes you think this is the façade and not the persona I got going on at work?”

His words process in your mind but you can’t bring yourself to understand what he’s saying. Is he implying he’s always like this and the way he is at work is just an act?

“Why would you put on an act at work?” You lean further back into your couch, crossing your arms over your chest as you swing your right leg over your left to keep yourself from bouncing your leg up and down in anxiety.

“Because those people don’t need to know me.”

Your frown deepens at his words. “Those people? We’re your colleagues, Seokjin.”

“Yeah?” he muses, placing his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, hovering his face over the coffee table that’s separating the two of you. “Tell me, if you told them that you were with me right now, what would their reaction be?”

His question shuts you up right away.

Aside from Taehyung who already knows, your co-workers would most likely tease you. You wouldn’t call Seokjin the punching bag of your workplace but he’s definitely not favored in any way. They’ll usually have him do the work that they don’t want to do, treat him like he’s not there. You’re the only one that treats him nicely.

You press your lips into a thin line as your eyes visibly soften at his question, a guilty look on your pretty face.

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he leans back into the sofa, thighs spread and hands on his upper thighs. With a curt nod, he arrogantly adds, “That’s what I thought.”

You swallow thickly and look away from him, uncrossing your arms as you subconsciously fidget with your fingers again, picking at your manicured nails.

You can’t blame him, you suppose. You think about all the times people have dismissed him or dropped their load on his desk without another word, the vivid memories making your heart sink into your stomach.

“Why are you so nervous?” His question makes you snap your head in his direction, eyes slowly widening at him. How did he know?

You blurt out, “I’m not nervous. What makes you think that?”

“Why were your hands sweaty when I helped you get out of the car?”

Your mind travels at lightning speed to come up with a rebuttal but all you can say is, “I’ve always had clammy hands.” Dirty liar.

You try to keep eye contact with him to seem assertive but your pathetic heartbeat quickens once he rises to his feet and walks around the coffee table, toward you.

You shoot up in your seat, uncrossing your legs as he closes the distance between you two. You tilt your chin up, glancing at him through the pretty lashes you chose today as he stands before you, menacingly looming over your body.

“May I?” he asks, holding out his right hand but you have no idea what he’s asking of you.

You slowly and confusingly hold your left hand out to him but he gently turns your hand over by your wrist so the back of your hand faces down and your palm faces up. The tips of his fingers softly graze your palm before moving across as he presses the tips of his index and middle finger against the center of your wrist, right under the length of your thumb.

You stare at his fingers on your skin during the process but still being confused, you look back up at him.

The tension in the air can be cut with a dull butter knife.

His eyes aren’t on your face, instead, they’re still glued to where his fingers are pressed to your skin. His eyebrows are pinched together and he looks in a deep state of concentration. If you believed in magic, you’d swear he’s casting a spell on you right now.

Then, he subtly nods and lets go of your hand, watching how it flops back down to your lap. You continue to stare up at him, the dryness in your throat moving up and spreading throughout your mouth.

“Hands sweaty, heart rate quickened, breath heavy, fingers fidgeting, forcing yourself to look into my eyes,” he lists and then concludes, “You’re nervous.”

You realize he just took your damn pulse to prove his point.

He backs away and silently makes his way back to the opposite couch with a certain smugness, a clear indicator of his satisfaction at victory as he drops his ass back onto the couch. You stare at him with your mouth agape, a slight pinch between your brows and your mind racing with words to say.

“I’m not nervous, I’m just,” you start, “I’m confused. I don’t know what to make of you right now. You’re confusing me.” You finally find the coursge to speak up but your voice is quiet, your words almost incoherent.

“Well,” he pauses, “I don’t really owe you an explanation.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, a bit taken aback by his bluntness. “Can’t tell if you’re being an asshole or just bold,” you murmur, wondering if he’s just saying this to get a reaction out of you or if he’s just like this. He can’t be like this. This is not Seokjin.

Is it? Did you ever really bother to get to know him better?

He simply shrugs his broad shoulders and replies, “Either way, it seems like you like it.”

His words are like a punch to the gut, making you shoot your eyes straight at him as you clear your throat and lean forwards to act like you didn’t just hear him. “Excuse me?”

He starts, “You invited me over for food after pitying me. I’m done eating, I’ve been saying stuff that has clearly struck a nerve and yet you’re not telling me to get out.” His eyes scan the room for a moment before settling on you again. “Clearly something is keeping me here.”

Your glossy lips part and your eyes widen in disbelief, incoherent words and sentences bubbling up the back of your throat but never actually making it out of your mouth.

What the hell?

You clear your throat to speak again, “I’m just polite. And curious.”

“Curious?” he chuckles, “Don’t you know curiosity killed the cat?” The joke rolls off his tongue with another chuckle, making your stomach tingle with something you can’t put your finger on.

Curiosity killed the cat.

(Read: The cat being your pussy.)

His confidence, his look, his posture, everything is making him so much hotter than you’ve ever seen him before.

As if you needed it, your mind suddenly jumps to the vivid image of the golden XL letters on his box of condoms.

Maybe you should listen to Taehyung.

You ignore his smug remark as you eye his empty glass of water, nodding toward it before you ask, “Would you like something else?”

“Depends,” he says with an air of nonchalance, apparent by the smug shrug of his shoulders.

“On?”

“Whether you’re on that list.”

His flirtatious comment has your stomach doing backflips and a surge of heat shoots right down to your core. You hate how all he had to do was arrogantly imply he’d drink you up – no pun intended – and it’d have your panties sticking to your sex.

That’s it. You decide it’s time to bite back.

Just pretend it’s timid Seokjin from work, you think to yourself.

You get up from the couch and pour some more water into his glass. He reaches for the glass but you surprise him by wrapping your own hand around his glass before he can, bringing it up to your lips and taking a sip from his glass whilst keeping eye contact with him. After you’ve swallowed, you lower the glass back onto the table, leaving a stain of your lipstick on the rim.

He watches you with an arrogant raise to his brows and a faint smirk on those lips that you’d love to feel on your skin.

You plop back down onto the couch where you were previously seated before you say, “You’ve gone from bold asshole to bold flirt in the span of 2 minutes.” Your shoulders slouch and you hope you’re coming across as unbothered and casual.

“No harm in a bit of fun, right?” he jokes, a cocky tilt to his head as he continues to stare at you, reaching for the same glass and drinking from it.

“Sure, but where’s the fun in it if it’s all talk?” you quip.

Fuck. You can’t believe you just said that, your heart has shot up into your throat the moment the words left your mouth.

He simply smiles at your words before speaking up. “Do you actually believe that?” he says, his voice neutral and his expression almost mocking you.

You cross your arms and nonchalantly shrug, one of your hands coming up to allow your fingers to play with the earring in your earlobe before you part your lips to say, “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

He squints his eyes at you for a moment before he dryly chuckles, shaking his head as he looks down at the glass in his hand absentmindedly.

After a few moments of silence, he places the glass back down with a thud. He looks back up at you through his brows, his hand coming up to his face in order to push some of his bangs out of the outer-corner of his eyes with his fingers.

“If you want me to come over there and fuck the shit out of you on that couch, you should just say that. Don’t beat around the bush.”

Fuck.

You force the yelp that’s threatening to erupt from your throat to go back down by forcefully swallowing it down, a knot forming in your stomach and a tingle in your panties. Fuck, you’re so happy you did all that scrubbing in the shower before you left for the restaurant.

“Aren’t you the one that’s beating around the bush?” you quip, watching as his eyebrows raise in surprise and you’re glad you’ve caught him off guard.

“Hm?” he hums in question.

“Really? ‘Depends whether you’re on that list’?” you repeat his words before continuing, “If you want to come over here and fuck me, you should just say that. Don’t beat around the bush.” You shoot right back at him, satisfaction swimming in your stomach at your quick comeback.

His nonchalant response is immediate. “I want to fuck you.”

Well.

Your mouth dries out like you just scooped a spoonful of cinnamon powder into your mouth in the middle of the scorching hot Sahara.

You clear your throat and gulp, gaze trailing to the wall on your side. You see him staring at you in your peripheral vision and you can just sense the smug smirk on his lips.

But you’re not going to let him win.

You finally decide to speak up. You say, “Well, what are you waiting for? Come over here, then.”

He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, moving the wet muscle across his back teeth before rising to his feet.

Oh, fuck.

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meiru-sama · 10 months

Text

♡Yandere bullied x bully reader♡

This story contains: masochistic tendencies, bullying, degradation, stalking, obsession, a jerk reader, slight nsfw.

You let out a loud laugh while you stared down at the boy who was on the floor, his face covered with bruises and blood while his things were scattered on the ground.

You leaned down closer on his face with a smug smile. "You idiot. I told you not to tell the teacher or anyone about this shit right?" You hissed while you pulled his brown locks making him groan in pain and pleasure.

"P-promise (Y/N), i promise--- it was not me! It was hannah, she found out about this and she quickly told the teacher about it but trust me-- i didnt want anyone to find out about this!" The male defended, you just smiled at him, tugging his hair harder.

"Oh well Hiro my love, i guess i have to leave you alone now." You shrugged while you let his brown locks free. You stood up from the ground, while you dusted your skirt.

"W--what? No-- please (Y/N) dont leave me alone!" The boy pleaded, while he looked at you with so much desperation.

You just smirked, knowing how you got him wrap around you fingers. You just pushed him with your heels making his back lay on the floor. You placed your heels on his chest while your eyes landed on a book, a yellow book that has writings on it saying. "For my eyes only!"

You chuckled while grabbing it. "Is this some kind of diary, you weak freak?" You were about to open the book but the male underneath you shouted at you to stop as his face started to turn red.

"Are you telling me to stop baby boy?" You rose a brow while the male just can feel himself getting harder when you called him by that pet name.

You opened the notebook and you started to read it out loud but lucky for him, both of you were on the rooftop and no one else was there expect just the two of you.

"Dear diary, it was just a usual routine wake up, get ready for school, study ,get hurt by (Y/N) and sleep. Loser!" You laughed before continuing. "She punched me to the face again but it was harder and fuck it was.... fantastic. I want her to do it again" your smile dropped while you decided to silently just read all of the pages and everything was about you, it even have some images of you! Sleeping, showering, gossiping with your friends or studying.

You threw the diary to the ground, while you stared down at the male, disgusted, who just stared at the diary you threw as tears started to form in his eyes but to be honest you were amused, ignoring the fact that he always stalked you and was jerking himself of every night while thinking about you.

"Well, i knew you were a creep baby boy." Hiro stared at you with wide eyes. Y- you werent mad?? Infact you are wearing a smirk right now! Means.. you like him too?!

The brown haired boy's eyes sparkled with joy and excitement. "Such a dirty boy huh? " you said before removing your heels on his chest making him breath more freely.

"Anyways make a copy of that image where i was sitting on a couch eating a popcorn and on the shower part. I look good on those." You said while giving him a wink before leaving him on the rooftop alone.

Hiro stared at the sky for a moment before letting out a laugh, his cheeks were still hot and red, his thing still hard.

It was unbelievable, he couldn't believe it!you were interested with him too? You were completely fucking unstable and a lunatic like him too?

(I think im gonna re-write this, im so fcking sleepy rn)

#male yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #masochist yandere #masochisticyanderexreader #dom reader #dom!reader #sub character #sub yandere

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sweetestdesire · 11 months

Note

reader being seen as innocent by everyone in obx but when her and rafe get together he quickly finds out she’s actually a lil freak 🤭

GOOD GIRL GONE BAD

WARNINGS: hair pulling, extreme domination, mentions of masturbation, innocence kink, mentions of alcohol consumption, etc. 18+ readers only

PAIRING(S): Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Kook!Reader’s not as sweet and innocent as everyone thinks she is.

Y/N stared at Rafe from her perch on the lifeguard chair, admiring him in his swim trunks. She waved down at him, hoping he would come up to see her as he occasionally did. She wasn’t disappointed, and moments later he was sitting beside her on the wooden chair, which was completely against the rules.

"You're not supposed to be up here, Rafe.” Y/N giggled. “How many times do I have to tell you that? This is just for lifeguards.” She tried to sound annoyed, but knew she failed and didn't really care. She hated to admit it, but she loved it when Rafe sat with her. His mere presence thrilled her to the core.

"And do you always follow the rules, princess?" Rafe asked teasing her, using the nickname he knew she hated.

"Of course.” Y/N looked at him innocently. "We all know that I'm a good girl. I never do anything wrong, and if I get in trouble for you being up here, I'm gonna blame it on you.” She giggled as she said it, mostly because she knew she had just completely pinpointed the image of herself. Because everyone did see her as an angel, and nobody had any reason to believe otherwise.

"Alright. Well, I'll get down then. I certainly don't want you to get your perfect little self in trouble because of me.” Rafe flashed her that smile, the perfect mix of lustful devilishness and little boy mischief that made her melt.

When she saw that smile of his, Y/N wanted to yell, “No, stay up here with me.” Instead, however, she nodded and watched him climb down from her chair.

As he stood below her chair, he yelled up to her, "You owe me a quick swim when your shift’s over.” And with that, he walked back into the ocean, swimming away from her and towards a group of Kooks that regularly hung out with him.

An hour later, Y/N, waiting for her shift to end, continued to survey the beach. There were people everywhere, Pogues and Kooks in groups like miniature versions of the Cut and Figure Eight. She checked her watch, nearly 5:00PM. She began to think of her evening, trying desperately to think of what she would do that night after her shift. Her mind was a blank, and it depressed her a bit to think that she had no plans.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted as Hannah, the girl who worked the 5:00PM-10:00PM shift, climbed up on the lifeguard chair beside her.

"Hey, Y/N. Anything happen today?" Hannah asked, the standard question as shifts were changed.

"Nope, not really. Just another day." Hannah nodded and settled onto her perch as Y/N tossed her sunscreen and sunglasses into her bag and climbed off the chair. "See you tomorrow.”

Just as her feet touched the sand, Y/N was splashed with a small wave of cold water. Not amused, she turned to see who had splashed her, only to look into the face of Rafe, flashing her that smile again.

"Where do you think you're going, princess?" He inquired seriously. "I believe you promised me a swim." He looked at her, fully prepared to give her a hard time if she tried to bail on him. Knowing this, Y/N relented.

"Fine, I'll swim with you for a few. But if you call me princess again, I’ll-"

Rafe cut her off, splashing her again. "Yeah? You'll what?" He laughed as she shivered with the unexpected cold water, and tried to suppress a grin as he saw her nipples stiffen through her suit. "What’re you gonna do, princess?"

Y/N offered him no response, and instead did her best cannon ball as close to him as possible, nearly landing on his head. When she surfaced laughing hysterically, he was there, immediately dunking her back under. That time, she surfaced sputtering and nearly choking on the salty water.

"Bastard.” She muttered under her breath, laughing even as she choked.

"That's not very nice language for such a sweet girl like yourself.” Rafe teased her. "I'm sure you don't talk like that around your father.” He laughed.

She cut his laughter off, offering, "Hey, do you want to hang out tonight? I don't have plans, and we could just chill at my place and watch a movie or something?”

Y/N was surprised by her offer, and suddenly feared he would reject it. However, Rafe smiled, seeming genuinely pleased, and got out of the water and immediately going for his towel.

"Sounds good.” Rafe said, tossing her towel to her as he continued to dry himself off.

Y/N wrapped herself up in her towel, smiling to herself, suddenly excited that Rafe was coming over. She would never admit to anyone that she'd had a crush on him since she met him at that boneyard party during the summer. That was four years ago, and she had grown up since then, something he was well aware of. They continued to hang out, and there were many times she found herself wishing that something would transpire between them.

The two were drying off, spacing out into their own thoughts, when Hannah yelled down, "Y/N, you've been here since 7 o’clock this morning. Ten hours at the beach is enough. Go home already.”

Her voice brought the two back to reality. Y/N waved at her fellow lifeguard, grabbed her bag, and walked towards her car, Rafe following closely behind.

"Hey, why don’t we take my car back to your place? You haven't even gotten to ride in it yet.” Rafe proposed, looking like an eager child as he walked towards his brand new Range Rover.

Y/N laughed as his eyes sparkled with admiration for the vehicle. As she sat in the passenger's seat, however, she couldn't help but sigh contentedly. It is rather comfortable, she thought to herself sheepishly.

A moment later, Rafe was pealing out of the public beach parking lot and racing along the road and towards Figure Eight. During the ride, Y/N suddenly was struck with worry, wondering if she had tidied everything up in the house. She wasn't concerned so much with the possibility of a mess, rather what she may have left merely lying around.

Y/N did a mental check list of the important items: underwear, bras, the retainer from high school that she still tried to wear occasionally, her mechanical toys. She shrugged off the nervousness, convincing herself everything had been tucked away safely and discreetly. She relaxed again, enjoying the open feeling of the wind and feeling as if she could touch the sky as Rafe raced along the road.

Finally, they passed into the golden-gated community of the enormous neighborhood, where manicured lawns and large mansions were spoken for. Rafe pulled the car into Y/N’s driveway, and the two walked up to the front door with Y/N in the lead.

Rafe was unable to avoid occasionally checking out her cute ass as the two walked together. She unlocked the door, and the two walked inside. Shedding her shoes by the horsehair welcome mat, Y/N shuffled in and skimmed her eyes over the familiar shimmering granite tile and the bright white wallpaper, a crystal chandelier dangling dangerously nearly a story from high above.

"I'm just gonna change out of my suit really quick. I’ll be right back, okay?” With that, Y/N raced up the stairs to her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Once alone in her room, Y/N immediately stripped off her suit and reached for something comfortable: her favorite black running shorts and a white tank top. As she was about to step into the shorts, she caught off a glimpse of her own naked body in the mirror and turned to look at herself straight on.

While Y/N was not a conceited person, she couldn't help but smile at her reflection. The time she spent so religiously in the water and the gym had paid off. Suddenly realizing that Rafe was still waiting for her, she quickly grabbed the shorts and put them on, not bothering with underwear. She pulled on the tank, aware that it clung tightly to her body, but also knowing she looked cute.

After throwing her hair up into a ponytail, Y/N checked the mirror one more time and headed back downstairs to the living room to Rafe. He was sprawled on the leather couch, wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt, having obviously changed while she was in her room.

Smiling, Y/N teased, "Well, I see you've certainly made yourself at home.”

"I did. Even checked out the contents of your bathroom after I changed. Lots of interesting little gadgets in there.” Rafe let his voice trail off and watched her face carefully. She could feel her face flaming as she tried to decide if he was serious or kidding.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Y/N mumbled, not able to look him in the face. When he said nothing, she implored, "Did you really look at the stuff in my bathroom?" Her voice squeaked with embarrassment and indignation, praying he had only been joking.

"Maybe. Why, was there something in there I shouldn't have seen?" Rafe grinned, dying for her reaction, a little disappointed when she didn't reply.

Her silence answered his question though, and he laughed a little. "Relax, Y/N.” He said sweetly. "I'm too much of a gentleman to search a girl's drawer."

“You’re most definitely not a gentleman, Rafe Cameron." She teased, punching him playfully in the arm.

"I am too a gentleman.” Rafe replied with all seriousness, looking her up and down. "I always put a lady's pleasure before my own, you know?”

Rafe was teasing and Y/N knew it, but she also picked up on the sexual implications of his comments. She immediately felt her body respond, just a slight tingling between her legs, but she knew she needed to get back on safer ground.

"Are you hungry?" Y/N asked, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen. "I was thinking we could order Chinese for delivery.” She waited for his response, and when he nodded his approval, she darted to the expansive kitchen to find the menu.

As soon as she left the living room, Rafe shifted on the couch, trying to find a more comfortable position, and one that would hide his growing erection. He knew she hadn't noticed yet, but he also knew that it wasn't going to be easy to hide it all night. Dammit, why had he agreed to hang with her tonight? There was just something about her.

Rafe had looked in a few drawers in her bathroom; he'd been unable to resist. He had always suspected that Y/N wasn't quite as innocent as she pretended to be, that somewhere deep inside her was a wild girl just waiting to be unleashed. And when he had opened the drawer on a stand next to her bathtub, his suspicions had been confirmed. Right there was a pink vibrator. He chuckled to himself, pleased to know that he had been right.

Y/N reentered the living room, dashing his thoughts. "I ordered a couple things; we just have to wait for the delivery guy. He said it’ll be here in about twenty minutes."

Rafe nodded, and got off the couch to walk towards her. He knew his cock was probably making a bulge in his pants and part of him hoped she noticed.

"Mind if I have something to drink?" He asked her casually as he walked towards the kitchen. She followed immediately and opened the fridge for him.

"Well, well, well.” Rafe said in surprise. “What’s with all this alcohol?" He grinned down at her, loving the way she blushed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, well, it’s..." Y/N’s voice faltered for a second. "It’s my father’s." She stared at the floor for a moment, and then looked up, seeming satisfied and smiled broadly. "So, what do want to drink?"

"Well, I'm gonna have a beer, and you?" He grinned devilishly again. "What can I make you, chocolate milk? Apple juice?"

Y/N smacked him, hard. "I'll take a rum and coke, smartass.”

The two stood in the kitchen and talked, each downing a couple drinks. Soon, the food arrived and they ate a bit, each having a little more to drink. After about three rum and cokes, Y/N could feel herself relaxing and getting the start of a buzz.

When the leftovers were piled back in the fridge and Rafe had mixed her a fourth drink, they migrated back to the living room. When he sat on the couch, Y/N sat right next to him, closer than she planned, but not minding at all. They watched TV, occasionally talking until suddenly their drinks were gone.

"Want some more?" Y/N asked, not waiting for a response and immediately going to retrieve it. When she returned, she set her drink on the coffee table and held the beer up, just out of Rafe’s reach.

Rafe smirked, amused and curious about where the situation was going. "Give me the beer, little girl.” He teased, laughing.

"In case you haven't noticed, I’m not a little girl anymore." As she spoke, she perched herself in his lap, straddling his legs and surprising him. "In case you haven't noticed," she continued, "I've grown up quite a bit." She shifted a little, inadvertently grinding against his stiffening cock in the process.

"Believe me, Y/N.” Rafe groaned. “I've noticed."

His eyes traveled from her face and down her body, pausing to gaze at her nipples that were poking fiercely through the thin fabric of the tiny tank top.

"I've noticed a lot about you lately.” He continued, suddenly determined to see where this would go. "You're not as innocent as everyone seems to think, are you?" His voice low and husky now, his hands resting on her bare thighs.

Y/N giggled a little. "Of course I'm sweet and innocent, Rafe. You know what a good girl I am." As she said it, she could feel his hands sliding slowly up the smooth flesh of her thighs, high enough so that his fingers were brushing the legs of her short running shorts.

"See, I don't think you're quite that innocent. I think that's just a front you've been putting on for me, and for everyone else on this island. I think," Rafe paused for a moment, "that you're just dying for someone to give you exactly what you want. Am I wrong?"

As he spoke, Rafe could feel his cock stiffening, straining against the material of his boxer briefs and his shorts.

When she didn't respond, Rafe prodded, "Y/N? Am I wrong?"

Y/N looked at him then, staring into his eyes and what he saw there was pure lust. Seeing that, he knew he could continue, and he let his hands continue to stroke her upper thighs, moving higher now until his hands disappeared beneath her shorts. Rafe let one long finger slide towards the middle and was surprised when his fingertip touched silky smooth flesh, no barrier of panties to be found.

Eyebrows raised, Rafe teased her again. "No panties? You really aren't the innocent girl we all thought you were, are you?"

Her eyes sparkled and she moaned softly, already trying to press against his finger. Determined to tease her, however, Rafe pulled his finger away from her mound and removed his hands from her shorts. She immediately stuck out her lower lip in a little girl pout, and he burst out laughing.

"Those little girl antics aren't gonna work anymore, Y/N.” He said. "You're going to have to tell me what you want." She looked at him, surprised. "I'll give you anything you want, but you have to ask for it."

When she didn't say anything he continued, "There's nothing sexier than a girl who knows what she wants. And something tells me that you know exactly what you want. So, you just name it, baby.”

Y/N smiled and removed herself from Rafe’s lap, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs to her bedroom. She fell onto her bed, taking him with her, and immediately kissed him.

Shifting, she was soon on her back with him above her, pushing her hips up into his. He smiled against her lips, knowing that she was trying to avoid having to ask, but also suspecting that pushing her would only make it more enjoyable for both of them.

Rafe dragged his lips away from hers and propped himself up on his elbow beside her. He left his free hand on her hip, his fingers idly playing with the waistband of her shorts.

"What do you want, Y/N?" He asked again softly, watching her face.

She looked away for a moment, and when she looked back at Rafe, her eyes were begging. "I just want you to touch me.” Her voice trailed off as she looked at him with those big, pleading eyes.

While it was a start, Rafe was convinced now that the innocence was an act and he wanted her to prove him right. "I am touching you, right here.” He said, as he tapped his finger against her hip.

He looked at her pointedly, waiting for her response. She didn't say anything, however, and instead just grabbed his wrist and in one fast motion brought his hand to her breast.

"Right here, you dumbass.” Y/N muttered, her hand still on his wrist as if holding his hand in place.

"Oh, right here.” Rafe feigned surprise and an innocence of his own, but immediately gave a gentle squeeze and let his fingers find her nipple. It wasn't difficult to do; the hard little bud had been poking through her shirt since she changed.

Rafe rolled her nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger, and she moaned softly when he gave it a light pinch. He pinched again, causing another moan and her to push her hips up as if she were already fucking an invisible partner. The sight of it turned him on, and when he leaned down to kiss her neck, he could feel his cock growing and becoming rock hard.

Her head fell aside to allow him easier access to her neck as he kissed her, tracing his tongue up to her earlobe which he nibbled on gently. Rafe continued pinching and tugging on her nipples, each one of her groans causing his cock to twitch helplessly.

"You like that, baby?" Rafe groaned against her neck and pinching her nipple harder, causing her to let out a long low moan. He chuckled to himself as he did the same with the other one, loving her sounds of pleasure.

"What else would you like? What are you dying for?" He prodded, himself dying to know what turned her on the most.

Y/N looked up at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, and slowly sat up. "I'll show you what I want right now.” She said, her voice low and husky with arousal.

She smiled slowly, slipping off the bed. For a brief moment, Y/N pulled Rafe to his feet, her eyes locked on his as if she had control of the situation. Without hesitating, she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his shorts and brought them down, leaving him in his boxer briefs which did nothing to hide his erection.

Gently, she pushed him back down on the bed, so he was sitting on its edge, and slowly knelt on the floor in front of him as he tugged his shirt off and tossed it on the floor. Positioning herself between his knees, Y/N smiled at him again, letting her hands work their way up his legs, letting her gaze fall on his twitching cock as her hands traveled closer.

Slowly, one hand traveled over the thin cotton of the leg, moving upwards until finally she let her fingers brush over his cock. She watched Rafe’s face as her fingers tentatively explored his hardness. When she wrapped a small fist around it for the first time, he groaned, pushing against her hand eagerly.

Y/N leaned in slowly, brushing her cheek along his inner thigh, her hand still between his legs. She grabbed the waistband of his shorts and he lifted obediently, and within moments they were gone. She leaned back on her heels for a moment, gazing up at him. She'd fantasized for so long and had wanted him for years.

Rafe’s hand on her face brought her back to reality. "What're you thinking, sweetheart?" Rafe asked her softly, looking down at her and watching her stare at him.

Y/N faltered for a moment, then laughed a little. “I was thinking about how long I've wanted this.” She admitted, blushing and looking a little sheepish.

Rafe grinned down at her and was about to tell her she could have anything she wanted, but the words never escaped his lips because she stopped pacing herself, leaning forward and taking half of his cock into her mouth in one quick motion. The shock of it, combined with the amazing feeling of her warm mouth and silky smooth tongue almost made Rafe lose it right there.

Forcing himself to regain composure, Rafe leaned back slightly, enjoying the feeling as she worked on him. He’d wondered what this would be like for quite some time now, and it thrilled him that the reality was even better than his fantasies. He had always thought she would be good, but he hadn't expected her to be this good.

Rafe looked down at her and watched her for a moment, holding her head and guiding her occasionally.

"You're an amazing little cocksucker, Y/N." Rafe groaned, and immediately felt her react to his words by taking him deeper, slowly sliding him all the way into her throat.

With her lips at the base, Y/N kept tightening her throat and making him almost lose it before relaxing again. She looked up at him and he smiled down at her. He felt himself getting even closer when he looked back into hers. He kept thinking of what a sweet and innocent girl she pretended to be, when in fact she was sucking him off better than any girl ever had before.

"I'm so close.” Rafe groaned, wanting her to know in case she wanted to stop.

Y/N surprised him again, however, when instead of stopping, she only worked harder, sucking and sneaking her tongue out to tease his balls with the tip. Suddenly, he was cumming harder than he had in a long time and she swallowed all of it, smiling up at him afterwards. He chuckled and pulled her up to the bed with him.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N." Rafe said softly. "You’re pretty fucking good at that.”

Y/N grinned and blushed, shrugging her shoulders. He loved the way the color rose in her cheeks as if she were suddenly aware that she had just proven him right, that she wasn't quite so innocent at all, but was still going to cling to the facade.

Pulling her a little closer, Rafe turned her head towards him and leaned down, kissing her. She kissed him back, opening her lips and sneaking her tongue out to meet his. Slowly, he pulled away and moved his kisses to her neck, and as he did he brought his hand up to her breasts again. He teased her nipples again with his fingers, loving to watch her squirm beneath his touch.

Y/N caught his mouth again with hers, and they parted as he tugged her tank top over her head with one hand, still stroking her pussy with the other. He gazed down at those tits that he'd been watching all summer in her bathing suit. He'd been making them hard all summer through her suit and he knew it, and loved the way they just seemed to get stiffer, now exposed to his hungry gaze.

Rafe couldn't resist; he tore his mouth from hers and eagerly leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth, immediately sucking on it, experimenting to discover just what she liked. When he grazed his teeth on it, Y/N moaned loudly and pushed eagerly against his hand, the heat from her pussy penetrating through the thin material of her shorts.

He teased her by pushing his hand back against her harder, which she loved, and then taking it away so he was barely touching her at all, making her whimper and squirm, trying to get it back. Moving his lips to her other nipple, Rafe slid his hand inside her shorts now, immediately finding the bare flesh that he had been dying for since he discovered it earlier.

Rafe found her dripping and smiled, knowing that he was definitely having an effect on her. As he nibbled her nipple, he found her clit and circled it slowly with one finger, loving the way she sighed and let her eyes shut. He continued to tease her, making tighter circles on her clit and feeling her tense up, then backing off again.

Gently, Rafe eased her backwards on her bed, laying her down flat. He reached for her shorts and she immediately lifted her ass up to allow them to come off, making him smile down at her.

"Not such a good girl, now are you, princess?" Rafe asked, and she smiled a little in return.

"Fuck being good.” She replied as he finished removing her shorts.

"I'd rather fuck you instead.” Rafe said softly, his voice low and gravely with desire.

"I know.” She replied, looking a little smug but incredibly hot as she laid on her bed naked, yearning for him.

Rafe moved up over her, kissing her lips again and letting her feel his weight above her. His cock had started stiffening again already, and she could feel it brush against her. Instinctively, she began pushing her hips up against it, wanting it. He grinned down at her.

"Not just yet, Y/N. Don’t be so greedy.” Rafe said softly, kissing down her neck and over her collar bone.

His lips found her nipples again and he began to nibble and suck, being rough and gentle as he was before since he quickly realized that's what she loved. He felt her shift slightly and as he moved to the other nipple he was surprised to see that she had snuck her own hand to her pussy, and was gently teasing her clit with a finger.

Rafe smiled, a little surprised and completely turned on to see her touching herself, and sucked even harder for a moment on her breast. He moved downwards until he was kissing her belly button and still moving lower. He touched her hand with his own.

“Mind if I help you with that?" Rafe whispered, and she immediately took her hand away and pushed her pussy towards him.

For a moment, he paused, gazing down at her and admiring her. Her pussy lips were puffy from arousal and her clit was hard and begging for attention. Rafe leaned down and kissed her right above her clit, letting his lower lip just brush against the hood and listening to her gasp. She wriggled towards him, her swollen bud aching for the release she knew his tongue could give her.

Rafe kissed her again, then very slowly licked down one pussy lip and up the other, letting then back down her slit again. The feeling of her wetness on his tongue only pushed him further, and he couldn't tease her anymore.

He slowly slid a finger inside her, immediately surprised at how tight she was. Still licking her clit, Rafe slowly slid in a second finger, causing her to buck against his face and hand and grip the sheets tighter. Stroking her slowly with his fingers, he continued to lick and suck her swollen clit, knowing that she was close.

When he slid his fingers in deep and pressed them against her G-spot, Y/N groaned loudly and pressed back on them hard. Keeping his fingers buried in her cunt, Rafe stroked her G-spot faster, her cries and gasps becoming louder and more intense. He felt her push hard against his fingers and suddenly, her pussy tightened and he could feel her orgasm as her cunt clamped down and her body trembled.

When Y/N relaxed, Rafe laid on the bed beside her, smiling down at her and waiting for her eyes to open. He kissed her lips, and it was then that her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him in surprise, and maybe a little embarrassment.

"I can taste myself on your lips.” Y/N said softly, as if it was something she had never thought about before. It amused him, the little bits of innocence that were real, paired with the lust that was obviously burning hot inside her although she kept it hidden.

As they laid together, her hand seemed to seek out his cock again which was still hard; he had been surprised how much it aroused him to eat her pussy, how much it turned him on when she came hard on his hand. She stroked the flesh gently, and kept glancing down at it until finally Rafe caught her.

He grinned, that grin that always made her insides melt and made her want him more than ever. "You like my cock, don't you, Y/N?" He teased her, pushing his cock against her palm.

"You have no idea.” She replied, that wanton look returning to her eyes.

"Show me, then.” Rafe challenged her.

Immediately, Y/N shifted to a sitting position and then crawled over him so that he was on his back and she was straddling his hips. She looked down at him, brushing her pussy against his hard shaft. His hands were on her hips, trying to guide her down on it. But she resisted, continually pulling away but not quite letting him enter her. This time, she caught Rafe staring down, admiring the view.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" Y/N taunted, letting her warm slit slide up and down his cock, driving him crazy.

His eyes were wild, and she knew he was having a hard time resisting the urge to force her down on top of his cock, but she was having fun teasing him. Y/N surprised him as she slid upwards again and finally felt the head of his cock press against her opening. Rafe groaned loudly as her pussy clenched repeatedly around his thick head, attempting to adjust to him.

Y/N inched her way down, feeling an intense pleasure go through her body. Once settled, she let her eyes connect with his and smiled almost shyly, and looked down to see the spot where their bodies were melded together. She couldn't resist anymore and began to grind hard on his cock, wanting him deeper.

Rafe flipped her roughly onto her back and he moved up over her again. She started pushing her hips upwards, impatient for him. He pressed against her and she pushed back, her slippery lips seeming to suck him in until he was once again deep inside her. It seemed the more he gave her the more she wanted.

As Y/N pushed her hips up against him, she pulled her legs up a little and Rafe took the hint. He smiled down at her as he guided her legs up further until her ankles were resting on his shoulders. With her legs up, he could get even deeper now, and he didn’t hesitate to do so.

When he pushed his cock all the way in, Y/N immediately arched up into him, moaning sexily. He began to pump in and out of her a bit quicker, and with each stroke she met him, gasping each time the head of his dick slammed into the back of her tight cunt.

Rafe could tell she was getting close, so he backed off for a minute, sliding his cock almost all the way out of her and leaving just the head of it between her wet pussy lips. Her eyes flew open and she looked at him, her eyes begging to have it back. She kept trying to push her hips towards him in an attempt to have her way, but it was his turn to tease her now, and he loved watching her struggle beneath him.

"Please, Rafe.” Her voice trailed off as she looked up at him helplessly, still bucking beneath him.

Rafe looked down and loved what he saw: her pussy puffy, his cock between the wet lips, and her clit, swollen and hard. He reached down and touched the little nub, causing her to shake beneath him.

Grinning, he did it again and again, teasing her with his finger and loving the way she trembled with passion and moaned, almost sobbing with pleasure. He took his hand away from her mound and grabbed her hand, guiding it to where his just was.

"I want to watch you touch yourself, Y/N.” Rafe said softly, thinking of the vibrator he’d found earlier and the way she’d been teasing her clit before he had gone down on her, knowing that she was familiar with herself.

Rafe thought she would hesitate, but was pleased when she immediately started stroking her clit with her middle finger expertly, pushing against his cock even harder now. The sight of it was too much for him and he couldn't tease her anymore.

As she stroked her clit, he slid his cock slowly back into her, feeling her clench around him. She was tightening rhythmically with every flick of her finger against her swollen bud, and he knew he was going to lose it soon.

"What do you want, baby?" Rafe groaned, holding his dick deep inside her and feeling her grinding against it.

Y/N looked up at him, and there was no longer even a trace of the innocent act left. Her eyes were full of lust and want, her body moving against his, trying to grind against him as much as she could. And when she spoke, it was all he could take.

"Rafe," Y/N said in her husky voice. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to make me cum harder than I ever have before. I'm so close right now, and I need you to make me cum.” She let her voice trail off, and he didn't waste any time in obeying her request.

Rafe pulled out a little bit and held her legs apart a bit more, and without warning slammed his rock hard cock back inside her. He pounded her again and again and she groaned with each stroke, feeling her orgasm building fast. Y/N worked her clit and reached around with her free hand, stroking his balls as they slapped against her ass.

Y/N was teetering on the edge of ecstasy, and with one final thrust he pushed her over. She cried out as her pussy tightened, and she pushed up hard against it, feeling it deeper than ever. When she tightened like that, Rafe couldn't hold back either. Within seconds, he was cumming deep inside her.

This seemed to only intensify her orgasm and she somehow clamped even tighter around him, and for a brief moment it felt like this would last forever. When their orgasms subsided, Rafe collapsed on the bed next to her, still able to hear her labored breathing. He smiled, satisfied and hoping for another round later.

As if reading his thoughts, Y/N propped herself up on her elbow and grinned at him. "You just wait.” She breathily giggled. "Next time will be even better.”

TAGLIST: @lovedetlost @valeriiecameron @outerbankspov @ailee-celeste @adventuresinobx @pankowperfection @blueicequeen19 @maybankslover @penny4yourthoughts @variety-fangirl @fangirlwithlou @thecameronchronicles @lafantasiaworld @drewsuncrustables @dreamingwithrafe @obaex @mvybanks @rafescokewhore @geniedetails

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