#I miss the friends I’ve lost along the way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freedomfireflies · 5 months

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Outlawed*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Knockout*

The one where Harry just wants to fight, and you just want to love him.

Word Count: 10k (folks...we made it!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blood, violence, brief use of a knife, pain kink, size kink

“Cherry?”

Instantly, your head lifts. The familiarly warm nickname sewing up the frayed seams of your heart and sending it into a tizzy.

However, instead of the handsome stranger you’ve come to miss, you find Owen. Eyebrow raised and expression curious.

With a quick clear of your throat, you pull your attention back. “What?”

“Cherry,” he repeats, nodding now toward the pastry in front of you. “Is it cherry tonight?”

You look down as well. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yup.”

“Hm.” His lips press together in thought. “I like the cherry. The way you make it, it’s…it’s sweet. But just a bit sour.”

“Yup...”

“It’s very good.”

“Thanks.”

His hands disappear into his pockets with a short nod of his head. “I know the customers really like it, too. Get comments about it all the time.”

“That’s good.”

“You could probably make it every night. If you wanted.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s a bit of a tense lull now as you continue rolling the dough, and you notice Owen begin to shift just out of your peripheral. He doesn’t normally hover when you’re working, not unless he’s got something he’d like to talk about, and his lingering glances make your insides begin to itch.

So, you raise a brow, and look over. “Is something…wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, not at all,” he stammers. “I just…wanted to check in. See how you’re feeling.”

Curious, you straighten up.“Oh…why?”

“Well, I’ve just noticed how quiet you’ve been,” he explains. “And I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just…trying to get my work done.”

He steps closer. “I noticed your friend hasn’t been coming around as much. The sullen one, with the dark clothes and broody temper?”

And despite everything else, you can’t help but smile at the memories. “Oh, yeah, well…I don’t think he’ll be coming by anymore. Don’t worry.”

“Ah.” A brief pause. “Is it because of Jesse?”

Instantly, you lean back, pulling the rolling pin away from the counter in surprise. “What?”

“Jesse. The other boy who was in here,” he says. “The tall, snobby one in the fancy clothes? Kind of annoying?”

“I…yeah.” Your lashes flutter. “I guess, I mean. They don’t really…get along. But…it’s probably my fault, too.”

He hums to himself almost contemplatively. “You’re not back with him, are you? The Jesse one?”

“Uh…no. Why?”

“I just…I don’t like him,” he sighs, arms crossing over his apron. “I think he’s trouble, and truth be told, you don’t always look that happy when he’s around.”

And you know he’s right, although you are a little surprised that he noticed. “Oh…well, no. No, not at all.”

“Good. Good.” He nods again. “Honestly, you can do a lot better than him, darling. Especially considering everything else he’s involved in.”

Now slightly more startled, your head tilts. “What do you mean?”

“Well…you know,” he begins, moving even closer before lowering his voice. “I don’t want to talk out of turn, and I certainly don’t want to scare you, but…I imagine you already know a little of what he really does, yeah?”

And even though you should know better than to answer, and even though you have Harry’s stern voice ringing in your ear not to trust him…you nod.

“Right, well…I know how much trouble that might put you in,” he continues. “And I know that with the fighting, and the betting, and the outsourcing…I’d hate to see you get dragged down with him—”

“Wait, what? What outsourcing?”

After a quick glance around the rather empty kitchen, Owen sighs, and murmurs, “Look, I don’t know everything, but a few months ago, he approached me with a proposal. He explained about the fights, and about the betting, and said that I’d be making easy money. That it was a guaranteed win because his fighter never lost.”

And suddenly, the image of Harry in that ring – night after night, hit after hit – paints itself across the forefront of your mind. You lose your breath, chest constricting with the thought of all the pain he endures at Jesse’s hand.

“And from what I could tell, he was taking the betting outside of the fights,” he explains. “I don’t know where or to how many other people, but he was pretty confident. And truth be told, I started to wonder if he’d maybe rigged it.”

“Rigged it? How?”

He shrugs. “I’m not really sure. Maybe he was paying the other fighter to lose or maybe he was paying his fighter extra to make sure he always won. Either way, I said no, and he took his business elsewhere. I think he was afraid of getting caught.”

And it makes sense. Every little detail clicking into place as you recall that night at the match. Jesse’s threat and his insistence on Harry’s win. Harry’s refusal not to play his game.

You straighten up. “Right.”

“Look, I just…I don’t want to see you get dragged down with him,” Owen finishes softly. “You’re a good kid, and he’s…you can do better. You can do a lot better than him, and I hope you know that.”

And you do now.

“Thanks,” you murmur before placing the rolling pin down. “I know this is a bit last minute, but is there any way I might be able to leave early today? I think I need to go find him.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He checks his watch. “Joshua’s supposed to be coming in soon. I could have him cover for you if you’d like to leave now.”

“Really? Would that be all right?”

“Sure. The pies probably won’t be as good as when you make ‘em, but…” He throws you a smile and you laugh. “Do what you need to do. And if you need any help, just give me a call, okay, darling?”

Nodding quickly, you wipe your hands down the front of your apron before ripping it off. “Of course. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

You’re out the diner door in under two minutes, nearly sprinting to your car as you work out a plan.

You’re almost positive that outside betting goes against the league’s rules (although you wonder if an illegal, underground fighting society even has any rules at all). But especially if it means Jesse ends up making more money on each fight than anyone else actually involved. The fighters included.

And if Jesse truly doesn’t want anyone else to know, you might have just found your loophole. A way to get him out of the picture and still keep Harry safe.

You aren’t sure where to start. Truth be told, you aren’t sure what you’ll even say. But perhaps you don’t have to say much. Perhaps you only need Jesse to know that you know, and he’ll take care of the rest.

You head for the one place you know he might be. Your heart aches to call Harry, but without an address, a last name, or a phone number, you don’t really have very many options. You can only hope that he’ll find you once this is all over.

When you finally make it into the darker part of town, your pulse begins to pound. Slamming against the sides of your ribcage as you pull up to the familiar building and park. Right beside the only other car in the lot.

It’s not until you step out that you realize who it is.

“Well, well, well,” Jesse calls with a devious smirk, exiting his vehicle as well. “What a surprise, sugarplum. Come to watch tonight’s big fight?”

You take in a brave breath and begin toward him. “No. I’m here to talk to you.”

His brow raises, but he seems relaxed. In fact, far too relaxed for your liking. “I see. And can I assume this has something to do with your little boytoy?”

“Not quite. But it does have to do with you.”

“Ah.” He grins to himself before dramatically gesturing toward the warehouse. “Then, by all means.”

So, with a shallow exhale, you oblige, trailing after him and toward the front door just as you did the other night. It’s an eerie deja-vu.

And perhaps you should feel a bit more nervous than you do, but deep down, you know him. You know that he’s lacking any real emotion or regret, and maybe, that might just give you an edge.

After typing in the passcode, he leads you inside. The once glorious space now dark and empty. Sporting nothing but the large boxing ring and the stunning chandelier.

“I’ve gotta be honest, sugarplum, I don’t know what you said to him…but it worked,” he begins as you both walk further into the room. “I’ve never seen him fight like that before.”

You purse your lips together in an effort to resist screaming at him. “Well, that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is.” He stops near the ring and turns around, leaning on it as he studies you. “And I knew you’d come through.”

“Great. So, you’ll leave him alone now, right?”

“As long as he wins, sure.”

“You mean, as long as he makes you money.”

His arms cross now, and that smug expression makes you want to slug him. “As long as he does what he gets paid to do, then there won’t be a problem.”

“Right. And as long as you can keep outsourcing the bets.”

For the first time, he hesitates, that arrogant grin slipping ever-so-slightly as he raises his chin. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I stutter?” You step closer, and you notice him tense. “The money that you outsource to other bettors. The money that you make – that Harry makes you – on these fights every time he wins.”

His jaw ticks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“No? You wanna bet on that?”

And you don't think you've ever seen him so livid. Not even on his worst night when you were together, and your insides begin to wrench.

But before he can reply – before he can really do anything – a door opens. Allowing a rather bright stream of light into the warehouse as you and Jesse both reach up to shield your eyes.

And then...you see him.

Harry.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s really looking at, but you catch the exact second he realizes. The way his face contorts and his fingers curl into his fist.

And you want to explain, want to take back everything you said and tell him the truth, but he’s already speaking up before you can.

“What the fuck is this?” he calls, and it’s so very angry. But he’s not talking to you.

He’s talking to Jesse.

Jesse merely rolls his shoulders back, attempting to settle back into his condescending façade. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“No?” He scoffs. It’s bitter and full of disdain. “Because anything you fucking say to her concerns me.”

Your heart skips.

Jesse, however, merely snorts to himself before glancing at you. “It’s a wonder you manage to get anything done on your own.”

Harry instantly strides closer, and you suddenly feel safer. Relieved to be near him again and desperate to feel him. To wrap yourself in his arms and never let go. To make things right.

But not once does he look in your direction. Instead keeping his focus on the man near the mat as he approaches. “Don’t fucking speak to her that way,” he nearly growls. “In fact, don’t speak to her at all.”

“Or what, hm?” The haughty cadence is back. “Do you really think you have any power outside of this ring?”

“I think I can knock your fucking teeth down your throat anywhere I goddamn please.”

“How incredibly barbaric.” Jesse’s brow cocks upwards. “Is he like this when he fucks, too?”

This question is directed at you, and no sooner has it left his mouth does Harry suddenly surge forward, grab him by the collar, and slam him back into the ring.

You gasp – or maybe you scream – before Harry removes one hand in order to send it flying straight into Jesse’s nose.

Blood is everywhere. Dripping from Jesse’s mouth, smeared across Harry’s knuckles, splattered along the concrete floor.

And you want to intervene. Want to do anything that might make you feel a little less useless, but Harry is delivering the second blow before you can decide.

“You fucking—” Punch. “—piece—” Punch. “—of shit.” Each comment is swimming in vile contempt, his expression livid and incensed.

You’ve never seen him this outraged. Didn’t even know a person could hold this much resentment, but it sends chills down your spine.

“Harry,” you murmur, taking a tentative step closer. “Harry, wait—”

“After everything you’ve fucking taken from me,” he sneers in Jesse’s face, “you wanna take her, too?”

Jesse’s only response is to suck in a large gasp for air that becomes gargled by the blood in his throat, and you feel sick.

“Harry,” you try again, grasping onto his other arm in an effort to tug him back. “Harry, wait, there’s another way—"

He brushes you off almost too easily. “And now—” Another hit, this time to Jesse’s stomach. “—you think she can save you? You think you can use her to get what you fucking want?”

He sends his busted knuckles straight into Jesse’s teeth, and your insides twist.

“Harry, stop,” you plead, yanking on him a bit harder. “I found another way, okay, please—”

“You fucking think…I’m gonna let you use her?” he seethes before pulling his arm back for the next hit. “You’re out of your goddamn mind—”

Without much thought, you suddenly rush around him, and place your hands on his chest. Wedging yourself between the two just before he can land the next strike to Jesse’s jaw.

It’s stupid and it’s impulsive and it’s rash, but it works. And it’s the only thing that seems to pull him back from that treacherous edge as his eyes find yours and his arm instantly drops.

It’s the first time he’s looked at you in days, and you want to cry. Because he’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before. Void of any emotion or understanding except for the realization that he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Harry,” you whisper, and his name cracks from your throat. “Harry, please, I…I found another way. Okay? He…you don’t have to do this—”

“I know. I want to,” he replies, still rather hostile.

“But I don’t want you to,” you argue. “Okay, I think we can get out of this. There’s a way to get him out—”

“I don’t want a way. I want to fucking kill him.”

“Harry, you…” You suck in a quick breath and move closer, nearly gluing yourself to his tense frame. “He’s outsourcing the bets. He’s stealing money from the fights, okay, and we can get him out.”

He looks surprised for all of a minute before the look suddenly vanishes and he attempts to brush you away. “I don’t care. He deserves this.”

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, “if you do this, they’ll kill you. Okay, and I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you—”

His features soften, although he still begins to push past you. “You’ll be all right—”

“Stop, just listen—"

“Cherry,” he warns now, “get out of the way.”

“Harry, please, don’t do this. You can’t do this—"

“I don’t care. Move—”

“Harry—”

“Cherry, move—”

“I love you.”

He stops. Seems to freeze right where he stands, but you barrel on. Clutching onto his dark, familiar hoodie as though trying to grab at his heart.

“I love you,” you repeat in a strained whisper. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I lied, I…I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was helping, or…or doing what was best, but it wasn’t – I wasn’t. I wasn’t, and I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. Blinks. Doesn’t move.

“And I love you.” You suck in a shaky breath as the tears fight their way to your waterline. “I love you so much it makes my chest hurt, and I can’t lose you, and…and please. Please don’t do this.”

And you’ve never felt so vulnerable or afraid. And not because of his silence, but because you’ve never loved anybody the way you love him. And you’ll understand if he no longer feels the same or if he’s changed his mind. If he wants to punish you for your lie or for your attempt to say it now.

Instead…he moves to rest his hands over yours. Keeping them over his heart before dipping down…and kissing you.

And it fixes everything. Absolutely everything. Because it’s perfect and familiar and so incredibly Harry.

And you’ve missed him.

You feel an arm slowly snaking around your lower stomach, and you begin to smirk against his lips before you realize who the arm really belongs to.

It yanks you back, ripping you away from the man you love until you’re cemented against Jesse’s chest.

Something cold and sharp is settled against your throat, and you take in a quick gasp for air.

Harry attempts to remain calm as he’s forced to watch, but you can see the edges of his sanity coming loose. Jaw clenching, teeth gritting, brows furrowing. His shoulders are tense beneath his sweatshirt, his hands are balling into fists, and his head is cocking to the side like he’s debating whether or not to lunge.

Jesse merely laughs in your ear. “This is so fucking pathetic. And so goddamn cliché, sugarplum. Is this really what you want? Him?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, and Harry takes a brave step forward. But almost instantly, the blade of the knife begins to press further into the soft skin of your throat, immediately forcing Harry back with a dark scowl.

“Easy,” Jesse warns as you both go still. “Come on, now, I think you both know better than that.”

“Jess,” you pant, reaching for his wrist. “Jesse, please—”

“It’s so simple,” he continues, ignoring your attempt. “So fucking simple. Just win the match. Win the goddamn match and you get to go home."

“I don’t fucking care. Let her go,” Harry seethes. “This isn’t about her—”

“Except that it is.” Jesse’s smirk widens. “Of course it is. You wanted to leave to protect her, so you will stay to protect her. You made it about her, dear Harold. I’m only following your lead.”

Something shifts now in Harry’s expression, and it nearly ruins you. He looks…lost. So very lost and helpless. Like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do without you.

Jesse presses his nose to the side of your cheek, and you feel the warm blood smear across your skin. “So, if you wanna take this away from me, then I have no problem returning the favor.”

The knife is pulled taut to the curve of your throat, and you hiss, making Harry’s face pale.

And when his eyes finally flitter to yours, you realize what you have to do.

“Harry,” you whisper, nodding once. Subtle enough to go unnoticed by the man behind you before you smile gently. “It’s okay.”

You’re not sure he truly understands, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. He will soon.

So, you slowly lift your arm until you can bend your elbow, only to send it flying straight back into Jesse’s stomach.

It’s not enough to really harm him. In fact, it’s hardly enough to even surprise him, but it does distract him just enough to loosen his grip on the knife. Giving you the room you need to spin around in his hold and deliver your fist to his face.

The shock of the blow seems to do more than the strike itself. But he goes stumbling back, nevertheless, and the moment his arm has dropped from your waist, Harry steps forward and rips the knife from his hand.

Once it’s in his possession, he grabs onto your wrist, and wrangles you behind him.

“Don’t ever…” he begins, stepping closer until the tip of the sharp blade can rest just beneath Jesse’s jaw, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

Jesse says nothing. He merely stares through his swollen eyelids and bloodstained lashes.

“You’re no longer Harry’s sponsor,” you add. “And you’re no longer a part of the league. Do whatever you have to do to get out. Or we’ll do it for you.”

Harry smirks, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so smug.

When Jesse doesn’t answer, the weapon is nudged further into his bruised skin, forcing him to suck in a sharp breath as he finally grits, “Fine.”

Satisfied with his response, Harry lowers the knife, and steps back just far enough to let Jesse slip by. And the two of you watch as he stumbles toward the door without a single glance before disappearing into the parking lot.

Leaving you both behind.

The moment he’s gone, Harry turns to you, wraps his arms around your waist, and hoists you into the air. Keeping you snug in his embrace while you squeal and fling your arms around his neck for stability.

“Oh, that’s my fucking girl,” he nearly groans, and you laugh. “M’so goddamn proud of you, baby. Never seen something so fucking hot.”

You dip down until you can nuzzle your nose with his. “Well, I learned from the best.”

“Yeah? Good.” His grin nearly splits his face. “Can I please take you home now?”

And you nod so quickly, you’re nearly dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, easy. Easy, sweet girl, deep breath. I’ve got you, yeah? Know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon.”

With a sharp exhale, you motion your head up and down, allowing Harry to pull your hand closer in order to continue dabbing the alcohol swab over the torn skin of your knuckles.

His tiny bathroom falls quiet as you sit on the edge of the sink. Him between your legs, attention trained on your bruise. And while the sensation is rather uncomfortable, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so cared for. So…fulfilled and secure.

And you realize, this is how you were always meant to feel.

With him.

“It’s gonna sting for a bit, but I’m almost done,” he promises, eyes softening when he sees your pained wince. “You’re being so good for me, Cherry, I’m so proud of you.”

You pout and it makes him chuckle. “You made it look so easy.”

“S’cause it wasn’t my first time.” He reaches for the gauze. “And we already know how I feel about pain.”

With a smirk of your own, you jut your chin toward him. “Yeah? And how are you feeling now?”

“Now?” His expression is wicked as he now leans just close enough to ghost his lips over yours. “Now…I feel fucking insatiable.”

You waste no time kissing him. In succumbing to his games and his endless teasing. You kiss him, and you don’t care if that means he wins, because you’ve never needed anyone or anything more.

And he’s so entertained by your desperation. His own bandaged hand finding your cheek as you sigh against his tongue and settle into this moment of adoration.

When he pulls back, you’re winded.

He goes back to work dressing your knuckles, wrapping the white gauze around and around until your torn skin is thoroughly protected.

And you watch him as he does this. As he sweeps his thumb gently along the ridges of your hand before bringing it to his mouth in order to leave yet another kiss.

“There,” he murmurs, trailing his lips across the fibers. “All better.”

It’s the most beautiful and romantic thing you think anyone has ever done for you, and your heart lodges in your throat. “Harry?”

“Hm?”

“…do you hate me?”

Surprised, he instantly straightens up and leans back. “What?”

“Do you…do you hate me? Because of what I did? What I said?” You attempt to ward off the influx of impending tears, but you can already feel the first one slipping free. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

His expression immediately drops as he reaches up to grasp onto your face once more. Thumbs brushing quickly along your warm skin as you sniffle. “Cherry…I could never hate you. Ever.”

“But maybe you should,” you whisper. “I hurt you, and I lied to you, and…and I don’t deserve you—”

“Baby,” he breathes, surging forward to press his forehead to yours in an effort to silence you. “Don’t ever fucking say that again, do you hear me? I know exactly why you did it, and I could never be mad at you for that. I was only hurt because I didn’t want to lose you. But you were only trying to protect me. I know that.”

“I said I didn’t love you,” you nearly croak. “I said I loved him. After everything you’ve done for me—”

“You had to,” he interrupts, and his understanding only hurts more. “Cherry, you had to. It was the only way, and I know that. I knew it then, too. You’ve only ever tried to protect me, and I wasn’t letting you.”

You grab onto his wrists and vow to never let go.

“And it’s not fair that you were put in that position,” he continues. “It’s not fair that you were forced to make that call, and it’s not fair that I dragged you into this. You were expected to choose between somebody you’ve known your entire life and somebody you just met. That’s not fair, and I never should have made you—”

“It wasn’t a choice,” you hiccup. “It was never a choice. It was always you.”

Those pretty pink lips pull back into the softest grin you’ve ever seen. “You were trying to save me, sweet girl. I know that, and I will never, ever hate you. I love you.”

I love you. The three best words you could ever hear, and your first sob wracks from your chest as you fling your arms around his neck to kiss him.

He kisses you back, but it’s soft. And sweet. And meant to convey exactly how he truly feels.

And it works because this is all you’ve ever wanted. Just him, and this moment, and those three words.

“Easy,” he warns through a strained breath. “Baby, careful—”

“Please,” is all you pant. “Harry, please, I can’t…I can’t wait any longer, please.”

And he nearly coos with amusement as he nuzzles his nose under your jaw in order to paint more kisses along your throat. “Can’t wait, hm? But what if I want to make this special?”

“It is. Is special—”

“Cherry,” he chuckles, “it’s all right. M’not going anywhere. We don’t have to rush, all right? S’been a long day and I don’t expect anything—”

“But I do,” you huff. “I’m ready, I want to. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

He laughs a little louder now, leaning back in order to see you. “I’m just trying to take care of you, sweet girl. We didn’t wait this long to throw it away because of him. I want this to be good for you. I want you to be sure that this is really what you want.”

And you appreciate the sentiment more than you’ll ever be able to explain. But right now, there is only one true way you want to spend the rest of this horrid day.

So, you lift your leg and hook it around his hip, pulling him back between your thighs with a pleading look.

In turn, he smirks, fingers returning to your chin with a playful squeeze. “Thought I was the insatiable one.”

“We’ll take turns,” you exhale before surging forward to kiss him again. Capturing his lips between your own and savoring the feeling you never thought you’d feel again.

And you can see his resolve crumble. Can see the way his eyes fall shut, the way his chest rises and falls beneath his dark shirt, the way his hands grasp onto your waist to keep you close.

He’s hungry. Ravenous. Losing the fight before it even begins, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Because now – now – he can have you. He can give you exactly what you want, can be exactly who he wants to be for you.

“Where do you wanna be, baby?” he asks through teasing nips to your neck. “The bed? The couch? D’you wanna go back to your apartment? Might feel more comfortable for you—”

“No, I don’t care,” you interrupt anxiously. “I don’t care, I just want you.”

He grins against your throat. “My greedy girl,” he murmurs, and your stomach flips. “Let’s go to the bed, yeah? Wanna lay you out and see you.”

And you want nothing more than to let him.

Regretfully, he pulls his lips from your skin and steps away, and you feel like you might die without him. But he’s quick to remedy this by taking your hand in order to help you hop down from the sink. Leading you out of the bathroom and through his apartment toward the bedroom.

His apartment isn’t what you expected. Although, truth be told, you didn’t know what to expect. It’s a bit bigger than yours, but there’s something…empty about it. Hollow, almost. The furniture is scarce, the colors and décor are few and far between. It doesn’t even look like anybody lives here, something he pointed out the moment you entered.

“Hardly spend any time here,” he’d said as you glanced around. “S’just a place to sleep, really. It’s never really felt like a home…until you walked through the door.”

And it was wildly cheesy, and perhaps a bit lame, but it was everything.

His bedroom doesn’t seem to be any different as he leads you inside. The walls are a dark grey, and his bedding is a similarly dark shade. He’s got one chair and one dresser. It’s quite clean, all things considered. No clothes lying on the floor or towels slung over the closet door.

It’s so very…Harry.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as your eyes flicker about the room. “Know it’s not very romantic.”

But you merely grin as you shake your head and grasp onto his hand. “Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You drag him toward the mattress before plopping down rather contently. “It’s so you. And I love that.”

And he only smiles before chasing after you and wrangling you into his arms.

It’s a faster dance from there. His hands and lips are everywhere they can reach. Slipping up the backs of your legs, ghosting over the curve of your hips, pulling at the zipper on your dress.

You merely settle in his embrace and allow him to take whatever he’d like. To touch and kiss each lingering thought away until all you know is him.

He’s careful but practiced. Treating you with the same adoration and gentle precision as he always has. And you’re so very thankful to feel so safe in his arms. A kind of security you weren’t sure you’d ever find in a partner the way you have him.

With anyone else you’ve ever been with, sex has always been transactional. A means to an end. This thing that you do to get off and nothing more. And despite your submissive preferences, there have been times when you truly felt powerless to your partner. Simply…there. Until they decided they no longer needed you.

But Harry…

He looks at you like your body is sacred. Like he’s undeserving of being so close to you. Of getting to touch you, hold you, feel you. Completely in-tune to every noise you make and every flutter of your lashes. Constantly on guard for your enjoyment and consent so he never goes any further than you want him to.

But you know, undoubtedly, that no matter how far he goes…it’ll never be enough.

You want his everything. His all. Anything he’s willing to offer, and you imagine you feel about as grateful as he looks to be here with him like this. To witness this kind of tender reverence.

He settles onto his back and pulls you on top. Placing you in a straddle over his waist until he can gaze up at you. “You okay, Cherry?”

You nod quickly – breathlessly – before resting your hands on his chest to brace yourself. “Just excited.”

His smile is boyish and charming, showcasing that familiar dimple that makes your cheeks warm. “Good. Want you to be.” He rubs soft circles into your hip before his brows furrow. “Y’know what I just realized?”

“Hm?”

“I still don’t know your name.”

And despite it all…you laugh. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

You smirk. “I still want to be your Cherry.”

He chuckles as he squeezes your sides and drags you closer. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs as you dip down to kiss him. “Always.”

With a soft smile, you trail your lips from his cheek to his ear, whispering the forbidden name almost timidly.

And to your surprise, he only grins wider. “That’s beautiful, sweet girl. S’perfect, too. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You feel the blood rush to your face as you bury your lips against his throat and gently tug at his skin. “Okay, all right.”

“I mean it,” he insists, palm slipping around the back of your neck to tug you back out. “Cherry, you’re beautiful. I don’t say it to say it. I look at you…and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

And maybe they are just words. Maybe they’re meant to make your insides twist and make your heart swoon. To be romantic and suave.

But you believe him. Because you can see in his eye just how much he means it. Can feel it in your stomach that he’s never been as honest as he is right now.

Further proving that everything in your life…has led you to him. Every decision, every regret, every mistake. It brought you right here, to this moment, in his arms.

You don’t waste any time on replies or longing looks. You kiss him, and you resume this frantic dance, and you beg him to make things better. To ease this ache in your stomach as well as your heart.

So, he does.

Nimble fingers pull at the zipper along your side, loosening your uniform until he can guide it up and over your head. Only stopping once to whisper, “S’this okay, baby? Can I see you?”

You nod almost impatiently. “Yes, yeah. Whatever you want, promise.”

“Hm. Careful what you wish for, sweet girl,” he hums warningly. “Or I might just take you up on that.”

The moment your frame is revealed to him, he nearly groans. Allowing his hands to smooth up and down your shivering silhouette as you anxiously wait for more.

However, instead of allowing him the time to indulge in your body, you begin to tug at his sweatshirt. Silently requesting he reveal himself to you, too.

He smirks. “All right, hold on.”

He barely has a chance to sit up before you’re reaching for his hem in a desperate attempt to remove it. Making him chuckle as he grabs onto his collar before swiftly pulling it over his head.

And you nearly sigh. Because he’s so ethereal to look at. Every ridge, and tattoo, and scar. The way he breathes, the way he flexes. You can’t help but reach for him, skimming your fingers down the dips and curves of his toned chest and stomach almost reverently as a breath catches in your throat.

And he lets you. Studying you closely while you study your hand. A moment of silence passing before he mumbles, “Baby?”

“Hm?”

He reaches up to tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. “M’gonna have to stretch you a bit before we start, okay? Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” you answer almost too quickly. “That’s fine. I’m not worried.”

He seems amused. “I know you’re not, but I am. You know I’d never want to hurt you. And I just want to make sure we go at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

There’s an odd sort of fluttering in your chest as you scoot closer and slip your fingers into the curls on his neck. Stroking his roots in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m okay with any pace as long as it’s you.”

“Promise?”

You nudge your nose against his. “Promise.”

Finally, he seems satisfied. “Okay, sweet girl. Then can you lay down for me?”

You’re on your back before he can even finish the question, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his and drag him along with you.

“Cherry,” he laughs again, and the sound is like music. An orchestra of joy and infatuation that you can feel all the way down in your toes. “Can’t be that greedy, can you?”

“I can,” you pant, hips bucking up as he reaches for the silk around your waist. “Just please…”

“Please,” he repeats thoughtfully, pulling his focus to the material he’s slipping down your legs. “You really are my sweet girl, hm?”

Another nod. “Mhm.”

“Guess I have made you wait, yeah?” He discards of the delicate panties before smoothing his palm up the inside of your thigh. “Made you sit and be good?”

“Harry…”

“And you have been,” he muses, ignoring your mewling. “Been so good for me. Think I need to show you how proud I am. And apologize for being so mean to you. For making you go so long without.”

He moves to settle between your parted legs, one hand beside your head to brace himself while the other travels down the expanse of your stomach. Calming the trembling skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he reaches what he’s looking for.

He looks at your face first. Examines your expression and the flutter of your lashes. Stilling just long enough to listen to you breathe. “It’s okay, Cher. I’ve got you.”

You run your fingers through his hair and smile. “I know.”

His thumb is the first thing that finds you. Ghosting gently over your clit and down in order to prepare you. Ease you into the sensation.

You take in a satisfied inhale that melts into a whimper and he grins.

Pushing through your folds, he slows when he finds your arousal. Glancing down to see it for himself. “So warm, baby. Missed this.”

“Missed you,” you nearly whine, and he seems pleased.

The tip of his digit pushes in just far enough to tease you but not enough to satiate you. Leaving a rather hollow feeling in your stomach the moment he pulls back out.

You just about slump into the mattress. “Harry…”

“M’just trying to be gentle,” he says. “And I wanna take my time. Wanna really feel you. Remember this moment.”

Your heart swells. “How oddly sentimental of you.”

He shrugs before pushing the finger back inside. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

Your back instantly arches from the bed when he reaches his knuckle. And the gratified look he wears seems to worsen this untamable ache.

“There you go,” he coos. “See? One’s not so bad.”

His pace is slow to begin. Torturous in a sense, but he knows that. He wants to work you up, make you squirm. Have your pleas falling from your tongue like water from the sky.

And of course it works, it always does. You weren’t sure what else you expected, but as he continues this steady rhythm, you feel your sanity slowly begin to come undone until you only have one choice.

“Harry…Harry, please, can’t…can’t��”

“What, sweet girl? Need more?”

Your head quickly motions up and down. “Please…”

“All right.” He pulls back before going again, this time with a stretch a bit more prominent. “Know you can handle two, yeah?”

And he’s right, you can, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t nearly ruin you to do so. Because while two is decidedly much better than one, it’s still not nearly enough. And more importantly, it’s not the one thing you really need.

You pull harder on his hair while you writhe beneath him. Eyelids growing heavy as the sound of his fingers driving into your pussy grows louder. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” He dips down and trails his lips along your cheek. “Gotta let me do this, baby. Just a bit longer, yeah?”

“Can’t…can’t wait—”

“Yes, you can.” His tone is firm but kind. Encouraging. “Know you can. Let me make you feel good.”

He begins to go faster. Thrusting into your cunt until your pulse is racing at about the same speed.

And he’s beautiful. He’s so goddamn beautiful, it makes you dizzy. Hovered over you on the bed, muscles flexing with each roll of his arm. There’s a soft glow behind his head from the light of his window, illuminating his curls like a halo.

It’s rather fitting, you realize. After all, he is your guardian angel.

“Breathe,” he instructs, kissing down the curve of your throat before finding your chest. “Almost done, yeah? Doing so good for me, look so pretty taking my fingers. Know you’re gonna be so beautiful taking my cock, hm?”

Again, he dangles the image right in front of you, only to take it away before it can fully render. “Har—”

“Shh,” he says again, mouthing at the swell of your breast that’s being pushed up out of your bra. “Gonna give you another. Want you to be still for me, okay?”

With a rather disappointed huff, you oblige, watching as he scoots back just far enough to get a better visual.

Three fingers brings you to the gates of heaven. As does that look in his eye when he sees the way your pussy stretches around the larger digits.

You can quite literally see the groan leave his body as he stares at you, lips parting in mesmerized bliss.

“You okay?” he manages to ask through a strained exhale.

“Yes,” you pant. “Can take more, I promise.”

“More, hm?”

“Yes…yes, please…”

He only hums.

Seconds go by before you’re gasping for air. Nails scraping down his scalp in desperation as he works you open. He’s incredibly focused, proud of the work he’s doing, and of the way your body bends to his will.

“There we go,” he praises softly. “Just like that. So fucking wet, sweet girl. Know it must ache.”

“It does…it does, Harry, please—”

“Got an itch you can’t scratch, yeah? Need me to reach it for you. Need me to fix it.”

“Please…”

“Almost, baby, almost.”

You feel the fourth begin to push in and you suck in a sharp breath.

He stops. “It’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly. “Gonna take me like a good girl. Already doing so good, just a little more. Relax for me.”

You do your best to obey, allowing your limbs to fall limp beside you, despite the tightening of the coil in your stomach.

Even still, it works just enough to allow him more room. Slipping in the added digit until you see stars.

The pumping is loud and driven. Truly an exercise in restraint – for both of you – as the pace begins to quicken and the noises begin to increase.

Then, he brings his other hand into play, and brushes his thumb over your clit.

And you don’t mean to – you didn’t even realize you were so close – but you cum suddenly and with a rather lewd moan that makes his eyelids flutter.

“There,” he whispers, as though entranced. “There we go, good fucking girl.”

You can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs as you come down. And Harry chooses not to help as he finally removes both hands…and begins to pull you apart.

He exposes your clit to the colder air in order to dip down and ghost his mouth across the top. Releasing a warmer breath that sends chills straight down to your toes, making you squirm rather violently.

“Har…Har—” you gasp, fisting the blanket below. “Please, can’t…can’t—”

“Just wanna look at it,” he says simply. “S’so pretty—”

“Harry,” you whimper, writhing beneath his hold. “Harry, this is mean.”

“Mean, hm?” He smirks now and you want to die. “Well, I don’t wanna be mean, baby. Wanna be good for you, just like you are for me.”

You choose to take this as a sign to continue, sitting up just enough to reach for his belt and begin to tug it undone.

He laughs now, glancing down at your frantic fumbling with a knowing grin. “Cherry—”

“No,” you huff. “No, it’s my turn.”

To your surprise, he only hums. “Go ahead, then.”

You do, yanking the belt through each loop before tossing it aside and moving for his zipper. You don’t imagine you’ve ever worked so fast or so hard for something (specifically a cock) in your life.

The moment he’s able to wrangle his dark jeans down his legs, you’re dragging him back down. Ignoring his protests and his reminder that he still has one article of clothing left.

Instead, you work on ridding yourself of your own, unhooking your bra and tossing it into the same pile as his boxers.

And now, as you both settle into your nakedness together, every imperfection on display, you realize you’ve never been more content. Because baring your heart to him was far more vulnerable than baring your skin.

And because this is where you were always meant to be.

“Okay, baby, m’gonna start slow,” he repeats yet again, and you nod. “Just tell me if you want me to stop or slow down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nearly whine. “I will, I swear.”

“Good. And…shit, a condom, do you…do you have a preference—”

“Pill,” you pant. “I’m on the pill, just go.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes, please. I need to feel you, Harry, please…please.”

“Okay, all right.” He takes hold of your hips and positions you where he wants you before settling between your thighs. “Deep breath, okay? Just keep your eyes on me, I’ve got you.”

Another nod – quicker, more frenzied.

He takes hold of his cock and your eyes nearly roll back. It looks so beautiful in his hand. Just as stunning as you remember, and even though you never imagined you’d find one so appealing, your mouth seems to water.

Your leg hooks around his hip, subtly urging him closer, and he obliges. Giving himself a tug or two before gently trailing the tip down your aching cunt.

He moves up and down to collect a bit of your arousal before he finds your hole and slowly begins to push inside. Sinking in about half an inch before checking with you.

You nearly scream. “It’s okay. It’s okay, keep going.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes.”

His mouth curls up into a knowing grin as he continues. Allowing his cock to slip even further into your waiting pussy while your walls slowly stretch open to accommodate him.

And you’re hardly afforded the chance to enjoy this newer sensation before he suddenly dips down to kiss you. Perhaps an attempt at distraction, although it’s hardly needed. Because now you aren’t sure what to focus on, what feeling to indulge in. From his lips, to his cock, to the way your stomach nearly caves in on itself.

“Fucking shit, baby,” he groans against your tongue. “Shit, you’re so tight…feels so good—”

“I know,” you agree. “God, please don’t stop—”

“No. Never.” He sinks in a bit further and you dig your teeth into his bottom lip. “M’almost there, you still all right?”

“Yes…yeah, I’m perfect. Perfect, promise—”

“That’s my girl,” he nearly seethes before he suddenly drives forward, sheathing himself all the way.

You both still the moment he’s fully inside, his face now disappearing into your shoulder as though to brace himself.

And you wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt not to let go. Allowing your body the time it needs to understand this new intrusion and find pleasure with it.

When it finally happens, the stars align.

“Okay,” you pant, gently scratching at his back to garner his attention. “Okay, go.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Need more, Har, please.”

He pulls his hips back and the whimper you release is almost feral. But it seems to do wonders for him, because his expression twists into something desperate, and you feel your chest implode.

He settles into a soft, slow pace. In and out, in and out, in synchronicity with your eager pants for more.

And there’s too much happening all at once. Too much to watch, too much to take pleasure in.

The curls that drip down his forehead, the way his body looks as it connects with yours, the feel of his mouth going down your chest.

He’s everywhere all at once and somehow, it’s still not enough.

“Taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself. “Could taste you forever.”

He takes your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking at the pebbled skin before nipping at it gently.

You keen, arching from the bed until you nearly knock into him. “Har—”

He hums around your nipple, and you almost cry with frustration and pleasure.

Everything feels slow. Almost too slow but there’s something tender there. He’s not trying to fuck you, he’s trying to feel you. To mold your body to his and it’s rather effective. Because the way you crave him feels like heaven and hell all in the same second.

“Harry,” you whisper, practically deranged as you drag your hands down his chest. Nails tracing patterns down the tattoos across his abdomen. “Please…”

The noise he makes in response to your scratching is almost animalistic in nature, and you nearly flinch as you quickly lower your arms. Upset to have caused him any pain.

“No,” he groans, lifting up to nudge his nose under your jaw. “No, don’t stop. Keep going.”

“What?”

“Keep…shit—” His rhythm falters and you can almost feel the way his dick seems to twitch. “Keep going, s’okay. Want you to scratch me. Want you to hurt me, baby.”

And somehow, this reminder of his pain kink feels almost like a blessing. “Yeah?”

He nods faintly before attempting to resume his pace, and you happily take the lead.

Your fingers hesitantly return to his broad torso. Delicately tracing the muscles as they roll beneath your touch until you gingerly begin to press in. The sharp edge of your nails dancing across the expanse of his already torn skin.

In turn, he releases a strained noise that becomes lost beneath the grateful kisses to your collarbone. And you realize how much he truly enjoys it.

He gives you complete control of his body, of his pleasure. Because the harder you scratch at his scars, the more urgent his thrusts become. Until the sounds echoing around the room begin to echo between your ears. And the slapping of his hips into yours is inescapable.

“Feels so good, Har,” you nearly cry, lifting up just enough to kiss him quickly. “You’re so good to me. Always.”

“Shit.” His eyes about roll back before there’s a sharp snap of his cock into your eager cunt. “Always gonna take care of you. Promise—”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know, I love you.”

You say it now, and suddenly, everything changes.

It doesn’t matter if he’s heard you say it before or if he already knows because the look in his eye nearly guts you.

He’s so…happy. So incredibly happy and endlessly enchanted that he begins to grin. “You love me,” he repeats. Not a question.

You smile as well, and the sentiment seems to explode out of you. “I love you.”

And it’s perfect, this moment. This connection of two bodies and two souls into one. The way you stumbled through the dark until you found each other, and it makes sense. Everything makes sense now with him. Clarity in the truest form.

“I love you,” he echoes, and he means it. You can feel it in every thrust, every syllable, every brush of his lips against yours. “I fucking love you, Cherry—”

“Please,” you gasp, leg dropping to the bed while your arms follow suit. “Har, please—”

“Gonna cum for me again?” He begins to go faster, chasing after your orgasm. “Let me feel you around my cock, sweet girl, come on. Already feel so good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Can’t what, hm? Can’t hold it?” It’s almost sadistic the way he speaks, but you know he’s merely enamored. “I know. I know, it’s okay. You can cum for me, don’t have to wait. Promise I won’t be mad.”

You aren’t sure what you’re about to do, all you know is that you never want this feeling to end. This moment, this security. You just want to touch him, and look at him, and taste him for the rest of your life.

He interrupts your silence as a request for something more, and he offers it in the form of his dominance.

He takes hold of your wrist and hoists it above your head, pinning it to the mattress before settling his weight atop your chest. Trapping you beneath him until you have no other choice but to indulge in everything he has to give.

And you do.

“Sweet little cunt is all mine, isn’t it?” he purrs, teeth nipping below your ear as his fingers intertwine with yours. Holding your hand as he keeps it caged to the bed. “Spent all this time just waiting for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes…yes, fuck, Harry—”

“You were so patient. So good.” He’s growing more determined – sloppy – and your head begins to spin. “God, but you just needed me, yeah? Needed me to make it better—”

“Better,” you repeat almost mindlessly.

“Needed me to erase him—”

“Please—”

“Leave my mark. My fucking mark—”

“Harry—”

“You were never his,” he grits, and you aren’t sure who he’s really trying to convince. “You were never fucking his, you were always mine. And he knew it—”

“Shit, I can’t…can’t—"

His other thumb moves for your clit and you feel tears fill your eyes. “Yes, you can. Know you can, baby, and you will. Always do so good for me, gonna take my cum, aren’t you—”

There’s a strain on your muscles from the way they’re being stretched above your head, but you realize there’s something satisfying about the subtle pull. And when it’s coupled with a firm pinch of the sensitive nerves between the rough pads of his fingers, you start to lose it.

“There – shit – there you go,” he inhales, glancing over your face before watching the way his cock slips in and out of your pussy. Dripping in your arousal and smearing across your thighs. “Take me, just like that. Feels so fucking good, sweet girl, keep going…keep—”

You cry out and writhe helplessly beneath him. Pulling your arms from out of his hold in order to sling them around his neck and cement yourself to his chest.

And you have no choice but to succumb to the pleasure before you feel him follow.

“Fuck—” He surges forward, burying himself in you completely, moans melting into your feverish skin as you cling to each other. “Shit…I love you. I really fucking love you, Cherry.”

You smile lazily before bringing his mouth to yours. “I love you, too.”

He kisses you. All through the moment and then some. Until the sun has disappeared and the moon has been hung between the stars.

And you know that you have never been happier than you are in this moment, right now.

Just you, and him, and a pussy full of cum.

“Darling, we've got some at table six, could you go check on ‘em?”

With a quick nod of your head, you readjust your apron, and grab the notepad Owen is sliding toward you before slipping from the kitchen.

You find the eager customers waiting just beside the counter and take their order with a charming grin and a promise to slip them some leftover pie.

The diner isn’t too busy tonight, and you’re grateful. Now that you’re on dessert duty, you spend a majority of your shifts working on new recipes and finalizing the specials for the coming week.

Truth be told, you rather enjoy this new task. It keeps your mind occupied and your thoughts from drifting.

And baking is your happy place. Your sense of calm amidst a sea of uncertainty, almost rivaling your own true source of serenity.

Harry.

Once you’ve returned to the kitchen, you sneak a glance at the clock. 12:06 A.M. He should be here soon. Probably tired. Perhaps a bit stressed. Hopefully no worse for wear than usual.

Fight nights always tend to leave you on edge. You know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, but you can’t help but worry. It’s what you do best.

Still, you’re happy for him. Because while pies are your happy place, the boxing ring is his. He’s only ever wanted to fight – to make money, channel his anger into something good. And perhaps it’s not a sustainable lifestyle, but for right now, it’s what he wants to do.

And you respect his choice. You’ll respect any choice he makes, as long as he’s the one making it. Instead of it being made for him.

Besides, without Jesse there, you find that Harry tends to have a lot more fun. He leaves the fights with a busted lip but a bright smile, and it makes your heart swell until it feels as though there’s no more room in your chest.

Last you heard, Jesse left town. Harry refused to tell you what really went down at the club once the other members found out, but you decided that was probably for the best. No matter what fond memories you still have of your childhood friend, he’s not who he used to be. And you won’t ever be able to change that.

But for the first time in a long time…you’re okay with that.

The clock continues to tick the seconds away, and with each passing one, you grow a tad more anxious. Your guardian angel is late. At least by a few minutes, and you scurry about the diner as your thoughts race about a mile a moment.

And then, just as you’re readjusting the cake stands and tidying up the dessert display, you see it.

Your not-so-strange stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in that familiar, white gauze, and are stained with streaks of red.

But he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

And you grin wider than you have all day.

“Hi, Cherry,” he calls the moment his head lifts, allowing you a better look at his stunningly damaged face as you scurry closer. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you nearly giggle, slipping off your apron before sliding into the seat across from him. “How was it?”

“Easy,” he snorts, but there’s a sparkle in his eye. “And I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“M’off for the next few days. Thought you could come over…and not leave.”

You laugh as you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Good.” He glances down at your interlocked fingers almost fondly. “Hey, you know what I just realized?”

“What?”

Now, a mischievous expression begins to form. “I never introduced myself.”

And for some reason…you can’t help but laugh.

“So,” he begins, rather charmingly as he raises your hand in order to shake it formally, “hi.”

And you really fucking love him.

“I’m Harry Styles.”

I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE AT THE END!! This has been such a fun story, and SUCH a wild ride that I feel very lucky to have gotten to take with so many incredibly wonderful people!!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along and left the nicest comments or notes!! I cannot tell you what it means to me!!

Harry and Cherry will def be back for extras soon, but until then...I love you 🥹♥️ Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Previous Part:

~ Uppercut*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @swiftmendeshoran @straightontilmornin @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @cherryshouse @harryscowgirl @mypolicemanharryyy @snwells @cherryluvhobi @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @kittenhere @nominsgirl @lovrave @laelamarley

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bunny584 · 2 months

Text

OBSESSED: GETO (PT. II)

A/N: I…guys this one is…dirty. For so many reasons. I don’t. I can’t look myself in the eye. Suguru made me do it 😅

C/W: Voyeurism, Mature themes, 18+ (Part I here)

Music inspo: This is SO Chase Atlantic coded

Acceptance.

They say the first step to recovery from addiction is acceptance.

Fine, then.

Suguru Geto’s addiction to you is absolute. And he has no interest in recovery.

He’s accepted it. You own him.

Granted, he didn’t realize just how tight your leash is. Not until last night.

Suguru is a logical, reasonable, creature of habit. He doesn’t need much. Really, he doesn’t.

But fucking you to sleep nightly is non-negotiable.

Or rather, fucking his hand. While watching you watch TV. And swirl a glass of Pinot noir in your gorgeous mouth. With your graceful fingers mindlessly swimming in a bowl of popcorn.

Extra butter. With tons and TONS of salt!

The first time you ordered your side snack at the movie theatre, Suguru almost keeled over.

But then he made the glorious mistake of flickering over to you, mid movie. Just as your index finger slid between those pillow soft lips. Pulling remnants of salt and butter away, leaving a trail of lip gloss behind.

He could’ve sucked it off your finger right there and then.

The way you pistoned in and out of your mouth. Doe-eyed and trained on the screen. Not a thought in your head. It was his gateway drug.

The butterfly effect.

A moment in time that rerouted fate.

His excruciatingly beautiful, platonic best friend, now a visceral need.

And just like any addiction. There were stages.

Denial: He doesn’t see you that way. No, of course not. His mind just got caught in a horny spiral. He’ll snap out of it. Things will go back to normal.

Anger: How could you do this to him? You know how disorienting you are. That smile. Always looking up at him with puppy eyes and parted lips. You’re a cocktease. Begging. Pleading. Needing him to debase you to nothing. Is that it? You want him to ruin you, don’t you? And he could. Fuck you into next week. Until you’re screaming and crying. He’d smear those tears all over his cock and fuck them back into your pouty mouth. It’s what you deserve.

Shame: It’s perverse. You call to vent about your day. He rubs himself raw while you talk. You kiss his cheek. His dick leaks. How could he do this to someone who trusts him like you do?

It was a vicious, muddled cycle. He could barely function around you.

Rushed greetings. Kurt words. Clipped responses. Avoidance.

He had to protect you from his depraved thoughts. Shield you from sordid actions taken in the dark — as if they would spontaneously materialize in the light to harm you.

And they did. But in the opposite way Suguru intended.

“Hey, HEY! Suguru, what the hell is up with you?”

You squeezed his wrist with all your might. It felt like nothing. But the weight in your tone hit him like a freight train.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been distant."

“I’ve been right here.”

“You’ve been distant, Suguru.”

Quartz showers streamed down your beautiful face and his cock quivered. Drooling along his thigh. So. Fucking. Pretty when you cry.

Did you know?

How irresistible you looked?

Glassy eyes. Trembling lips. Vulnerable. Soft enough to hunt.

Did you know?

How he clawed his palm bloody to keep from gripping your neck. Shoving you to your knees. And giving you a reason to whine his name like that again.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“I have to go—“

“I don’t care!”

“Wha—“

“I don’t care!! I don’t care what it is okay? I just…I miss..I miss my best friend.”

You elevated off your heels. No where near eye level, but enough to cradle his face in your dainty hands.

And God dammit. He might as well have been wearing a dog tag with your name on it.

If lost, return to Owner.

Between your misty eyes. Swollen lips. Face like a canvas to paint with his cum. He bit back a pathetic groan. And choked out an apology.

Most importantly, he made a promise to never hollow out your friendship like that again.

So, instead he fills it. With ropes of his arousal. And fuck, it’s rhapsody.

The stages. The anger, disbelief, shame…it was worth it. Because this ecstasy? It’s sublime.

Constant ascension. Never once reaching cruising altitude.

…which made the fall agonizing.

Last night, in a sick, twisted turn of fate - his camera feed cut off.

One minute Suguru is pumping into his abused rubber cocksleeve. Sliding his eyes up and down your hips until he was dizzy in the head. Pre cum squelching out of the little space between his cock and the ring of his 5th battered toy. Unintelligible praises leaking out of him, cementing his devotion. And just as the curtains began to fall on his vision. Balls heavy and hot with his seed—

Then he saw nothing.

Suguru couldn’t recognize the man in his room last night. Fingers aching. Mind racing. Dick red, angry, pulsating for its one and only vice.

Alarm bells rang between his ears. Crash landing into an abyss. Mayday.

Mayday.

In that moment. He knew he needed more. More skin. More angles. More you.

And so, he’s standing outside your Pilates studio @ 7:28 PM. Two minutes until you’re done.

A Dragonfruit smoothie rests in his hand.

And a new camera system rests in his back pocket.

———

“Ugh, I needed that.”

You sling a cold eucalyptus towel around your neck.

“And I need him.” The comment emanates from one of your girlfriends. Both of you rounding the corner out of the studio.

Suguru.

You don’t have to look out the glass windows to know exactly who she is referring to.

“I mean, seriously. How can you not climb him like a—“

“Stop it!!” Your protest made less believable because of your sheepish giggles.

“We’re just friends.” You mutter. Pulling your gym bag out of the front lockers.

Yeah, who are you trying to convince? Her? Or yourself?

Your eyes flicker to your platonic, gorgeous best friend. Raven mane in a glossy, high ponytail. Freely cascading down his back. Curly wisps framing his razor sharp angles.

He stands tall. So Muscular. Quietly masculine. Despite how dreamy his hair is.

“Omg! Your hair!! Whats your routine?” - every woman who meets him, ever.

“Genetics.”

Suguru responds the same way every time with a dimpled smile. The other party is always immediately caught in his web.

His eyes. They lure you in like quicksand. Onyx. Swarming with grey and violet specks. Stormy. Perpetually faraway.

He’s the perfect gentleman. But always a little bit above it all. Just out of reach.

It’s mesmerizing.

You can’t blame the women for trying any and everything for a tiny piece.

Suguru catches your gaze. Silky smile pulls across his lips. He beckons you with one swirl of the liquid gold in his hands.

“What are you doing here, pretty boy?”

“Happy to see you too.” He counters with a low chuckle.

You coax the sweet treat away from him. It’s precisely what you need.

Suguru always has his pulse on you. Somehow he knows where to be and when. Every time.

“Mmm” your eyes flutter shut. Savoring the sickly sweet, cold mush on your tongue.

“Exactly what you wanted?”

“Exactly. Have I told you I love you lately?”

“Not nearly enough.” His baritone hovers over you. Traveling down your spine at light speed.

Has he always sounded this sultry?

You lazily pull yourself out of the sugar-induced dopamine hit.

Suguru moves into you like a storm cloud. Accentuating the comical difference in stature. The world around you slowly dissipates.

Lost in the desert mirage of his gaze. Everything feels conscious.

Your shallow breathing. The thrum of blood surging through your vessels. Heart rattling against its bony cage.

Time stops.

Then it happens all at once.

Before you know what is happening, your best friend’s well built arm is around your waist. His large, veiny hand palming the nape of your neck.

His lips. His plump rosy lips are on yours. Sweet and warm. Pulling, pushing, melding with you into play dough.

He’s delicious.

More delectable than you knew possible.

“Mmmgh” You moan and Suguru takes the space to push his tongue into your mouth. He’s blinding. Expertly tickling the ridges and corners of your mouth. As if to show off just how skilled he is with his tongue.

“S-Suguru..”

He pulls away far before you’re ready. Shocking you out of your lusty daze. For a moment he just rests his moist lips on yours. Exchanging breaths between each other. As if only you two are the source of oxygen around you.

“Wha…what was..”

“There’s a guy burning a crater into your back.” He finally responds. Gruff. Strained. You’ve never seen him without a tight leash around his self-command.

“I didn’t want him thinking he has a chance.”

And just like that, the familiar tame control lines his velvet baritone.

Suguru places a chaste kiss on your cheek before starting to walk in the direction of your apartment. As if the world didn’t just tilt on its axis.

You’re able to maintain a fairly normal conversation with your best friend the entire walk back to your apartment. You both laugh and joke as if he didn’t just fuck your mouth with his tongue. And as if you didn’t feel drunk off of it.

You’re just friends.

…right?

You toss your keys somewhere to your left. In the periphery you see Suguru smile and shake his head. Well aware of your messy tendencies. He leans down to take your keys and place them on the door hook.

The devil on your shoulder is deafening.

Test it.

Test him.

Your hand moves before your mind.

Your fingers hook under your sports bra. Pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. Before your mounds bounce in full view, your arm cups them against your chest.

You turn to Suguru, now topless.

“Gonna hop in the shower for a little. Are you staying for dinner?” Willing your voice to be steady and light. A casual question amidst the mayhem in your mind.

And, as expected, Suguru is the perfect gentleman.

His olive tone is even. Hands slotting into his athletic pants. Faint smile tracing on his lips, dimple apparent in his left cheek.

His eyes don’t falter below your neckline. Not even for a moment.

“Not tonight, pretty. There’s a show I want to catch. Rain check?”

Of course, you’re just friends.

Best friends.

You flash him a genuine smile. Swallowing the nagging flecks of dissappointnent beginning to weave itself within you.

“Rain check!”

And maybe 10 or so minutes after soaking in your steamy shower. Trying to wash the remnants of his kiss out of your memory, you hear your door slamming shut.

You make a mental note to ask about what show he was referring to.

———

Whiskey glides hot and cold down Suguru’s throat.

Back flushed against his desk chair.

Patiently awaiting his 10:00 PM viewing.

His dick is a steel rod. Blushing and moist. Draped in a pair of your used panties. He swiped them on his way out of your apartment.

Suguru drags his palm lazily up and down his shaft. Soaking your lingerie in beads of pre cum. It’s like he’s feeling you rubbing your plush cunt up and down his rod.

Fog is settling opaque in his mind. While he pets the flame stirring between his legs.

You haven’t even come into frame yet. But Suguru admires the pristine view he has of your room. Porcelain duvet messily strewn about. Half open night stand. Magenta vibrator propped against the corner of your drawer.

How often do you touch yourself?

What do you think about?

How pretty do you sound? When you milk pleasure from your dewy core?

“Fuck,” Suguru hisses.

He brings the whiskey glass back to his parted lips. The thought of seeing you work yourself to a peak drove his hand up and down his cock too fast. If he’s not careful he’ll cum before he’s ready.

No.

Not tonight.

Tonight he wants to savor his relapse.

24 hours sober of you was unbearable. He deserves this indulgence.

Suguru tilts his chin up. Damp hair feathering his shoulders and back feels refreshingly cool against the lava circulating beneath his skin.

“You like teasing me don’t you?” He murmurs, slowly pumping his cock through his strained grip.

The way you pulled off your sports bra. Well before you reached your bathroom door. Pretty bedroom eyes raking his face. Testing him. You knew he would go home and feverishly fuck his fist for you. Didn’t you?

A siren’s melody pulls his hazy, dazed attention back to screen.

“There she is.”

Suguru leans closer to his screens. Giving himself kudos for choosing a camera system with audiovisual integration this time around.

You step in full view of his camera and his body stills. Completely statuesque. Mouth ajar. His cock drool dribbling down his stiff hand is the only source of movement in the room.

“Fuck…fucking hell.”

There you stood. Thong as richly colored as the wine in your glass. Accentuating the dramatic dip and swell of your pretty waist and hips. The wavy lines from your slender shoulders to your full tits are enough to make him seasick. Your nipples are so hard. Puffier than he imagined.

You are immaculate.

A divine being. Heaven’s incarnate.

And even if you weren’t. Even if you were the devil. He’d follow you to the depth of hell.

A thick surge of pre cum flicking back against his lower abs pulls him briefly out of his trance. Suguru didn’t realize how hard he was strangling his length. Which is violently jerking in haphazard directions.

Begging for its real owner.

Suguru drags in a deep breath. Reluctantly unraveling his needy hand away from his manhood. Another sip of icy brown liquor.

Savor this.

As if your souls are tied, you take a sip of red wine before settling in your bed. Back against your head board. Feet planted on your plush duvet. You let your knees fall to the side and Suguru nearly drools on himself.

A blooming rose.

Presenting your swollen, misty petals to him for worship. His eyes drop to your core. A thin line of fabric laid so perfectly between your folds.

Suguru has to remind himself that you aren’t in front of him.

And he can’t just dive into your dewy cunt. And nuzzle against your bud. And lap up the honey in between your folds.

You rest your head against the wall. Exposing the delicate lines of your neck. His left hand magnets back to his cock. His right hits the record function on the screen.

You are too special not to capture.

But, even if he couldn’t record you on this system, every moment right now is etched into his mind for an eternity.

Especially the way your dainty fingers travel down your chest, along your torso, beneath the hem of your panties and settle over your clit.

“That’s it, princess.” Suguru chants beneath his clipped breaths. Dragging your soaked underwear along his messy shaft.

He matches his pace to your tiny circles. Small, gorgeous pants tumble out of you.

Your other hand palms at your tits. Pinching and pulling at your pert nipples. Your hips buck at the sweet pleasure and pain.

“Good girl”

His arousal continues to collect at his base, trickling to his inner thighs. The sound of his hilt slamming into his hand fill the room.

“God. S..Suguru…”

His name thunders between his ears.

His name wrapped in that melodic, lusty falsetto of yours.

Suguru’s brain can barely register the way your tits bounce in rhythm with your hands. Pistoning your fingers in and out of your sweet cunt. Ascending to euphoria. He can barely register the way your lips are swollen and abused from your teeth. Or the light sheen of sweat along your collarbones.

“Fuck, Suguru please..” you moan. Both hands now working your flower.

Suguru is slack jawed. Completely short circuited. He cannot move.

Unblinking, he studies you. Hands at his side. Cock spearing high in the air, leaking.

His mind is flooded with the thin, featherlight moans and whines. Sticky arousal leaks from your needy opening around your fingers. Coating your inner thighs. How you twist and groan away from your own pleasure - so clearly overstimulated but not stopping your fingers, anyway.

“Say my name, pretty girl. Say my name.” Suguru rasps out. Sharp pain lightening through him from the dryness in his throat.

And you do. You moan his name when you reach nirvana. Heaving and whining and squirming in your mess. You called for him.

“God, I’m disgusting.”

You laugh through the remnants of your high and bury yourself under the duvet. Lazily tapping the bedside lamp. Bringing Suguru’s private viewing to an end.

And his smile is vulturous.

Suguru’s hand runs the length of his insatiable cock. Slow, lazy strokes. Haphazard twitches pushing out globs of cum. Begging for an encore.

You think you’re disgusting?

Ohhh, sweet girl.

You don’t know the half of it.

831 notes · View notes

leclsrc · 1 year

Text

it’s never over ✴︎ cl16

genre: childhood friends to friends with benefits to lovers (a mouthful), smut, humor, Fluffff!!!!, several references to 70’s music,

word count: 12.9k

You must have lost the plot along the way, because pretending to date your childhood best friend was not on your 2023 bingo card. (Neither was the fact that things are looking a lot more real as time passes.)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... handjob (f receiving), penetrative sex, semi public sex, praise central, size kink

auds here… hi hi hi!!! you’ve no idea how much i missed writing posting and interacting w u guys. thank u for all the love & follows i’ve gotten in my periods of mia. more things soon i promise ty for ur patience love love love u allll 🌟🤎🤠💋 this is my love letter to fic tropes. i feared if it was too long i’d lose the plot somehow so i had to condense it. i truly hope u all like it :) will try & reopen reqs sometime soon to get inspo kicking

It’s later than late. The lights are strobing purple and blue, the “let’s get you even drunker than you are” headache inducing kind. The floor is crowded, swelling with teenagers who are probably too young to get in, drunk off cheap aperol and watered-down tequila shots. You’re balancing yourself on a barstool, one hand busy wrapped around a slim glass, the other clawing your miniskirt lower because the air bites at your legs.

“Another voddy Red Bull!” You’re slurring, mind spinning almost as fast as your vision. You almost drop your empty glass in your rush to look for another one—but right as it slips clumsily out of your fingers, it’s caught.

Charles, your cocktail’s knight in armor and yours just as well, is eighteen. His hair is light brown and long, but not draping over his eyes like before. You know before because you’ve never not known before—Charles has been your best friend since you were five.

Snoopy, he says, voice steady and calm in your ear. His frame is still lanky but he’s tall and his grip on your shoulders is enough to quell the yelling. You pout. Get me another voddy red, you plead. Charlie, it’s my birthday. He smiles to himself, knowing your vision’s too cloudy to see him and your mind’s too bogged to remember any of this. You’d already slipped up and told two bouncers you were seventeen and not eighteen, like your poorly-Photoshopped ID suggested; Charles had to keep you in check, lest you or your friends end up kicked out of the club.

A song booms in through the speakers and your eyes widen with recognition. Charles doesn’t anticipate your reaction fast enough, affording only a stumble backwards when you attempt to leave the barstool to dance. He swears under his breath, mind recounting the five previous dance sessions that left you exhausted and out of breath earlier.

I’ll get you a vodka Red Bull if you sit down, he tells you. He enunciates because, twelve years later, you still can’t wrap your mind around his thick European accent. Sit down.

Alriiiight! You hoot, throwing two fists up in the air. Customary for many bartenders on nights as busy as this one, a free shot is thrust into your vacant hand and you cheer loudly, much to Charles’ chagrin. With whatever malice the eighteen-year-old can muster, he casts the bartender a dirty look before turning to face you again, worried. He places a hand on your shoulder and watches, half-anxious and half-endeared, you take the shot and visibly grimace at the raw taste. Fuck. It’s gin I think, you sputter. Charles presses: You okay?

More than, you holler, smiling. I am officially seventeeee—

The bartender’s eyebrows furrow, the thirty-something businessman in the adjacent stool turns to look—so Charles has no choice but to shut you up, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours before you can seal your fate.

Your eyes widen briefly, and when Charles feels the passed seconds are sufficient, he pulls away. You stare, eyes hazy, at the pretty boy you’ve had feelings for since you turned fourteen, and lean in to kiss him again.

—

Pascale is hosting her weekly Sunday brunch at the Leclerc residence, all French windows and wide kitchens and bowls of fruit. As always, your place is at the kitchen island picking at plates to taste test them. Bonjour, Arthur drawls when he walks in. He turns to Pascale. Mum. Then you. Snoopy.

You halt biting into your forkful of arugula and turn toward the younger Leclerc, eyebrows raised. “What’d you just call me?”

“Snoopy,” he says simply. He’s beside Pascale, one arm wrapped around her affectionately. “Or, Snoops, if you like that. Yes?”

“Who told you about that nickname?”

“Lorenzo.”

“Hasn’t been in use since your voice was cracking every sentence.”

“Tête de noeud.” Pascale swats his arm and he yelps, so you resume your arugula with satisfaction.

Charles is late for reasons he did not disclose, but everyone is used to it. The open kitchen door stretches into the front yard, where the table is set up and Lorenzo is setting the places. You know that although you usually expect a few more relatives, today’s just for the family—and you, but you’re basically family.

“How is Paris?” Arthur asks, licking hummus off a spoon opposite you. Your position is reminiscent of how you spent afternoons after school with Charles before, and the memory strikes a chord in you. Strange nostalgia, fondness.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh really?” He laughs in-between nibbles of carrot.

“I got an offer for a higher position,” you relent. Pascale calls you both, and you get up and walk toward the yard to sit down. “If you must know.”

“Oh? Let me know how that goes.” He follows you, carrot slice in hand, chewing. The conversation is cut short by the smooth noise of Charles’ decidedly un-smooth parking outside.

You’re seated at your usual spot—in-between Charles and Lorenzo, across Arthur—when the former finally walks into the yard. He looks tired, moreso than usual, bags under his eyes deep and hair a bit more disheveled.

He sits beside you. “I need to talk to you.” Then, quieter, “Private.”

You hum confusedly, eyes flitting across the three other people at the table to gauge their reactions. They’re equally aloof. “Wh—now?” He nods.

You end up talking in the kitchen. He’s sighing the whole fifteen steps there, rubbing the bridge of his nose, exhaling, inhaling. Ever observant, and of someone as close to you as he is, you pick up on the tiny actions, behaviors. Charles is wringing his hands. He’s tried to pop the same knuckle twice. He isn’t frantic—he’s scared. You lean against the counter, waiting, eyes looking him up and down to identify his exact emotions.

“Tell me,” you press. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge.”

“The—my—the iCloud of my phone has been leaked. The press found out.”

When you were eight and he was nine, you and Charles summered in Villefranche with your mum and dad. The weather then was the kind you could write love letters to and about—blue skies, salty wind, soft sand. The current was calm enough that you could ride the gentle waves without fear of going under or straying far from the shore, where your parents sunbathed blissfully.

Don’t drown, he’d warned you, ever protective. You wore pink floaties over your arms, so it was already difficult to.

You dove under with great effort, fighting against the buoyancy, and poked his bare knee, surfacing to watch his reaction. He grimaced. Slowpoke, you teased, swimming away. You wondered then what it might feel to drown. Maybe not in the blue water of Villefranche, but anywhere else.

You think it hurts to drown? You blubbered, bobbing above the wave. Charles swam in front of you and wiped water off your face gently. I hope you never find out, he said, smiling.

But this is you finding out. This is it now, the drowning. Your fingers flex over the edge of the counter and you gulp, eyes fluttering with nerves. “Shit?” It comes out like a question from how nervous you are. “Um, sorry. What are we—” But your question is cut short by Pascale’s voice, cutting through the tension like it’s wet cardboard. The agreement is silent and mutual: save this discussion for later.

—

Charles can’t wake up fast enough. There are calls, texts, voicemails from every officer on his team, which isn’t that surprising given he’s up two hours late. But the amount—the sheer amount of notifications is dizzying. Overwhelmed, he finds it in himself to pull up his search engine app and let his fingers possess themselves.

All he types is his last name, and then The Sun article is splashed onto his face like a pot of scalding coffee: “F1 DRIVER ICLOUD LEAKED, PERSONAL PHOTOS ALL OVER INTERNET.” Daily Mail is next, of course, watering down the situation to seem more dirty and scandalous: “Naughty Driver? Charles Leclerc’s iCloud Hacked, Reveals Mystery Girl.” And then of course Page Six, who doesn’t miss a beat—

Wait. He blinks and presses the back arrow to return to the previous webpage. He reads over it again, slower this time. Mystery Girl? Shit—no. No way. It’s almost (it should be) silly, the way he’s reading vigorously over the reports like he’s a fan, but he’s anxious. He scrolls, because if any tabloid is daft enough to publish the leaked photos, it’s got to be the Daily Mail.

He pauses his quick swiping when his eyes harden with recognition, and staring back at him, on his phone’s full brightness, is a picture of you on his lap at Christmas. It’s the one Lance took while attempting to guess Charles’ password, one of you wine drunk with his head buried in your neck.

It’s unmistakably him, at his own house in Monaco where the drivers had a holiday get-together. It’s unmistakably you, hair draped over your face, three gold rings on your fingers. You had just given him a Strokes vinyl, he recalls. That’s why you were hugging.

There’s another one of you playing Scrabble in his bed—he’s not in the frame, but he remembers taking it. This, he could deny. He’s not in it, and he’s pretty sure the fans don’t know his house this well. Already his brain’s doing manual damage control, dread filling his veins at the thought of reading through his team’s frantic messages.

Another message stands out, pinned on top of all the others—from his mum, reminding him about brunch. He gets ready half-focused, half-lucid. Fully worried. He worries about the PR crisis this may cause, about his iCloud security, about the reactions online. Above all, though, he worries about you. About what he should tell the press. About how “actually, we’re not dating, we just fuck constantly” might hold up for the fans.

—

You’re twelve and Charles thirteen, both of you seated across Hervé and Pascale. Behind them stand your own parents, and they all look stern. What this is, Pascale says gently, is a family meeting. Okay?

Okay. It leaves your high voices in shaky unison. You both know what you’re doing here—you snuck out of school to catch a movie earlier, the teacher naturally caught wind of the misdeed, and now you’re in a meeting for it.

Snoops, Charles whispers, trying to ease your nerves with lighthearted commentary. This is the worst.

No, you want to tell preteen Charles—this is. You’re older now, yet still subjected to similar questioning, though today it’s Pascale going solo. It’s been three days since the fated day where the press leaked the pictures of you and Charles in compromising positions, and like any boomer, she’s used Facebook to her advantage and gotten ahold of the compromising pictures, too.

“How long?” Her voice is enunciated in hard syllables.

“Mum—”

“Answer the question.” She looks back and forth, moving into territory of intense questions. “Both of you.”

“Um.”

“Because… I’ve been…”

You notice it immediately, given your observant track record: her shoulders relax and her lips smile just slightly. You sit still, and wait for the next words out of her mouth. “…waiting for this all my life!”

You and Charles watch in mild horror as Pascale’s face goes from firm to absolutely elated. Her eyes soften and a smile spreads over her face, illuminating her with pure joy. Do you even know how many bets I made with your papa, Charles? She claps her hands together several times.

Charles opens his mouth to verbalize dissent, but she doesn’t take it—she’s already droning on and on about how long she’s waited for this to finally happen. Your eyes glide over to the doorway of the dining area, where Lorenzo and Arthur watch with smug looks on their faces. Little shits won’t help you. You don’t even try to protest, and at some point Charles gives up, too. You don’t know how it’ll come across, anyway.

Ninety minutes later, you’re in Arthur’s bedroom rifling through his desk and praying you don’t find anything too gross. He’s on his bed throwing a bouncy ball up in the air, conversing with Charles about your gameplan with their mum.

The sky outside is in limbo between afternoon and night. It’s cloudy, so the sunset is a pale yellow instead of angry orange. “Why not just tell her the truth?”

You’d also thought that was the easiest option, escape route, exit path. But that would involve breaking Pascale’s heart, and that was out of the question for you, let alone Charles, certified mommy’s boy.

“I can’t, Arthur.” Charles’ voice is steady and unwavering.

“You can.”

“No.”

“Fine. Next best thing then.”

You fiddle with a Rubik’s cube, then turn in the seat. “What?”

“Pretend you’re dating.”

“Arthur,” you say seriously. “Shut up.” But he doesn’t join you, and you realize neither does Charles. You stare blankly at both of them, unwilling to believe they’d actually bank on this as an actual plan.

“You guys realize this kind of thing never works? Zero percent success rate.”

“It’s just paddock appearences. You’re not pretending for millions of people,” Arthur says, shrugging. He catches the ball and throws it to you—you catch it one-handed. “You’re pretending for Mum.”

“Sure. And by extension, millions of people. Are you dense, or do you think the paddock appearances will just breeze by everyone who saw the leaks?”

“Ughhh. You’re acting like it’s impossible.” Arthur holds his breath before he utters the next sentence. “Like you two aren’t fucking every other w—”

“—oh, my God!” Shocked, you get up, and so does Charles. “Wh—I’m—language, Arthur!”

Charles balks. “How did you even—”

“I didn’t. But merci mille fois for confirming my theory,” Arthur quips faux-sweetly, smiling dopily. “I mean, I was going to find out! Your pictures are so… intimate. So just pretend to date and throw Maman off your scent.”

You protest briefly, wrestling with the option, and reconvene on the bed, you cross-legged and leaning on Charles’ shoulder and Arthur in front of the both of you. He’s always had a knack for schemes—he never got caught sneaking out, which destroyed your and Charles’ record of being caught twelve times by either of your parents. It’s a bit childish, but he gets the job done.

“Do it for… let’s say a month. Tell Mum you’ve been dating a while—Christmas isn’t that long ago, and that was the least recent picture. D’accord?”

You both nod, hyperfocused.

“During race weekends, be all over each other—shouldn’t be hard—especially in front of Mum. People might catch you doing it, but I wouldn’t worry.”

“No, wait—I mean.” You shrug. “People—tifosi—they know I’m Charles’ friend. They’re going to be all over the fact that we’re apparently dating.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll use palatable density,” Charles says, nodding.

You pause. Arthur does, too, sensing something off.

“You mean plausible deniability.” Your deadpan voice is tinged with amusement, muffled into his shoulder.

“Right, ouais, that.” He smiles, chuckling a bit; his shoulder shakes with it and your head nearly slips off. He brings a hand to cup over your jaw and hold you steady. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.” You sigh. “I’m totally okay with this. Just worried it’s going to have unintended consequences.”

Arthur quells you with rushed explanations about how it’ll be over and you two can say something like we decided we’re better off as friends to really sell the thing. At the seven-minute mark of your and Charles’ intense interrogation, he promptly kicks you out to figure out if you’re willing to do it yourselves.

You wedge yourself into Charles’ front seat, knowing you were headed to his place anyway. You massage your temples with one hand and fiddle with the hem of your shorts with the other. Nervous. Antsy. “Did Fred say anything?”

“Got the IT team to fortify my account.”

“You think this thing’s going to be okay from a professional standpoint?” You look up and toward him; he’s already gazing at you, eyes soft. “I’m worried. Plus, with my job offer thing in London and New Y—”

“Don’t be.” He starts the car and maneuvers out of the driveway, into the dips of Monaco streets and the familiar route back to his place. “Bitter with the sweet. The only thing you need to worry about”—he takes your hand in the centre console, laces your fingers together loosely—“is your acting skills.”

“God, you’re right.” You sigh, looking out the window. “How am I going to pretend I can stand you?” Then, for good measure, you squeeze his hand wrapped in yours.

—

You visit Monaco from uni in London over spring, and for the first time in months, your schedule aligns with Charles’—though you learn this indirectly when you visit the Leclerc home. Pascale, of course, is the one who tells you his new flat’s address before she presses a kiss to your cheek and then leaves to run errands in the city. Alone, and in a burst of excitement, you make the drive there, take the elevator upstairs and shove the door open without knocking. He’s there. Your Charles. You can tell because the music he plays is loud—The Kooks—like his ears are still fourteen and not twenty-one, like he’s still in middle school and not in Formula One.

“Save your eardrums,” you say, before beelining toward the couch and leaping onto him for a hug. He sits up to match your energy, arms wrapping around you, sitting up straighter to keep you from totally falling atop him.

“How’s uni?”

“Shit,” you say into his hair. It smells like his shampoo and his favorite cologne. Clean, soapy. “Obviously. How’s the Ferrari?”

“Amazing.” He smiles. “Obviously. How’d you know I was in? Mum told you?”

“Ouais. She’s running errands. Listen, can we drink tonight?” You sigh, parting from the hug and sitting across him.

Yeah, sure. His voice is concerned, thick with worry. You shake your head—it’s not that deep, you tell him. It’s just—I had a bad date before I left and it’s put me in the worst mood.

Oh? He leans back, clasping two hands behind his head as he goes.What happened? He laughs.

You tense visibly, rolling your eyes despite yourself. “He was just weird. Nothing.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You shy, Snoops?”

Ha-ha. You roll your eyes, but your face is flushed and your gaze avoids him. You reach up to tuck the loose strands of hair by your ears behind them, face warm. You’d never talked with Charles about boys or flings before—maybe several times, but never in full detail. It was always vague umbrella statements, like Ryan is boring or Greg is such a prick, but never anything beyond that. Come to think of it, you don’t know why, either.

“You can tell me.”

“The—when we—I had to fake,” you say cuttingly. “You know.”

He purses his lips and smiles, eyebrows furrowing. I don’t, actually. Something unnamed trills through you—through your stomach and into your fingertips. Your first time talking to your best friend in real life after months of uni and racing and this is the topic? It’s, if anything, a sign of your growing up, you guess.

Charles lets up on the teasing and you end up rejecting the club in lieu of sharing a bottle of vodka, throwing it back raw and without any type of chaser (to really prove nothing at all; you don’t even know why any sane human would do this). You do a Just Dance party on his TV, even try out drunk sim racing and FIFA, but by the end you’re well exhausted and retired to the couch again.

His voice is wavy and tipsy when he speaks. “You really had to fake it?”

“Yeah.” You pout. “Can never—um, finish, I dunno.” Your inhibition’s gone, shame loosened and untied by the vodka. You shift in your position on the couch.

“Maybe because it was too casual.” His voice hardens.

“So you’re saying I should…” You swallow dryly, eyes fluttering. “Sleep with somebody I know?” You’ve dropped the implication and it floats up, hangs above.

His eyes flick over to your legs, folded on the couch. The hem of your shorts. Your fingers playing with your empty shot glass. He didn’t mean anything by that. He’s half-sure you didn’t.

“I am just saying that a good friend would do that for you.”

“You’re a good friend,” you say, volume low.

Five minutes later you’ve properly crashed into each other, him pinning you down against the couch, licking fire up your throat. His lips trail across your jaw.

He dips a hand into your shorts, presses against your clothed core. He’s smiling. So wet for me. He’s got his mouth pressed messily up to your jaw, when he sinks one finger all the way in, slow and stretching; and you’re clenching around him—

Come on, he’s saying. Insisting. You’re trembling, yanking desperately at his hair as he pumps his finger slowly in and out of you, aching to be full of him, to take him deeper.

He slips another one in, and you feel the cold of his ring pressed against your entrance, then he’s fucking them into you and you’re leaking around them.

Yes, yeah, Charles—you’re gasping, airy breaths tapering into whimpers that sound sinful, desperate. He knows you so well already. Presses his fingers against your sweet spot, watches your eyes flutter.

So needy, and you’re chanting his name under your breath as he quickens his pace, craving the stretch of him desperately. I know you want to cum, baby. He’s calling you baby and you’re closer, so much closer. Come on, for me, yeah?

You melt, crashing and crumpling into him and shuddering as you release all over his fingers. He presses his forehead to yours and lets you take a beat. You feel giddy and dizzy and warm, which is weird because you don’t feel drunk at all anymore. This dizziness is something different. It’s Charles.

“Are we going to do that again?” You ask meekly, hand still in his hair.

“Only if you want. Whatever you want,” he says. He’d do anything for you. He’d do whatever you wanted.

“I do, I do want.” And Charles, the good friend he is, helps you out.

—

Imola is humid, warm, and the racetrack is absolutely teeming with people. But you’re not there—clad in linen shorts and a fresh tank top, you’re walking around the vicinity of the track, cup of gelato in hand, sunglasses over your eyes. The restaurant near you is playing music out loud. Beside you, singing along and drafting a list of wedding appetizers, is Lorenzo.

“Lamb chops?” You suggest, licking amaretto off the plastic spoon. The weather is pleasant enough that people are crowding the streets without it being too unbearably hot. Stevie Wonder flows from the speakers, permeates the entire block.

“I was thinking more seafood.”

“Tuna? Make ‘em little tacos.”

“Good idea. Think I’ll go for those. Hey, are you sure you’re on board with fake-dating my brother?”

You turn sharply toward him, taken aback. He hadn’t brought it up in the week and a half this plan had been in the works—he’d been privy to it the entire time, too, which makes it weirder that he’s asking so suddenly.

“I meaaan…” You slow your pace, contemplative. A shy smile plays at your lips, brows knitted together. “It’s only going to be for a month. Ish. So, yeah. Are you—do you—sorry. Is it alright with you? Sorry.”

“It is not not okay.”

“So it’s…” You pause. “Okay.”

“It’s—yes, but I worry, is all. How sure are you that this won’t hurt anyone?”

“I don’t know, it’s… bitter with the sweet. And who’s getting hurt… like the fans?” You laugh a little. “They’ll live, won’t they?”

“Like you.” He pauses. “Like Charles.”

—

Pierre is running a comb through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror; his Narcissus moment is interrupted by a banana to the back of his head. Bonjour, he says, monotone and already knowing the culprit.

“We need to talk.”

“Could this possibly be about the news of your brand new ‘girlfriend’ over last week? Where is she, by the way?”

“With Lorenzo. Listen, here’s the thing. Mum thinks we’re dating, and I don’t know how to tell her we’re not—so I won’t.”

“Lie to your mum, go ahead.” Pierre crosses his arms and hums.

“Tais-toi. It’s for her own good.”

“So you’re going to pretend to date.”

“Ouais.”

“Should be easy. You guys are hooking up and making out or whatever all the time.”

Charles pauses and lets the silence speak for itself. When Pierre makes a noise of confusion, he gives. We don’t kiss, he says finally. She thinks it is too intimate, and we ‘are not dating,’ so sex is the only thing we do. Sex, and if you still have leftover antsy energy, you pull on his shirt and sit up against the headboard to finish a crossword puzzle. Sometimes he helps you, but most of the time he’s just there to press lazy kisses to your hair and temple, cheekbone and jaw—never your lips.

“You don’t kiss?” Pierre’s genuinely shocked. “Putain, you’re a hero. How does that even work?”

“We just do not kiss. We fuck, but no kissing.” He shrugs. “It’s always been that way.”

“So how about her birthday?”

“She doesn’t…” Charlex exhales tightly. “Remember.”

“Charles,” you suddenly say, head appearing into the doorway. “Oh, hey. Fred said you might be here. What are you guys talking about?”

“Sprint racing,” Pierre says, an easy lie.

Charles, though, is never good at the lying bit. “International tariffs.”

—

Your only memories of your seventeenth birthday are applying lip gloss and mascara, wearing your shortest skirt and tightest top, and reciting your supposed date of birth in line like a mantra. Anything after that’s been sprayed off by the ultra-clutch strength of vodka. Which, you’ve been told, was your drink of choice.

“Headache’s better,” you moan over the phone, face squashed onto your pillow. “Mum gave me an Advil but I was so sick all morning.”

“Did you snog anyone?” Charles is always teasing.

“God, I wish.” You shut your eyes and try to remember if your drunken stupor had somehow managed to get you successful in lip-locked matters. Nothing comes up and you wipe a dry hand over your face, heaving a sigh. “I really wanted to kiss Matthew but I think he left before you and I did.”

A pause. Then Charles clears his throat. “You mean you and me and the police car that escorted us home?” He snorts.

“You’re such a prick!” You scream into your pillow, laughing. “I already thanked you for being my literal savior last night.”

He smiles to himself. “You’re welcome.”

“Did you have fun?” You flop onto your back and stare at the stick-on stars on your ceiling. You make a mental note to try and remove them.

“Bit boring because I vowed not to drink at all, but I got to dance. Bitter with the sweet, right?”

—

“Nervous?”

“I mean, fuck, yeah.” You fix the hem of your dress, speaking to Giada through the phone. “Pascale’s waiting for us on the paddock. And so are, like, a hundred photographers.” You wince. “Can you even imagine Charles and me? It’s just—I dunno—it’s weird.”

“It isn’t,” she says, laughing. “Not really. It makes sense. Plus, aren’t you on the whole arrangement?” You envision her air quotes.

“Yeah, but”—you slip your sandals on—“it’s on and off, and that’s not dating. It’s sex. Two different things.”

“Is it really, though? Considering how close you are outside of bed, aren’t y—”

“Okay, input no longer needed,” you laugh. “Bye, Gi. I’ll text you later.”

You reunite with Charles just by the paddock entrance. The throng of fans holding cutouts and posters notice you two before anyone else does, inciting a collective bout of yells around the both of you. He notices your blue silk dress first, eyes unmoving. “You look like the sky.”

“Thanks, man.” A beat, and you squint through your sunglasses. “That’s a compliment, right?��

“Sure.”

“Prick.” You peek over them and to the fans, who wave more aggressively when they notice you’re looking. Nervously, you raise a hand and wave back, and the noise heightens. “I think I’m going to be replacing you.”

“Dream on. On y va?”

You turn back to him, smiling, and you both enter at the same time. His hand wraps around your waist, dips a bit lower to rest at the small of your back as you walk—the fans clearly dig it, because everyone’s yelling in a frenzy as you depart. What are you doing, you ask through your smiling teeth.

“Did you forget we’re supposed to be dating?” He maintains an equally pleasant (totally duplicitous) façade, smiling.

“I didn’t think,” you say, still smiling falsely, “that you’d put your hands on me five minutes into the whole agreement.”

“Smile, honey,” he teases. “I see at least five cameras at us right now.”

“It’s seven,” you beam. “Dumbass.”

“Again with the competitive streak.” memory

“I totally deserved to win last week’s game. You’re just a sore loser.”

“No you’re just a—hi, hi, hello!”

Your walk to the motorhome is interrupted by running into a friend of Charles’—someone from McLaren, one of the executives there. While Lando has been informed of your stunt, nobody else on that team has.

They handshake and he waves at you politely. “Whole paddock’s buzzing with news of you dating,” he says, smiling. “It’s a tad crazy! I remember seeing you as Charles’ plus one back when he was in Formula Two. And now you two are dating. How did—well, if you don’t mind me asking, where’d it all happen?”

“Oh,” you say, laughing. “Yeah, Monaco.”

“Texas,” Charles says at the same time.

Alarm bells go off in your head at the totally random, unwarranted statement out of Charles’ mouth. Texas? Neither of you have even ever been at the same time. “He means”—you say, coughing and nodding—“we went on this, um. Wild West themed, um, restaurant in Monaco, and that’s where he asked me out.” You make a face that you hope conveys you get it, and it seems to work.

“Definitely not what I had in mind, but if it worked, it worked, eh?” He grins. “I guess I always knew you two would end up together. Alright, ciao!”

You’re smiling and waving after him as he leaves, and then you’re (semi) alone again, or at least within your own space on the incredibly crowded paddock.

You turn to him, unable to hide your confusion. “Um? Texas?! What’s up with the backstories?”

“It slipped out! Sorry. But nice save.”

“You’re so f—” You try to scold him, but can’t, bursting into laughter and leaning forward to laugh into his chest. “Texas, really?”

“Sorry,” he says. You feel the vibration of his own laugh through his chest and it’s warm and nice. You peel yourself off lest you look too clingy, and resume your walk to the motorhome.

Ferrari is crowded, filled with people and strategists and guests. You’re given a bottle of water and then hounded with questions from the team who haven’t been informed of the situation at hand. David, one of the engineers close to Charles who you’d previously spoken to in one of the earlier races, asks to borrow him.

“Ciao, ciao.” They speak in one of the outdoor patio areas. “Is everything okay?”

“The car is fine. I just wanted to ask about the girl.” David punches his arm, playful. “You finally got her!”

“Oh.”

“It’s just… I remember all the times she would show up and you’d tell me about how much you liked her… I don’t know, it’s perfect for things to end up like this, no? Bravo!”

“Oh, si. I’ve just been, you know…” He looks through the glass sliding door and into the hospitality, where you’re talking to Isa and Carlos, sunglasses over your hair. Your hands are moving quickly, and you’re smiling while talking. He wonders what you’re so passionate about. When you’re caught in fits of happiness and passion, you’re extra animated. Your eyes are lively, and your lips can’t stop curling into a slight beaming smile. Now, maybe it’s France, maybe it’s crossword puzzles, slim chance it’s your job—whatever it is, he could watch you talk like this for hours. He thinks it’s beautiful, the way you transform, the way you smile, when you talk of things you absolutely love.

“… crazy about her forever.”

—

There are banners, Italian flags, and Charles’ face on every other wall. He’s done his first hat-trick of the season (of several more, you’re hoping). You’ve foregone the usual clubbing for dinner with a smaller group of people, but only because you’ve been told the nightlife is bleak and you’d rather save that energy for the next race.

Lando picked out the restaurant—he’s “on a massive Yelp high” trying to get the best restaurants in every city they get to. He’s tried two over the weekend, and is hoping this guns for first place. The restaurant’s name is long and so very Italian, to the point where your semi-fluency fails you. The food is amazing, though, and so is the wine—a whole other level of grape-flavored bliss.

You’re in-between Joris and Charles, nursing your fourth glass while Charles downs a bottle of beer. Light conversation flows through the table, but your sleepiness only allows you to hear some of it. You’re content with the white noise.

Lando is getting a new cat, Lewis bought a new pair of shoes—oh, no, shares in the company that makes the shoes—Joris bought the shoes, Lorenzo will now buy the shoes, why isn’t anyone paying attention to Lando’s cat. It’s funny, entertaining, and the perfect nightcap to your immensely exhausting day of acting.

Wine tipsy makes you loopy and snoozy. By default, your head lolls onto Charles’ body; he immediately wraps a sweater-clad arm around your frame, leans back, pulls you closer. Doesn’t miss a beat. In fact, while doing so, he’s even able to get a dig in against Lando’s affinity for cats.

“No more wine, m’kay?” He whispers quietly, angling his head to yours.

“Oh, but it was so good, though.” You mope, but nod in agreement. “I could seriously drink wine out of a keg here.”

“Sure did that a lot with beer.” You laugh, punching his bicep with what little space you’re given. “You sleepy?”

“Yeah. But I’m fine,” you respond, smiling. “Now shut up. I need to know what happened to Lando’s cat.”

Lewis leaves first, claiming he’s into this whole “sleeping at 9PM” thing, and Lorenzo follows to get ahead of an early flight tomorrow. It’s you, Joris, Charles, and Lando now, and you’re good as dead, eyes half-shut and fluttering, head slipping off his shoulder.

How was it? Lando asks, lowering his volume to keep from being too jarring. Day 1, fake dating? I actually read something like this in one of those, um, fanfiction stuff the fans do. Joris and Charles cast him a half-weirded out, half-amused pair of looks, but Lando defends himself. They’re actually pretty good, guys. I read one where I ended up with my rival or summat.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Lando,” you croak, voice raspy with sleepiness and a day of bubbling laughter, “but Charles and I probably didn’t do your fanfiction kink justice.”

“Ignoring the emasculation.” He says, turning beet red. “What’d you do, then? Wasn’t it hard?”

“It was hard, but it’s like that.” Charles likes to substitute the phrase it is what it is to it’s like that, a result likely stemming from his trilingual childhood. “We just. Pretended. Oi, we held hands in front of the cameras.”

“Yeah, you can get a good wank in if that does it for you,” you joke. Lando hurls a cube of parmigiano at your face; it lands squarely and you flip him off, the table erupting with peals of laughter.

“In all seriousness, though—how are you two okay with this? I know I’d be second guessing my feelings every second.”

You shift, trying to hide your obvious lack of answer. It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then Charles says, “We’re both comfortable with each other, I think.”

“Yeah, comfortable enough that we can, you know, be honest.” You’re looking at Lando when you say that. You don’t know how well you could repeat the sentence if you were looking straight into Charles’ eyes.

You leave the restaurant with a generous tip, and Charles helps you pull your coat on when you’re out the door, back into the chilly night air. It’s then that all four of you catch news via text, of a club invite somewhere in the city.

“It’ll be fun, guys.” Joris and Lando stand in front of you and Charles, bumbling with excitement. “I heard Lil Tjay is going to be there.”

“It sounds very fun,” you say, smiling, “but I might pass out if I drink anything other than water, and I have zero energy. You three go ahead.”

“Wh—no, I’m not going, either.” You raise an eyebrow at Charles. “Serious! I wasn’t in the mood much, anyway. Joris, take Lando’s car and we’ll take mine.”

“Alright,” Lando whistles. “Suit yourselves, agoraphobes.”

“Joke’s on you”—Charles smiles, smug—“I don’t know what that means.”

“Not the dig you think it is, Charles,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Night, Joris, Lando. See you guys tomorrow. Use protection!”

“Should be saying that to you guys,” quips Joris with an evil grin that he closes the car door on.

The climb into the car feels like a chore in itself with how tipsy and sleepy you’ve become. Charles likes to bring his Ferrari to race weekends, but you convinced him to use a different car for this one, because you honest-to-God can’t stand the low seats anymore.

“You want dessert?” He asks when he’s rounded the car and settled into his seat. “Gelato, a cone, biscotti…”

“No, no,” you say, voice thin. A palm covers your shutting eyes; blindly, you reach for his hand. It’s easy because he sees you searching and takes your hand to cut it short. “I’m good. So sleepy. Can I sleep at your hotel room?”

“Sure.” He starts the car, waves to the wait staff idle by the entrance, and drives off. “How was the day as my fake girlfriend? Anyone ask about me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, flickering his gaze to your figure beside him. “Wasn’t too tough, I hope.”

Imola whizzes by, trees and city, and a poorly stifled yawn escapes your lips, wine stained. You laugh sleepily. “It was a bit awkward, but bitter with the sweet, right?” He smiles, nodding, and you continue. “Yeah, few strategists, some people who knew you from Prema. I was talking to Isa and Carlos, too, earlier. Even if they know it’s fake.”

He recalls seeing you talk to them through the glass. “About?”

“You.”

—

The sun is merciless on the clay courts, and so are your shoes, shuddering against the surface in your continuing attempt to beat the opposing team. Charles cowers behind you—he’s scored less than half of your points thus far—but you’re on a mission, like your competitive self always is when you’re put in a position to be able to win.

You’re two points down now, and the noontime is becoming increasingly itchy and unforgiving; across you both, Giada and Joris call a mutual time out. “That’s not allowed!” You say, petulant.

“This is a practice session,” Charles says gently, nearing you. “Mate, none of us are actual players.”

You wipe sweat off your forehead. “Right. Désolée. I’m just—I’m in the zone.”

“Ouais, I get it. Relax, m’kay? We got this.”

You shake yourself off and hop a few times, skirt bobbing by your waist as you go. Your braid bounces on your shoulder and you nod, turning your racquet over in your grip.

Charles pings the ball hard and it soars over to land just shy of the line, seemingly scoring a point for you two and securing your win. Giada and Joris chime in with protests, claiming that the ball’s out. You throw your hands up in question.

“Okay, what? That was clearly a point!”

“Snoops, I think they might be right. The ball looked out to me,” Charles says, wrapping a sweaty arm around your red shoulders.

“What are you talking about, Charlie? That ball was in! I saw it!” You elbow yourself out of his grip, aghast.

“How about…” He suggests quietly. “We let them win? You did win the last”—he pauses to count—“five sets. Come on, Snoops. They need this. Bitter with the—”

You take a deep breath, staring into his eyes. “Fucking sweet, right, okay. Fine, fine.”

Charles thinks he’s in the clear and he’s managed to extinguish your flames of frustration—that is, until you walk into the Leclerc household for lunch an hour later and, after greeting Pascale and Hervé, you point squarely to the jar on the kitchen counter. “Five euros.”

He splutters. “Five? Wh—non, non! I was trying to calm you down.”

“You were blind and gave Giada and Joris a fake win,” you say playfully.

“Saluuut,” Lorenzo greets, sitting at the stool beside yours. “Quoi de neuf?”

“Charles has five euros for the jar.” The jar, the infamous jar, sometimes dubbed the Dumbass Jar when Pascale’s out of earshot. It was Lorenzo who first made it up after three straight instances of Charles pulling a push door (three different establishments).

Arthur’s joined in at this point, but its biggest indirect donors are definitely Lorenzo and Hervé, who view it as just about the funniest thing in the world. Out of pity, you don’t call dumbass too often, but the tennis loss is bruising enough that you warrant the usage.

“You heard Snoopy. Five euros. We’ll be able to get milkshakes with this money after next week.” You high five. “At this rate, Charles, you could open a restaurant in Paris.”

“He’s going to race,” you correct. You both watch a begrudged Charles junk a bill into the nearly-full jar. “What race driver is going to open a restaurant?”

—

You meet Yuki Tsunoda on a flight to Nice. You’ve seen him several times before, not too frequently but enough that his name and face are familiar on your mind. Also a personality trait that Pierre would bring up in fond conversations with you and/or Charles: he loves food, apparently.

“Yuki’s volunteering AlphaTauri to be your hideout,” Pierre tells you and Charles, across him.

Turns out, the hardest part (insofar) of this whole schtick: the officially appointed paddock photographers are being extra sneaky with it, finding the best vantage points to snap pictures of an unwitting you and Charles.

They’re like hawks, watching for even the slightest glimpse so they can post the photos on Instagram and get clicks.

So, just a few hours earlier, Charles asked if there was a place you and him could talk if needed where photographers wouldn’t be awaiting you already, and this was the answer.

“If it’s too much trouble, feel no need to… you know.”

“Nonsense.” Pierre smiles goofily and Yuki pokes him to stop, pausing his session of eating a quesadilla (where he’d even acquired it, you’re clueless). “Yukino would be happy to.”

The flight lands and the drive to Monaco is infected with notoriously slow traffic; you pop an Advil to try and alleviate the motion sickness. Pierre and Yuki, it seems, have joined you even outside of the flight. They’re in the backseat offering bits of conversation.

“Oh, mate, we should totally play tennis while we’re here.” Pierre sighs. “Didn’t you guys play before?”

“Mmm, yeah,” you mumble with a lilt of amusement at the memories from basically a decade ago. “At the country club. Doubles always, otherwise I’d knock Charles out of the park.”

“Hey, I won a couple times!” He protests weakly. “Like… twice.”

You laugh out loud. “Anyway, Pierre, do not bring me into tennis. I get all competitive and develop anger issues.”

“I had to calm her down twice a set,” Charles says; you swat him lightly to silence him. “Still do.”

“You know, if the Dumbass Jar still existed,” you say cuttingly, “I swear I’d be able to buy off Ferrari with that money.”

—

Monaco is swelterinly hot today. You know this because you know the weather here, you know the curves and ups and downs of it—this is your home. And today is hot. Every few minutes a breeze filters through the air and you can hear journalists or PAs sigh a collective breath of relief before they’re all subjected to the inane, high-degree weather again.

It’s also, according to Arthur, a good day to kiss in front of the cameras. He says it easily over a plate of sliced kiwi, with a devious smile, because he assumes your friends-with-benefits arrangement equates to constant kissing. But the truth is you’ve never kissed Charles, and it intimidates you.

“Do we have to kiss?” You play with his bracelets, sitting beside him on the sofa. The talk of kissing entertains the thought of sex and you can’t help but mentally complain at the remembrance that you haven’t gotten laid in weeks.

“If you don’t want to—”

“I do.” You splutter, eyes going wide, face warm. “No! I mean I don’t mind. If it sells the thing.”

“D’accord, then we will.” He smiles. “That okay?”

“Sure. First kiss,” you say. Your voice feels as clammy as your hands.

“First.” He looks away.

You take your woes off the kiss by playing a friendly round of tennis with your favourite opponents, Giada and Joris. They bemoan your competitive nature (that, to be fair, allots you and Charles three straight wins), and Giada incites a protest for a girls versus boys round.

You both embarrass Charles and Joris, heckling them as you win another two straight games. Charles runs over to you when you throw up the L sign on your hand, lifting you up and making you squeal.

“Put me down, loser!”

Giada and Joris exchange a look. Amused, knowing. “Charles! You’re such a cunt.” You kick hard, and manage to snag his abdomen, so he gently places you onto the clay again. He laughs and paces back over to his side, and you play with the tail of your braid as you watch.

You play set after set, but the kiss comes anyway. When you know photographers can see you—by the entrance—and it happens faster than your mind can muster. He’s leaning in, you’re reaching up, and your mouths slot together. It’s—and it feels crazy to say it, but—

It’s perfect. It’s lovely. You smile against his lips like they belong there and like they’re familiar and yours and like maybe this is all you’ve ever wanted, and like they deserve the smile, because they do. You feel your need to pull away before you can’t help but keep him tethered to you always. It’s strange and it’s not platonic—you’re mature enough to admit that, but not enough to label exactly what it is.

You spend the day with your fingers pressed to your lips, like you’re sealing the memory. Hours later, Charles wins. There’s massive uproar and you’re in the crowd when it happens, in the sea of strategists going to congratulate him on winning Monaco, which—that’s—it’s winning Monaco. Your ears ring by the end of it and your throat’s dry from your own cheering. Carlos comes in second, and the outlook for their team is going much better than it’d been at the start of the year, so there’s a lot to celebrate.

And celebrate you do. It starts with being pinned up against the door, hungry kisses along your jaw and neck. One kiss, it seems, has broken the dam from the few years you’ve spent abstaining from the kissing. He’s just finished interviews. He’s only just changed into his polo, and now he’s tugging it off again, feverish.

This is rushed and dirty, down low and dark. Only one light’s been switched on and he’s hiking your dress up, panties down with one hand to tug his cock out with the other. He’s kissing you—kissing you stupid, almost. Like he’s waited forever to taste your lips and now he’ll starve if he’s away for just a moment. He needs you. So have me, you want to say, all of me, push me up against the wall again and cover my mouth with your palm. Or don’t, don’t—so everyone knows I’m yours.

He presses your chest against the wall so your back’s turned to him, thrusts in with a breathless, throaty grunt.

“S’ big,” you’re saying, clawing at words the pleasure bars you from finding.

“Barely even in,” he whispers. “Slow down, baby, come on, take it.”

Your toes curl. You’re high on the win, on the kissing, on Charles, on the slow delicious stretch of his cock. “I’m taking it, I’m taking it,” you say, shaky. He thrusts, slow and deep and dirty, until he’s bottomed out and you’re tiptoeing from the overwhelm.

“I feel you,” you’re whimpering, moans and gasps leaving your mouth. You blindly search for his hand, find it against your hip, drag it to your abdomen, under your dress that he hasn’t even fully removed. “I feel you there,” you say, an edge of teasing to your voice.

His cock’s bulging, almost, out of your stomach, and it’s getting you both all lightheaded. He thrusts harder, a devious smile felt against your neck.

I need it, Charles, you plead, please, please fuck me harder. You feel it coming, the familiar pleasure intensifying so quickly—you don’t usually cum so early, he’s always making you wait for it—pussy squeezing around him.

Jesus, already? He’s groaning but a laugh escapes, breathy and amused and taunting. He’s fucking you harder, faster. It’s so good, each hit getting you closer. Taking me so well, you’re bruised all over now, baby. You hate how well he knows what turns you on; memories of mornings post-sex spent inspecting the purple marks on your hips flash through your head and you’re even closer now, shaking, whimpering, begging.

You’re half-sure someone can hear, but it doesn’t even phase you. Harder, deeper— and you’re collapsing, legs spasming uncontrollably, orgasm so intense it’s on the brink of totally hurting. Tears roll down your sweaty face and he kisses them away, cumming onto your back to wipe off in a few minutes.

“I never even”—you pant, tired—“got to say congratulations.”

“That was more than enough.”

—

Charles is elated when you tell him his family has thrown a party for him the day next. He’s boyish in that way, optimistic and kiddy, the kind of person who’s up at five-thirty to announce their own birthday.

He drives you both to his childhood home, a route so familiar he could drive with his eyes closed. (“I hope you’re not driving closed-eyed,” you’d warned.)

Even if he could, anyway, he’d rather not. The scenery of Monaco is stunning, ever-changing, and he never tires of it—the buildings, the skies, the trees and shrubbery, stores lining the streets, clean entrances.

And you—in the passenger seat, humming softly to a song of his choosing. Drives are always better when you’re in the passenger seat.

The turnout is generous: extended family, and several friends from school. There’s bowls of fruit, salad, plates of salmon and racks of lamb, knobs of butter with warm bread. Pascale commands the kitchen—visible in how she leaves it cluttered with bowls, ingredients, whisks still dripping with syrup or batter, spoons licked for tasting. The good kind of clutter.

Lorenzo has also taken reign of the AUX, because it’s 70’s music playing, which is what he’s fond of for family gatherings like these. It’s My Cherie Amour now, Stevie Wonder mellowing across the lawn and into the house.

Charles knows you love the kitchen as much as his mum does, so when you get to the house, he’s not surprised to see you leave him in favor of checking out what damage has been done to your favorite marble countertops. He watches Pascale turn from the gas range, her eyes lit when she sees you, inviting you into an embrace.

You look like the song playing, pretty and lovely, breeze in the summer. He almost loses himself in thought before his great-aunt Eden places two bony hands on his arms and greets him in feeble Italian.

He flits his eyes away from you, if just briefly, and faces the woman with a smile on his face. “Ciao, zia,” he says, voice buoyant, happy. “You came here to see me, no?”

All five-foot-one of her shakes in disagreement. She wags a finger for extra measure. “No,” she says. “Sono venuto a vedere la tua ragazza.”

His eyes widen. “She’s—” He pauses. He debates telling Eden you’re not actually his girlfriend, that this was a setup to appease Pascale and, by extension, tifosi. But he backtracks.

He shouldn’t, but he gives in, lives out his dreams for a bit. “Ah, she’s over there, zia. Con mamma.” He points to the open door, and to you on the far end of the room inside, holding a spoon. “Beautiful, yes?”

“Molto,” she says proudly. “You marry her?”

Fact: his great-aunt has the worst memory. She forgot Charles’ name twenty times, let alone niche facts like this one. Another fact: she rarely shows up to family events. Maybe now, because it’s a racing thing; but baby showers and funerals, she’s at home. So he indulges a bit more.

“Si, we’re engaged. But—it’s a secret, zia.” He grins. “Non dire a nessuno. Okay?”

“Sei fidanzato?!” She claps once, excited. “Ay, Charles. I waited my whole life for this moment, si?” And she’s wobbling away, still muttering under her breath.

—

“How is my son?” Pascale’s voice is teasing. She sighs happily. “For years I wondered if this would happen. And it really is.”

“Oui, sure is,” you sing-song, laughing a bit awkwardly. “We’re—he’s okay. We’re great. In love.”

“Oh, in love,” she swoons. She leaves you, after fifteen more minutes of detailed discussion, with half a spoonful of vinaigrette to taste-test, departing to check on the guests for a few minutes. In her place arrives Lorenzo, already bearing a shit-eating grin. “Saluuut.”

“Mmm, good to see you, too.” You taste the liquid and add lemon to the bowl. “How’s wedding planning?”

“Think we’ll throw a shower. Is that pretentious?”

“No,” you say, mulling over it. “Sure, a bit. But just don’t make it a whole thing, you’re golden.”

“I see.” He sighs fondly. “You know, many a conversation we’ve had right here at this counter. About anything.”

—

You loosen your school tie, slicing an apple like you so often do, waiting for Charles’ karting practice to end. Pascale had fixed you a bowl of something, Hervé a glass of orange juice. And somebody else would always, without fail, steal your food. A hand swipes two slices form your chopping board and your head whips up.

“Lorenzo!” You stomp your foot. “Stop stealing! That is my apple.”

“You mean the Leclercs’ apple.” He laughs, pops another slice into his mouth, smiling.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. The braid beside your head shakes with it as you continue slicing it into perfect quarters. He pipes up again: “How was school?”

“Shit, as usual.” You lower your voice and smile, leaning in. “Pascale scolded me earlier, for saying that word.”

“Did Papa?”

“Obviously not. He fist bumped me.” You share a laugh, both chewing on apple slices now. “Anyway, I aced a math test, had aubergine for lunch… got driven here by Charlotte’s mum.”

“Charlotte?” Lorenzo hums conspiratorially, making a mmmm sound. You look up from the yellow chopping board, furrowing your eyebrows. He persists: “Mmm. Cha-r-lotte.”

“What’s up with Charlotte?” Bit impolitely, you ask, in-between chews.

“I think she likes Charles, a little.” You nod slowly, trying to follow. Charlotte liking Charles. Your Charles. Wait, no. Not your—or nobody’s, really. Just Charles. Yeah.

“What? Bull!” You narrow your eyes. “Says who?”

“Why do you care?”

“Wh—I don’t!” You squeak, caught. “Just… I think I’d know, Lorenzo.” You make a tch noise, crossing your sweater-clad arms. “So—says who?”

“I saw her leering at him during his birthday party.”

“You’re wrong,” you say, but you don’t really know who you’re convincing. He reaches over for an apple slice, and you move the chopping board out of the way sharply.

“Mon dieu, you’re snappy. Fine, fine. I might be wrong,” he relents, shrugging. He gets up and slides beside you to be able to acquire more slices. “I talked to her during the party, too.”

“Weirdo,” you tease, allowing him to take a few more. “About Charles, yes?

“No, about her brand new dress.”

“You’re the funniest Leclerc brother, I assure you.”

“She told me…” He says, louder this time, shushing you effectively. “She told me she ‘finds Charles cute.’” Air quotes, shrug. “But that they ‘probably won’t’ date.”

“Huh. Did, um. Did she say why?” You play with the tail of your braid, shuffling back and forth on your flats. You don’t know why you’re so fidgety—you aren’t nervous, you don’t think.

“Because…” he says, chewing to allow for a pause. “She said every time she looks for Charles to try and ask for time alone, or on a date, or something, he’s already following you around like some puppy.”

—

You comb your hair into a bun and venture into the patio, having avoided a good chunk of the noon heat. You greet some relatives politely along the way, and receive a hand squeeze from great-aunt Eden. At one of the tables is Charles, beside Joris and another friend, and Giada and Charlotte across them, an empty seat beside the latter.

You seat yourself in it and Giada kisses your cheek. “Hey. Ça va?”

“Fine,” you say, smiling. Then you lower your voice to a whisper. “Do you remember when I told you about my crush on Charlie? For the first time?”

“Yeah,” she whispers back. “Around… 2013.”

“Ouais. And… and it disappeared after that,” you say. “Right?”

“You said it did,” she says. “A year later. When we were sixteen.”

“Right.” You think. Seventeen onwards—you’d never formed a full-fledged crush on Charles. “Okay. It’s nothing. Just a memory. I was just. Yeah, oui.”

“Oui, let’s eat.” The memory fades and so does your running mind. Charles’ eyes meet yours across the table, and suddenly you feel a little less like your thoughts have ripped you open.

—

When you and Charles were younger, you adopted the adage “bitter with the sweet.” Charles will have people believe it was made by the both of you, with philosophical minds stretched so far beyond their years. Well, revisionist history. The truth lay in the Carole King song of the same name you’d heard on the stereo.

Those are the exact words Charles tells Ted when he’s interviewing for the Spain Grand Prix. It’s a hot day and you’re especially doubled down on by the fact that he’s finished ninth.

You’d been fake-dating for the cameras all weekend. At all costs, you try and avoid interviews, but the damned Drive to Survive producers insist on a soundbite and start following the two of you around everywhere (only to find your conversations sound very weird and niche, and not scandalous or sexy).

Pascale also called—Charles first, and when he didn’t check his phone, you. You spent an hour on the phone just talking about the race. About the penalties and the nasty headlines that followed, and just everything.

“I’m glad you’re there,” she says. “God knows he needs you.”

You end up biking to try and relieve the stress, posing with fans for pictures.

“I’m such a big fan. I stalk Charles’ Insta like, all the time, and it’s crazy how you guys are dating.” A teenaged girl laughs nervously. “Where’d it happen?”

“Texas!” He, again, tries out the bit to appease the fans but you have to extinguish the flames of his blatant lies.

“He’s kidding,” you interject. “It’s just—it just happened, really.”

How does something just happen? Someone told you once, in a Paris bar, that love is like an echo. It’s always there, in the underbelly, underneath it all, and then one day it echoes, like a bass drum or a cymbal. And the echo—the echo is you feeling it. You feel the echo, the all-encompassing echo, even if the love itself’s been there all along.

With Charles, it’s out of the question. You love him. He’s your best friend. You trusted him before you even learned what trust meant, for Chrissake.

How could you not love him? That seemed impossible. The love was there. The love’s always been there and it’ll never go away.

It echoes at half-past-two in Barcelona, when he whips past you on his bike and says on your left. The breeze pulls your hair to the left, covers your face, and when you rake it away he’s stopped to check if he accidentally bumped you in his rush to look cool.

You’re creepily observant; you’ve been told this many times before. What people don’t know is with the observance comes even more questions. Ifs, whys, wheres, whens, hows, God the hows. The questions keep coming because there’s never an answer.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Green eyes glittering like a lake. Smile like the sun. Hair curly at the ends. “Did I hurt you?”

Then you realize. In the matters of love, every question—every single question. Every single one. The answer is Charles.

“Of course not,” you say. And you smile.

—

You almost drop your book in your rush to scurry past the paparazzi. They’re still busy on the two figures (Alex and Lily, you think) on another end of the paddock, which allows you only a few moments to try and evade them.

Others are stationed near the Ferrari hospitality, which means you’re going to need your hideout. Yuki had texted Pierre who had texted Charles who had told you that it was all clear to go there for a few minutes while waiting for the photographers to clear out.

Hurry, Charles is saying. Laughing. His hand’s gentle in yours. You want them there forever. You want to drag the tip of your nail over the barely-perceptible grooves of his fingerprints so he knows how much you need him.

The days post-Spain were spent biking, watching shows, listening to music, eating food. The travel to Canada—long, cold, compression socks. Pascale had called mid-flight to check on her “favorite pair”—you maneuvered yourselves into a much more cuddly position to appease her, and her giddy smile was incentive enough to stay that way for ninety minutes.

You’d been in a weird mental state trying to grapple with your rapidly returning and intensifying feelings for him, which have dawned on you all at once.

But he makes it better. You’re still laughing when you wedge yourselves in, eyes meeting.

And then you’re quiet.

The gaze you share is intense, but almost unsure, like you’re supposed to be looking away anytime now. You step backward shakily, and his hand moves from your waist to the small of your back to keep you from stumbling any further. You’re closer now. But this shouldn’t feel as strange as it does when you two have been in much more scandalous positions before—what’s different?

He’s so close, so so close, his green eyes looking right through you. You lean closer, ready to kiss him like you have before, ready to feel his mouth slot softly over yours, comforting and safe and Charles.

Funnily enough, it’s then that the illusion breaks, his grip loosening and the distance between you increasing. He coughs twice, awkwardly.

“Shit—sorry,” you say profusely, clearly having read the moment wrong. Embarrassment wells up in your system, warming your face. You laugh to diffuse the tension but it barely does anything.

“No, don’t—” He exhales, squeezes the bridge of his nose, trying to find words. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. I do.”

“So kiss me,” you suggest simply, looking around for anything that might stop him. The embarrassment ebbs away, replaced quickly by confusion.

“I don’t want to kiss you in an AlphaTauri stock room,” he mopes, burying his head in his hands in clear frustration. “An AlphaTauri stock room.” He repeats it in a hushed whisper, disbelief etched all over his pretty face.

“Charles,” you begin, smiling already, the quaint way that makes his knees go weak every time. “You’re acting like you and I haven’t kissed before.”

“This is different.” He says firmly, looking away lest he lean in involuntarily. He interjects with conviction, not realizing what he’s implying until the implication’s hanging in the air. The longing kills him softly, and he feels if he looks at you a second longer he’ll kiss you anyway.

It’s a wonderfully confusing feeling. You open your mouth to respond but you can’t; your brain tacks itself onto his sentence, the division created between the kisses before now and the kiss that might happen anytime soon.

“H…” you trail off, throat drying. Blinking, you try again, “How different?”

He looks up, eyes conveying all the things his lips never will. This is different. You know it. I love you this time.

The answer is exchanged and accepted wordlessly. You slip out of the room when Pierre tells you it’s okay to, and it’s only then—only then—that Charles’ hand leaves your body. You seem to burn alive with its absence.

It’s a Ferrari 1-2. You snap a thousand pictures with Isa and Carlos holding Carlos’ trophy while Charles is doing interviews, and they invite you to join them for the break. You’re open to it—the win, the good standings, they definitely warrant a celebration for the few weeks’ break. So your original itinerary is Portugal—beaches, coasts, food—but the jet re-charts a route and the flight is cut much shorter because you’re in New York City.

—

Somewhere in Manhattan, a wedding shower is thrown on an outdoor rooftop. “This is one hell of a wedding shower,” you squeal excitedly when you spot him, bringing Lorenzo in for a hug. Your yellow dress flows in the wind. “I thought you guys were going to throw it in Monaco?”

“Yeah, well… why not here, right? It’s beautiful.” He gestures to the skyline, smiling. “Plus, Charles, Arthur, and Mum were already near the country for work, so we got ahead of it. Everyone was happy to fly out.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I love it.” You beam. “I can’t believe it, either. When’s the final date?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the wind is knocked out of him by Charles barreling into his arms for a hug. You roll your eyes at the latter’s childish behavior, smiling despite yourself. They part and Charles finds his place beside you, arm snaking around your shoulders. “What a wedding shower!”

“Don’t flatter me, dipshit,” Lorenzo jokes.

“It’s a lovely one.” Lorenzo thanks him. “An amazing shower. You know, it’s a total golden shower!”

You purse your lips. “Charles—”

“A golden shower, mate. Absolutely.”

That garners at least three odd looks and you calmly place a hand on his chest to whisper don’t ever fucking say that again it means something completely different please don’t embarrass me or your brother.

For all your embarrassment, you make up for it in having the literal time of your life. The food is good, the city view is amazing, the weather is fair and the music—Desafinado now—is amazing. “I could see myself here,” you say offhandedly to Charles, who nods back with a faint smile. He’s half-distracted.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says, squinting from the sun in his eyes. “Very.”

You part ways at some point—Pascale whisks him off, no doubt for another long round of questioning about your relationship, and you meander around with a glass of champagne.

You’re halfway through swiping a mini quiche when a hand wraps around your wrist and squeezes to get your attention—Charles’ great-aunt Eden. She speaks only intermittent English, and your Italian fails to carry you through well enough, but you smile and greet her. “Ciao, Eden!”

“Ciao, bella.” She smiles. “Flight was long.”

“Oh, yeah. New York’s far. I might work here someday. I’ll hear results in around two weeks, but I’m hoping for London instead.” You slow your speech.

“When will you two wed?”

“Wed?” Your face warms and you stutter through a giggly mess of a sentence. “Oh, Eden—zia—no, no! We’re just friends.”

“My Charles told me you two are to be married.” You both crane your heads to the right, where Charles is leaning against the terrace railing talking to one of your friends, Matthew, animatedly. He meets your eyes, sees Eden beside you, and seems to connect the dots.

Jokingly, perhaps, he raises his hand and wiggles his empty ring finger. You can’t help but smile as you turn back to the old woman. “Oh, did he, zia?”

“Si, he did.”

“Well, we’re just going to let it happen, then. You’re invited. Front row.” You kiss her cheek and she smiles, wobbling off to drink more wine before any of the adults can stop her.

It’s announced then that the dance floor is open, and many of Pascale’s friends filter through to show off their moves to the 70’s music. You watch, amused, at the display of dexterity to Frankie Valli and Aretha Franklin. You cheer them on, content to watch them against the backdrop of the New York sunset.

When Ain’t No Mountain High Enough plays, the dance floor grows, because nobody can resist the song—not even Charles, apparently, who takes your hand without preamble and takes you, squealing, to the centre.

You sing each of the parts, like you always do when the song comes on. It’s semi-tradition at this point: you take Marvin Gaye’s, Charles takes Tammi Terrell’s. You both exaggerate your dance moves and pretend you’re performing.

His hand’s in yours, winding you around and pulling you close. At some point he starts robot dancing to entertain you. It works—you laugh out loud, your eyes half-shut and faced to the stars above. He could write a poem about this. Or a song.

The song ends and you lean onto his shoulder to take a breather—then the photographer swoops in and takes a picture. “That’s going into the RSVPs!” He says, accent unmistakably American.

“Does he know we’re not the couple here?” You ask.

Do we know we’re not the couple? Charles asks himself.

The night escalates as the “oldies” leave, and Matthew, Joris, and Giada join you both for one last round of drinks again. You’re all standing at the exit making conversation; Lorenzo attends to his friends at the other end of the terrace.

“I feel young again,” Matthew says, liberated by Tito’s vodka. He takes another swig and pulls his coat on.

“You’re twenty-five, calm down,” you joke. “Dodged that bullet.” You’re poking fun at the semi-massive crush you had on Matthew in secondary school, and a laugh passes through the four of you. “Anyway, you three be careful. No driving.”

“Jesus, but really—I haven’t been this drunk since you”—he points at you, laughing—“turned seventeen at that club, Amber? No?”

“Oh, God. Y’know, same.” You fail to notice Charles and Giada share a look. “I remember nothing from that night! Or, like, the first two hours at least.”

“I remember drinking my body weight because of heartbreak,” he jeers.

“Heartbreak? Were you—were you with anyone?” You ask, confused.

It happens before anyone can stop it. “No, when Charles kissed you. And you kissed him after. Alright, night mates! Lorenzo—merci!”

Oh, fuck, you hear in the back of your now-muddled brain. Giada’s voice.

You open and close your mouth. “Ch—wait, he—what?”

“I—let’s talk here,” Charles flounders, dragging you to a more secluded spot and facing you. The three of your friends exit; Giada waves, apologetic. “When… we were at Amber… and you were absolutely hammered, we kissed. It was twice—just twice. And you didn’t, um. Remember a thing.”

You’re unsure. “In Amber?” You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

“We… I don’t—I mean, I understand why you don’t remember. We kissed that night.”

“So that’s… Charles… You didn’t tell me.” Your voice quivers, like a wire flicked. “Why didn’t you say it at the time?”

He doesn’t give you an answer. He just looks at the counter, imagines the way your eyebrows furrow, your lips move, eyes glitter. He can’t give you one. He doesn’t want to hurt, disappoint, sadden you. He wants to get on his knees and root you here, so he’ll have all the time in the world to come up with an answer.

“Charles.” But he loves you, and he can at the very least be honest for you. “Look at me.”

“I was scared.” His eyes gravitate to yours.

“Of?”

“It felt stupid, is all. That you didn’t remember, and maybe you did but you were pretending you weren’t. I didn’t—it didn’t—sorry.” He laughs, stutters. “I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything because we didn’t have feelings for each other.” He pauses. “Then.”

“Well,” you say, slow. Eyes stuck to his. “How about now?”

“Now?”

“I love you, now. I mean, isn’t that all this is? Loving? Even if? De—despite of?”

And this—God. This is how it feels. He’s looking at you and you’re telling him you love him because you do, and finally he’s been over with reassurance.

You love him, too. That way. He trembles with it. His hands are shaky when they lace into yours, like you’re a shrine, a prayer, and he feels like maybe these are the emotions that swirl through the human body when one wins the lottery and gets struck by angry lightning at the same time.

This is it, he thinks. Profound and lovely and an echo of sweet memories. He’s yours. Here in a city unfamiliar to both of you, yet to be conquered, your fingers lace lightly and you smile, smile, smile at each other, as if you’re the last two people on Earth. He’s yours, so foolishly in love with you.

Even far from home, you’re both filled with warmth, with longing. Extended stares, pits of your stomachs welling up with something lovely in between homesickness and nostalgia. Here again, you again, us again—it’ll always be us again, your heart seems to say, surrounded by the same love the same hurt the same sad the same everything, you and me, all the love in the world, all the confusion, we’re here. It’s never over.

Across the terrace, Lorenzo watches. Two figures, laughing, emanating happiness, gentle unkowing love. You two have finally made it here, after what felt like a thousand trials and dreams and stories.

So even if you’re taller, in high heels and a yellow dress—and Charles is broader, in a suit and tie—Lorenzo thinks he can blink and see the two little kids who hosted a tea party in the backyard. He can blink again and see you hugging, eyes shut, his lips pressed to your forehead to convey the intimacy nothing else will do as well.

“So what now?” You ask. Again with the questions. In your defense—it begs so many follow-up questions. A love so many years in the making—layer after layer after layer—of course it begs all the questions, almost to the point of overwhelming capacity. What’ll we tell Pascale? The fans? The family? Everyone?!

But one look and he makes it better. His green eyes, bright against the deep black of the skyline. You’ve grown. You’ve done it. You’re here. “We’ll figure it out.” He smiles. “We deserve this kind of ending, don’t you think?”

—

“He has my name.” A tubby finger points to the boy on the greeting card. “That one.”

“And who’s the dog?” Asks the girl beside him, hair wound into a plait. She likes this boy. He’s cute. She plays with the end of her braid and stares, eyes flickering in-between him and the card they’re staring at.

“The name’s right there. They’re best friends.”

“Okay, that’ll be me.”

“So that’s us.”

“Oui.” She smiles. “Charlie and Snoopy.”

–

read an omitted scene here :)

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader

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tripleyeeet · 8 months

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I CARE FOR YOU (6)

SUMMARY: After an unexpected moment of intimacy, you admit your growing feelings for Astarion.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,768

WARNINGS: Fluff, cheesy gross rotten fluff filled with more realized feelings.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can't tell whether or not I hate this chapter so uh, please be nice to me. I'm very tired and just :')

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

You’ve been drinking for a while now. Sharing a bottle of ale Astarion had nicked off a merchant outside the myconid colony. While speaking to her about the issue of her missing husband, he somehow managed to snag it unseen, along with a couple of potions and some coins that he shared with you.

At first, you were surprised. Sure, you and Astarion had become increasingly close over the last few days, spending practically all hours conversating or plotting —overall just enjoying each other’s company. But he’d always been firm about earning your keep. Typically for him, what you earned was solely yours alone and vice versa but when you asked him about the merchant theft he just smiled and pinched your cheek, thanking you for the distraction.

It made you blush —uncontrollably so. The feeling of his fingers taught against your skin before their disappearance. As you moved alongside him, making your way back to camp, you had to compose the need to squeal, feeling your stomach flip while your heart wreaked havoc against your chest.

Now that you were drunk such feelings had subdued. Lost to the clouded headspace of inebriation that has you lazily staring at the fire, a small grin plastered across your face as you continue to drink.

Against your tongue, it feels warm and bitter, forcing you to smack your lips in slight disgust every time you swallow it down. “Gods, this is rancid,” you say, and Astarion nods, reaching for the bottle.

He tips his head back to let it cascade down, cringing ever so slightly. “I swear I haven’t had a decent drink in months,” he complains, passing it back —letting the tips of his fingers brush against the base of your knuckles in the process.

You roll your eyes, feeling that nervous jump of nerves hit your stomach before shaking your head. “That tends to happen when you’re camping beneath the surface.”

“It was shit before then too, I’m afraid,” he sighs. “Even at that grove party they were basically serving up bottled piss.”

“At least it was free.”

He shrugs knowingly, agreeing as he watches you take another sip; scrunching up your face in disgust. It’s not good by any means but it’s the first drink you’ve had in days —and again it’s free— so you try not to complain too much.

“I miss wine.” Snatching the bottle back, he takes another sip and groans, immediately giving it back. “Good wine.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had good wine.”

Immediately, he looks at you like you’ve just slain his mother. His eyes are wide and full of pain before they narrow to a point, prompting him to lean in close, peeling the bottle from your hands. “I’m sorry, what do you mean you’ve never had good wine?”

You shrug, reaching for the bottle only to have him raise it into the air, gripping the neck tightly. “Hey!”

“You grew up in Baldur’s, did you not?”

Ignoring his question, you roll onto your knees, placing a hand on his shoulder as you reach for the drink, groaning when he raises it out of reach again.

“What’s the best wine you’ve had?”

You grumpily move in closer, maneuvering one of your knees to rest between his outstretched legs, feeling his arm snake around your waist when you inevitably stumble from the alcohol. Audibly you gasp and look down at him, watching his lips twitch into a smirk.

“Give the bottle back, you ass!”

His fingers fan across the fabric of your shirt, applying a bit of extra pressure that has you fighting. Resisting the urge to give in as he pouts at your words.

“Ass? And here I thought you and I were starting to become friends.”

That feeling from earlier returns. The one where your stomach tangles up and your chest begins to ache, longing for something you know you shouldn’t even think to entertain. “We are friends.”

His brow shoots up. “Are we?”

Despite the constant attention you’ve been offering one another, you realize then that you’ve never actually discussed what the two of you are. How he makes you feel happy and loved and, above all else, safe. On more than one occasion you’ve thought about letting it slip. During the night when you wake up from your nightmares only to find him already lying next to you, you’ve thought about opening up.

It’d be hard. Seeing as neither of you is the type to fully express how you feel, the idea of verbally admitting that you care for him far more than you should could be detrimental. The kind of conversation that could potentially ruin everything you have going, knowing that he’s…

Well, he’s him. He’s guarded and cautious and deceptive. A man so unwilling to trust that even the simplest of gestures have you questioning his intentions. Wondering whether or not the side of him you get to see is truly real or not.

You assume in some cases it is. Mostly because no one else has offered you that kind of courtesy. The others are nice. They care for you in their own little ways but something about Astarion’s kindness is different. More developed. It isn’t surface level in the way that Shadowheart heals you after a tough battle or how Lae’zel offers to help you cut vegetables at dinner. There’s something else that lingers. Something warm and tender that makes your ever-growing feelings fight through the ongoing suppression of your mind.

A suppression that dwindles the longer you look at him —the longer you kneel, half straddling his thigh while your hands sit awkwardly in the air, begging to be touched.

“I mean, acquaintances don’t do the things we do for each other.”

You see his throat bob as he swallows. “And what sort of things do we do for each other, hm?”

His voice, despite sounding as confident as it usually does, feels different. Instead of teasing, there’s a genuine curiosity that forms, hanging onto every breath that filters through your lungs.

“Nice things.”

He scoffs. “Care to provide some examples, my dear?”

Instead of responding, you let your hands fall to his shoulders, feeling the sudden tenseness underneath your fingertips as you slide them up toward his neck and move forward. After that, there are still no words that are spoken. Only breaths that catch in your respective throats as Astarion’s thigh shifts towards the innermost parts of yours, pushing against you gently.

Pressing your lips together, you ignore the feeling that presents itself when he does that, focusing on his face. On the way, his mouth opens up with bated breath —the way his eyes soften and his other hand drops the ale and moves throughout your vision to place an even softer touch against your cheek.

Without even thinking you return his gesture from the other night, letting your lips press against his thumb as you close your eyes, realizing you want this. Whatever it is that he’s willing to offer. Whether it’s strictly friendship or more or even something in between. At this point, he could offer you the dirt beneath his feet and you’d take it. Bottle it up as a reminder of all that he’s done for you. All the words he’s said to make you laugh. All the hands he’s held to calm you down during your most anxious moments.

He could take and take and give absolutely nothing in return and you’d accept it with open arms if it meant you could stay like this. If it meant you could feel the brush of his thumb gliding back to cup your head and pull you down.

“I know you’re not the most articulate friend I have but I’d still appreciate a bit more effort.”

The sudden presence of his breath makes you open your eyes. Your foreheads are practically touching and by now your arms have fully tightened around his neck, further supporting your hold.

“I don’t know. I, uh, I suppose you care.”

“Do I now?”

“I think so.”

He hums. “What makes you say that?”

You purse lips, trying to wrap your head around the closeness of it all. The intimate touches mixed with the potential confession rising up your throat. “You do things that the others don’t.”

The hand that rests against the back of your head runs through the roots of your hair, gripping them slightly as he laughs. “You really are bad at elaborating, aren’t you, darling?”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin; not surprised that even in moments like this he still manages to withstand his arrogance. “I just mean that it feels like you actually care about me as a person rather than just another helping sword in a war.”

When he doesn’t respond right away you’re worried you’ve lost him. That you’ve scared him off somehow. Sometimes that happens when you’re in the middle of a conversation. Everything will be normal and somehow you��ll manage to fuck it up by asking something too personal, causing his retreat.

It hasn’t happened in a while. Not since that night, he held you in your tent but you still assume it’s coming based on the way his gaze shifts, moving from place to place —completely avoiding your eyes. Usually, that’s the first step when he separates. Either he’ll look away or his eyes will go out of focus, leaving you by yourself to wonder how to fix it.

Reluctantly you slip from his grasp, releasing his neck with shaky hands, feeling the way he tightens up but makes no effort to stop you.

“Sorry, I, uh, I know you’ve got your own… stuff going on.” You clear your throat, relaxing your hips against his thigh before you remember that you’re trying to give him space, prompting you to sit back up again. “Wouldn’t want to complicate that or anything.”

After that, there’s a nervous laugh that escapes your lips when you attempt to crawl off of him. One that grows the second the hand he still has on your back moves to grip your hip, pulling you back down with a rough tug. It forces the breath right out of you. Ripping through your lungs, it feels like instead of blood, Astarion’s taking your air, forcing your mouth to open in such a desperate way you almost whine out loud.

“I do care —for what it’s worth. Despite the complications.”

He says it so quietly you barely hear it against the crackling of the ongoing fire and the echoes of the Underdark. As it hits your ears, it sounds like the faintest whisper ever uttered. A quiet secret so safely tucked away that even the mention of its mere existence has you reaching for his face, cupping his cheeks with careful hands that wish to make sure he’s okay.

“You make me feel…” He trails off, letting out a frustrated sigh while closing his eyes.

You can tell then that he’s fighting the barrier. Allowing its presence to overthrow his thoughts, fearing what might happen if he’s honest. There’s a part of you that wants to tell him it’s okay —that anything he says will be cherished not exploited. Appreciated to the highest degree possible. But then there’s the other part. The one that knows that what you say doesn’t matter. That in the grand scheme of things, words are merely facades we tell each other to hide the truth.

You want to tell him the truth. More than anything you want to utter every hidden admiration over and over again until he believes you. Until he’s forced to hear the cadence in your voice breaking at the realization he believes that he’s untouchable.

“I care for you, Astarion.”

The words come out more broken than you intend. As it exits your lips, it’s coarse against your ears, making you internally cringe and close your eyes, taking a moment to breathe because you finally did it. You finally said something.

All you receive from it is a hum of acknowledgement. One that fails to give you any sort of relief.

At first, it shakes you. Makes you regret even thinking you could earn anything other than a snide remark. But then you open your eyes. And you see him. The way he’s staring at you with confused eyes and open lips, begging you for more.

“I don’t know what it all means yet. I just —I just wanted you to know that your friendship means more to me than you know.” You glide both thumbs across his cheeks, feeling the coolness of his skin wrap around the warmth of your own. “I know I don’t know a lot about your past. I don’t know how or what level it’s affected how you perceive your self-worth but I know you now. And I know that regardless of the shit you went through whether it was of your will or otherwise, that you deserve to be cared for.”

That you deserve to be loved.

By the time you’re done, you’re weightless. A feather of freedom dancing in the wind as it awaits its downfall.

Glancing between Astarion and the space behind him, you find there’s no regret in what you’ve just said. No fear of rejection. No shame for admittance. All that’s left is the feeling of relief. One that grows once you hear him clear his throat and pull you close, moving his forehead to yours.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says, but that doesn’t stop the smile that pulls at your cheeks.

“It’s okay. Neither do I.”

“I don’t know how to be what you want.”

You inhale heavily, looking down to see the worry grace his face. “Do you even know what I want?”

He opens his mouth but quickly stops, making you laugh.

“I want you, Astarion. That’s it. Whether it’s you at your best or you at your worst, I just want you.”

“Me.” He repeats it as a statement. As an affirmation that makes your stomach flip.

“I know you’re difficult to deal with. You’re stubborn and unforgiving and crass but I’m also incredibly patient.” You squeeze his cheeks, uttering patient through clenched teeth that make him snort.

“I’d argue that most of the time you’re not but—“

You shush him, earning yourself an eye roll. “I’ll wait for you. With you. If that’s what you want.”

And you do. Pressing yourself further into him, you breathe and wait, letting him piece together all the words you’ve just displayed. Letting him sit and process the weight of them all in the form of nervous fingers that tap your hips before they slowly begin to slide.

By the time they hit the centre of your back, he’s releasing his hold with one and snaking it beneath your outstretched arm to grab your face.

“Can I share something? With you?”

You nod your head and feel him pull you down, immediately slotting his lips over yours in a way you’ve never felt before.

Somehow it’s soft while still remaining hungry. Deep beneath the careful movements he inflicts, there’s a desperation that has both of you moving your arms to further wrap around the other, forcing your chests flush. Against your mouth, he breathes new life into your soul —ripping the old away as he nibbles the edge of your bottom lip, eliciting a moan that makes him grin.

“You taste better than I remember.”

Silencing him with another kiss, you move your hands to his hair, running your fingers along his scalp, feeling the way he shudders beneath your touch before pulling away.

Both of you are gasping for air then. Staring at one another with blown-out pupils that make you look away in embarrassment.

You’re not sure how to feel now. Before it was easy to pine —to think about the potentials and long for something more because it wasn’t real. It was merely a desire fuelled by curiosity so now that you have it, you have no idea what happens next.

“We should probably talk, right? About things?”

You can’t help but brush his curls from his face as he nods, giving you a knowing look that has you feeling worried he still might backtrack. “Things, as in?”

“The past. Both of ours. When you’re ready.”

Despite the reluctance you feel radiating off of him, there’s also a sliver of acceptance. An inkling of something new and warm that filters through as he nods his head, uttering a thank you before pulling you back in again.

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon @sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama @venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes @ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03

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#i care for you #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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storiesforthemoonchild · 4 months

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NYE Kiss | Alessia Russo x Reader

happy new year! this request, changed it a little... enjoy (18+)

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you. It’s almost midnight. Why are you sitting in here alone?” Alessia questions as she drops down beside you on the couch.

“Hey Lessi, sorry I just needed a minute.”

The annual New Year’s Eve celebration your families hosted together was in full swing. The loud conversations and music blaring through the speakers were overwhelming. It didn’t help that the never ending supply of alcohol had your head clouded.

A breather that was all you needed. A moment alone to regroup before you did one of the many stupid ideas floating in your head.

“You're drunk,” Alessia teases, bumping her shoulder against yours. Her eyes crease as she sends you a bright smile. “Lightweight.”

“Guilty,” you laugh along with her.

It doesn’t last because then Alessia’s scooting closer to you, “you’re alright though yeah?”

You hated it. Well you loved it and you hated that you loved it. The way your heart raced when she got too close or how you always fumbled over your words when she started showing too much interest in your wellbeing.

“I’m fine,” your gaze focusing back on the fireplace burning in front of you. Any second longer and those blue eyes would cause a mistake.

You were good at being Alessia’s friend. You could play that role very well and you have for the last fifteen years. It was when things got too serious you struggled. The way her eyes would bore into you with so much care and attention. Joking around was easy, feelings were hard.

“You are such a bad liar,” Alessia’s tone is gentle. She knew you were a closed book when it came to your emotions. You had to be or else you might say too much.

“I’m not lying. You are just nosy Less,” you try to lighten the mood.

Alessia’s head drops to your shoulder. Both of you staring off into the crackling fireplace. “Are you sad to be spending New Years here and not out kissing some rando?”

“No,” you laugh. This was her favorite game, guess what is wrong.

“So no rando? You are missing someone who you haven’t told me about yet? Wish you were kissing them?” You hate the excitement you can hear in her voice at the possibility of you seeing someone.

“No Lessi.”

“Tell me what it is,” she whines.

You laugh at the pout resting on her face, “there’s nothing wrong Less. I am happy, I just had a bit too much and needed a break.”

The answer seems to satisfy her as she nods. But as usual curiosity gets the best of her, “so there’s no one you want to be with right now?”

You were a steel trap when it came to your dating life with Alessia. She couldn’t help but question you.

“I’m exactly where I want to be with the only person I want to be with,” you say it softly almost like it wasn’t meant to be heard and you know it was too much when you feel her sit up. Her body shifting so she’s facing you.

“So you’ll kiss me then?”

The alcohol decreases your inhibitions, “I wish,” you mumble it out with a chuckle.

“Okay,” Alessia shrugs.

Silence between you and Alessia had never felt this awkward. You are watching the clock that hangs above the fireplace anxiously, waiting for the moment it strikes 12 and you can go. The countdown begins to be shouted from the other room.

5, 4, 3… you don’t hear anything after. Alessia’s lips are on yours. It takes you two seconds to kiss back, one second to get lost in it, and way too long to come to your senses.

The tender kiss sparked a flame that warmed your skin. Alessia’s hand stroking lightly against your cheek as yours sneak underneath her sweater, rubbing the smooth skin at her sides. What started as maybe an innocent celebratory kiss ignited into one of passion and desire.

“Wait, wait…” you take a breath, resting your forehead against hers. “We should stop Lessi.”

She shakes her head, pulling you back by the hand she still has against your cheek. It was always going to be a losing battle. You had wanted this for too long to truly stop yourself if she wanted it. The cheers outside become mute as all you can hear is your racing heartbeat in your ears. Alessia gets familiar with every inch of your mouth as you let her take control in fear she might realize what’s happening and pull away.

The kiss was more intoxicating than anything you drank tonight, a shameless moan falling from your throat and Alessia halts. Pulling away you both look in each other’s eyes and just as the fear is ready to set in she smiles, “lock the door.”

The logical part of you knows this is a bad idea for many reasons. One being the number of family and friends that are scattered about the other rooms of the house. Then there’s the almost certain fact that this will completely ruin your friendship. But, you aren’t thinking logically. No, you are thinking about how good she felt underneath your hands, her swollen lips, and her lust filled eyes.

“Quickly,” she urges you on, lifting her top over her head and it has you on your feet racing to the door. The click of the lock felt like the final confirmation that this was really happening.

Alessia is standing now, her skin glowing from the fireplace. She was beautiful, well she was always beautiful to you but this felt like the first time you could admit it.

“You’re beautiful Lessi,” she blushes as you reach out for her, connecting your lips again. You don’t hold back this time, kissing her with so much passion you fear she’ll be able to tell you’ve loved her for years.

A flurry of kisses left along her jaw and neck as you fumble with the button of her jeans, attempting to slide them down with your lips still attached to her. She gives you a hand shimmying her way out of them before reconnecting your lips.

Alessia grasps your hand as you go to tug the waistband of her underwear, “I- I’ve never…” You knew what she meant, “okay we can stop,” you assure her even though every part of you was now burning with lust.

“No, don’t stop. I just wanted you to know,” she whispers it like a secret between the two of you. She undresses you slowly until you’re just as bare as she is.

You grab the blankets off the couch spreading them out in front of the fireplace before pulling her down with you. You kiss at her lips, running your hands along her exposed skin. You remove the last few garments from her body and she helps you do the same.

You’re slow and gentle with every move you make. Soft kisses scattered across her chest as you look up to make sure she’s enjoying it before using your tongue to circle around each of her nipples. A moan escaping her lips as one of her hands tangles in your hair and the other pinches at your chest. “Lay back Less,” you take her in. Her curious eyes gazing up at you in a way you’ve never seen before.

Your lips are back against her skin to stop you from saying three words that’ll ruin this. She squirms as you kiss down her stomach and thighs. “Can I?” Your warm breath hitting against her core makes her moan, nodding readily.

Her eyes stay glued to you until you take the first swipe through her folds. The taste and feel of her against your tongue is indescribable. You moan causing her to buck her hips at the vibrations. Your hand finds hers and you grab hold as you work skillfully with your tongue.

Switching between entering her dripping center forcefully and licking at her folds. Alessia struggles to keep her moans quiet, making her pants sound whined. You watch as her face contorts in pleasure with each flick of your tongue, her hand gripping yours tightly. Finally, taking her clit in your mouth makes her bring the hand she was gripping at the blanket with to her mouth.

“K-kiss me,” she whines out, tugging your hand. You bring your free hand down to her entrance, slipping a single finger in slowly as you still suck at her clit. She tugs your hand again and you make your way up to her lips, swallowing the moan that comes the moment you enter a second finger.

Slow and deep you make sure she feels every bit of your fingers entering her. You whisper reassuring words into her ear as her head drops down against your shoulder, unable to keep up with the kiss she bites down harshly into your flesh. “Faster…,” she squeaks out in shallow breaths.

“You feel so amazing Less,” your skin feels hot in arousal. You pick up your pace, feeling how her walls pulse around your fingers. “Let go,” you urge her as her back arches and she sinks her teeth further into your shoulder to stifle the moan. Legs shaking before clamping shut around your wrist to stop your movements.

She wraps both her arms around you, keeping you trapped on top of her, “what was that?”

You don’t know if you should laugh or cry at the question. Letting your fingers finally slide out of her core she moans. You finally look up and see her blissful gaze, “just a New Years Kiss?”

“Happy New Year,” she smiles, kissing you like it was the most normal thing in the world. You don’t question it, allowing the peaceful moment to consume you for now. The time would come where the question game began again and you would have all your answers.

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut

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mariabtsos · 22 days

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Fool's Gold ||j.jk||

Description: when Jungkook’s prank goes horribly wrong, will he be able to win you back or will this be the end of you and him?

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Prankster!Jungkook x f!reader, established relationship, April Fool's prank gone wrong, angst, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, happy ending.

Warnings: small act of violence.

Word Count: 4.4k+

This was supposed to be Jungkook's best prank yet. It was supposed to make you laugh and maybe smack his chest a little like you always did with his pranks.

You weren't supposed to ghost him.

You and Jungkook had met back when you still had dreams of becoming an idol, you both entered Big Hit's trainee program at the same time and you became quick best friends. You both shared the love for pranks and would help one another come up with silly ways of pranking each other's members.

You would also be each other's emotional support through the evaluations, the cuts and the other's leaving. He still remembered the day his Hobi hyung decided he didn't want to continue, how you held him so tightly and encouraged him to go tell his hyung how badly BTS needed him, he remembered when they first debuted and their performances kept being cut short, and how you assured him that they would be the biggest kpop group one day.

He also remembered the day you told him you were quitting.

“They are not going to debut us Jungkookie, I don't want to wait forever for a chance,” you told him, your bags were packed behind you and your parents were outside waiting for you.

He didn't want you to leave, and at first he didn't understand why you were doing this. Once he grew older and faced the challenges he and his bandmates were faced with he understood, but he still missed you terribly. It took 4 years and a lot of pestering Bang PD but he finally got your home phone number and he called you as soon as he got it.

“Yln residence?” It was almost pathetic how quickly he recognized your voice.

“Ynie?”

Reconnecting with you had been the best decision he ever made, it almost felt like no time had passed, and feelings he'd been reluctant to ponder on resurfaced every time he went to see you.

Every meeting, every call, every text, all of it immediately made Jungkook’s days a little brighter and his feelings for you a little stronger. He wanted nothing more than to call you his, and so he took a chance and asked you out with a prank.

He’d taken you to do grocery shopping with him for the dorm, you noticed his RUN BTS! cameraman was there which was very odd. Jungkook then confessed to you that he had talked to the owners about a prank on the security person, where you would see how big of a purchase you could make and leave with and go unnoticed. “I don’t know about this one Jungkookie,” you gave him an unsure grin as you started to walk out of the store with a cart full of groceries, “We’ll be okay Ynie,” he waved you off.

Obviously you weren’t okay.

To say you were almost immediately stopped by the security of the store was an understatement, it was almost like he was waiting for you. You were immediately so stressed for Jungkook, you could already see the dispatch headlines “BTS’s JUNGKOOK found stealing at grocery shop with mysterious girl” and you could already see the death threats coming through your inbox for making the young idol get in such trouble.

You panicked and tried explaining to the security guard what had happened, and what you were doing along with Jungkook but it was a lost cause. “I’m going to need you to come with me sir,” the older man said quickly, putting Jungkook’s arms behind his back. You could feel the tears well up as you kept murmuring “I’m sorrys” to him as they took him to the security room. It only took a couple of seconds for him to come back out with a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“What the fuck are you doing,” you laughed inbetween sobs.

“I’ve liked you for a while Ynie, and every day that we talk, text, or spend together makes me feel so much lighter and so much better, so would you go out with me and be mine?” His words were sweet and you couldn’t help but continue to laugh and nod. Jungkook pulled you in for a kiss and the people that were close enough to witness your interaction cheered and clapped.

Fast forward 9 and a half years and one military service later and here you were. When Jungkook came back from said service things were weird for you though.

It seemed like Jungkook’s pranks had increased, at first you didn’t mind playing along with him, you had missed him after all, and even if it was something a little out there — like the time he used nutella and asked you to “bring him toilet paper” just for him to wipe the chocolate spread on you; you felt like puking and were gagging for a good 10 minutes after that — you still enjoyed seeing his pretty bunny smile and hearing his giggles. After a while though, it almost felt like Jungkook had almost reverted back to his 13-15 year old ways, pranking you almost every day, you felt on edge all the time and, even if you knew it wasn’t true, you felt like this was the only way for him to like you.

So when he suddenly slowed down and no pranks happened in a few weeks, you felt that maybe he’d finally gotten over it, that he’d wanted to go back to normal. Then one day he’d started acting weird, well maybe not weird but something felt off, you chalked it up to him preparing for BTS’ next comeback so you didn’t really think much of it.

“Wanna go to the mall today?” He asked you. You were laying on the couch with your head laying on his legs, he was playing some video game and you were scrolling absentmindedly through your phone.

“Are you sure? You coming back is still pretty fresh, I don’t want us to get ambushed,” you put your phone on your chest and looked up at him.

You felt so comfortable in this position you were hoping Jungkook would say no and you would get to nap like this. His body was fit and defined but it was still so comfortable to lay on, and his thighs being so thick made them fantastic pillows. “I’m sure! I have a surprise for you,” he stated excitedly, and you wished you had read between the lines, you wished that you had seen the signs, because when you arrived at the mall he walked you around, making you pick out pretty outfits, pretty accessories and makeup. Then he walked you into jewelers, and you felt your heart race, was he planning what you thought he was planning? You wanted nothing more than for this to be Jungkook’s special way of letting you know he was planning on proposing.

You had talked about marriage in passing, during sleepy cuddle sessions and late night dinners. You were sure Jungkook would want to wait until he was older, maybe in his late 20’s or early 30’s, he had never told you otherwise and you had never really pushed super hard on it, but you had dropped little hints here and there. You sent him pictures of pretty gem cuts and ring designs you liked, you even sent him those tiktoks where people did different wedding dress themes. Okay, maybe you weren’t subtle, but you really wanted Jungkook to get the hint you’d been together for almost ten years, and although you were patient, you wanted to be his, forever.

The jeweler measured your ring finger. He showed you all the different designs, and you left the mall with all your bags, including a small one for your ring, which you had picked yourself. You made it to the car that was waiting for you just outside the mall.

“Where are we going next Kookie?” you asked cuddling close to him.

It was finally time for his prank, “we’re going to Namjoonie hyung’s apartment, it has the prettiest view.”

“Right now?!” you exclaimed.

“Yup! I have to give something to him.”

When you arrived, Jungkook made sure to tell you to bring your shopping bags with you since you’d be there a while. Was he going to do it all now? You were so nervous, you would have to make sure to ask Namjoon’s girlfriend, Jinhee, for help. When you got there and explained to her your suspicions she immediately dragged you to her and Namjoon’s shared bedroom, helping you get ready for the special moment that was to come.

“We do have a beautiful view,” she said as she added the final touches to your hair, “I’m so happy for you Ynie!” She hugged you tightly. The time came for you to come out of the room, Namjoon’s girlfriend wasn’t far behind you.

There was a lot of people there all the sudden, almost the entire 97 line, and all of BTS were there, you greeted everyone and then you heard Jungkook call out to you, you turned around to see him down on one knee, you started tearing up immediately, ready to hear his speech that you were almost certain he’d practiced for months because he was that kind of man.

And then it all came crashing down.

“Fire!” he yelled, and everyone pulled out cans of silly string, immediately spraying you. Your outfit and makeup were positively ruined, and everyone was laughing, well, everyone except you. How did you read it all so wrong, why did he get you all these things and have you look all pretty for a proposal, for this? Jungkook wasn’t this cruel was he? You felt the tears welling up more now. “Happy April Fool’s baby!”

This was supposed to be Jungkook’s best prank yet, why weren’t you laughing?

As the laughter died down and some of the attendees went back to their conversations others remained watchful of what was about to unfold. Jungkook got back to his feet and reached for your hand, he was confused when you pulled away. You loved his pranks! He wanted to make up for lost time after coming back from the military and make sure your relationship hadn’t changed and…why were you crying?

“Jagi? Are you o-” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he felt a sharp sting on his cheek. You... slapped him?

“Fucking dickhead,” you said, you tried your best to not let your voice break. You went back to Namjoon and his girlfriend's bedroom to grab your stuff, and then you swiftly left, slamming the door on your way out. You walked for a bit, making sure to put enough space between Namjoon's house and yourself. Eventually, you made it to a bus stop and got on.

You weren't supposed to be ghosting Jungkook, it was just supposed to be a fun prank. It had been a week and a half since his prank, and you hadn't texted or called, hell, Jungkook was even checking his email to see if maybe you had contacted him there, nothing.

Maybe you were pranking him too?

He was shocked at your reaction, you loved his pranks. When you first met you connected over pranks, it was your thing. So, after being gone for 18 months and only being able to spend very minimal time together with you, he thought this would be a great way to reconnect again.

His hyungs were worried about both of you, Jungkook had been so out of it, all he did was go to work and come home to check his phone and watch the door, waiting for you to walk through it. The only person that had been able to contact you was Jinhee, and all she got was a short text stating you were okay and that you needed time.

So his hyungs had decided they were all going to stay at his apartment, he had a bunch of mattresses anyway, and make sure he wasn't doing something silly or stupid.

“Jungkookie?” Taehyung called him over, they were all getting ready to eat, and he was still sitting on his couch looking at his phone.

“Why won't she talk to me?” He groaned as he took a seat between Tae and Hoseok, putting his face in his hands.

His members looked at each other, “well, if I looked pretty and thought you were going to propose I wouldn't talk to you for a while either,” Yoongi said matter-of-factly, making Jungkook look up immediately.

“Jinhee said that when she was helping get Yn ready she mentioned you took her shopping and that you even had her pick a ring?” Namjoon explained, what followed was groans and multiple facepalms around the table.

“Jungkookie, please tell me you didn't have her do all that for a prank?” Jin stated, holding the bridge of his nose.

“She never explicitly said she wanted marriage! We talked about it in passing!”

“You've been together for almost ten years, and you didn't even ask her?!” Jimin got up abruptly, walking away slightly.

“She kept sending me engagement and wedding related things, but I just thought-” he stopped, realization finally hitting him… “I fucked up didn't I?” he let his head fall backwards.

You'd been home with your family, mainly staying in your room and crying away the embarrassment and hurt. Your parents were concerned, and your siblings had been trying to get you to talk, but all you did was sit there and look at a picture you had with Jungkook back when you were trainees.

“Sis,” your youngest sister gently shook your leg, “unnie please talk to me, I need to know what's wrong, we need to know what's wrong so we can help you,” you could hear her voice tremble, and you the last thing you wanted was for her to cry because she was worried about you.

“Jungkook pranked me,” you stated, your voice monotone. “Is that why you were covered with silly string?” you nodded, finally sitting up on your bed and lightly tapping the spot next to you.

“Well, you and Jungkook oppa have always loved to prank each other, what happened this time?” she asked as she took the spot. You summarized the situation, and watched as she went from angry, to sad, to pensive.

“Not trying to justify him doing that to you, but you said he looked shocked when you left?” You nodded, “I know you told me you'd sent him tiktoks and other hints, but did you ever specifically speak about marriage seriously?” She asked softly, you shook your hand.

“I assumed he didn't want that right now, which is why I was so excited when he took me out, I thought maybe he realized he did want it,” you explained.

“Sounds to me like you have some miscommunication going on there unnie,” she grinned awkwardly, “sure he could've read the hints, but if you don't actually talk about it, how are either of you supposed to know what the other wants?” She nudged your shoulder. You scoffed, realizing how right she was.

“When did you become so wise? Aren't you supposed to be 7?” You wrapped your arms around her for a hug.

“Try adding 10 years to that 7,” she rolled her eyes.

You heard a pinging sound coming from your phone which was on your nightstand, you pulled away from your sister and looked at her, your worry obvious on your face, she grabbed your phone and handed it to you. “What's the worst that can happen?” She encouraged you.

When you unlocked your phone you saw all the texts and calls from everyone, the most recent being from the very man you had just talked about.

Ynie?

Can we talk please?

To say Jungkook was nervous was an understatement, when you texted him back agreeing to see him and talk he screamed and jumped just as he did when you'd agreed to your first date ever, way back when he found you again. His hyungs and his friends had given him all the advice to last at least five life times.

Five lifetimes wouldn't be enough to apologize.

You had agreed to meet in a park near your parents’ house, he wanted you to be as comfortable as possible and to not feel like he was ambushing you. If you wanted to leave, your parents were nearby, if you broke up… the thought made him shudder and his heart crack, that was the absolute worst case scenario.

He was taken out of his thoughts when he heard a car door closing, seeing you walking toward him feel relieved for a moment, and then he saw the dark circles under your eyes. Fuck, he was such a dick.

“Hi Jungkookie,” you greeted him once you were close enough. He just stood there looking at you.

Gosh how he'd missed your face.

“Hi Ynie,” he resisted the urge of enveloping you in a hug, he wanted to keep space between you two so you could, again, be as comfortable as possible. “Um, want to sit down at that bench over there?” He pointed a couple feet away from where you were standing, you nodded.

The short walk was quiet. Once you sat down you stayed in a weird awkward silence for a minute or so.

“I'm so sorry Ynie,” Jungkook started, “I never wanted to hurt you, I was so focused on us reconnecting after I got back,” he voice trembled, “I didn't pay attention to the hints, I ended up hurting you. I should've never taken you to do all those things if I wasn't going to follow through.”

You took a deep breath, looked at him in an oversized hoodie and sweats, he looked so sad. “Thank you,” you looked down at his hands, his fingers were twitching and you could tell he wanted to hold your hands.

“What you did wasn't okay, I felt humiliated in front of your friends and brothers,” your voice trembled, “I know jagi, I feel absolutely horrible about that,” he sniffled.

“I should've communicated with you what I wanted, because I wanted to marry you Jungkook, I wanted to be yours for the rest of my life,” you felt tears streaming down your face, “wanted?” he sobbed, he felt his heart breaking into a million pieces, so this was it, you were done with him.

He was so freaking dense, how could he have messed up one of the best things he'd had for a prank?

“Fuck, to think you could have a ring on your finger right now and still want to be with me if I hadn't been so fucking clueless,” he word vomited, he had nothing to lose. “I want nothing more than to be able to call you my wife Ynie, I'm sorry I-”

You took hold of his tattooed hand.

“I still want you Jungkook,” you admitted, “we just… need to work on communicating what we want better,” you sniffled, “maybe go to couple's therapy?”

“Anything to bring you back to me,” his doe eyes were pleading with you, holding your hand so tight.

“Okay, let's go home.”

Grab the box I left on the bed and be ready by 7pm, I love you♡

That's the note Jungkook had left for you on your nightstand. Ever since that conversation at the park things had become so much better, he'd stopped pranking you almost all together, he'd been treating you extra special every day, and your therapist had asked that you took an hour out of the day to when you both got home from work to talk about your days and about one thing they were grateful the other did that day. Jungkook had proven he was sorry everyday.

And today, he'd left her a box with a beautiful cream colored milkmaid style, pink flower print dress with puffed short sleeves that reached just above your knees.

You put your hair up and left a few strands of hair out to frame your face, you put on brown wedges and went for a more natural makeup look. By the time you were spraying on your perfume it was 6:57, and you were ready to go for whatever Jungkook had planned.

He texted you letting you know he would wait for you in his car, so you grabbed your purse, phone and keys and headed out of your shared apartment and quickly made your way downstairs and to Jungkook’s car, he was waiting outside of the passenger door looking down at his phone.

“Hi Kookie!” You greeted him cheerfully.

He looked up at you and was floored, you had always been beautiful, but he would never not be shocked by it, especially when this dress hugged your body and enhanced your skin tone so nicely.

“You look ethereal jagi,” he sighed, looking at you like you were the 8th wonder of the world. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him once you reached him, “thank you,” you pulled away slightly so you could give him a couple of quick pecks, you could feel Jungkook smile with each kiss.

When you pulled away you saw he was wearing an almost all-black outfit — as usual for Jungkook — a button up black silky shirt with a couple of buttons undone and a white undershirt, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as well as fitted dress pants and shiny black dress shoes.

In short, he looked hot as fuck.

He opened the passenger side door for you, and put his hand out to help you get in. Once you were all set, he ran around and got in the car, and once he was all set he started driving.

“Where are we going yeobo?” You asked, placing your hand on his thigh.

“I planned a surprise for you.”

At first you were a bit apprehensive, considering how it went the last time he had planned a surprise. But you trusted Jungkook again, and you trusted he wouldn't do something as cruel as that again.

You drove for a little while and made it to a small park that was just so peaceful and beautiful. Jungkook opened your door and helped you out of the car, he was holding a small basket, “when did you get that?”

“No need to worry your pretty little head about it jagi” he smiled mischievously.

Oh boy

As you continued to walk you noticed the building outlines and poked out from the trees. “Those buildings seem familiar,” you said, “one of those is Namjoonie and Jiminie hyung’s apartment building,” he admitted absentmindedly.

“So this is the pretty view they have?” You took in the park one more time. That day six months ago you didn't really have time to look out of the balcony, you kind of just, ran. Jungkook just hummed in response, slowing down on his walk and turning into a small trail, where there were some open spots and a small wooden bridge over a river.

Jungkook set down the basket and pulled out a picnic blanket, laying it down on the grass and using small rocks to keep it down, “I think you're a little overdressed for a picnic Jungkookie,” you giggled, making him roll his eyes as he finished setting up the food, which consisted of gimbap, tteokbokki, and bibimbap.

“I just wanted to make sure I looked as good as you,” he got up and wrapped his arms around your waist, “I honestly still feel like I'm wearing sweats and a hoodie compared to how beautiful you look,” you blushed hard and helped you sit down on the blanket so you could eat.

Everything was delicious and you had a great time, which realistically you always had a great time with Jungkook, there was never a time where he didn't make you laugh so hard you would have tears rolling down your face. He made sure to clean up and put everything back into the basket and had it sit on the grass for a moment.

“Let's go to the bridge!” He took your hand and pulled you to the small wooden structure, he held onto the rail and you did the same. “Did you know this is a wishing bridge? That's why there's so many little coins down there.”

“Are we going to make a wish?” looking down at the river and the fishes swimming through it. “Yes, we are,” you heard him say, and when you turned toward him you yelped.

Jungkook was getting down on one knee.

He was truly a product of Namjoon though, no sooner than he was getting down on his knee, he tripped and the ring box he was pulling out of his pocket fell through the wooden rail. You tried to catch it but it was no use, and watched as the box floated away, you were trying to hold back tears so you could comfort Jungkook but when you turned to him again, he was down on one knee, with the most beautiful ring you had ever seen between his fingers.

“Gotcha!” He giggled, “six months ago I thought I’d lost you, I knew I fucked up big time and when you took me back I vowed to myself to make it up to you every day,” you felt the tears streaming down your face, much like that day 6 months ago, but this time you weren't being humiliated, and this time they were happy tears. “I want to make you smile every day, every night. I want you to be there with me when we win our first Grammy, on our first tour back as seven. Most importantly I want us to have an amazing life together, even after we retire and I am wrinkly and my hair is all gray. So, Ynie, jagi, would you marry me?”

At this point you were ugly crying, and all you could do was nod profusely. Jungkook shakily slipped the ring on your finger and stood up, hugging you so tight you just had to laugh because he was never going to live down the muscle bunny nickname.

“I love you,” he said when you both pulled away, cupping your face with his hands. “I love you too,” you smiled sincerely, and he closed the pace between you with a kiss.

This is your and Jungkook’s greatest moment, he was so happy.

#bts fanfic #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #bts au

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foreingersgod · 7 days

Note

ok hiiii! i’m the anon that asked for nika! sooo maybe a fic where reader is another players sister (or best friend, whatever you think would fit) and the player brings reader to a game and reader meets nika and it’s like love at first sight? maybe not as cringy as i made it sound lol, but i hope you get what i mean!

💗💗

to requester: i saw your other request and decided i’ll do them separately so we can enjoy more nika content!

Best Friends Sister . NM

pairing: nika muhl x reader

synopsis: you tag along with your parents for your sister’s game, not knowing it would be the best decision of your life.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

paigey: are you coming tonight with mom and dad or no?

you: only if you don’t hit me with another basketball then sure

paigey: i said i was sorry, dude. you should come though, i haven’t seen you for a minute

you: yea sorry, been busy and stuff. i’ll be there!

it was rare for you to attend your sister’s games on a regular basis. as much as you loved her and wanted to support, you were slammed with work and school and friends, the whole 9 yards. plus, watching millions of girls freak out over your sister was not your idea of a good time. but you’d been missing paige lately and wanted to show your sisterly support at least a few times this season.

so there you were, sitting outside your apartment on the concrete steps of the building, waiting for your parents to pick you up for the game. clad in UCONN attire, you picked at the weeds growing in between the cracks of stone.

arriving at the stadium, you could already sense the chaos. seeing all the girls there to see your sister play, it was a weird feeling. but once you made your way closer to the court with your family, seeing how happy paige looked out there, it made you feel insanely proud.

UCONN was up by 6 and your sister was killing it. being able to see her improvement throughout the game was truly rewarding to see. you cheered and hollered for each score until the end of the game finally rolled around, UCONN secured the win.

paige celebrated with her team for a few moments, reveling in their success before making her way to where you all sat. she greeted your parents with hugs, mom kissing her on the cheek and dad patting her back. then she maneuvered to you, dabbing you up before pulling you into a hug or your own.

“you killed it out there loser,” you congratulated “glad i got to see you play tonight, i’ve missed you!”

she laughed “thanks, me too”

paige worked her way around the rest of your family, taking time to chat with everyone. then she pulled you aside, motioning for you to follow her back down to the court.

“what?” you questioned, showing up at her side.

“thought i’d introduce you to everyone, plus aaliyah hasn’t seen you in forever and has been begging to see you”

you were always close with a few a her teammates, some of them being in paige’s life for so long that they became a part of your family. aaliyah, you were especially close with. but a lot of her other, newer teammates, you had yet to meet.

when you arrived on the court, paige leading you to the team, you started to spot some familiar faces. aaliyah ran over to you the second she saw you. pulling you into a bear hug and scolding you for not visiting more often. you greeted ice, too, congratulating her on a good game. it was nice to see them all again, catching up for lost time.

while in a conversation with aaliyah about how your job was going, paige politely pulled you aside again. she dragged you through the small crowd saying “i wanna introduce you to someone, i don’t think you’ve met yet”

finally, she stopped pulling you, coming to a halt just in front of the bench seats. paige was right, some girl you didn’t recognize sat on one of the seats, wiping the sweat from her brow and catching her breathe.

“hey, nika, i wanted to introduce you to my sister, YN!” paige said over the havoc of the stadium.

she looked up upon hearing paige summon her, eyes moving from paige’s and then to yours. she caught your attention right away, and suddenly, nothing else mattered once you locked eyes with the girl.

nika, you recalled paige calling her that, was the most beautiful girl you’d seen in your entire life. you studied every feature of her face right in that moment. her hair, you could only imagine how soft it was, pulled back in a near ponytail. her rosy cheeks, flush from exhaustion and excitement. her pearly white teeth that were so bright when she smiled at you. she was perfection if it were a person.

she was examining you as well, you could tell by the ways her eyes flickered between your eyes and down to your lips (triangle method iykyk). for a faint moment, it was just the two of you, lost in each others gaze. there was something about her, you couldn’t place it, but you wished you’d never have to look away.

unfortunately for you, your day dreams were interrupted when paige spoke up, confused by the silence.

“earth to nika” she waved her hand jokingly in front of her face “did you hear me? this is YN”

her eyes painfully pulled away from yours, looking at paige in surprise “right! sorry, i think i’m still a bit light headed”

she stood up, walking towards you and extending her hand out to you “very nice to meet you, YN, i didn’t know paige had a sister!”

your throat fell dry as you took her hand, gently shaking it. her touch lingered as her fingers swept against yours “nice to meet you too! yea i’m kind of all over the place and not around much so the team hasn’t seen a lot of me recently”

she eyed you again as you spoke. she tucked loose hairs behind her ear, smirking in a sultry manner.

“i get it, life’s busy” she bit her lip just enough for you to notice “but i’d..um-i’d like to see you around more”

“yea, hopefully i can stick around for a few more games” you joked, trying to hide how flustered you were.

“i’ll count on it” she said, then turned back to paige as she fumbled around in her bag, getting ready to leave “hey i gotta go catch up with a few people, but i’ll see you tomorrow?”

paige nodded, saying her goodbyes for the evening.

“see you around, YN” nika remarked, shoulder brushing against yours slightly as she walked past you, leaning in to whisper to you “and uh, do you think that maybe…maybe i could grab your number from paige or something? only if it’s ok with you”

you nodded your head vigorously, “yea, yes that’s more than ok with me”

she nodded back, flashing those dazzling teeth at you again before rushing across the court. you turned to face paige and saw the contorted look on her face.

“what the hell was that?” she asked.

“nothing” you suppressed a smile “it’s nothing”

that night, after the excitement of the game had worn off and you were back home, you were tucked into bed about to fall asleep. your phone buzzed abruptly, cashing you to roll over and pull it from its charger. your eyes squinted shut from the bright light of the screen.

unknown: hey is this YN? it’s nika :)

you didn’t have to think twice before responding and creating her contact.

you: it is, hi nika <3

nika: sorry to text you so late, paige was…very hesitant about giving me your number lol, but i was hoping i could take you out sometime if you’d want?

you: haha she’s annoying sometimes i’m sorry!

but i would love to you out with you!

nika: great! are you free friday? maybe 6ish?

you: definitely, it’s a date <3

you couldn’t stop smiling as you texted the rest of the night. who would have thought a basketball game would have changed your life completely?

#nika muhl #nika mühl #nika muhl x reader #wcbb #wcbb x reader #uconn wbb

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lovemly4 · 3 months

Text

HE GIVES ME BUTTERFLIES

Word count: 2.3 k

Pairing: BestFriend!Felix x Reader

Warnings: Smut, best friends to lovers, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it please), blowjob, facesitting, semi public sex (??), praising, aftercare, explicit language, MINORS DNI 18+

“And… Done! Good job, you can rest now. We’re done for today” my choreographer says, turning off the music and handing me a bottle of water.

I chug eagerly, exhausted by the practice. Today has been particularly hard for me and I don’t exactly know the reason behind it, but now I find myself sat against the mirror, catching my breath as if it was the last.

“I’m leaving, are you coming with me?” my teacher asks me, waiting in the door frame

“No thanks, I think I’ll practice again a couple of times, then I’ll call it a night.” she nods, waiving her hand as her figure disappears behind the wall.

I wait until my heartbeat slows down, boringly scrolling through my Instagram feed, and I come across one of my friend’s latest posts.

And damn, he was devilishly handsome in that picture.

I’ve been friends with Felix for a long time: he was one of the first people to approach me when I got accepted into the dance school, and in one way or another our teachers noticed the alchemy between me and him.

Since then, they paired the two of us for many choreographies.

But that’s it.

No romantic feelings between me and Felix.

No love, no lust, no desire.

Just a really deep friendship.

But then why do I feel that burning feeling in my heart whenever he’s around? And why do I crave his presence when he’s not?

I force myself out of my thoughts, getting prepared to practice again.

I get in position in the middle of the room waiting for the song to start, still chewing on those memories with him.

The door suddenly opens, letting someone burst in and invade my bubble of thoughts.

“Hello love, missed me?” a joyful voice says, tossing his bag on the empty sofa in his trajectory.

Speak of the devil…

I turn to face him, an expression of fake-annoyance on my face while he walks in where i stand.

He picks me up and we twirl together, gently putting me down and pinching my cheek while he smiles at me.

“Wasn’t your teacher supposed to be here today? Has she lost hope with you? Poor thing. “He looks around panting, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You clown. She was here five minutes ago, must have sensed you coming and decided to sneak out.” I flick his forehead, earning a laugh from him “but you can stay here if you want, I’m almost done”

He nods and makes his way to sit on the sofa.

Being a professional dancer, I usually don’t mind people watching me; but there’s something about his gaze that makes my skin burn like a hot sun, leaving me raw and exposed.

I start dancing for the hundredth time this day, even if I feel that my movements are not fluid and confident like they’re supposed to be.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, of course, and he walks towards me.

“What’s going on with you today?” he sweetly asks placing himself behind me. He grabs my waist with his right hand, and gently holds my arm up with his left.

Our eyes meet in the wall mirror in front of us: he’s warm, and I can feel his breath on the nape of my neck. I helplessly shiver at the feeling.

“You’re stiff. I’ll help you with this move, alright?” he moves our bodies together as one “just like that”.

His warm voice, his presence, his body against mine make my head spin, holding onto his arm as I turn around to face him.

“Already trembling like a leaf and I haven’t almost touched you.”

Shit.

My eyes widen in shock at his words, heart going crazy in my chest. He holds my head up by the chin, lips brushing over mines. His steady gaze burns on my skin, still sensitive from his body against mine.

“Who thought I could’ve had you in my arms like this all along?” his voice is deep, hot with lust and desire, and his breath is fanning against my lips.

He won; he knew it. And I let him.

His presence had always filled me, from day one. I was just too blind to see it.

“please” I beg him.

I don’t like the way my voice sounds, it’s whiny and shaky, and we both know he’s the only person who causes it to be like that.

“Please what, love?” his expression is serious, he’s eager to hear me beg again for him.

But I don’t have time to try and speak once more, the fire in my core is demanding.

I pull him down to meet his lips in a chaste kiss, soon to be replaced by tongues fighting and teeth shattering against each other’s.

He picks me up, blindly heading towards the sofa as the kiss gets too heated to just stop. I lose myself in his flavor, my hands find his hair at the base of his head, slightly pulling and feeling the soft strands between my fingers.

That’s when I know I won the jackpot, he pulls away and tightens the grasp on my butt cheeks.

He puts me down gently, sitting beside me as I climb onto his lap. His hands are on my waist, slightly gripping while I trace gentle wet kisses on his Adam’s apple.

His skin is hot, sweet, and it smells like him.

Confident hands rise my shirt, taking the fabric with him up my head to remove it.

“Lix, are you sure?” I look at him worried, suddenly realizing that we still are in a public place.

“They all went home, it’s just us in here” he smiles reassuringly, leaving a small peck on my lips.

I chuckle and tug at the black fabric of his oversized shirt, lazily resting on his upper body.

He lifts his arms to ease my work and I can’t help but stare at his toned body, my hands flattened against his waist.

Everything is harmonious in this man; he doesn’t even look real.

He knows he looks like an angel, and he makes sure to make you feel heaven.

My mouth traces a long line of kisses down his waist, hands following my movements as he throws his head back in pleasure, abs tensed and the tent in the middle of his joggers more and more prominent.

I palm his manhood through the fabric, feeling the outline of it and eager to feel him wherever I can take him.

I pull down both his pants and his boxers in one movement, freeing his half hard cock that now rests on his lower abdomen.

I take it in my hand, slowly pumping it and spreading the little drops of precum down his shaft; he’s hot in my hand, prettier than I imagined.

His breathing is heavy, trying his best not to let moans escape his mouth.

“Don’t hold back Lix, let me hear you.”

He smiles, hissing at my words, stroking my hair and tangling his fingers through it slightly pulling, guiding my mouth down his member while our eyes never leave each other’s.

“Fuck- you’re so good, just like that baby” his words are strained, breathy, almost forced to come out and threatened to be interrupted by his low moans.

I take him in my mouth: he’s deliciously heavy on my tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with the sweetness of his kisses.

He stops my movements, smiling reassuringly at my confused face.

“Don’t worry love, you did nothing wrong. But I could cum just by looking at you, and we don’t want that to happen so soon, do we?”

Cheeks blushing, I clean the spit in the corners of my mouth with the back of my hand, eyes following Felix’s movements as he gets comfortable laying down on the sofa, his head on the arm rest.

“Come on pretty girl, sit on my face” he states, patting his chest.

I stand there, unable to put together enough words to express my confusion.

“But- are you sure? What if I hurt you?” I stutter in disbelief.

I sit there shocked, unable to understand if my confusion is given by his request or by the excitement in anticipation.

But it doesn’t feel wrong, at all.

It’s intimate, and I know that I can trust him with my entire heart.

I climb on his chest, his soft and delicate hands helping me strip out of my shorts and panties.

He doesn’t waste time and quickly grips at my thighs: he’s not rough, but he makes me feel safe.

And incredibly horny.

And by the way our eyes talk I understand that he knows what he’s doing and what I’m thinking. He always knew.

We always knew, after all.

I align my bare core to his mouth, still unsure of how much weight to put on him.

But he’s impatient, he’s not worried at all, he grabs the flesh of my thighs and pulls me down in one quick motion.

He licks a long strip, flicking his tongue on my sensitive clit. His tongue is wet and warm against my cunt, feels molded to do that job, and his lips surround his work, stroking the labia from time to time.

God, who thought he could be so nasty?

He alternates between fucking my hole with his tongue and giving attention to the bundle of nerves, and I can’t help but moan his name like a mantra.

I soon feel the familiar knot forming in my lower abdomen, hot and delightful.

“Ah-Lix, please don’t stop” but he didn’t even think about it, not when he has me shaky and whiny under his hands.

I start grinding and fucking myself on his face, his nose hitting my sweet spot with each thrust, chasing my orgasm; his fingers dig in the meat of my legs, as he brings up a hand to massage my breasts. He flicks the rosy bud between two fingers, playing with it, soon starting to make me lose control.

I feel my blood boiling, heat in my whole body while his mouth and fingers work the magic.

“Fe-Felix, ngh- gonna cum” I beg while grinding his face and tugging at his hair. My orgasm is soon to come, crashing down on me and making me see stars, leaving me shaky while he works his way through it.

I move away from his face, freeing him of my grip on his head.

My juices are on his mouth and chin, glistening with the dim light of the room. He’s such a view.

“I could’ve bet you tasted divine” he states licking his lips while I catch my breath, fucked out expression on my face.

“Look at you, already so drunk and I didn’t even start” he whispers, moving a strand of hair out of my face kissing me tenderly, as if he waited years to savor this moment and finally fate was on his side.

But we did, though. Idiots in love, just too stupid to see it.

He moves us putting me on his lap, letting me do the rest.

“Let me, I can do this” I swear reassuringly, his dark half hooded eyes staring at me.

I lower his joggers where they were moments before, his still hard veiny cock slapping against his tummy.

I gently stroke it, spitting in my hand and spreading it evenly, while he grows impatient and low groans make their way out of his throat “Don’t tease, please” he begs.

I smirk, aligning it with my entrance, the wetness of my previous orgasm enough to make it slide in easily.

We exhale once it’s fully in, like we’ve both been holding our breath, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes and his mouth hanging open.

He places his hand on my hips, helping me set the pace as the other one finds my breast. Felix has a weakness for tits, noted.

I grind myself on his dick; I can feel his silky skin under my hands, flattened against his abdomen. The tip is hitting the right spot inside me, my clit brushing against his pubic bone feels delightful.

“Fuck- darling you’re perfect, such a good girl for me” he whimpers, noticing my thrusts getting weaker.

He hugs my waist to lift me up, my breast in front of his face in the motion while he starts relentlessly thrusting up, loud skin slapping noises and our moans filling the room, making the filthiest melody we’ve both ever heard.

He brings his thumb to my mouth, wetting it enough to stroke my clit, gently flicking it and making me drip even more.

I feel my orgasm approaching once more, the sight of Felix’s fucked out expression adding to the tingles bubbling in my tummy.

“I’m- close” I manage to say between breaths “I know baby, hold on a little longer” he moans out against the flesh of my shoulder slightly biting on it, the sting of the action just adding to the pleasure.

“Felix, I can’t, please” I cry out against his neck, too fucked out to form a coherent sentence

“Cum baby, go on” his hips stutter against mines “gonna cum inside you, alright love?” he asks, but i don’t even have the time to say anything before our highs crash down the both of us, leaving us a hot mess.

I pant against his chest, heat fading and leaving space to the cold air in the room. He strokes my hair, leaving gentle and sweet kisses on my forehead.

I look up into his eyes: they’re glossy, and a strange glow enhances the color of his iris. Keeping a steady hand on my waist, he uses the other one to open his bag and pull out a clean shirt.

He cleans the both of us, paying extra attention to where our bodies where still connected. He looks for my clothes, helping me getting dressed and handing me his bottle of water.

We lay there, my eyes getting heavy as he talks quietly in the emptiness of the building.

A loud noise startles me, immediately searching for Felix’s eyes.

“Oh… yeah. I might have forgotten about the cleaning women” he states, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

I cover my face with my hands exhaling exasperated

“I can’t fucking believe it”.

a/n: Hello! First smutty one shot here, so it might be highly improvable. Let me know!!

301 notes · View notes

kamaluhkhan · 9 months

Text

all the love we had and lost

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: lots of plot + flashbacks. angst with fluff in betweem. slightly suggestive dialogue/situations but nothing more than the actual show, a guy being pushy about hooking up with reader but nothing happens, mention of injuries and blood throughout, hints of alcoholism, brief mention of dieting (reader is competitive swimmer and deals with certain pressures from that), reader gets her period, takes on too much responsibility and argues with her mother (aka eldest daughter syndrome)

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije,

a/n: thank you thank you thank you for so much love on my first conrad fic!! i'm so excited to share the rest of the series, so stay tuned :))

read part one here

the best friends of our childhoods are the loves of our lives, and they break our hearts in the worse ways. (fredrik backman)

now — summer, age 18

you throw in some extra sprinkles, along with a few more tablespoons of sugar. belly has a huge sweet tooth. it's the night before her birthday, and you're in the kitchen at the fisher's house baking her coconut confetti cupcakes.

born on june 21st — the summer solstice — belly conklin is the definition of a summer child. she's summer, personified: sunshine, sweet tea, sand, and smiles. having missed so many birthday celebrations, you’re determined to make this year special.

you go to the fridge to grab some eggs, and when you close the door, you're startled by the person standing behind it.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, holding a hand to your chest and setting the carton of eggs on the counter. the joy you felt making birthday cupcakes for belly fades away, replaced with a tingling in your chest. you and conrad hadn’t spoken more than three sentences to each other, or even been in the same room alone, since that morning on the beach. as the distance between the two of you grew, so did your frustration at him.

conrad raises his eyebrow at you. he reaches around you into the fridge and pulls out a beer.

"i should be asking you that."

"the oven at my house is broken and your mom said i could come over."

“i’ve heard that one before,” he mumbles as he leaves the kitchen. you almost can’t believe he brought it up, even if just in a passing, somewhat snarky remark. conrad probably thought you didn’t hear.

these past few weeks, conrad hasn't just been cold towards you — which was a relief as much as it was heart wrenching. he seems more closed off in general, more inclined to spend time with others who hadn't seen him grow up. in fact, you imagine he’s on his way to see nicole now. maybe with her, he can pretend everything is fine. but not with the people in this house, who knew him inside and out.

you would never admit it — if conrad wants to ignore you, you could ignore him just fine — but it was eating you up inside, and it took everything in you not to confront him, to comfort him about whatever he was going through. you’d have arguments when you were kids, but it was nothing a ring pop or tub of cherry jello couldn’t solve. this time is different; the wound is deeper, harder to heal.

you wanted the old conrad back: the sweet boy who cared for you and let you care for him in return.

then — summer, age 14

belly was turning 12, and you wanted to surprise her with homemade cupcakes for breakfast. only, the oven at your house was broken, which meant your intention of baking her birthday treats would have fallen through, if not for susannah’s ever-present generosity.

everyone else was out of the house — you even asked laurel and susannah to take belly shopping to not ruin the surprise. you were decorating the cupcakes when conrad walked in from the deck. his wet hair stuck to his forehead and he was wearing a rash guard, so he probably got back from surfing. he looked paler than usual, even after being in the sun for hours, but you didn’t think much of it at first.

“hey,” he greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. “what are you doing here?”

“the oven at my house is broken, so your mom said i can come over to bake these for belly’s birthday tomorrow.” you gestured at the clumsily decorated treats. the cupcakes had bright pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. you weren’t a professional by any means, but knew that belly would love them.

“but i’m sure she wouldn’t miss one or two, if you wanna try one,” you offered, smiling at conrad.

he smiled back, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “yeah. yeah, let’s do that. i’m just gonna get changed first.”

conrad walked past you, and that’s when you noticed him limping — along with a bloody gash just below his left knee.

you instantly dropped the spatula back into the half-empty frosting bowl.

“connie, what the hell happened?”

“i’m fine,” he answered. “i wiped out, got cut by the fin of my board.” conrad must have noticed your eyes widened with worry because he grabbed your wrist gently, thumb rubbing soothingly on your pulse point. he was bleeding out on the kitchen floor, and there he was, trying to make sure you were okay.

“i’m fine,” he reassured.

the blood dripping down his leg suggested otherwise. years ago conrad would faint at the sight of blood, and though he’d mostly outgrown that, you knew it still made him queasy. you imagined the pain definitely wasn’t making it easier. without another word, you pulled him into the bathroom and made him sit on the edge of the bathtub. you washed your hands then sat cross-legged in front of him.

“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” he smirked as he watched you gather supplies from the cabinet underneath the sink, your brows furrowed in concentration.

“what?” you paused, almost laughing. until you saw his wound again, and you got back to work.

“it’s from the hunger games,” he explained. “when katniss finds peeta in the arena? and he’s all, like, injured.”

“well, he was definitely in worse shape than you,” you assured. “your cut’s not that deep, it just looks bad.”

“it doesn’t feel great, either.”

conrad exhaled sharply when you started applying pressure to his leg with a damp washcloth. you placed your other hand on his right knee.

“it’ll be fine, connie. i’ve got you. keep your eyes on me, okay?”

he looked down at you, wet hair framing his face as he offered a short nod.

you gestured at him to take over, and your fingers brushed together when he grabbed the washcloth, but he never looked down. his eyes still followed you as you searched the bathroom for something to cover his wound.

a comfortable silence followed. the two of you used to spend hours talking, sure, but what you loved about spending time with conrad is that silence didn't bother him. you could each be in your own worlds while in the comfort of each other's company, and that was enough.

once the wound was cleaned and the bleeding slowed down, you placed a gauze pad over his cut before wrapping a cloth bandage around it.

“i’m pretty sure it’s ‘you here to finish me off, sweetheart?’,” you remembered.

conrad shook his head. “i’m pretty sure it’s not. i’ve read the book like, three times.”

you move to sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“how sure are you, connie? because i’m pretty damn sure.”

conrad shrugged. “i’m pretty damn sure, too.”

you rolled your eyes, but with a smile. “okay, fine. we’ll check. but, when you see how wrong you are, you have to come with me to see jaws 2.” it was playing at the local movie theatre during their weekly throwback thursday — you and belly had seen it advertised on your way home from getting ice cream. you had wanted to ask conrad, but couldn’t find the right time.

because you hadn’t meant it to be a date, but you also hadn’t not meant it to be. something changed about how you felt towards conrad that summer; or, maybe, you just figured out what was different about the love you felt towards him compared to everyone else.

(yes, love. again, something you would never admit.)

you thought maybe — maybe he felt it too. there was something different in the way he teased you, laughed with you, looked at you when he thought you couldn’t notice.

you did notice. it happened so much that eventually you decided that either it was all in your head and he didn’t love you that way, or he was also scared of what would happen if he did. which, to be fair, was the position you were in. you were very scared of what would happen if you crossed that line.

“i’ll agree to that,” conrad said. “if you agree to having a picnic with me on the beach. if i have to face my fear of sharks, then you have to face your fear of angry seagulls stealing your food.”

a picnic on the beach. you wondered if this was conrad’s way of subtly asking you on a date. did he also want to cross that line, become something other than friends? he looked at you so eagerly, you hoped he did.

“fine.” you held out your hand. “but you have to protect me from angry seagulls.”

conrad smiled at you brightly as he grasped your hand.

“always.”

in the end, conrad lost the bet. the screening of jaws 2 was cancelled, so you rented it from the video store instead. you got his favourite movie snacks, and some of yours as well, and made sure the couch had the comfiest pillows and the warmest blanket. you felt butterflies just thinking about the two of you watching together, cuddling on the couch.

when the time came though, your plans fell through. the playdates your siblings had lined up both cancelled. your mother had plans to meet a friend at the bar, and claimed she couldn't reschedule. by then your parents were divorced and your father was elsewhere with his new girlfriend, so it fell to you to babysit your siblings.

conrad came over anyway: he helped you make rice and lentils for dinner, convinced your brother to eat his vegetables, and let your sister paint his nails. the four of you watched night at the museum and ate all the junk food you had gotten, with you and conrad sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but stealing glances and shy smiles at each other. when your mother came home, a bit after midnight and a little tipsy, she got angry that you’d kept the twins up so late and cheated on the diet she had so carefully planned for you — to keep you in shape for swimming, she claimed. you rolled your eyes, and that made her angrier. without you saying anything, conrad took the twins upstairs to get ready for bed as you and your mother argued. by the time conrad walked back downstairs, your mother had gone into the living room for another drink and you were in tears. he asked if you were okay, and you told him to go home.

you never talked about that night again, and everything went back to the way it was: with neither of you crossing that line.

now

the only reason you let belly drag you to nicole’s party is because it’s her birthday.

as soon as you enter the house, nicole and the other debutantes whisk belly away to a table filled with elaborate cakes. you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by how elegant they look in comparison to the cupcakes you made her.

"come on," taylor groans. "let's get a drink."

taylor grabs two beers and hands one to you. you gratefully accept. the two of you catch up for a bit, when suddenly jeremiah starts serenading belly in an outrageously funny musical number. you laugh along with them, until you catch a glimpse of conrad with nicole on the couch at the other end of the room. nicole is sitting in conrad's lap, and she leans over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. your entire body heats up.

conrad was right before: you were jealous. as frustrated as you were with him, you were even angrier at yourself for feeling that way.

"i’m gonna go find the bathroom!” taylor says, practically shouting over the music.

"okay!” you yell back. “i’m gonna go get another drink."

you know all too well that it isn’t a good habit to get into, but you need something stronger if you’re going to survive this party. you examine the drink table, finally picking out some mediocre tequila. you take a shot, then another.

“tequila. my kind of girl.” someone declares, creeping up behind you.

it’s a terrible pick up line, and you already have a feeling that the guy trying to flirt with you is some rich entitled asshole.

but, the guy — liam — can hold a decent conversation, and he’s cute enough.

he’s no conrad, though. you take another shot when that thought crosses your mind, and force yourself to flirt with leo. liam. right, liam.

liam leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze linger on the deep v-neck of your shirt. you’re so close, you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“five minutes,” you boast after he asks how long you can hold your breath underwater. somehow, the conversation veered towards your time as a competitive swimmer. you’re just the right amount of tipsy that your inhibitions start fading away.

“wow,” liam says. “i have to say, i’m glad you didn’t have that training camp this summer.”

you bat your eyelashes at him. “oh? why is that?” you lean closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

“because then i wouldn’t be able to do this.”

liam kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. you feel nothing. it’s fine.

“let's go upstairs.”

liam’s grabbing your wrist before you have a chance to answer. as he tries to tug you up the stairs, your eyes meet conrad’s from across the room.

suddenly, you feel nauseous. you rip away from liam’s grip and place a hand on the wall next to you to steady yourself.

liam turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just hang out downstairs.”

liam grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.”

this time, your voice comes out louder. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“don’t be a bitch, then,” he scoffs, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose. “do you wanna fuck, or not?”

“i don’t,” you answer instantly, struggling to break free from his grip.

“okay, whatever. we don’t have to go all the way, but we can still go upstairs, and have a good time.”

he manages to drag you up two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage, forcing liam to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he groans.

“just stop, liam.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little girl. “i know what girls want, so you don’t have to be shy. we’re going upstairs right now and —”

“liam, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s belly, giving liam one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. belly, who if you cut open, would bleed sugar. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my friend.”

“whatever,” liam answers, rolling his eyes. “if you don’t mind, we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you forward, but you stand your ground.

jeremiah is also glaring at liam from the bottom of the stairs, his golden retriever personality long gone. “back off, man,” he warns.

“just mind your own business,” liam snaps.

“they said leave her alone,” steven asserts, walking over once he sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” he clenches his hand into a fist as if proving a point.

in other situations, you and belly have definitely teased steven for his tendency to act all tough, but right now, you couldn’t be more grateful.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”

“just let her go,” belly orders.

“i think she can speak for herself. she wants this, but if you’re jealous, you can join, too.”

your stomach churns. liam leans in close to whisper in your ear. “maybe we’ll see if those 5 minutes come in handy when you’re sucking my —”

as soon as liam lets go of your wrist, his hand trailing downward, you shove him away and punch him in the nose before he can finish his sentence. you deliver a final blow to liam’s ego as he’s doubled over:

“what i want is for you to leave us the fuck alone. there are other people in this house who i’d rather hook up with. people who aren’t complete assholes with fancy cars to compensate for their tiny dick.”

the flirtatious smile falls from liam’s face, replaced with the kind of anger only rich entitled assholes have when they don’t get what they want — figures that he only gets the hint when it literally hits him right in the nose. he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you fall down the stairs, but belly manages to catch you before you hit the ground. she holds you as jeremiah and steven step in front. you hear them shouting at liam over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and the room is suddenly all fuzzy.

“i’ve got her.” conrad’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist. “go find cam — the rest of us have been drinking, but he can drive her home.”

somehow, you find yourself in a bathroom, sitting on the counter as conrad stands between your legs. he carefully examines your injury, but you notice how he avoids making eye contact.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.

“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” the question slips past your lips before you could stop it.

conrad looks slightly amused, and he finally meets your gaze. “that’s not the line,” he deadpans. you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him all night) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

but, still, he remembers. his comment earlier and his smile right now is all the confirmation you need: somewhere in the back of his mind, he replays memories of you. no matter how cold he acts towards you, he still cares.

he continues wiping the blood off your face. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers, inspect your hand. “it’s been better,” you answer, though your knuckles are slightly aching. “worth it.”

“i guess all those years away made you a badass.”

all those years away. the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, but you wouldn’t let it burst the comfortable bubble you and conrad had somehow stumbled into.

instead, you offer him a lopsided smile.

“oh, connie,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “i was always a badass.”

“yeah, yeah. but it’s different now. you’re different.” he pauses. you’re worried he’s going to say something else.

but he doesn’t. instead, he asks, jokingly: “did you join a fight club or something?”

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s trying to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it, before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re both heartbroken and not talking to each other.

“you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.

conrad laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.

a silence falls over you, one that’s not unfamiliar, but not entirely comfortable either. conrad holds the cloth against your nose to make sure the bleeding stopped.

it seemed to be a strange pattern between you two — being there for each other when you bleed.

then — summer, age 12

it was the end of july when you got your first period.

you had made lunch for your siblings and walked them to their day camp, when you suddenly felt an ache in your abdomen. that ache turned into a sharp pain by the time you got home, and you ran to the bathroom to confirm what you’d suspected.

that afternoon, mr. conklin was taking all the kids to mini golf, but you weren’t feeling up for it. you texted belly about what happened and spent the rest of the day curled up in bed.

you didn’t hear him knock over the sound of the movie you were watching, but suddenly you saw conrad standing by your door, holding a bag from the candy shop.

“jesus, connie, you scared me!” you exclaimed, pausing the movie.

he smiled sheepishly and flopped down on the bed next to you. “belly told me you weren’t feeling well. here.” he handed you the bag.

you opened the bag, grateful that conrad picked out your favourite treats. you take one and bite into it. your stomach growled — you hadn’t eaten earlier because you felt nauseous, but now you could eat that entire bag in one go.

“how was mini golf?” you asked, popping another treat into your mouth.

“it was awesome! i finally managed to get past that giant hippo and get a hole-in-one. i got the highest score.”

you frown, wishing you had been there. if anything, to beat conrad’s score.

“don’t worry, we’ll go back another time,” conrad added. “you can beat me then.” sometimes, you swore conrad could read your mind. he then asked if you were feeling better.

“no. i got my period,” you huffed. “it sucks.”

“oh.” conrad adjusted his glasses, a sign that he felt awkward. “i’ve heard about those. they sound pretty brutal.”

“health class?”

“no. my mom, actually.”

health class wasn’t much help for you either, and neither was your mother. you were lucky enough to have susannah and laurel, who had explained everything to you and belly.

“anyway, what are you watching?”

“the hunger games,” you answer. “i just finished the book.”

“cool.”

conrad didn’t move — he actually leaned back against the pillows even more — so you figured he wanted to stay. you moved the laptop so it sat between the two of you and started playing the movie again.

“you know, it doesn’t seem fair that you miss out on having fun just because of your period,” conrad said as katniss finds peeta injured in the arena.

you frown, about to point out that he has no idea how painful cramps can be.

he lifted his hand up to stop you. “not that i can judge what you’re going through. i’m just saying when it’s this bad, instead of being alone, just text me, and i’ll be there.”

when the time came, he watched movies with you in bed. he brought you junk food and pain killers. he even biked to the store when you’d run out of pads.

he was there for you, just like he promised.

now

those moments from past summers now feel warm and sickly sweet, like popsicles melting in the sun — then again, that might just be the remnants of tequila flowing through your veins. you think about what happened earlier, how belly, jeremiah, and steven stepped in to protect you. how conrad is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve ignored each for so long. it’s like nothing changed. but once you leave this bathroom and the alcohol leaves your system, it wouldn’t be the same. you feared you'd never get that magic back, and that weighed on your chest so much, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“why’d you go for liam, anyway?” conrad asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes the cloth from your nose so you can answer, and the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. liam’s an asshole. and you’re…” conrad places his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning close. “you.”

“i went for liam because….well, honestly, i didn’t care who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with conrad is running out.

conrad’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s so close that it’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on conrad’s. it's not the most elegant kiss — it's messy, urgent, with your noses bumping together, and teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. you taste beer on his tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. you tangle your hands into his hair, and you swallow his moan as you gently tug. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him.

when you run out of air, feeling like your lungs could burst, you pull away. conrad’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“connie,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

conrad wipes away your blood with the cuff of his flannel. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. jeremiah, letting you know that it’s time to go.

and, just like that, the moment is gone.

a few days later, belly invites you over for a girl’s night. you paint each other’s nails, eat sour candy, and watch rom coms, just like you used to. she updates you on debutante season, the argument she had with taylor, and her blossoming feelings for jeremiah. you let it slip that you and conrad kissed at nicole’s party, though you admit you aren’t sure what it means — as if you hadn’t spent hours and hours thinking about the kiss, about him. belly gives you a knowing smile, but you change the subject before she can comment any further.

you’re halfway through 10 things i hate about you when belly falls asleep. you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to conrad, when you get a text from him.

he’s already on the dock when you arrive, looking out onto the water.

“hey,” you greet as you stand next to him. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell belly that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “but…would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, belly’s close to nicole and i don’t want her finding out," conrad explains. his words are deliberate, and you suspect he'd spent some time perfecting what to say to you. so far, you didn't like where this was going. conrad delivers another blow:

"it’s not like it meant anything.”

you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces right then and there.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to conrad’s stoic demeanor.

conrad shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with liam happened, so we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing other than friendship?”

he turned away before he answered. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he pauses, and you know you caught him off guard. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit has happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, conrad.”

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay conrad’s words as you crawl into bed next to belly, holding back tears as to not disturb her sleep.

you decide then that you didn’t love conrad anymore. you couldn’t because it would eat you up inside.

then again, it doesn't seem like hating him would be any easier.

#conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher angst #saf writes

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sc0tters · 8 months

Text

A Night To Remember | Sidney Crosby

summary: you and Sidney have been at odds since you met, but when he shows up at your apartment wanting to talk things take an unexpected turn.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v (unprotected), fingering, oral (fem receiving), choking, slight captain kink, swearing, legal age gap (reader is 23!)

word count: 4.67k

authors note: I have never written for Sidney but I’ve also never had a smut be this long. I loved this one though, ending wasn’t really planned out, but if you want a part two let me know!

next part | final part

This was a game that the nation was captured by.

You were looking forward to it as it meant you got to catch up with your brother. Connor’s ride since he got drafted had been one of a kind, but you were always there to make sure that your little brother didn’t let his ego get too full. The five years between you felt like nothing as he was your right hand man.

Which is why he knew all about your dislike for your teams captain, you joined the Penguins straight after you graduated. Finding your dream internship with their physio team, a year on and you were hired in a full time role.

For the most part the players liked you, believing that you were the breath of life that the aging physio team so desperately needed. You helped the rookies settle as you took on the big sister role and everyone appreciated, well everyone except Sidney.

From the moment you joined the team it seemed that he had it out for you, refusing to get treated by someone so young. Not letting you get a word in during conversations that you were originally in until he inserted himself into it, don’t even forget about the fact that he ever addressed you and when he did it was always kid. The title pissed you off beyond belief, it wasn’t the word itself but it was the fact that it came from his mouth.

As much as everyone tried to help you two get along by doing anything from sitting you two next to each other at dinners or on the plane, it always ended up in arguments. You being too loud, him being close to a punch in the face, ultimately it got to the point where it was too awkward for the team and everyone just accepted the fact that you two were not destined to be friends.

Sure it created a rift in the team but they managed to keep you two separated.

This game was your turn to sit on the bench to be there for immediate attention but that meant you were next to an irritated Sidney as he came off after letting Connor get past him to score a goal. If you weren’t working with the Penguins you would have openly admitted that Connor was wiping the floor with Sidney, but as you were sat next to the team captain all you could do was send him a sympathetic smile as this clearly wasn’t an ego boost to get sent to the bench after letting the rookie score.

Constantly you had to remind yourself not to cheer whenever Connor did something good, you were always going to play the proud sister role but that didn’t stop the glares that Sidney sent in your direction as he had picked up that there was a relationship between and the Blackhawks boy.

Practically the moment after the post game talks you were out of the locker room waiting for Connor “does she realise that we lost?” Sidney spat looking at Lars as your grin increased ten fold seeing your brother make his way over to you wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

Lars wanted to laugh at the irritated look on his teammates face “she just missed him,” he swore that the older boy knew your relation to the younger boy. Half of the boys had been teasing you about the long awaited match up ever since the draft, but apparently Sidney remained oblivious to it all “he still giving you shit?” Connor asked feeling the rival captains eyes on you two.

You rolled your eyes as you sent Sidney a glare “he keeps on acting like a fucking child.” You nodded as you complained not wanting to see the older boy during recovery tomorrow as he had been put on your roster.

Sidney stared at you not letting his eyes leave you, even when people spoke to him “I am at the end of my ropes with him.” You added shaking your head as you were growing tired of the way he treated you.

Sure you acted like you didn’t care, but the only thought that went through your brain as you lay in bed was what did you do to make him hate you. Ultimately the only reason why you sent him back everything he handed to, was because you had too much pride to admit that someone might genuinely just not like you.

Connor placed his hand on your shoulder “just continue playing nice until he realises that he needs to grow up.” His blunt words made you smile as you ruffled your hand in his hair.

Talking to your brother was making you feel better about it all “for now I just want to kill him.” You confessed as you had been arguing more with Sidney more recently as you had before “kid boss wants you.” He called out causing you to roll your eyes as you frowned.

You gave Connor another hug “I’ll see you around,” you sighed as you didn’t want to piss Sidney off further “don’t let him get to you.” Connor gave you a smile before you walked off with the team captain hot on your tail.

When you eventually found yourself stood in front of coach Sullivan all he did was smile “what can I do for you y/n?” He asked causing you to raise your eyebrows in surprise.

In all honesty you should have seen this one coming from Sidney “just came to talk to Sid.” You scrunched your nose in annoyance as you grabbed the captains hand bringing him into the empty physio’s office since this wasn’t the conversation you wanted to have in the open. This way you could call him every name you wanted to

Sidney looked at you with a smirk as you crossed your arms “what the hell are you playing at Crosby?” You scoffed pointing your finger into his chest.

It made the boy let out a dry chuckle “you were all cozy with that rookie and I’m the bad guy?” His question made you stop as your eyes went wide letting your hands drop to your sides.

Now it was your turn to laugh “god Sid I’m not like you,” you shook your head “I don’t need to sleep with everything that moves to feel content with myself.” The statement had taken him aback as you brought up his well known bachelor lifestyle where he had new girls in his bed every week.

Sidney managed to keep his calm demeanour as he leaned against the wall “you jealous?” He joked causing you to want to slap him “you should go fuck yourself Crosby.” You spat feeling your skin seething with anger.

The boy remained silent smirking as you showed him how much he irritated you “or better yet go fuck some little puck bunny cause that’s all you’re gonna get.” Your hand poked at his chest finally deciding that it was time to call it an evening “have a nice night dickhead.” Left your lips in a mumble before you pushed past him leaving the older boy just as irritated as he was before the conversation with you.

From the moment you got home you were trying to do anything you could to relax, the bubble bath, the glass of red wine with a shitty romcom, all of it. So what you didn’t expect was that in the middle of rewatching Bridget Jones’ Diary that there was going to be a knock at the door “this better be good.” You mumbled to yourself as you got up letting your feet slip back into your duck slippers as the cold wood floor seemed too much for your feet to handle.

You continued to mumble things to yourself as you chugged back the rest of your wine before you placed the glass on the table letting your hands grow bare when you opened the door “puck bunnies finally realise that there are better players around?” you asked trying to shut the door in his face.

Unfortunately for you Sidney’s athletic abilities were too quick for you as he moved his hand between the door and the frame “got a few girls waiting for me downstairs.” He lied teasing you as he let himself into your apartment.

It made you want to scream “I am not in the mood to hear whatever stupid you plan on letting out of your mouth.” You confessed as you ran your fingers through your hair “so let’s just pack it in and go talk to the girls who actually give a fuck about what you have to say.” You patted his shoulder before you tried to try around to go back to your couch.

Sidney scoffed as he followed you further into your apartment “don’t think they would care about how much of a bitch you are.” His comment had you stopping dead in your tracks.

Slowly you spun around trying to think of what you were going to say “that’s a bit of the pot calling the kettle black,” you pointed out as your eyes went into a sharp line.

Your lips smacked together “you are a condensing little asshole who sticks his dick in anything that moves.” Your voice was laced with venom “so I am going to remind again. Go. Talk. To. Someone. Who. Cares.” Each of those last words were like a slap in the face to the older boy.

His eyes went down your body noting the Canadian hockey training T-shirt that looked like it was a dress on you “god you are so irritating Crosby.” You let out a chuckle rubbing your hands over your face as you locked eyes with him.

The way you chewed at the inside of your cheek like you were thinking about something “you should go,” you added turning to bring him back to your door.

Sidney wrapped his hand around your wrist pulling you back to face him as your chest went flush with his “sometimes you need to keep your mouth shut,” he mumbled hooking his fingers under your jaw leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss before you even got the chance to argue with him.

It was aggressive, almost knocking you over as Sidney finally had the chance to put all of the irritating thoughts about you into something. Teeth clattered when your hands went up underneath his shirt “still want me to go?” Sidney teased letting his hands shift to your cheeks as he forced you to look up at him.

You scoffed letting out an unamused laugh “don’t make me regret what I’m thinking of doing.” You warned causing him to smile “thought I only fucked puck bunnies,” his voice was soft as you matched his smile “someone had to take one for the team and show you what you are missing.” Your comment matched the playful tone of his own as it was finally what he needed to hear to go back to kissing you.

His hands ran up the backs of your thighs “jump baby,” Sidney mumbled against your lips causing you to listen to him.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as you kicked those duck slippers off of your feet “thought they were cute,” the pout on his lips made you laugh “shut up,” the shake of your head as you pointed him in the direction of your bedroom made him smile “make me,” his words had your lips back on his all the way until he got back into your room.

The taste of your vanilla lipgloss went straight to his brain as it was scratching an itch that he didn’t know he had “you sure you want this?” He asked letting your body drop onto your bed.

All you could do was nod “don’t start caring about what I have to say now,” you mumbled feeling like the fact that you had let him into your bedroom should have been a clear enough answer “want to hear you say it.” Sidney’s tone was serious as he dropped to his knees comfortably finding his position between your legs as his hands went to either side of you caging you in beneath him.

You took the moment to notice how his eyes stared into your soul, lips hovering just above yours. Whimpers left your lips as you tried to push yourself closer to him attempting to lift your lips to his “just fuck me Sidney.” Your vulgar words were things that Sidney found hard to ignore, you didn’t usually call him by his name usually opting for Sid or Crosby (those were the appropriate ones that you said to his name).

His lips were rough against yours leaving you wanting to cry out in pleasure as his jeans rubbed against your clothed pussy “could have had this months ago,” Sidney pointed out as he moved his lips to your neck as his hands went down to the bottom of the shirt you had stolen from Connor “yeah but your mouth fucking ruined that.” You pointed out forcing your hips up as his fingers found their home wrapping around the waistband of your thong.

It was white reminding him of your innocence as Sidney wanted to feel dirty when the thoughts of how you tasted went through his mind when in actuality all he felt was desire “open your mouth for me,” he ordered as his two fingers tapped on your lower lip.

Of course you listened to him as you clenched around nothing, simply being turned on by the idea of him bossing you around “suck” Sidney swore he was dreaming as your tongue swirled around those two digits treating them like you would if they were his cock “so fucking obedient all of a sudden.” The hockey player noted letting his other hand come to your panties as he pulled them off of you once and for all “All you needed was a good fuck thought wasn’t it?” His breath fanned between your thighs as he refused to let his fingers leave your mouth.

The only thing you could do was nod as an inaudible ‘yeah’ was only met with a grunt when he felt the vibrations from your mouth go straight to his cock.

Sidney removed his fingers letting out a low groan as the trail of spit followed his fingers breaking as it landed on your chin “gonna make you feel so good,” it was like he was giving you the heads up as his fingers now soaked in your spit went to you bare pussy letting the calloused tips go against your clit.

Your head dug its way further into your mattress giving the boy the perfect chance to let his lips go back to your neck sucking at the soft skin when his fingers began thrusting inside of you “holy shit you’re soaked!” Sidney gasped bringing your one thigh up so that he could get a deeper angle “makes me think you’ve been wanting this all along.” His voice was deep, bait hanging over you like he wanted you to take it.

Temptation hung over you as the boys thumb found it’s place against your clit whilst his other fingers didn’t let up “still can’t fucking stand you.” You confessed being honest as you swore you were going to go into tomorrow acting like this hadn’t happened “so cute when you lie.” Sidney cooed placing a kiss on your temple.

His fingers were thick as your core clenched around them “fucking hell cap,” you groaned bringing your hands through your shirt so that you could tease your nipples.

That phrase made his eyes grow darker than they already were “what did you just call me?” The pressure he had on your clit increased when he had to make sure he wasn’t hearing things.

You gasped when his other hand replaced yours on your breast “c-cap,” your eyes screwed shut when he lower his lips to wrap them around the other nipple.

When his teeth ever so softly nipped at the sensitive peak your eyes shot open locking with his.

A smirk was clearly on his face as he began to pickup the pace that he was fingering you at “‘m not gonna last,” you confessed bringing your hips up to grind on his fingers “yes you will baby.” Sidney nodded removing his lips from your nipple as he planted kisses down the valley of your breasts making his way past your stomach “so fucking pretty.” He groaned hearing the squelching of your pussy as he replaced his thumb with his tongue over your clit.

At that point you knew you were teetering over the edge as your fingers locked into his hair “want to you look at me when you come,” as soft as it came out you knew that he wasn’t asking you to do it, he was telling you.

With all of your energy you let your eyes trail down from your ceiling to stare at his.

What you never expected was that he’d have eyes that could practically undress you as they stared at yours “please let me come!” You begged as tears were close to forming in your eyes due to how you felt “mhm,” Sidney nodded moving his hand that was still on your breast down to your thighs so that he could hold you in place.

Your orgasm hit you like a truck as your body shuddered so hard you almost bounced on your bed “shit shit holy fuck!” You called out letting a string of profanities leave your lips as your hands wrapped up in the bedsheet beneath you.

Sidney didn’t let his thrusts slow down though once you came back down from the orgasm “Sid ‘s too much,” you shook your head trying to wiggle out of his grip.

He wanted to laugh at the sigh you let out when you accepted your fate “taste so sweet baby,” Sidney finally pulled away from you as he wanted you to last when he fucked you.

His fingers covered in your release tapped on your lip “taste yourself for me,” he mumbled letting himself watch as you let his fingers almost fuck your face with the way he was helping you take them.

You wanted to clench your thighs as you could see how Sidney’s chin was glistening but with his legs in between yours, you instead let out a groan “so sweet isn’t it?” Sidney asked letting his fingers slide out of your mouth as he had enough of watching that.

The boy softly grabbed your jaw as he brought himself down to kiss you once more “fuck baby,” he grunted as he slid his tongue into your mouth.

It was hot as he brought you onto his lap flipping you two over in the process. This was the first time that you got to feel his boner as you were now sat on his jeans “so big,” you mumbled as you let your fingers tug at his shirt as you wanted it off.

Sidney smiled as he pulled away from you “not fair you being in so little isn’t it?” He asked watching you nod as he pulled his shirt over his head.

You had seen his chest before, plenty of times in fact but you still couldn’t help it when your breathing stopped as you took in his chest beneath you “like what you see?” Sidney tucked your hair behind your ear letting his fingers run down your jaw before he pulled you into another kiss.

Your hips unintentionally moved against his jeans letting yourself get brought close to another orgasm “next time you come I’m gonna be inside of you.” His breath fanned against the shell of your ear causing your head to fall back.

The boy helped you off of him so that he could unbuckle his belt “who would have thought you looked this fucking pretty under all your clothes.” Sidney grunted when he saw your fully naked body as you threw your shirt onto the floor.

It made your cheeks turn pink “finally seeing what the bunnies enjoy,” you smirked seeing his cock as it hit his torso.

That comment was a stroke to his ego as he looked in his wallet “fuck,” he groaned seeing the lack of a condom in his wallet.

You were quick to catch on to what made him upset “I’m on the pill,” you announced shrugging as there was too much tension between your thighs to let him leave your apartment without letting you come.

Sidney swore he was on cloud nine when you said that, usually the girls that he slept with were ones that he wanted to wear a condom for. But you were one that he was actually excited to fuck you raw “you sure?” He asked watching you wrap your hand around his cock “don’t go all soft on me now cap.” You had realised earlier that his title evoked this animalistic side of him.

He lowered himself onto your bed for what seemed like the hundredth time of the night “so pretty,” you smiled as he kissed your lips.

His cock was hard as he directed it over your clit letting it tease the sensitive nub “don’t be a dick Crosby,” you mumbled sending him a glare until he listened to you as he thrusted his cock inside of your pussy.

You wrapped your hands around his arms eyes screwed shut as you adjusted to his size “who would have thought that this is how I shut you up.” Sidney leaned down to kiss you as his movement had you groaning when he ended up letting his cock slide deeper into you.

Sidney was quick to smile as you tapped his arm “god,” you groaned feeling him hit spots that you could only ever imagine of feeling.

The way you wrapped around his cock made him feel like he was the only man in the world “god ain’t here princess,” he mumbled smiling as your head tilted digging further into your pillow.

You wanted to scoff as he nipped at your jaw “only thing is a guy with a small dick.” You warned smirking at him as you scowled.

Your comment made him one to fuck you into oblivion “gonna make you regret that.” The hockey player confessed as he readjusted your hips forcing his cock deeper into you “like that now huh?” Sidney asked letting his hand go around your throat as he watched your eyes roll back into your head.

Sounds of skin slapping lit up your apartment as grunts and moans mixed into it “don’t stop,” you pleaded letting your hand go on top of his.

It was hot how his fingers never fully pressed in at the sides of your throat meaning that your blood flow only slightly slowed down “pussy was made for me Jesus.” Sidney groaned moving his other hand between you both so it could attack your clit.

With all your focus you smiled “only me cap,” you let out a giggle as he brought his lips back down to yours “just like heaven.” He murmured letting his lips engulf yours in a kiss.

You had to admit that the sex was probably in your top five as Sidney’s cock throbbed from inside of you “can you feel me in there baby?” He asked moving his hand from your throat to rest on your lower stomach where he placed enough pressure that even he could feel his cock thrusting.

A cry left your lips “so fucking full!” You nodded as you didn’t think that you were going to last much longer especially because you were still sensitive from your first orgasm of the night.

Sidney picked up on this as your core began clenching around him “gonna ruin you for all other men,” he confessed letting you know just what his intentions were.

With only another orgasm on your mind you didn’t care what he said “please Sid,” you begged looking up at him like he was the only man who mattered.

If any of the guys from the team knew what you two were getting up to right now they would never have believed it “keep squeezing me like that and I won’t last long baby.” The hockey player murmured with his fingers digging into your side “gonna come,” you announced feeling your toes curl up as the boy didn’t let up on his motions.

What you didn’t expect him to do was growl at you “fucking hold it,” he warned causing you to sink your teeth into your lower lip.

You wanted to cry “i-I can’t Sid,” you shook your head feeling your eyes begin to grow shaky.

Sidney leaned down to your ear “we both know that ain’t what you been calling me in here.” He mumbled placing a kiss on your ear lobe.

He wanted to say that he was proud of himself for lasting this long “please cap fuck,” you whimpered as your legs shook from either side of him “be a good girl for you,” you added almost setting off his orgasm right there.

That was the moment that he knew he couldn’t last any longer “come for me baby fuck,” Sidney blurted out as your orgasm hit you like a truck letting you see stars.

Your cry could have been heard from anywhere on the floor “don’t stop,” but you didn’t care as you felt Sidney shoot his release into you “so good,” he grunted as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

He kissed your lips as he let his cock slide out of your pussy causing your body to shudder to again “you okay?” Sidney asked as your eyes repeated blinked at him.

All you could do was nod “I’m gonna get a washcloth.” He mumbled pressing a kiss to your forehead as he got up making his way to your bathroom.

You smiled to yourself as you propped your head up by your hand watching his bare ass move away from you “that Bedard?” Sidney’s eyes went wide as he picked up the picture frame and looked at the image of you and Connor from when you were kids.

Guilt hit the Canadian like a truck as he realised the resemblance between you two “why did you tell me he’s your brother!” He groaned pinching the bridge of his nose.

A laugh left your lips “you choosing to ignore the fact that Bedard is my last name ain’t my fault old man.” You teased him as Sidney placed the picture frame back down on your table “I know you ain’t calling the man who made you come like that old.” His words made you laugh as he decided to forget about the wash cloth and instead come back to your bed.

As his knees hit the mattress you knew you were getting what you wanted “most men usually get three orgasms out of me.” You confessed smiling as his lips were back down by yours.

Sidney was naturally competitive, and the fact that it came from you only meant more “that just means I’m gonna have to make you go four more rounds then.” His words showed you that he wasn’t going to messing around.

Seven weeks later

You nervously sat in your bathroom as you waited for the timer to go off. Your period was late by more than a few weeks and there was only one man you had slept with since your last cycle. Since Sidney left your apartment he had gone back to his old ways making you feel stupid for ever even letting him in.

The timer went off pulling you away from your thoughts as you flipped over the series of tests that you had taken “oh fuck me!”

Pregnant

Now you were going to have to tell this child’s father.

#crosby x Bedard sister!#sidney crosby #sidney Crosby imagines #Sidney Crosby smut #oneshots #imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey smut #nhl smut #amber writes fics

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

Text

“I need your help to find Robin a girlfriend,” says Steve.

Eddie shuts the door in his face.

“You know I’m not gonna just leave, man!” Steve hollers through the door. “Come on, let me in, we gotta, like—strategize.”

“No!” Eddie yells back, loud as he can. “Fuck off!”

Gratifyingly, he hears Steve stumble a little. It’s not a thick door, and Steve must’ve been right up next to it.

“Don’t you want Robin to be happy?” says Steve, at a much more normal volume. “She thinks you guys are pretty close, you know.”

Now that’s just dirty pool. Sure, it turns out he and Robin get along pretty well; sure, they’ve been thick as thieves ever since Robin inquired in a rambling roundabout way if certain rumors were true, and Eddie allowed as to how they might be. So what? Not like it means Eddie has to let himself be suckered into whatever hare-brained scheme Harrington’s cooked up now.

He tells himself all of this, then sighs and opens the door anyway.

“Okay, Harrington, come in and explain so I can tell you why this is a bad idea in excruciating detail.”

Steve smirks all smug and insufferable, and pushes past Eddie to sprawl on the couch.

“So, you know how the Vickie thing ended, right?”

Eddie shrugs. He kind of does, but he’s pretty sure he missed some things. He’s never gotten the full run-down or anything like that, he’s just rubbed Robin’s back as she got spectacularly drunk about it and puked in a bush.

“Anyway, it’s been like three months, and Robin’s still moping. She’s gotta put herself out there again, like getting back on a horse.”

“Bet she loved you telling her that,” says Eddie.

“Exactly, so, we should team up and do some of the legwork before I bring it up again. Set her up for success. I’ve got the charm, and you’ve got…” Steve gestures vaguely in Eddie’s general direction.

“A killer music collection? Impeccable personal style? Terrible taste in friends?”

“No, man, you’re—I mean, you’re gay, right?” Steve looks suddenly uncertain. It’s not like it’s a secret, obviously, but they haven’t talked about it in so many words before.

“Yeah, more or less,” says Eddie. It’s not like he’s never ever seen the appeal of any woman, but—yeah, more or less. Close enough for government work.

Steve claps his hands together decisively, like some kind of dorky Little League coach. “Great! Great, that’s perfect. So I can help Robin with the whole flirting-with-girls thing, and you can handle the gay stuff.”

Eddie bats his eyelashes and grins like the compulsively self-sabotaging dumbass he is. “Well, usually I make pretty boys buy me a drink before I handle any of their gay stuff.”

Steve Harrington, the little shit, isn’t phased at all. “You saying I’m not pretty enough for you, Eddie?” he drawls, leaning back and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

Eddie wonders if he can get away with lying down on the floor for a minute to recover. He probably can’t, so he just takes the psychic damage and swerves back to his main point.

“Look, Harrington, I think we should just let Buck find her own way. Be free, spread her wings, et cetera.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, uh-huh. If we do that, she’s gonna turn into some kind of weird hermit and never talk to another girl in her life. We’re on her team, right? We gotta get her confidence up so she can ride into the sunset with the babe of her dreams.”

Eddie drags his hands down his face, wishing desperately that Steve were just a tiny bit less…whatever this is, so his goddamn heart could maybe catch a break.

“I could really use a hand here, Eddie,” Steve says. He frowns a little, pressing his lips together and glancing away. “I know there’s stuff I don’t…I just don’t want to screw this up for Robin, okay? She deserves to be happy, but I need you to make sure I don’t do anything too dumb.”

“Think that one might be a lost cause,” says Eddie, but he collapses onto the couch with a resigned sigh. “Just—talk me through what you’ve got, okay?”

Steve lights up, throwing an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and shaking him a little, pulling him tight against Steve’s side. “Yes! Okay! Let’s do this!”

This is going to be a test of fortitude, but at least Eddie’s pretty sure it’ll all be over soon. How long can it possibly take to find a girlfriend for Robin Buckley?

#is this anything idk #I've been super busy but this just sort of spontaneously emerged; might be the start of a new fic fr? no promises #might fuck around and try to sell y'all on a rarepair for robin #(obviously this is also going to be steddie)#fic: somewhere sometime somehow

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desswright29 · 2 months

Text

The Great Antipode

Pairing: Ex/Queen Shuri X Ex/Singer Reader

Word Count: A short Novel lol

Summary: Five years ago, you left Shuri on her knees in her hotel room. On the night of your wedding. The two of you moved forward with your lives both accomplishing great things. Will a celebration thrown for your latest accomplish bring the two of you back together?

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Domestic violence, slow burn, deprived Shuri

A/n: Ok y’all. Snuggle up for this one. It’s long af! But It has something for ALLL THE GIRLY’s. The romance girls, the angst girls, the smut girls, the slow burn girls, the music girls. And “Good bones” is an original poem. So I hope you all snuggle up and rub your feet together and dive in. Enjoy! Happy B-lated Valentines.

Good Bones by Shuri Udaku Who knew that the death of us could be so endearing? Laid to rest, the flesh of fearing Decaying beneath the thumb of time The stars in your eyes and my heart align

Weakness shriveled, and fell off the shape Kindred spirits take place in love’s nape A funeral began, to which we did not attend But tears fell through the soil, and growing begins

Time stood still and said “not yet” A reach in the night, yet our hands never met But I felt you, Sthandwa… I was never alone No strength in old vessels, but our love has good bones.

Walking along the foggy dock; the long coat of her tuxedo whisked gracefully in the windy night. Her vision was engrossed with the horizon of the navy sky, almost hypnotized by the green light that blinked at the top of the building in the city. The owner of the home that was a direct antipode to her own ran marathons through her mind. Though she couldn’t fully visualize it, she knew it was there. A perfect vertical axis from her home, to the home of her heart. She’d built it that way. Coming up on the end of the dock her stride came to a halt. Her eyes shut, with the green light still invading her sight behind the lids of her eyes. She stretched out her arm,reaching for the light. For the love she’d lost five years ago. She reached for a sign. Even just a light wind to tickle the tips of her fingers. Any sign that maybe, just maybe she was thinking of her too.

“Ikumkani wam” Griot spoke through the Queens Kimoyo earrings. “Wakanda is calling.”

With a light sigh, her hand fell to her side, jaw flenching in frustration. She opened her eyes, staring right back out into the darkness that surrounded the relentless blinking green light. The darkness she deserved after the hurt she’d caused the only woman she’d ever truly loved. She turned on her heels, begining the walk back to what had become her second home. Turning her back on the darkness, and also the flashing hope of the green light.

“Bast. Hear my cry. I have done the work. If you see fit, please send my heart back to me.”

Across the axis the direct antipode to the home the Queen had built, was a JamesEdition penthouse filled with busy bodies, and buzzing conversations as everyone prepared for the big day! The fuss was partially interupted by the ringing of the doorbell. The door opened to reveal Mr. Bruno Mars. The best friend to the lady of the house. Greeted at the door by the butler, and led through the elegant grand hallway to the study. Where he was met by Mr. Michael Addai. His best friends husband. Michael quickly took the phone from his ear ending the call immediately to properly greet Bruno.

“Bruno! What’s up my brother!” He spoke with a loud booming voice, his walk just as boisterous. He stuck out his hand for Bruno to grab.

“How’s it going man?” Bruno replies.

“Everything is everything man. That woman of mine has been talking about seeing you non-stop all week!” Bruno smiles affectionately.

“Well I should get to her then. I’m excited to see her too. I’ve missed her.” Mike smiles, wrapping an arm around Bruno’s neck.

“Inseparable the two of you. It’s quite cute!” He laughed big and loud, as the two of them entered busy living room.

The house was alive with music and bodies. It almost seemed as if it were a dance. Hair stylist, makeup artist, and wardrobe, moved gracefully around the large room. Their only mission being to perfect the beauty that sat in the center of the room.

A luxurious silky white robe tied neatly around your waist, hung from your shoulders so elegantly. You sat leaned slightly forward, legs crossed as the makeup artist applied the last bit of gloss to your plump bottom lip.

“Well I’ll be damned! It seems as though you’ve made it my friend.” A light gasp leaves your lips. Your head turns and your eyes glimmer as they connect with your longtime bestfriend.

“Is that you my love!?” You stood, rushing over to him with your delicately heeled feet. Arms raised prepared to be wrapped around your favorite person. You close your eyes as the two of you connect finding comfort in the warm embrace.

“Did you miss me?” You say pulling away staring into his smiling eyes. “Everyday! Everyday I sat by my window in Rome and gazed into the nights sky missing my only friend!” He says, full of drama like only he could. You giggle pushing his shoulder, turning to take your seat back in the center of the room so that your hair could be finished.

“You’re lying. But I’m still flattered.” Bruno laughed along with you.

“Not about the important part.” The two of you share another glance with mutual adoration.

“Bruno!” Your sister Danielle yelled as she trotted down the stairs to embrace him. “It’s been a while! I see your work in my travels often! Beautiful! Incredible!”

“Thank you Dani. I’m very flattered.” He says with a blush.

“Yes! They are which reminds me I’m hoping to commission an original piece from you.” You chime in somewhere beneath all of the commotion.

“I’d be honored. Especially, from a soon to be Grammy winner. Ten nominations is unfathomable!” You giggle and do a little jig.

“It still feels like a fever dream. I’m taking it moment by moment.” Someone began to fan you. Keeping you from overheating in all the commotion.

“So Bruno, are you back in New York for good?” Michael asks, walking over to the mini bar to pour two glasses of scotch.

“For awhile atleast, I’ll be settling. Just bought a new place over in New Rochelle. It’s nice though humble compared to the estate next door.”

“New Rochelle? Interesting. There’s an after party out there tonight. It’s being given by someone who calls themselves Sweet Lady. Have you heard of her? Anyway, I was planning for us to go there after sissy came home with the win!” Dani exclaimed, sitting elegantly on the couch in her flowing sundress.

“Can’t say that I’ve heard of her, but I’m down to go.” Bruno replied, as Michael hands him his scotch and he nods in appreciation.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Sweet lady?” You say. “Sweet lady.” You say again in a whisper to yourself. Confusion crept up on your brow as the image of her sculpted face creeped into your mind. Within a blink she was again gone.

“Y/n are you ok?” Bruno asks, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Hm? Oh yes. I’m fine. Today is just overwhelming in this best possible way! Let’s just get through the show first and we can discuss the parties later. They’ll be plenty!”

You say, joy prevalent in your voice. But, in the back of your mind that name continued to echo.

Sweet Lady.

Slouched in her seat, leaning slightly to the left with her elbow resting on the arm of the chair, her thumb rested underneath her chin, and her pointer finger sat thoughtfully over her lips. Shuri sat sectioned off, secluded from the masses in an area of the building that was drapped in golden curtains and flooded with security.

Nakia and Okoye sat beside her watching the stage with expectancy. Shuri’s fingers tapped along the table before she nervously reached forward, grabbing her drink, and taking a stressed sip. She was fixated, focused in on the screen as Victoria Monet sashayed onto the stage to present the last award you had been nominated for. Album of the year. Her heart pounded against her chest, and her palms were sweaty as photos of you and the other nominees flipped onto the screen. So far, you’d cleared eight of the ten Grammy’s you were nominated for and Shuri’s heart swelled with pride.

Victoria opened the envelope, and Shuri sat forward. Her elbows sat steady on the table holding up prayer hands. Underneath the table, her knee bounced uncontrollably. It seemed the world was moving in slow motion as Victoria’s eyes lit up looking up from the envelope.

“Oh My God!! Everybody stand to your feet right now! Give it up for my girl as she comes up to except her 9th Grammy of the night!! Making history and surpassing Michael Jackson’s record of eight in one night. Mrs. Y/n Y/l/n-Addai!!!!”

The other nominees photo’s disappear, and Shuri’s hands flew to her mouth as she jumped to her feet. Pumping her fist in the air. “Holy Shit! She’s done it! She did it! That’s my girl!”

Her eyes welled, as she looked to Nakia who stood to the left of her, grinning, clapping, and hooting like a proud big sister. “Yeeeesss!!” Okoye stood stoic a hint of a smile on her face and proud eyes.

The camera landed on you, standing stuck at your seat, tears streaming down your beautifully made up face. Your hands covered your mouth, identical to Shuri’s. Your mom scooped you up inside her arms holding you, rocking side to side whispering her pride in your ear.

Your sister jumped up and down, her own tears falling before she joined in with you and your mother. Your husband waited patiently, smiling down at you taking your hand and the two of you share a loving kiss. The crowd was roaring, giving you a well deserved standing ovation.

Suddenly, a longing took over Shuri’s body. The lump in her throat getting larger, and the direction of her tears changing. Shuri’s eyes zero’d in on his hand, resting delicately on your waist as you gracefully saunter up the steps to the stage to receive your award. That should’ve been her. Guiding her beautiful wife up the stairs, waiting at the bottom as you had your moment. That should’ve been her last name hyphenated behind your own. Instead, she sat hidden away. Wanting to support, and be there for you without ruining your evening with her past transgressions.

Your dress was simple and elegant. A silky black material, with a slit that traveled all the way up to your small waist and flared out beautifully. It trailed behind you as you gave Victoria a long tearful hug before stepping up to the mic and trying to speak. Your husband stepped up beside you pressing you into him. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out and you closed your eyes opting for a wet exhale as the audience cheered you on. Shuri’s eyebrows furrowed. Why was he still there?

You try again successfully “Whew, this is…..WOW!” You broke into tears again. As you spoke HE remained attached to your hip. Pressing your body into his side while you tried to deliver your speech. Shuri cocked her head to the side in annoyance. Until the sound of your voice took over the room again.

“You’ve all had to hear a lot from me tonight, so I’ll do my best to make this short.” A few chuckles float through the crowd. “If you look around you’ll see all of my family here. My mom, my sister, my bestie even flew in from his travels to be here tonight. Heeey Bruno!” You smile and wave and he smiled pumping his fist. “And my wonderful husband who’s always standing beside me. I love you baby.” He gave you a peck on the cheek before finally stepping back. In an instant, a flash of sadness took over your face and you took a contemplative breath before speaking again.

“A long time ago, I had a pretty amazing friend. Under difficult circumstances that friend grew to mean the world to me. Even in the middle of loss that would’ve sent most of us into a spiral of insanity, she didn’t break. She mourned, she tried, she failed, and she learned. She never gave herself the option to quit. Now today she stands as one of the worlds most powerful, innovative, world leaders of any time. Who has not only shown an undying love for her own people, but has spread that love over into our African American culture! And let us not forget she is a BLACK…WOMAN!”

The entire crowd stood to their feet with a loud applause. You smile while wiping away a single tear, waiting for the crowd to calm down. “During my first album she’d fly in with her busy schedule, just to be in studio sessions with me and the crew until sunrise. Making sure all of our broke ass’s ate and atleast got some sleep.” You laughed lightly as the crowd followed. “Outside of all of my musical inspirations that I’ve listed tonight, I would be remiss to not mention my greatest inspiration. The person who inspires my resilience, my tenacity, my work ethic. The person who showed me that it wasn’t enough just to be pretty and talented. But, that I had to be smart and unafraid to be a bitch that was about my business.” A few shouts of agreement sounded throughout the crow.

“So tonight I hope that she’s watching. I hope she’s proud, and I want her to know that if it hadn’t been for her, I would not be standing here today. Thank you for loving me the best you knew how. But, most of all thank you for believing in me. This last one is for you Queen Shuri Udaku.” You held your award in the air before crossing your arms over your chest in a Wakandan salute. “Thank y’all.” The crowd roared.

Nakia and Okoye stood on either side of Shuri tears in their eyes, arms crossed over their chest. Shuri sat in shocked. Her right hand sat over her heart and her eyes were closed, as she listened to the sound of the roaring crowd. The day she lost you. She’d prayed. Prayed to Bast that she would make you and her family proud. That somehow she could rise out of the deep dark hole she’d dug herself into, clean and in good graces. Now, here you were taking your historic moment to acknowledge not only how she had impacted you, but her impact on the world. She let out a shakey breath standing to her feet. She crossed her arms over her chest. And she, Nakia, and Okoye placed there arms down to their sides simultaneously.

You turned to walk off of the stage and landed right into your husbands arms. He pressed your body up against his, trapping your lips against his in a sloppy kiss. When he pulled back. He yelled “Love this girl!” into the microphone. The crowd went crazy, clapping, laughing, and hooting. Shuri officially couldn’t do it anymore. Her hands shook. She was overwhelmed with the storm of emotions evading her senses and she needed to get away.

“Shuri. Do you want to go, Usisi?” Nakia spoke up, noticing the distress in her little sisters eyes. Shuri took another sip of her drink. She nodded, wordlessly placing her drink back onto the table. Everyone at the table grabbed their belongings as Shuri stood to her feet. The Dora surrounded her, and Nakia and Okoye stood in front.

Bruno looked up from his seat out into the sea of people, just in time to catch a glimpse of what looked like the Dora Milaje exiting the building.

“What the fuck was that?” Your husband came up behind you whispering as you exited the stage. He gripped your hips rougher than necessary pulling you against him. “It was a speech Michael.” He nuzzled into your neck, breath tickling your ear. Your skin crawled.

“She can’t save you. You know that right? You belong to me.”

“Why on earth would you acknowledge her in your moment! That was YOUR moment y/n!”

“My moment to say whatever I wanted to say Dani.” You say, uninterested in your sisters opinion. You sat at the bar in your home sharing a celebratory drink with your mother and sister.

“And it was a beautiful speech baby girl. I’m sure Shuri was very touched.” Your mother says before glaring at your sister. “Dani we all know how you feel about Shuri. Let’s not ruin a good night with it.” Dani rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying. She may be doing great things now but she still hurt my sister, so she’ll forever be the opp to me.”

“The opp? Girl…Ok street nigga.” You say rolling your eyes back at her.

“Well, it’s obvious the woman has grown and it’s ok for your sister to acknowledge that. Because she’s grown as well. Shuri didn’t go about loving your sister in the best way. But the love she had for her was undeniable. She just had some healing to do.” Dani smacks her teeth.

“Fuck her.” Your mother furrows her brow.

“Danielle” Dani quickly straightened up.

“Sorry Mommy.”

“Mhm. That’ll be my cue. I’m headed in for the night. I’m gonna go back to my hotel.” Your mom got up from her bar stool begining to grab her things.

“Mommy we have plenty of room. I don’t know why you felt the need to get a hotel!”

“No no! You all need your space tonight. I figured you’d all be partying all night. And I may want to find me some company.” She winks at you and your sister.

“Oh nah. We’re not there yet mama.” Danielle says.

“Absolutely not. But do your thing girl!” You say, and you all laugh.

“Goodnight beautiful girls. Be safe tonight.” You mom threw over her shoulder as she walked out of your home.

“We should be heading out now too!” You give your sister an apologetic look before speaking.

“Rain check?”

“Y/n! I don’t want to hear that shit! Please tell me you’re not bailing on your big night! You won nine Grammy’s tonight! Let’s go have some fun! Everyone is waiting and want to celebrate you! This party is supposed to be one for the books.” Your sister stares at you incredulously.

“Well you go ahead! Everything was just alot tonight. I’m a bit overstimulated and tired. You know how I get. We can celebrate tomorrow I promise.”

“Y/n-“ she began to protest.

“Really I’m ok. Me and Michael will celebrate in our own way.” She turns up her nose. “You’ll be back to see mommy tomorrow anyway. Go have fun! This is all of our night to celebrate! Take a driver!” Your sister hesitated, but eventually gave in.

“Ok. Tomorrow y/n.” She points with a stern glare.

“Tomorrow.” Your sister looked at you with a bit of worry in her eyes.

“You still thinking about her?” She asks.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“She did played a huge roll in all this Dani. Part of me wishes she could’ve experienced this with me.” Your sister shook her head in disapproval.

“Well she can’t, because she fucked up that chance. She’s doing great ruling her country well. And you’re doing damn good without her. She wasn’t concerned with how you felt when she was cheating and how she feels now is none of your concern. Keep your eyes forward baby sister.” You cast your eyes downward. She lifts your chin.

“I’m so proud of you, and I love you.” She says giving you a hug.

“I love you too.“ You smile, and walk her out of your home. You shut the door leaning against it, you close your eyes and let out a small exhale. That’s when a full bottle of alcohol flew by your head. The sound of glass crashing on the door beside your head shocked your system, as a frightened squeal left your mouth. You gripped your dress preparing for impact. Michael grabbed you by the biceps pushing you into the wet spot and tiny glass shards left on the wall.

“Michael! Please!” You tried breaking free to no avail.

He wrapped his hand around your throat hard. Cutting off your circulation.

“How dare you acknowledge that bitch on our night?”

“I’m sorry.” You rasped, hanging there helplessly. The color leaving your face.

“Don’t let all of these little accolades get to your head. You’re still a little piece of trash that lucked out and got me after the queen hung you out to dry. Remember that shit the next time you decide to publicly embarrass me.” He threw you to the ground into the pile of broken glass on the floor.

“Argh!” You yell out gasping for air, as glass peirced your arms.

“Worthless.” He mumbles as he walked away.

You lie there in the glass, and once he was far enough away you inhaled deeply before, sobbing. Wondering how you had ended up here.

Rolls Royce, Bentleys, and Maybachs OH MY! The finest cars lined up outside of Sweet Lady’s home as they tried getting into the Estate. The open invitation Grammy’s party was indeed Bruno’s next door neighbors. He watched the house from the road as it lit up the sky. The music pumped loudly, and rowdy conversations could be heard for miles. Bruno maneuvered around the cars parked in front of his driveway trying to make his way up to his front door. A black envelope, lined with gold waited for him. Taped over the peephole. He looked around before carefully walking up on his porch, taking down the envelope and opening it.

“I have an invitation!” Bruno yelled, with the card held high above the crowd. He found himself shoulder to shoulder with a sea of people trying to enter the gates of the grand estate.

He continuously try’d showing his invitation to the random men in black suits that stood guard. But it seemed as though it didn’t matter, being that he was the only one who had one. Placing the invite in the front pocket of his suit jacket, he walked further into the party. His eyes filled with wonder as he’d never seen anything quite like this before. The home was exquisite. Lit up like an amusement park. It almost looked like a modern museum. There was a live band playing in the center of the fountain. Dancers and servers everywhere with whatever food you could think of. Some for the bougie. Some for the hungry. And the drinks were endless!

This home was what dreams were made of. Who is this Sweet Lady?

“Bruno!” A feminine voice called from behind him. He turned to see Dani waving above the crowd. “Hey! I see you decided to come! This place is insane!” She said.

“Yea I did. I found an invite on my door. Did you get one?”

“No one got an invite.” Dani shrugged.

They moved through the party sipping cocktails and continuing their conversation.

“Do you know her?”

“Only what I’ve heard of her. But no one has ever seen her.”

“Wow. I wonder who she is? She has to be a huge deal to live this way!”

“I’ve heard she’s some invisible industry big wig. That she controls the industry. You know Illuminati type shit.” Dani said. Another individual over heard the conversation as they began to ascend the stairs, and decided to add their bit of gossip.

“I heard she was a spy.” They say, causing a domino effect.

“I heard she was a bootlegger, on the run.”

“I heard she was a politician.”

“Who ever she is I’d like to know her.”

Everyone looked at eachother able to agree on that statement.

“Excuse me? Peter? Peter Gene Hernandez?” A man in black interupted the gossip circle. Bruno was taken aback. That was him. His full government name.

“Um y-yes. That’s me.” He says, confusion apparent.

“Madame would like to speak with you. If you would follow me.” Everyone gaped at the scene dying to know what Sweet lady wanted with Bruno. Bruno looked at Dani his heart pounding a bit in his chest. She gave him a nod to follow the man and he slowly complied.

He was led through the large doors into a grand foyer, and up a staircase that could’ve easily been mistaken for something inside of the Metropolitan. Everything about this home was tastefully over the top. Whoever this mystery woman was, two things could be said for her. One: She was Classy, And Two: She was LOADED. After being led through a long hallway. He was taken through yet another set of double doors that entered a much cozier area of the house. With beautiful furniture. Still plenty of room to entertain and a grand piano. A figure in a black and gold suit stood watching the party from a bay window.

She was slender. Yet powerful in stature. Her hair was cut low. And her jaw, sharp. In some cases she could be mistaken for male. But for Bruno. There was no mistaking that posture. Before him stood…..

Shuri Udaku. Queen of Wakanda.

“Bruno my friend. How have you been?”

“Shuri?” She turned from the window. Finally facing Bruno.

“In the flesh” She says raising her martini glass. Fireworks went off outside of the large windows as if this moment had been coordinated.

“So I wasn’t tripping when I saw Dora leaving the award show?”

“No you weren’t tripping.” She giggled. “I guess we could have been a bit more discreet in our exit.” They both stood awkwardly. Shuri took a sip of her drink and ran a hand over head.

“So they said you wanted to see me?”

“Of course. Yes. Yes. I did ask for you. Um. I wanted to know if.. if she came?”

“Y/n you mean?” Shuri shifted on her feet.

“Yes. Y/n.” It was all starting to click for Bruno.

“No. She said she was tired.” Shuri’s face visibly saddened, and she turned back towards the window. Placing a hand into her pocket as she held on to her glass with the other.

“She used to love parties…This was all for her.” Her head lowered. “I guess this was my way of celebrating her without having to disrupt her day.” Bruno looked at his surroundings.

“This house for her too?” Shuri just stared into Bruno thinking of a way to answer.

“In a way. Y/n always had big dreams. When we were together she always said she wanted something like this. Something huge outside of the Citadel where she could entertain, and have garden parties and things. Just some where for us to come and relax that had endless possibilities. So, I built her dream home. An antipode of sorts. I’m aware I’ll never have her again. But I come here when I want to feel close to her.” Shuri turned away from the window and walked over to the seating area placing her glass down and taking a seat. Bruno looked on, exceedingly impressed with the love Shuri had for you. “I know it’s silly. I just hoped that tonight she could atleast see it.”

Bruno thought back to tonight at the show. The blantant show of insecurity your husband put on. The cautiousness you held around him. How he wouldn’t let you have your moment completely. The inappropriate glances with other women that he thought no one noticed. Bruno had come to the conclusion that he didn’t really like Mike pretty early on in the evening.

“How’d you know I lived next door?” Shuri smirked. “Oh Bruno. You know better. I’m still extremely aware of my surroundings.”

Bruno chuckled, joining Shuri on the plush sofa. “If it’s any consolation, this place is amazing. And this is one hell of a party. She would’ve loved it.” Shuri leaned back before running a hand over her face.

“Nah. This was stupid. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“It’s really a beautiful gesture. Maybe you could talk to Danielle she’s here. She could put a bug in her ear.” Shuri shook her head. “Absolutely not! She’s more angry at me than Y/n. It’d be like arguing with a rock.” Bruno’s eyebrows rose in agreement.

“That’s true.” He leaned back as well. That’s when an idea hit him. “Hey! How about I invite her over for dinner tomorrow. Tell her to come alone. And you could join us.” Shuri sat up straight, her head turned towards him. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her pants before standing and pacing.

“Y-you think she’ll come. That would be great! Dinner? That gives us plenty of time for us to get your grass cut. No offense. Griot. Contact the gardeners!” She began rambling.

“Whoa whoa. Calm down. Yes she’ll come. I’ve been gone awhile she’ll want to catch up.” The excitement in Shuri’s eyes was almost childlike.

“Ok. Ok. Great! That’s great!”

“So tomorrow?” Bruno stood, outstretching his hand for Shuri. She stepped forward taking his hand in hers and shaking.

“Tomorrow.”

Bruno walked back out into the party. Dani stood at the entrance of the mansion waiting wide eyed as she sees Bruno approaching. She quickly meets him half way.

“Wellllllll.” She said excited for answers.

“I can’t give you anything. But just know… This all makes sense.”

The next morning Bruno woke up to the sound of power tools outside of his home. He quickly jumped up grabbing his robe rushing to his front door. He swung it open to see a crew of gardeners in his yard. Cutting grass, planting flowers. And… building a fountain? Shuri stood in the center of the yard overseeing the work being done. Bruno just shook his head and walked back into the house to prepare his home for when you arrived.

Closer to time for dinner to start, rain started to pour from the sky. Bruno glanced out of the window of his kitchen as he put together some appetizers for the evening. An army of umbrellas marched up his driveway. Shuri leading the pack dressed to the nines. Bruno opened the door for the barrage of people, Shuri stepped aside allowing them to enter Bruno’s home. The first two people carried a large 3 teir wedding style cake. The others carried tables, food, chairs and more flowers. “They say the rain will clear by evening.” Her eyes shifted around the yard looking over the work done. Her eyes never settling on one thing.

“Yes it should.” Bruno says.

“Is everything alright?” Shuri asks, finally looking his way.

“Ah. The grass looks fine if that’s what you mean.” Shuri looks around and then back at Bruno.

“Grass? What grass?” And brushed past him walking into the house.

Time ticked by as they sat quietly watching the clock in Bruno’s living room. Shuri sat fiddling with her hands on the couch facing the clock. Her foot taping rapidly. Bruno leaned against the entry way to his living room watching Shuri’s internal panic. One minute after five Shuri hopped to her feet.

“I can’t wait all day. She’s not coming. I’m going home.”

“Shuri she’s only a minute late.” She rushed past him. “I’ll just go. She wouldn’t want to see me. Besides no one’s coming to dinner it’s too-” She was cut off by the honking of a horn as a car pulled up. “It’s her.” Bruno said grabbing an umbrella and rushing out of the door. Shuri froze in the hall eyes wide with regret before rushing back to the living room where she tried to find the best way to present herself to you. She eventually opted for an awkward pose by the sliding doors waiting for you to enter.

Bruno rushed outside with an umbrella waiting for your driver to let you out of the car. The driver came around laying out a carpet for you, so that you wouldn’t step into the mud. Bruno held out the umbrella as you stepped out.

“This is a beautiful place you have Bruno. Why did I have to come alone? Are you gonna confess your love for me?” He laughs.

“Oh that’s a secret! Tell your driver to go far away!” The two of you laugh. “I’ll call you back James! His name is James.” You say as you both enter the house. Bruno allows you to walk ahead of him. You stop to check your reflection in the hall mirror before heading to the living room. You were stopped in your tracks at the doorway of the living room, your mouth dropping.

“Oh my God! Did you ransack a greenhouse?” You ask walking through touching all of the beautiful flowers. “He is in love with me.” You whisper to yourself. Bruno walks in behind you looking around in confusion. Shuri was nowhere in sight. That’s when he noticed the sliding door had been left slightly ajar. He let out a sigh, and you take off your jacket. Bruno took it from you to hang in the hallway.

“That’s funny.” He chuckles.

“Wha-“

And there was a knock at the door.

“Give me one second.” He says as He ran to the door. There Shuri stood, now soaking wet.

“What are you doing?” He whisper yelled.

“I can’t do this! This is crazy!”

“Come on Shuri she’s here now! This is what you wanted.” She shook her head turning away.

“I’m leaving.”

“Stop it! You’re acting like a child.” Bruno chastised. Shuri stopped in her tracks. Turning back towards Bruno. She stepped forward, smoothing down her jacket. She charged forward into the house.

“Is everything ok?” You say, hearing footsteps enter the living room as you stood gazing out of the glass sliding doors. You turned only to be met with the shock of your life. There she stood, in burgundy slacks and a matching jacket with golden flower embellishments, with the shoes that matched to the T. Though she was drenched, she wasn’t any less of the African Goddess you remembered. An ethereal beauty.

“Shuri?”

“Sthandwa.” Shuri breathed, She felt like her heart would explode as she ogled at your beauty up close for the first time in years. It’d been five years since you’d left her on her knees in her hotel. The years spent alone had not been wasted. She’d matured immensely. Though she was the youngest to have ever ruled Wakanda, it was a well known fact that she was indeed the best. She’d dedicated her life to the well being of her people. And it’d kept her sane. But everyday she awoke feeling like a continuous failure. All because she’d lost you.

Now here you were.

You wore a simple white dress that fell off of your shoulders. The sleeves were long but sheer. The skirt short but flowing. The sunlight beaming through the glass doors, hit you just right. Casting a glow around your silhouette. One could mistake you for an Angel. You were the first to break the awkward silence.

“I’m certainly glad to see you again.” Shuri let out a puff of air as though she had been holding her breath.

“H-hi. I’m certainly glad to see you too.”

Your eyes slightly water as a smile crept up on your face. In that moment Shuri felt blessed. She’d never thought that she would see your smile directed at her again. Your eyes light up with the sight of her. A sense of relief passed her over as the two of you gazed at the other from across the room. The sound of a tea kettle whistling from the kitchen sounded throughout the house. But the two of you never broke eye contact.

“Um. That’s the tea. We should head to the dining room before the food gets cold.” Bruno cut into the tension.

“Y-yea that sounds good.” Shuri agreed.

The two of you migrated into the dining room, as Bruno excused himself to the kitchen to grab the tea. Shuri pulled out your chair and you took your seat, as she sat adjacent to you. The silence remained awkward as you both tried catching glances at the other without each other noticing.

Bruno came and sat the tea in front of the both of you. “The servers will be out with the food in a few. But, I forgot. I have this thing in town.” Shuri’s head snapped up towards Bruno the fear in her eyes apparent. “I know forgetful. But you guys enjoy yourselves I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He said rushing out of the house. Shuri got up quickly following him. “Be right back” she said to you before running behind him.

“What are you doing?” She asked incredulously.

“Im leaving the two of you alone. And you’re not going to get anywhere with her talking to me. Go back!”

“This is bad. This is a bad idea. It’s embarrassing!” Shuri said pacing and panicking. Bruno grabbed her shoulders.

“Hey! It’s ok. Y/n‘s inside waiting for you. Go get her.” Shuri swallowed. Giving Bruno a greatful nod. With that she went back inside.

“I’m sorry about that.” Shuri said as she sat next to you. You eye her as she sat.

“It’s fine. I’m guessing you’re nervous.”

“Yes. Yes you could say that.” You laugh softly.

“I have to say I am too. This was very unexpected.”

“I realize that. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. I just.. uh.. I really wanted to see you. Congratulate you in person. I’ve never sat next to a nine time Grammy winner before.” The both of you laugh as the atmosphere started to feel a little less heavy.

“Actually. Im really happy to see you Shuri.” Shuri sat forward a bit looking at you intently.

“I must tell you that your speech meant the world to me.” Your eyes widened.

“You watched?” Shuri broke eye contact. “Uh” Your face scrunches in confusion.

“You were there?” She looked back into your eyes.

“I couldn’t have imagined missing it. I am so very proud of you. You’ve become one hell of a force, and you would’ve become that with or without me.” Your eyes glistened with tears.

“Thank you.” You whispered reaching for her hand that she slowly placed in yours. The smallest connection sent waves of electricity through the both of you. Today it would go ignored.

“There’s so much I want to share with you Shuri. We have so much to catch up on. I’ve missed you.” A tear fell from Shuri’s eye and she quickly wiped it away. “Yes we do. I’ve missed you too.” The servers began to bring out the food, it was easy to see that it was hand selected by Shuri. Everything she remembered being your favorite was on the menu. The two of you talked and laughed. It was refreshing, the way it had been in the beginning.

When Bruno returned the two of you had made your way back into the living room with the drinks of your choice. Shuri’s arm was behind you on the couch, her body turned towards you as she listened intently to the words coming out of your mouth. He couldn’t help but smile. The sight was almost nostalgic.

He cleared his throat, and was ignored. He rattled his keys and still wasn’t acknowledged. So he decided to just announce himself.

“Heeey! I guess dinner went well?” You stood to your feet smiling. “Dinner was delicious.”

You turned your attention to the sliding glass doors and stepped out onto the porch. Staring out at the water. Shuri followed behind you.

“This is beautiful.. just open breathable air. You can even see the top of the buildings in the city.”

“It is quite beautiful. You have an even better view from my place.” You look at her in confusion.

“Where is your place?”

Shuri points to the home straight across.

“So you are Sweet Lady.”

She chuckled. “I’d hoped you’d come to the party. But honestly, this was much more rewarding.”

“Well I’d love to have a tour.” Shuri’s heart soared.

“Of course. Bruno! I’d like for you and y/n to come to my house so I can show her around.”

“Ooooh my-“ You say stepping inside the gates of Shuri’s home, stunned, thunderstruck. You couldn’t believe your eyes. A knot formed in your throat. “Shuri is.. is this-“ Shuri stepped up beside you. Taking in your reaction with an affectionate smile she replied.

“Yes. It is.”

“Our house.” You say, a lone tear fell from your eyes, as you look up at her.

“Our house, Thando.”

“I-“ was all you could say. Words escaped you.

“There’s so much to see. Ubusi. She directs you forward holding out her hand, gesturing for you to go ahead of her. Shuri and Bruno grabbed your hands leading you up the steps as you admire the architecture. The doors open to the entrance and your breath was taken as you stepped inside.

Years ago, at the begining of your relationship you and Shuri designed this home as a game. A fun look into what could’ve been your future. After the two of you had finished you’d fawned over how the two of you meshed so well, and how this would be your dream home. With everything that happened the memory faded into the background. But Ofcourse Shuri’s masterful brain, brought it to life and made it into something you could have never dreamed of.

Beautiful unique chandeliers, marble floors. The entrance with the most gorgeous tree growing in the center of the room. Shuri walked ahead of you leading you throughout the house. Introducing you to staff. Showing you every intricate and well thought out detail of the estate.

The gardens were your favorite. There were many. An area to have garden parties. A meditation garden, a butterfly garden. Hell there was even a helicopter landing pad! Back inside, you swooned at the beautiful high ceilings of the living room, and the cat walk that surrounded it.

This was all so overwhelming. You felt like you were inside of a fairytale. You watched Shuri as she strolled leisurely through her home proudly. Her calm regality just fit so perfectly well within the home and you found your heart fluttering at not only the beauty of the home. But hers as well.

The next area was the bedroom. Covered in marble. Cream, Olive greens, and gold. It was huge. Big as some peoples homes. It had its own living room and a bar area. A mirror sat above the bed that had another one of those gorgeous Chandeliers. The hers and hers closets were gold and grey, behind glass enclosures. Shuri’s closet being perfectly organized and the one meant for you empty.

“Shuri?” She stopped in her tracks, hearing the tremble of your voice. She turned walking over to you. Bruno excused himself from the room leaving the two of you to talk.

“You don’t like it.” She looked worried. “I’m sorry if-“

“Shuri. I love it. How could I not! I’m just wondering. Why? Why all of this? We’ve been done for years. Why did you build our house?” Shuri was silent for a moment before reaching a hand for you to grab. “Come” You take ahold of her hand and allow her to guide you back into the room and onto the large furnished balcony. She stood behind you and pointed out over the water.

“Do you see that? That faint green light flashing on top of the building in the city. Directly across from us.” You look out, humming as it comes into your line of sight.

“Yes, I see it.” You reply softly

“Remember the first time I messed up? You made it so difficult. One night I’d set up a picnic for you. Laid out blankets. Hung fairy lights. Had all of your favorites. You still weren’t feeling it.” She chuckled slightly, and you join her.

“I remember that night well.”

“I told you that you could walk away if you so choosed. But that I’d always be waiting for you. That light is at the top of the building that you live in.” You gasp turning to look at her. “I excepted our fate and gave you your space. But I built this in honor of what we had, before it went bad. In memory of my greatest loss. And when I get overwhelmed and wish to be near you. This is where I come.” You gazed into her watery eyes with bated breath. A shakey breath left your lips before you spoke.

“Are you even real?” A small smile crept onto her face before she once again took your hand. “There is one last thing I’d like to show you.”

“What else could there possibly be Shuri.”

“You’ll see.”

Shuri led you to another set of grand double doors that she opened for you. And led you down a spiral stair case. As the room came into view, a fresh set of tears fell down your face.

“A ball room.”

“Because can you really be a queen without a ballroom.” You both say recalling the moment you’d told her you’d wanted one.

“It’s official. I’m dreaming.”

“You most certainly are not.” Shuri stood behind you. Gazing at the joy radiating from you.

“Shuri this is… I don’t have words.”

You turn to her with tear stained cheeks and a glint in your eyes. You gave a mischievous smile, “Is there music?”

Shuri smiled. “Hm.” She placed a finger at her temple in faux contemplation. “Jovan!” A young gentleman entered the room onto the balcony where there sat a piano.

“My Queen.”

“Would you play something for my friend Y/n here?” She looked up, and he gave her a nod before sitting at the piano.

The sound of light haunting piano resounded throughout the room, and Shuri looked toward you asking “May I have this dance.” Your face lights up excepting her offer, and taking her hands for her to lead you to the center of the room. It started off with Shuri’s left hand sitting lightly on your waist as her right intertwined with your left.

“ I've been waiting for something

Something I can't ignore

Maybe someone I've been waiting for

To bring me back to life one more time”

It felt personal. And when you looked up and into Shuri’s eyes you knew…These were her words.

“I've been praying for another chance

To make me feel again

I've been sitting, reminisicing of a better day

Trying to reawake”

You found your self stepping closer into her. Your arm that had previously been on her shoulder sliding down and around her waist.

“Coast to coast

I'm doing the most for a second chance

Just to feel again

Baby I try and try a thousand times

And I know why”

Your hand left hers and it joins your other at the small of her back. Your head lay comfortably on her chest as she wrapped you up in her arms as though you were the most precious jewel. Your body almost went into shock at the unfamiliar feeling of safety in her arms. Your lip started to tremble as you feel the vibrations in Shuri’s chest as she began to sing the words.

“When you left me,Oh you left behind every moment” Her hand lightly rubbed up and down your spine, as she rocked you side to side. “Back when you said we, Would grow old on a porch in the golden sun.” Your fist clenched the fabric of Shuri’s jacket, your body shaking with sobs.

“It's not over

Said it's not over

As I shattered every memory across the floor” She ran her fingers through your locs before placing them behind your ear.

“When you leeeeeeeft” You let out a whimper from the words and pressed your body against hers tighter. That’s when it hit you. The pain in your side a reminder of what you had to go back home too. You flenched and Shuri pulled back.

“Are you ok?” You shook your head.

“No.” Shuri’s faced morph into one of confusion as she searched your eyes.

“W-what happened?” She softly gripped your arm and you flenched once again.

“Y/n-“

“ It’s nothing Shuri. I can’t. I-i can’t. I have to get home. Im sorry. This is too much. It’s just too much.” You took off back up the stairs to find the exit as Shuri called after you.

A choked gasp left your lips, as you lay in the center of your bed. Dress pulled up around your waist and hand inside of your panties. You rubbed quick circles into your clit as she ran marathons through your mind.Your eyes were shut tight and you bit harshly into your bottom lip as the sound of her voice, the light touches of her hand, and the security of her arms sat vividly at the forefront of your brain. Turning your head into your pillow, you bite into it to stifle your moan as you come up on your release.

“Shuuriiiii…Ahh.” Her name tastes so sweet on the tip of your tongue. Your body trembles in the aftermath, and you let out a deep breath. Coming down from your high.

“This is ridiculous.” You whisper. It’d been a week and you couldn’t shake her. She’d come back into your life and implanted herself inside of your brain. In the most inconvient of moments your mind would drift to her. Causing a goofy grin to spread across your face. You wanted to be near her. It was like her heart called out to you.

You glanced at the phone on your night stand.

“This is only going to cause trouble y/n. Don’t do it.” You spoke aloud to yourself. Unfortunately, it seemed as though you had no self-control when it came to the queen.

“Fuck it.”

You snatched your phone up and found the number you were looking for.

“Hey, Hey!” He answered after the second ring.

“Heeeeyyy best friend in the world! How are you!?” Bruno let out a long sigh.

“Aw hell. What do you want?”

“Is that the way we’re greeting each other now?”

“Y/n/n”

“Okay, okay. Did um. Do you have Shuri’s contact info by chance?” Your voice comes out light, almost shy making Bruno chuckle.

“She left Kimoyo beads here for you.” You sit up quickly, a smile ghosting over your lips “I’m on my way.” Hopping off of the bed you run to freshen up, oiling your body, and throwing on a form fitting floral sundress. You call downstairs to have vallet bring around your car and head out of your room.

“Where are you headed, Uto m (my sweetness)

“Oh Papa! You scared me. Um I was heading to Bruno’s. Dani’s meeting us and where going to do lunch.”

“Hm.” He looks you up and down “You look good. You have been filled with joy lately my dear. Is it the return of your friend?” He says before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck.

“I am happy my friend is back. Yes.” You cringe inside but you fake a giggle. Anything to get out of your suffocating house.

“Hm. You smell like a harlot. All of this for Bruno?

“Stop babe. Don’t be silly. You bought me this perfume, and you know that Bruno is like a brother to me. You’re gonna make me late. I already called the car up.” He took your ass into his hands squeezing before letting go. “You can go. But remember who you belong to.” You muster a smile. “I only belong to you Papa” You head out of the door with the intention of clearing your pallet by falling back into the arms of Shuri.

Your car barely rolled to a stop before you hopped out. Jogging up to Bruno’s front door begining to knock.

“I heard you were looking for me.”

Your hand fell to your side and you turn to see Shuri leaning against your car. Eyes stalking your body lingering on your frame. She was casual today in black joggers, a plain white T, and a white Jacket with African patterned fabrics sewn into the sleeves and pockets.

“I figured I’d save you the call.” You heard Bruno’s voice come from behind the door inside of the house. If he was infront of you right now you’d kiss him.

You squirmed underneath her heated gaze. Her stare penetrating you through the form fitting dress.

“Well it seems you wanted to be found.” You say seductively, giving her a stare of your own. One of Shuri’s brows rose her curiosity officially peaked.

“I’ve been waiting for you”

“So you knew I’d be back?” Shuri picked up on the change in your interaction with her.

“I can’t say that I did. But, I’d hoped that you would.”

“Well here I am.” The sultry tone of your voice caused Shuri’s head to tilt back eyes peering at you through hooded lids. Any other time the sex oozing from your pores would have knocked Shuri to her knees. As of now, there were more pressing matters.

“You look beautiful.” The words came out low and slow, her voice a lower pitch. “Turn for me.” She pulled moisturizer from her pocket, coating her hands before they met infront of her, rubbing together, gapping at you as though you were her prey. Your need to obey your panther was still ingrained deep into the crevices of your brain. So It was second nature for you to throw your waist length locs over your shoulder so that she would have a better look at you from behind while you turned slow, giving her a show.

“Mm.” She egged on approvingly. When you finally faced her again there was an unreadable expression on her face. A bit of a storm brewing behind her eyes. However, your want for her made you none the wiser.

Her index finger motioned you forward and you happily obliged, wanting nothing more than to fall into her arms, searching for that feeling of safety again. Those hands, those deliciously attractive tattooed hands landed on your shoulders, slowly, achingly, her fingertips trail down to your forearms. Her thumbs began to rub gentle but firm cirles into your arm. Eyes downcast and focused on her task. The evenness of your skin tone began to wipe away as you both watched a bruised cut apear onto your arm.

Your eyes watered, trained on your arm, afraid to look up. You felt Shuri’s glower burning the side of your face, heating your body with fear and embarrassment.

“P-performance injury’s.” You falsely claim, and Shuri hummed her disdain.

“Uyaxoka (You’re lying), I need to make something exceedingly clear, Bambo'lwami. You and I are both aware that there is not an ignorant bone in my body. Do not insult my intelligence.” A tear fell from your eye, dropping into the smeared make up on your arm.

“I did not call on you for body, Mtuwam. My intentions are not to seduce you, but to show you what you mean to me. So I will not participate in meaningless sexual banter with you, only for you to walk away from me back into the arms of an abuser. You have to know me better than that. Albeit, It’s been a while. But, my knowledge of the woman I love has not wavered. Mamela kum y/n, I’ll try not to jump the gun and allow myself to become irrational before you decide to be honest with me about whatever this is. I will not turn you away. But, I also will not use you at a time when you are vulnerable. You are loved by me completely and wholly.” Tears poured from their sockets as Shuri finally placed you inside of her protective embrace.

Your heart palpitated against your sternum as panick set in. She was calm. Too calm. What was she going to do?

“I feel you panicking Entle. It is true that everything inside of me is giving me the green light to end his life. The same thing that is driving me forward is holding me back.” She pulled away. Looking down into your eyes. “That is you. Say the word and it is handled.”

“It doesn’t happen that often. Sometimes he just gets-“ Shuri placed a finger on your lips. A smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes settling onto her face.

“Sh. Don’t piss me off. I’m on edge here Y/n. If your not ready for me to handle it. I’d advise you not to speak to me about it. I damn sure don’t want to hear fucking excuses for him.” Her anger escaped its wall for a second before she fought it back inside. “He will be handled mtuwam. I’ll try my best to wait for you to come to terms with that.” She gently placed your head back onto her chest, placing her chin onto the top of your head as she continued to comfort you with her embrace.

When all was said and done. Shuri stood tearfully in Bruno’s driveway, sending you back into the arms of your abuser.

Time flew by, before you knew it three months had past. Shuri had kept her promise; though she’d made it blaringly obvious that it was one of the most difficult things she’d ever had to do. She’d given you Kimoyo earrings that matched hers in multiple colors, because they were “more discreet than the bracelet”. They were to be on you at all times. Solely for her sanity while you were still with who she called “that man”. She was constantly back and forth between there and Wakanda. Still having duties to take care of, but it was clear that you intermingled with the top of her priorities.

While in Wakanda, she was constantly checking your location. If she saw you out to dinner or shopping, extra money would appear in the hidden account she’d gotten you. If she was with you in New Rochelle, she would hire brands to bring there latest collections to the house so that you could browse from the comfort of home. Your closet at her home had filled copiously. You didn’t want to take the clothes home, so they stayed there. Being that’s where you spent the majority of your time.

Access to her home was unlimited, an obvious no brainer for her. “You are the architect. It was made for you.” She would say. Her way with words had always made you swoon. So, over three months your husband had heard excuse after excuse for why you were gone early and coming home late. You’d blamed it on your schedule picking up after the wins. Which wasn’t entirely untrue. However, you always had time to be with Shuri.

In the begining, your attraction to your ex came simply from what you already knew her to be. Resplendant, undaunted, and most importantly secure. She’d come with guaranteed saftey. But, now it was so much deeper than that. All in all, it was simply…HER.

She’d grown so much. There was such a patience and maturity to her. An air of calm that was unknown to her former self. She was slow to anger. Quick to contemplate and very solution based. Her walk, a confident saunter that made you weak in the knees when you’d see her coming in the distance. When she spoke, it was matter of fact, direct. She had no time for bullshit. Shuri had always been a hopeless romantic, grand gestures being her thing. However, the lengths she would go were impressive.

She’d take you on random excursions in her helicopter. A day trip out of the country was not uncommon. You’d go back home to your husband with a tan you hadn’t had that morning, and tell him you’d taken up tanning. Your favorite part of her that not many others didn’t get to see, was her sense of humor. She made you laugh from your belly and it felt special to witness. It was as if it was a piece of her that was only for you. Relaxed and completely wound down.

Over time, you watched her work tirelessly and still there was nothing she wouldn’t do for you, and no time she couldn’t make for you. She made that very clear. Shuri in the past few months had turned out to be many things. But, if you had to narrow it all into one simple word. Only one came to mind.

Sexy.

It was bad. Every move she made turned you into a literal puddle. Her voice in particular made your spine tingle. And you’d be damned if she didn’t always smell edible. You felt like a preteen having your first real crush.

It’d been the longest two weeks you had ever encountered. Shuri had once again been out of the country, and this time you thought you would loose it. This was the longest stretch of time you’d not been in her presence since the two of you had reconnected and you were getting withdrawls. Today, she was due back and you couldn’t get to her fast enough. You threw on a cute tracksuit placing your hair in a high pony, to get ready to rush out of the house to head to her home.

“FUCK!” You yell, you’d swung your room door open and your sister was on the other side.

“Whoa! Slow down sonic. Where you headed?”

“Damn! You scared the shit out of me. I was headed to the gym.” Your sister looked you over and your outfit matched your story.

“Cool. Well I’ll join you. I could use a little sweat session. Let me borrow one of your sets and we can head out.” She pushed past you into the room to head to your closet.

“Dani, I’m working with a trainer.” Danielle glanced over her shoulder.

“And?”

“And this is my alone time.” Dani turned to you fully.

“Nah what’s up. What’s really happening? You’ve been M.I.A lately we always spend time together and somehow we’ve barely been in touch.” She sat on the edge of your bed. Waiting for a plausible answer.

“I-I just been working. There’s a lot of pressure on me with this new project after winning 9 Grammy’s everyone is expecting perfection.”

“I didn’t know you were even working on a new project?”

“It’s just-“ you were interupted by the flash of your Kimoyo earring against your sisters face and your eyes widened.

“Bitch did your earring just take a picture of me?” She stood walking back over to you squinting at your ear, and then it hit her.

She looked over your shoulder and around the room perplexed.

“I just know damn well that this isn’t what I think it is.”

“What?” You say feigning innocence.

“Those are damn Kimoyo earrings.”

“N-no-“

“Griot” Your sister announces.

“It’s nice to hear from you again Ms. Danielle.”

Your eyes shifted downward. Caught.

“Check the message y/n. Out loud.” You sigh.

“Griot, please open my messages.”

“Yes Nkosazana, The Queen says she will be in shortly and has asked me to advise you to meet her in the garden.” Your sister throws her hands up dramatically walking away from you.

“Thank you Griot.” You reply softly.

“You sneaky bitch!” She whisper yells.

“You can stop whispering Mike caught a flight out this morning.”

“Good. YOU SNEAKY WHORE! You’re fucking Shuri!!”

“Ok you’re doing a lot! And I am not fucking Shuri! We’re just friends.”

“Friends? Friends! On what planet can you be friends with someone who did you the way Shuri did. That’s not a friend!”

“Damnit Dani! Give the woman some grace! What she did was fucked up and it hurt. But it was over years before she proposed and she’d done the work, before word even got out. She’s an even better woman now. So your disdain for her is completely unwarranted. She isn’t that person anymore!”

“I call bullshit!”

“Dani it happened to me! So you should get over it! I have!” Your sister took a deep breath before continuing.

“Little sister I don’t want you to get hurt. You have a damn good man that would never hurt you the way Sh-“

“You don’t know that!” You scream. “You don’t know Shit Dani! Your talking shit but you were at her house sipping cocktails and watching fireworks on Grammy’s night; at a party she threw to celebrate me! In a house that she built in memeory of us!” Confusion took over your sisters face.

“Mike has been mentally, emotionally, and physically abusive for years! And Shuri would have NEVER done THAT! It took Shuri a second to see me and nobody else noticed! She’s kept me out of here and safe, so Mikes abuse has been minimal lately. She hates that I’m staying here. Afaid of the consequences of leaving. But she’s trying her best to be understanding, and takes damn good care of me sis. Such good care….I feel so loved. So protected, and she’s only being a friend.” Tears now poured down you and your sisters face. “So Yea. I’m leaving. And I’m going to go be with Shuri. Because I’m in love with her…You can let yourself out.” You walk out of your house leaving a stunned Dani behind.

Underneath the apple trees, you sat on a bench with your head lying on Shuri’s shoulder. Munching on the perfectly juicy fruit, surrounded by the beauty of the garden.

“This is nice.” Your eyes closed taking in the smell of the flowers, the fruit, and the woman. Shuri smiled. “Yes it is.”

“Shuri?” She hummed, signaling you to go ahead.

“My sister knows.” Shuri’s brown raised as she continued overlooking the garden.

“How much?”

“She knows that I’ve been spending my time here, and that you’re Sweet Lady… She also knows about Mike.” Shuri contemplated on your words a moment before she spoke.

“Thwandie?” She speaks softly in that voice you loved so dearly.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to tell you a story.” You lift your head. Eyes connecting with the sharpness of her jaw, and her handsomely gorgeous side profile. “Ok?”

“A few years ago, There was a young queen, who lost her heart. After she lost her, she felt as since of finality. A vast emptiness that scared her to her core. And as she tried to give her Princess space. Time to sit with the betrayal of the queen. That emptiness penetrated her deeply. It drove her insane.” Shuri took a deep breath and you lay unmoving on her strong shoulder as her arm found your waist.

“So one day, she couldn’t take it anymore. She showed up to the princess’s home and she begged her forgiveness. Not for the well being of her love. Purely to mend her own brokenness caused by her own poor decision making. Needless to say the door was slammed in her face. Rightfully so. But the self righteous queen continued to bang and beg. Pleading with the princess to help her. All to no avail. So the queen placed her back to the door sitting, quietly crying. Woe is me. Until a few minutes passed and suddenly this wail comes from inside the house. Right on the otherside of the door. It was heartbreaking. Full of a deep ache. A soul wound. So she sat silently crying against the door, as her heart sobbed trying to cleanse herself of the wound the woman she’d trusted had given her.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek, moans escaping your lips through the suppressed sound of hiccups. Shuri continued her own voice shaking as she held back tears of her own.

“I was still there. I heard it. Every body racking sob you let out. That sound etched itself in my mind for years. I got my shit together y/n. I sat and I tortured myself with the sound of the hurt I cause you. And I got up. And I got my shit together, and dedicated my life to being the type of woman who would’ve made you a proud wife. Because that’s what you deserve. That is what you have always deserved.” Tears welled from deep inside and coursed down her cheeks. “You said I inspired you. But you are THE reason. The reason for every move I make baby girl. The reason I learned to pray.” A sob escaped your lips as you turned looking out over the lake. Shuri shed tears of her own as she watched you. The sun was begining to set. Casting a beautiful light over your silhouette.

“I don’t know why you’re choosing to stay there with him. But, I’m ESTATIC that Dani knows. Because now I am sure that it will be short lived. I know it won’t be for me. But please… Leave him. I just want to see you happy.” Her eyes peirced into yours thoughtfully. You gaze back into her eyes, Your feelings beginning to bubble up ready to explode from your lips.

“Shuri I-“

“Panther, M’Baku is trying to reach you.”

“I apologize. I must take this.”

“Ofcourse, I’m gonna go inside. The guys are coming over for a session I should get to the studio.”

“Ok. I’ll be in shortly.” You smile and nod, turning to walk away, heart still racing from what had almost been said.

You stepped into the booth, befuddled by Shuri’s words in the garden. You’d wanted so bad to let her know that she owned your heart. That and so many other parts of you. Every part. She had been the insperation behind your pen, Making words flow from you like a river. You’d pushed out soo many songs to use in the past few months, just dreaming of her being yours again. Now here you stood in her home studio, prepared to bring them to life. Bruno sat behind the sound board with your producer Leon, when the doors to the studio opened.

Shuri swaggered into the room with enough posh to bring you to your knees. She had changed from her more formal wear that she wore in the garden. Opting for purple joggers with a black button up jersey that had Wakanda written across the back in gold and purple gradient letters. A matching cap sat low over her eyes as she walked through dapping up all of the guys. Freshly showered it’d seemed.

She sat on the leather couch directly in your line of sight, and your heart dropped into your stomach. Her smile brightened the dimmed room as she acknowledged you. Arms sitting over on the back of the couch as she man spread underneath the spotlight that was meant to highlight the art on the wall. Now there sat a much more interesting piece beneath it.

“You ready to run this one all the way through?” Leon asked. You tried peeling your eyes away from Shuri, it was as though her presence cast a spell over you. Your fingers graze against the fretboard of your guitar and you build up enough strength to nod signaling them to start. They start the countdown. And the music began.

“You got meee

You've got meeee

You've got meee

You got me speeeeechleeeess”

Your guitar sang, piercing throughout room to reach the woman you loved.

“Where you been, baby?” Shuri laid her head back against the couch. Her eyes peering at you from underneath her cap.

“My heart starts trembling

As I hear your footsteps pace”

At this point, everyone else had faded. There was only you and Shuri.

“Goin' out my head I think I'm losin' all my mind

Drive me crazy burning candles, makin' love all night

Feels so strange, it feels so crazy to be in your world

In your arms lost for words, you got me”

You put every ounce of passion you had for Shuri into the song. Her bottom lip was now trapped between her teeth only amplifying your lust for her.

“Layin' so closely

I feel your skin rubbin' and touchin' me

Only sweat between us

Feelin' you kissin' and pleasin' me”

Shuri began to involuntarily squeeze the cushions of the couch. Your words and voice coursing through her veins. She was now inside of your mind. Visualizing every word that came out of your beautiful mouth.

“I rub your back

I kiss your neck

I know that you love when we touch like that

I can feel you need me

Feels so good to me

Feels so good to meeeeeee”

The tension was thick in the room. Shuri was hypnotized and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. Wanting to see every bit of her reaction to you. The song gets more intense, your pretty breathy voice igniting a fire inside of Shuri.

“You got me

You got meEeEee

You got meeeee

You got meee”

Your eyes open staring straight into Shuri’s.

“Speechless”

You go into another guitar solo. Your eyes shut tight as your fingers worked the strings with proficiency.

“all I can say is

Yeees

Yeeess

YEEESSSS, all I can say is

YEeEessss

YeeeEEESS

YEEEEAHHH, OOH!”

Your eyes opened and Shuri now sat on the edge of her seat. The look on her face undoubtedly lust.

“Kiss me

Hold mee

You've got me

SSSpeechleeess”

The song ended and silence penetrated the room. Your eyes finally dropped away from Shuri’s.

“I think we got it.” You say breaking the silence.

“Yea.”

“That’s definietly it.”

“I don’t see it getting any better than that.”

Agreement scattered throughout the room. Shuri silently sat back on the sofa, her eyes never leaving you.

The rest of the night was spent perfecting and mixing the song. Discussing music for other projects, and bullshitting. You all smoke, drank, ate, and caught up. The tension however never left between you and Shuri. It was thick in the air and everyone felt it. The subtle glances. The avoidance of touching or being near eachother.

Everyone started packing up to leave one by one, until it was only you and Shuri left.

“Bye love, I’ll come by tomorrow.” You say to Bruno as you shut the door to the studio behind him. Turning to Shuri who stood leaning against the mixing board. You cleared your throat.

“I guess I should be getting ready to head home.” Shuri nodded.

“Yea. That’s probably a good idea.”

“Probably so.” You agree, as you began to gather your things.

“If that’s what you want.” You hear Shuri say. It stopped you in your tracks. “It is pretty late.” She says fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

“Shuri.”

“Yea?” She finally looks up from her hands.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Then stay.”

“I’m gonna take a shower it’s been a pretty long day.” you announce as the two of you enter Shuri’s bedroom.

“Yea go ahead. Help yourself.” Though you were often at Shuri’s home, had a closet full of clothes, and her fridge was stocked with foods you loved. You had never spent the night. Always choosing to go home for the sake of discretion. But, tonight Mike was gone and with Shuri was were you wanted to be.

Shuri took off her shoes and unbuttoned her shirt, getting comfortable while you took your shower. She headed to her bar area fixing a drink before taking a seat in one of the plush chairs in the seating area of her bedroom, and turning on soft music. The soft warm lighting highlighted her toned stomach. Glistening against the simple gold chain around her neck as she leaned back, sinking deeper into the comfort of the chair trying to figure out what she was doing. This was dangerous. The two of you were playing with fire, and Shuri didn’t know how much longer she would be able to hold out. It was becoming apparent that the feelings the two of you had for each other were bubbling over. It was getting harder for this friend charade to last.

She’d dreamed of the day that she could call you hers again. Nevertheless, this time she wanted to do this right. Questions flooded her mind. If the two of you crossed that line, how would you feel about her afterward? Would you regret it and run off? She didn’t want to ruin the progress that had been made with you. She could be totally misreading the signs. Shaking her head she took a sip of her drink, rings clinking against the glass. Sitting it on the side table, her finger circled the rim as she remained in deep thought.

The click of the door to the bathroom grabbed Shuri’s attention. You stepped out of the fog. A black lacy lingerie set with a robe to match decorating your frame. A diamond garter sat high on your thick thigh. Strappy stilettos graced your pretty feet as the smell of your fresh scent permeated the air. You strutted further into the room with all the grace of a super model. Shuri raised a brow as she looked to both sides of her, to be sure she wasn’t dreaming or on a trip. Her mouth sat slightly ajar as her eyes settled back onto you.

Your walk had always been unmatched to Shuri; the sway of your curves was genuinely hypnotic. You approached the table infront of her with your alluring stride, stepping up onto the golden table, your pretty toned, gartered thigh peaked out from under the robe. Your fingers brushed against the pretty pendants that dangled from the chandelier, your eyes interlocking with Shuri’s.

“These chandeliers.. they’re made from vibranium? Yes?” You inquired seductively.

The rise and fall of Shuri’s chest was steady through the sports bra she wore under her opened shirt. Her heart pounding hard against her chest. She placed her drink against her lips again taking a light sip, before nodding her answer.

You smile. “Good.” You pulled the tie of the robe from around your waist allowing it to fall open. You began to tie the strap to the bar inside of the Chandelier as you spoke, finally pouring your heart to Shuri.

”You know Shuri. I wrote that song with you on my mind. I hope you felt that. Lately, all I seem to do is think of you. The smell of your cologne, the sound of your voice, the way you talk. You told me a while back that you wanted all of me, not only my body. Baby I’m ready to give myself to you. All of me. Because you deserve it.” You pur.

“Y/n I-“ Shuri tried interupting, but you cut her off. “Shhhh. Let me talk, beautiful.” you placed a finger against your lips and Shuri obeyed.

“You treat me so fucking good Shuri. I can’t help the way my body reacts to you. The woman that you are. So strong, powerful, and yet you’re still so gentle and patient with me.” You close your eyes letting out a low moan. “Shuri. Shuri. Shuri. Just your name is enough to make my body tingle. It’s written all over me. All over her.” You grab onto the tie that now hang taught from the chandelier with one hand and your other made a trail down your body and stopped over top of your mound. “All over my kitty kat.” Your body trembled as your hand ran over your clit. Your eyes open, connecting with Shuri who was salivating.

She had leaned forward her elbows on her knees with her drink dangling from the tips of her fingers. Her bottom lip was relaxed slightly seperated from her top, wet from her recently running her tongue over top of it.

“Shuri, baby. You give so much. Work so hard. What I want to know is, who takes care of you?” You finally took full hold of the Chandelier and let your body hang, opening your legs wide for the Queen. “I can do that for you daddy. I’d do anything for you.” You began moving your body to the music as you hung from the Chandlier, showing off like an acrobat. Leaving Shuri In a daze “Will you let me?” Shuri let out a staggered breath.

“Fuck.” Her voice was shakey. Her tongue once again ran slowly over her lower lip as she sat back in her chair placing her drink back on the table next to her. Moment by Victoria Monet began to play as you spun from the glistening beauty above you. Shuri was too stunned to speak as your body spun, streched, rolled and grind to the sexy song. If she was dreaming. Bast did she never want to wake up.

“BhaBha, are you sure you want to do this?” Shuri finally found words.

“I’ll show you.” Every coherent thought that Shuri had been thinking before exited her mind as you dropped onto the table in a split. Removing the robe from your shoulders. You move out of the split onto all fours. Crawling over and placing yourself inbetween Shuri’s spread legs. You place your hands onto her knees and slowly make your way up the inside of her thighs, fingertips brushing against her womanhood before making up your way up to her beautifully toned stomach. You lean forward and kiss right above her naval. Her stomach tensed from the contact and she let out a muted groan.

“Mm. My Queen. Do you know your power?” You continue laying sloppy kisses on her abs. “Do you see yourself?” She hisses throwing her head back against the chair, closing her eyes tight as her core began to throb. She gripped the arms of the chair. “Ahhh shhhit” She moaned.

You climb into her lap, kissing up her neck. “You’re tense baby. Have you been neglected?”

“E-entle, I-I can’t. We s-said we’d do this the r-right way.” Shuri tried to stand strong on her word, but you would always be her weakness. You bit right underneath her jaw before giving it a peck to ease the pain.

“Touch me Sweet Lady” you moaned. “Please. I need it.” As if commanded by the sound of your voice both of her hands rose slowly from the arms of the chair, gripping the meat of your ass. The both of you moan out as if you’d waited a life for that exact moment. Shuri gently nudged the side of your head with her chin as you were busy sucking on her neck. The sexiest of bedroom eyes fell on you.

Trailing your face down to your lips. You took your the hint, leaning in you exchanged breaths before you gave her your mouth. Sharing your first kiss in five years. You pressed into her gripping her shirt. You basked in the feel of he tounge gliding against yours. The walls crumbled. Any doubts about going further going with them. It started off slow and loving. Pecking eachothers lips softly. Slowly the Intensity built with the desire that had grown inside the both of you for months. It became a wet, sloppy, lusty display of affection.

A groan fell from Shuri’s lips. Pulling away from you looking into those beautiful brown orbs.

“I’ve lost restraint ubusi. It....it's..um... been a long time.” You pull back a bit searching her eyes. Yours grew in shock as you reached the realization of what she meant.

“Shuri? Have you not..Have you not had sex since we broke up?”

She buried her head into you, a bit embarrassed to say.

“I-I Uh…we… I couldn’t.” She whispered. You felt your core pulsate. Knowing that this gorgeous woman who could have had anyone in the world at her disposal waited for you. It made you want to give her the world. You wanted to please her in every possible way. She belonged to you. And you belonged to her.

You grabbed ahold of her hands. Intertwining them in yours and placing a sweet kiss to her soft lips. You take one of her hands placing it over your breast. You take the other and place it on your clothed pussy.

“Don’t worry baby. It’s just like riding a bike. I know you still got it.” Shuri’s hand rubbed slowly against your pussy, her other hand squeezing your breast. She left open mouthed kisses all over the exposed skin of your chest, trembling at the feel of you. Your wetness coating her fingers through your panties. Your body was so hot you felt as though you would scorch her lips. Pulling down the lace of your bra, she freed your breast out of its confinement, before flicking her tongue over your nipple. She then began to suckle, moaning at the taste of your skin on her lips again. You roll your hips into her hand. And gripped the back of her neck, head rolling back.

“Oh yes. Just like that. You got it baby.” You moan.

“You sound so fucking pretty like this.” Shuri whispered as she gave your other nipple some attention. The sound of her voice mixed with the sensation of her mouth on you and her fingers pressing against your clit made your vision blur.

“Fuck..we’re really doing this.” Her eyes were glassed over, trained on the whine of your waist. “We’re d-doing this Shuri. I need you. N-need you to make me feel good”

Her eyes shut tight. A groan of desperation reverberating from her throat. She bit into your nipple and your head lolled back letting out a whine.

“Demethi.” She whispered

Suddeny she was up on her feet with you settled easily in her strong grasp. She carried you the short distance, to a cushioned bench laying you gently onto your back. She stood above you, her sweats dipping low on her hips. The muscles from her hips and pelvic region making a perfect V. You moan at the sight of the African Goddess.

My God, this woman is in love with me?

You thought to yourself as her hooded eyes stared down at you in admiration. The sight of you must have been erotic. Your breast pulled over the top of your bra, legs spread wide as your fat wet pussy soaked through your panties. As diamonds twinkled against your thigh.

“Ubuhle bakho bundigqiba amazwi (Your beauty renders me speechless)”

“Shuri Please baby. I need you. Let me show you how I feel for you.”

“Patience Phakade lam(My forever). I want to take my time beauty. I’ve waited so long for you to be back in my arms. Let me take my time.”

She settles herself between your legs, lifting your right leg placing a kiss against the jewlery on your ankle. She kissed, sucked, and licked down to the garter on your thigh, before biting into the thickness beneath it. Unable to resist. She grasped the garter with her teeth pulling it down your leg maintaining eye contact. Once she got it over your heeled foot she sat up straight dropping it from her mouth. She repeated the same actions on your ungartered leg, except she made her way all the way up to the crotch of your panties. Nuzzling her nose into you. Taking in your smell. You grind your pussy against her face

“Baby please she’s aching. I need you so bad.”

“Turn for me.” You eagerly sit up making a show of turning over onto your stomach for her. You lay flat, and she grabs your hips pulling your ass up, making you arch your back for her. You spread open wide for her and bounced each ass cheek seperatly. Showing off.

“Bast, so beautiful” She leaned down, pulling the string of the thong and setting it to the side of your ass cheek and spread you wide open.

“I’ve missed you sphalaphala sam (my pretty one)”

Your hips began to rotate in anticipation. She placed her face between the cheeks of your ass and placed a lick to your needy cunt.

“YES!” You yell, eager for her mouth on you. You go deeper into your arch.

“Ooohh that’s what you want pretty girl?”

“Fuck yes Shuri. Please!”

Shuri lapped at your pussy a few more times before taking all of it into her mouth. She moaned at the taste of your wetness as she gripped each side of your thighs, spreading you unforgivingly. Your moans were trapped in your throat as a tear rolled down your cheek. Yes! It was finally happening. You threw your ass back against Shuri’s face as she opened wide, sticking out her deliciously long tongue. Placing it inside of your hole. She fucked you with her tongue as your ass slapped against her face.

“Mmm. Smother me sthandwa.” She moaned into your pussy.

“Oh my God Shuri. Eat this pussy! Eat it. You better eat this shit! Just like that.! Yeeeessss!” Your praises landed on Shuri’s ears and sent signals directly to her swollen thick clit. She straddled the bench, getting comfortable as she cleaned her plate involuntarily grinding into the seat beneath her.

Her body quivered from the sounds coming from your mouth mixed with the squelching of your cunt. Fuck was she going to cum untouched.

“Uhn, uhn! Shuri! Oh Shuri! I’m gonna cum.”

“Let it go baby! Drown me! Cum on my fucking face!” On command your thighs began to shake and Shuri pressed your ass into her face taking hold to your clit trapping it between her lips.

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cuuuummiiiiiinng!” You scream as Shuri held you against her as your body convulsed. Trying to fall flat against the bench. Shuri felt herself on the cusp of her own release and quickly removed herself from the bench. Face drenched in your nectar.

“Stay arched for Nkosazana. Please.” The sexiest groan left her lips. “I need to cum.”

You felt her hips grinding into you desperately from behind, She remained fully clothed much to your dismay. You felt her heavy breath against your neck and you panted along with her. Feeling high from her touch.

She pressed herself up against you. Running her hand up your spine she unclasped your bra with expertise. As she continued rolling her hips. Bending over she began placing kisses along your spine. Her hot breath making your body shiver. She made it up to your collar bones wrapping her arms around you gripping at your breast. She planted sloppy kisses on the back of your neck. Grunting as she grinded making your clit jump aching for her to touch you again

“Shuri baby?”

“Hm.” She groaned as she continued to kiss you.

“Use me. Please use me baby. Make yourself cum on me. Take what you need.”

Without hesitation, Shuri sat up on her knees not bothering to stand to take off her pants and boxers. She pulled them just below her ass and placed her thick swollen clit onto your ass grinding against it as you pressed yourself into her. “AhOooh. Oh Bast.” She moaned deep as her body jerked on contact, her clit sensitive and aching for release. She began thrusting into you with fervor. Face scrunched biting hard into her lip as she selfishly cosintrated on her release.

You reach between your thighs rubbing circles into your clit as Shuri ground her pussy into you.

“Oh Fuck Shuri! You like how that feels daddy. You like how this thick ass feels against that big clit daddy.”

“Fuck. Yes! Yes y/n don’t stop. Ah! Keep g-grinding that shit for me uuhhnnn r-right there. Oouu you feel sooo good.” She wound her waist behind you.

“Oouuu Panther, Never. I’ll never stop! I love it when you use me!”

Shuri gripped the back of your thong with both hands using it as leverage to press you further into her as she leaned her torso back slightly watching you work against her. Her head lulled back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. You could her breathing start to pick up behind you as she began thrusting against you. You arched harder and she gripped the flesh of your ass hard. You knew it would surely leave bruises. She let go of you with one hand getting one of her pants legs off with the other to get a better angle against her clit. She began to spread you open as she concentrated on her nut. That’s when her engorged clit slipped into your folds. Your hungry hole sucking her in. Both of your mouths fell open at the sensation. Shuri’s thrust got impossibly faster as your pussy clenched onto her clit doing kegals.

A moan attempted to escape Shuri’s lips but it only came out in choked gasps.

“Pretty girl. T-take it eaaaasy on me!” You were insatiable feeling Shuri inside you. Teasing your hole as you rubbed your clit ferociously. It was like nothing either of you had ever experienced before.

“I want to feel it! I want to feel your pussy cum inside me!”

Shuri felt the pressure building and she could no longer hold it. She reached forward grabbing your locs, bending over to get her clit as deep inside of you as possible.

“You’re s-so fucking nasty. It’s so u-unladylike Entle.”

“I don’t want to be a lady. I want to be your dirty little slut. The Queens whore.” You spit back at Shuri. She let out a low growl, grabbing your hips, slapping her own against yours, fucking into you hard.

“Bast! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! G-Grip me! Bhaby grip me! I wanna fill that pussy.”

“Yes Shuri yes! Explode in this pussy!”

An animalistic howl left Shuri’s mouth, the sound triggering your own release.“Uuuuuhhhnnn.” She pulled your body up completely by your hair. Pressing you against her. Her hips stuttering and body shaking as she released years worth of cum onto your waiting ass. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.” She mumbled as you continue rubbing your ass against her, wanting to milk her of all her essence. She burried her head into your neck. Still quivering from her release. Both of you collapse onto the bench.

“You Definietly still got it Shuri.” You say breathlessly. You both laugh.

“The Queens whore huh? Oh Thando. You’re in for a long night.” Shuri says. You turn your head around, capturing her lips in a kiss.

“You waited for me. I have all night tonight and every other night after. Just tell me what you want. Now, I want to taste your cum.”

Shuri rose to her knees and you turned to face her straddling the bench. You came face to face with Shuri’s pretty brown soaked pussy.

“So beautiful.”

You smiled having missed the sight of her thick clit that jutted out from her pussy lips. You give it a lick and her body jolts. Still sensitive from her orgasam. You give it a few more licks before immersing it with your mouth. Sucking it up and down as if giving her a blow job. Shuri wrapped your locs up in her hand as she gently thrust herself into your mouth.

“Oooh baaaaby.” She groaned. “Just like that. Good fucking job.”

You moan at her taste and encouragement. Your hands travel up her legs caressing her hamstrings. One of your hands continued up finding its way between her thighs. Your middle finger finding its way to her tight hole.

“Shit. Mtuwam fuck me. Ahh!” It came out in a blissed out whisper as she continued to control the movements of your head.

“Mm, so needy” you moan into her aching twat. Shuri’s eyes were closed her mouth ajar concentrating on the pleasure you were giving her. You watched her abs contract with each thrust as your other hand found it’s way back between your legs. Shuri’s breathing sync’s with her thrust and you knew she was close again. Slurping at her bud you add another finger going a bit faster. Her legs began to tremble and you got ready to drink her sweet nectar.

“Yes that’s right give me another one Panther. Bless my mouth. You deserve it.” you whined.

“It’s coming baby! Catch it for me!” You opened your mouth wide and flicked your tongue over her clit.

“Uuuhhh it’s coming baby! It’s -“ Grabbing the back of your head she pressed you into her and her juices splashed onto your tongue and all over your face as you fucked her through it.

“Ugh it so good! Soso good!” Shuri screams as she let go again. You continue lapping at her getting her all cleaned up. Once she caught her breath she released you from her core. Bending down to place her lips on yours.

“Thank you so much for pulling that out of me. I needed that. Now daddy’s going take over pretty girl.” She smirked. Your core clenched around nothing anticipating Shuri’s next move.

She motioned you closer to her with her head wanting nothing more than to please the panther, you obeyed. She grabbed your arms wrapping them around her neck, and stood from the bench. Gripping underneath your thighs, wrapping your legs around her waist, she finally shook the other pants leg from her leg and carried you over to the bed. She tapped your ass twice signaling you to stand on the bed, motioning to the chandelier that hung from the mirrored ceiling. You smirked jumping slightly to grasp onto the bar inside.

“Show me how wide you can open up for me.” She said as she removed her shirt and sports bra. Finally standing before you completely naked. You spread wide open for her. Revealing your bare and soaking wet cunt.

“Stay just like that for me.” She pulled up her camera on her Kimoyo beads. “You don’t mind if I take pictures do you?” She stood back watching you. “You just look so beautifully erotic.” Her sensual gaze caused your core to pulse, and you spread wider for her camera.

“Mmm, that’s my girl. Look at how fucking wet you are. Hanging from my pretty Chandelier.” She saunters over to you closer placing her thumb onto your clit. You hiss.

“This shit is innovative sthandwa. I love your mind.” She said as she rubbed her thumb up and down your sensitive bud. “Let’s play a game. How much longer can you hold on while I taste you? Hm?” She stepped forward placing a kiss directly to your clit. You moan thrusting your pelvis forward chasing her mouth.

“Oouu look at you. You needed daddy’s mouth?” She didn’t waste anymore time. She dove in with an open mouthed kiss right to your core. You placed your thighs on her shoulders grinding into her face as you literally hang from the ceiling.

“Oh God! I missed that fucking tongue daddy!” You threw your head back watching the scene play out on the ceiling. She went between sucking your clit and fucking you with her tongue hands free.

“You taste *slurp* so fucking *slurp* good *pop*” She slapped your ass hard. The stinging pain mixing perfectly with the pleasure she gave.

“Mmm. It’s so good! You’re the fucking best!.”

The longer she went, the more your body began to tense and shake. Concentrating on holding on becoming an after thought along with your hands becoming sweaty. Your hands slipped and Shuri’s panther reflexes came in handy. She caught you by the ass, both of you landing roughly onto the bed. Shuri didn’t miss a beat. Your legs started to close as you got closer to your peak. Shuri slapped the inside of your thigh.

“Be a good girl. Keep them open for me.”

She carressed your thighs as she enjoyed her meal. You spread them wider and she rewarded you with those beautiful long fingers. Pumping in and out of your pulsating hole.

You look down, watching her long tongue circle your clit, before disappearing inside of you. Her eyes closed savouring your taste as she made your body feel better than it had in years.

“You feel s-so good Shuri. Ssss so good.”

Shuri curved her fingers hitting your spot, she opened her mouth wide using her entire tongue to place over the entire length of your clit pressing against it putting the perfect amount of pressure. Moving her head up and down. She looked up at you as she worshipped your pussy. Your back arched pressing against her more. Your legs began to shake. Your hands reach between your legs and to the top of Shuri’s head. Her movements became short and choppy knowing you were close.

“Give it to me gorgeous. I’m thirsty.” She demanded.

You gasp. Pressing her further into you as your body began to quake. “Mmmm baby baby baby!” You shout over and over, gasping for air as you cream heavily onto Shuri’s face.

“Mmhmm, mhmm, Let it out.” She pulled back after you stop shaking taking a look at her work. Watching the cream leak from you.

“I missed you pretty girl.” She spoke into your pussy nudging it with her nose before diving back in to clean her up. “Thank you for keeping me hydrated mama.”

She kissed up your body now hovering over you. “And thank you for letting me taste her again. I promise she’ll never want for a thing.”

Your juices sat on Shuri’s face, dripping from her chin. Her eyes, blown and focused. You opened your mouth and she smiled, opening her own and sticking out her tongue. You lift up sucking your juices from her tongue, and cleaning her face with your own. She lay between your legs grinding up against you as the two of you share your juices in a kiss.

“I need to fuck you now baby. Can you give me more. I want to make you cum all night.” Her breath against your ear sent tingles down your spine and there was nothing you wouldn’t do for her in that moment.

“Please. Please fuck me.” Before you knew it Shuri had plucked one of her Kimoyo beads from her bracelet, placing it against her twat. She tapped it and it expanded into her wide curved strap. She places one of your legs on her shoulder slowly entering you with a groan.

“Ohhh Shuriiiiii”

She enters you in one smooth push, making you gasp like a virgin on her first time. Lovingly, she looks into your eyes, and begins to fuck you into oblivion. She knows... instinctively knows...what you need. She whispers into your ear, "Ooooh y/n…...I'm going to cum in your pussy.” The notion fills you. All you want is her cum. At this moment she could talk you into having her baby.

“I missed this. Uhn, being inside of you. The f-feeling of you g-gripping me. So wet, so fucking tight.”

She rolled her hips one of your legs on her shoulder the other around her waist. Tears began running down your cheeks. Speechless. Your pussy was so sensitive. Shuri kissed the tears from your cheeks as she continued to thrust inside of you. Your moans of pleasure her motivation.

“So pretty, such a pretty pretty sound. The prettiest song you’ve ever made.”

Her thrust started to speed up. “I want more of it.” She took the leg from around her waist placing it on her other shoulder and sat up on her knees. She was completely in control, as she gripped your hips bouncing you on her dick allowing deep penetration. You moan salaciously "Fuck me....fuck me deeper!" She pounds you banging hard into you. You were so out of it in your pleasure that you hadn’t noticed Shuri moving you two up the bed until your back hit the headboard.

“Damnit Shuri I c-can’t! I c-can’t take it! Too gooooood! Sooo deep!” Her thrust made your words staccato as you did your best to fuck back into her.

“Yes you can. You’re taking this shit baby. Taking me so well.” One of her arms was straight out holding onto the headboard as her other assisted in bouncing you into her.

“Shuriiiiiii!!!” You yell as the pleasure became overwhelming. This caused her to press into you deeper pausing to feel your pussy squeezing against her. She slowed down. Choosing slow hard strokes, so you could feel all of her. You were full out crying now. A delirious mess.

“That’s right baby cry for me. The only tears I want to see. This pussy is mine now. Nobody else can have my pussy..”

You tried to reply but it only came out as gibberish. “I want to hear you baby. Who’s pussy is this?” You gather up strength to reply.

“YOURS PANTHER!!” She gives another slow and hard stroke. “What’s my name?!” Your head fell to her shoulder as tears continued to pour. “Uuuggghhh.” Your moan came out in a gurgle.”

Shuri’s hand that had been on the wall was now around your throat. “Uhuh. I asked you a question. What’s. My. Fucking. Name?” She punctuated each word with a thrust.

“AhhhUuuuhhhhnn!” You screamed. “SHURI!!”

“All of it b-baby! Say your wife’s name.”

“AAAAAja-A-A Adanna SSSShuri FUCKING UDAKUUU!”

“That’s a g-good f-fucking girl.” She praises against your lips.

Dazed and fucked out you began to speak gibberish. Spewing out whatever came to mind and Shuri replied the two of your foreheads pressed together lips ghosting over one another’s, as the two of you reached your peaks.

“I don’t ever wanna leave.”

“You don’t have too”

“I wanna have your b-babies”

“We can have as many as you want.”

“You fuck me so good”

“I’ll fuck you like this everyday for the rest of our lives”

“Uhn God your so sexy”

“And I’m all yours Entle.”

“Ooouuuu I’m cuuuummmmiinnng.”

You feel her body stiffen and know she will cum too. Finally she groans, "Oh y/n....I'm cumming with you!" Deep inside, you feel the cum shooting into you, and it tips you over the edge. You cum savagely, squirting onto Shuri’s strap, and your world shattered into bright shards of light and colour. Shuri had captured your mouth as the two of you came both of your moans and groans of pleasure shooting down eachothers throats. Shuri’s hips continued to stutter inside of you as she gave slow less powerful thrust. Your head lolled down onto her shoulder, as the two of you slide down the head board.

Your body was spent and you were dozing. You hadn’t been fucked that good since you and Shuri broke up. Just quick sessions of huffs and puffs until Mike got his. Leaving you to fend for yourself. She fucked you so good you could suck your thumb.

“Sthandwa, let me hear you.” Shuri said after a moment of recuperation. All you could manage was a hum. Her hand came to the top of your head massaging your scalp as you lay on top of her body.

“Uthando Iwami lungangolwandle. Impilo yami ngeke ibe lutho ngaphandle kwakho, Ndiyakuthanda.” (My love for you is greater than the ocean. My life is nothing without you. I love you)

“I love you too Shuri. My dear Aja-Adana.” Shuri lifted her head kissing your forehead.

“Thando?”

“Hm.”

“Can you give me one more?” Your body was screaming at you. Bone achingly tired, and your pussy was at capacity. But you wanted nothing more than to continue making love to Shuri. So you rolled over onto your back and spread your legs for her. She sat up, looking down at you as if you were the worlds most precious gift.

“Awusemhle (You’re beautiful)” Your tired eyes looked up into hers that had glazed over. She bent down placing a kiss to your tired sloppy cunt, and you jerk at how sensitive you are. She gave loving licks to your pussy. Doing her best to ease the ach before getting your last orgasam from you.

“One second.” She got up and headed to the closet. When she came back she held in her hand a double sided dildo. “Can you take it mtuwam?” You didn’t know. But you were definitely going to try. You held out your hand to her and she placed the toy inside. You lubricated the toy with your mouth and slowly inserted it into your aching hole.

Shuri’s eyes lowered as she watched you pump it slowly in and out. She crawled over to you, and sat legs open wide. She pulled you closer to her by the backs of your knees, and placed your legs over top of hers, inserting her end of the dildo.

“Ahhhhh” you both let out satisfied moans as the two you began moving your hips, your clits kissing as you meet in the middle. Shuri wrapped her arms around your waist, and you wrapped your arms around her neck. Moans and groans resounded throughout the room over the music that was now Victoria and Kehlani crooning about wanting to be touched. You could relate. Hands probing and carressing every inch of eachothers body as you bounced against Shuri’s lap. Your bodies dripped with sweat, intertwined, moving against eachother like well oiled machines. You leaned back so that she could get a better view of your beautiful breast bouncing. She leaned forward catching one in her mouth, bitting into your nipple and then running her tounge in a circle around it before sucking, and repeating with the other one.

She pulled you up placing her head in the crook of your neck. Biting licking and sucking. At some point it all stopped and the two of you could only focus on the feel of eachothers bodies this close to eachother again. You had found your way back into eachothers arms. When Shuri pulled back, you both recognized the stain of tears streaming down eachothers cheeks.

“I’m so sorry I ever hurt you.” She choked out with a sob. Your hands cupped the back of her neck as you brought your foreheads together. “Thank you baby. Thank you for giving me another chance. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“I know Shuri. I know.“ Shuri’s hips began to move faster in a circular motion. Sighing, moaning, and crying the two of you were experiencing a pleasure neither of you had felt before. It was otherworldly. Your lips ghosted over eachothers breath combining as you made love.

“Bast. You feel so good. I don’t ever want to loose you y/n. Be mine again. Please baby. L-let me call y-you mine. Shit!”

“Aaahh! I’m already yours Shuri. I belong to you.” Shuri’s pussy squeezed the dildo and she took control. Fucking you harder.

“Oh Shuri! Im about to cum. Cum with me!”

“Mm Mm. Not yet. Let go now baby. I’ll join your next one.”

Your body couldn’t hold it you released hard all over the toy. Shuri gripped your waist harder not stopping.

“SH - SH-SHURI!!! I-I can’t! OOOOOHHHH GOOOODDDUUUHHH!!! I can’t cum anymooore”

Shuri grabbed your neck continuing fucking herself on the dildo as it also stroked your sensitive inside. She nodded. “You can take it, Entle. You’ve been wanting me to fuck this pretty pussy for a while now. Let me get the big one out of you!” Your mouth was frozen open tears pouring down your face. The look on your face had Shuri ready to explode. She could no longer hold it.

“Come on baby! Finish for me. You can do it! I’m cumming y/n! Pull it out of me!” An intense pressure built up inside the two of you as the sun rose over the horizon, and the both of you reached your final explosive climax’s.

“UuuuhhhAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!” You let out a guttural scream as your body convulsed and squirted.

“FUUUUUUCCCKKKK, Fuuucck, Fuuuuuckkk!!!!” Shuri groaned as her own juices splashed against yours. You both reached down rubbing your hand quickly side to side over your clits, juices still flowing splattering all over eachother.

The two of you collapsed, seperating from eachother; but, covered in eachothers cum.

“We should take a shower.” Shuri said after slightly coming down from her high.

“I can’t move.” You say half dead. Shuri laughs. She sits up grabbing a blanket from the end of the bed. She grabbed your hands pulling you up, wrapping your arms around her neck. And bringing you over to a dry side of the bed. She wrapped you both in the blanket as you intertwined your legs with hers lying on her chest.

“The suns coming up.” You say.

“I noticed. I guess we got a bit carried away.” She chuckles

“A little.” You join her.

“Sthandwa.”

“Ewe.” Shuri smiled at your use of her native language, before turning serious.

“He cannot have you any longer. I mean that.” She grabbed your chin lifting it so that you could look at her. “The marriage is done. Time is up. You are mine and I want you here with me.” You smile, placing your bottom lip into your mouth.

“And here is the only place I want to be.” You say before the two of you drift into a peaceful sleep.

Click, Click

The sun blared into the room. Soft music still playing over the speakers. Shuri lie flat on her back, as you lie betwixt her legs, head resting on her naked stomach. The room was blurry as you streched opening your eyes. Your movement caused Shuri to stir beneath you, her grip tightening around your upper back. You lift your head to rub your eyes when the back of your head was met with cold steel. Your heart fluttered, as you turned your head only to be met with a familiar silhouette.

“Shuri.. Shuri baby..” You call out tapping her side frantically as tears began to form.

“Don’t be scared now, Waka. You disrespectful cunt.”

Shuri’s eyes popped open, at the sound of the male voice inside of her room.

“What the fu-“ She came face to face with your husbands calm demeanor. As he held a pistol to the back of your head. The anger in his eyes unmistakeable. Her eyes found your panicked ones looking up to her with sheer terror. Your breathing was erratic, and your palms began to sweat.

“Be calm Thandiwe. You are safe with me.” Calm, steady, not an ounce of fear, could be detected in her tone.

“You are a smart man Mr. Addai. Atleast that’s what I gathered from my extensive research.” Shuri brought her hands up to rest underneath her head. Her small perky breast exposed, however she was unfazed. Mike brought the gun up to her quickly.

“I already have a bullet in the chamber. I suggest you not move a muscle.”

“Relax. What are you afraid of? You’ve got the upper hand. The gun, the element of surprise. We’re only two women. What are we going to do?” Staring Shuri down, he kept the gun, and his attention on her. “Ubusi, go fix me and your husband a drink, and bring my robe. Cover yourself, your body is no longer his to see.”

Mike began to move the gun back to your head and Shuri quickly reached up grabbing the barrel, placing it back onto her.

“Ah ah on me oo.” She looks him dead in the eye, She acknowledges you again only with her words. “Do as I say my love.” You instantly get up from the bed taking the covers with you revealing Shuri’s naked, cum stained body. His eyes followed you as you scurried off of the bed.

“Don’t even think about it.” She whispered, bringing his attention back to her. His eyes trailed Shuri’s beautiful toned, cum stained body. “Excuse, the mess. We got a little carried away and passed out. So much cum. Have you ever made her cum? Didn’t seem like it last night.”

“You talk a lot of shit for a bitch with a gun to her head.”

Shuri chuckles. “Common sense. It betrays you Michael. What was your plan? To walk armed into the home of the Queen of a nation, quote undetected end quote, into an unguarded room. Hold a gun to my babes head, and somehow make it out alive to take her home?” She once again chuckles. “Did it not feel wrong when you walked the halls and not one guard or Dora spotted you? And here I believed you where at the very least a critical thinker.” Shuri cocked her head to the side, sizing him up. “We all but rolled out the red carpet for you. Idiot.” She whispered. Fear resonated behind his eyes, they darted from side to side now searching for Shuri’s henchmen.

Demure in the presence of the Queen, now clothed in your robe you approach her with her own, and the drinks that she’d requested. Composed and unafraid she stood to her feet without warning.

“I said don’t move!” Michael screamed, clearly unnerved. You place the drinks on the table beside the bed, and Shuri turns her back to you as you hold her robe open, so that she could ease it on. Shuri side eyed Mike, amused at his irratic behavior. Choosing not to acknowledge him at the moment, she placed a finger underneath your chin.

“Enkosi, Bambo'lwami. Be a good girl for me and stay out of the way.” She spoke sweetly as she placed a sweet kiss to your lips. Your gaze met hers adoringly. Even in imminent danger, she made you feel as though you were the only ones in the room, making your body react to her. You nod, “Whatever you want, baby.” It came out more seductively than you intended, and Shuri smirked, raising a brow. You turned to walk away and she bit into her lip.

“I’m going to have fun with that later. You smell that?…” Shuri sniffed the air. “That’s her arousal.” Shuri smirked. Picking up her drink from the table.

“Fuck you!” Mike yells, Shuri cringed.

“I think not.” She says, cooly taking a sip.

“My problem is not with you.”

“I bet it isn’t.”

“You saw an opportunity and you took it.”

“Is that what I did?”

“I’m leaving here with my wife.” Shuri stepped forward into his gun, the barrel between her eyes.

“I wish the fuck you would.” Mike took a shakey breath and In the blink of an eye straightened his arm out to the side pointing it towards you, letting out a shot. You scream falling to the floor, and Shuri took the thick glass and shattered across Mikes face. Dora rushed into the room. “Take her! I’ll handle him.” Shuri’s attention now lie on the groaning man on the floor. She bent down to his level, gripping him by the neck.

“I hear you like to fight women. Fight me.” Her demeanor was still calm as she spoke. Mikes face scrunched in pain.

“Come oooon now. No way way my little weak woman blow has you out already? Big strong man. Goooriiiillaaa!” Her laugh was sinister as she placed her face close to his, scrunching her eyes in faux confusion as he tried backing away from her.

“No? Nothing? Mchht, Demethi! I was wrong about you! I thought this would be fun! But you are truly pathetic.” She picked him up by his neck walking out onto her balcony hanging his body over the side.

“No! Please!” He screamed. Grabbing onto her robe for dear life.

“Please. Please he says.” His body thrashed under the strength of the Panther. Tears streaming from his eyes. “And he’s crying? My God! This is embarrassing for you. I see why that beauty downstairs made you so insecure.”

“Please just let me go.” Shuri raised a brow smiling. “Well if that’s what you want.” Panicked gasps left his lips as Shuri pretended to drop him. “Nononono! GAAHD!”

“You should be more specific with your requests Michael.” She held him a bit further over the edge. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to go ahead and take my lady off your hands. You obviously can’t don’t no what you’re doing, so she’s mine now baby boy.”

“I honestly couldn’t have done it without you. All of the odds were in your favor, you had the power to make her never want to see me again. But you were negligent with a prize. Intimidated by her value. You brought her right back to me. And for that….” She pulled him up throwing him to the ground infront of her. “I’ll let you live. You are of no threat to me, and you can watch her be treated like the queen she’ll be.”

“The me before would have thrown you from the balcony, gutted you, and fed you to the lions. But I’m better now. And I’ll admit. I lied. This was fun. Now get out of my house.” Mike scrambled to his feet. Piss staining the front of his pants, bleeding from the side of his head as he rushed past Shuri, while she followed him out.

“Ikumkaziwam!” A Dora called out as they reached the top of the stairs trying to get Shuri’s attention. “Give me a moment to see him out of my home.”

“Y/n was hit by the bullet my Queen.” Instantly it felt as though the walls started to close in on her. Everything started to move in slow motion. The front doors opened and in ran your mother and your sister right as Shuri gave Mike a swift kick causing him to tumble down the stairs

“Where’s my sister?! Where’s my fucking sister?!” Mike reached the bottom of the stairs and Dani was on him immediately.

“You been putting your hands on my sister nigga! You shot my sister!” She screamed and threw punches to the unconcious man’s face. Your mother tried to pull Dani off of Mike but she was relentless. Shuri snapped out of her shock long enough to get to Dani pulling her off of him.

“He’s out Dani! He’s gone! Let me take you to your sister!” Dani pulled and tugged against Shuri trying to get herself out of her grip and Shuri let go. Dani snatched away, turning to Shuri placing a finger in her face.

“Don’t fucking touch me! This shit is on you!” She turned. “Somebody take me to my sister!” A Dora stepped in leading Dani to where you were.

“FUUUUUUUUCK!!!” Shuri yelled falling to her knees in tears.

“Pick yourself up little girl.” The voice of your mother came from over top of Shuri.

“I-I’m sorry.” Your mother shook her head. “Danielle is upset and irrational. You have nothing to apologize for. You know that.” Shuri sniffled.

“Yes mama I know.”

She bent to Shuri’s level grabbing her chin. “All you’ve done is love my baby. And you would never cause her harm. That’s why I called you to come get her. I knew you were ready. You’re not here for Dani or anyone else. You’re here for y/n. So get up.. and go be with her.” Shuri nodded standing to her feet.

Shuri entered the medical area of her lab inside of the house. She’d thrown on some sweats and a tshirt and rushed to your side. Bruno, your mom, and sister all surrounded you as She approached, seeing you lying unresponsive an open wound to your belly. “I’m sooo sorry sthandwa. I’m going to make this right. I promise.” She whispered standing over you, a sob breaking from her lips.

“Oh yea? And how do you plan on doing that?” Your sister glared at Shuri across from her. “Dani, now isn't the time for this.” Your mother interjects. “Then when is the time!? She shouldn't be here! Standing here acting hurt like she didn't cause my sister just as much pain as Mike did! It may not have shown up physically but you did just as much if not more damage and you couldn't fix that. So just how the fuck do you think you’re gonna fix this your highness!”

Your mother opened her mouth prepared to intervene, only to be interupted by Shuri. “Dani, I’m aware of what I did. I’ve received my karma everyday i had to wake up with her not next to me. I don't want any trouble. Your sister has forgiven me. And I hope in time you can too. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The room was silenced. The Queen had spoken. She held onto your hand. Leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“It’s time to get up baby. This isn’t where our story ends.”

It was approaching midnight in Wakanda as Shuri stood outside of the river tribes village. People lined the streets dancing and chanting holding there sage and torches. Her eyes were misty, as Nakia, Toussaint, Okoye, and M’Baku stood steps behind her in support

“Usisi, they are ready for you.” Nakia says placing an encouraging hand onto Shuri’s back.

Shuri walked forward, watching her people celebrate the woman she loved. Tears finally fell as she thought back on all the time she’d wasted. The years the two of you could’ve spent had she not hurt you. The memories lost. You had always been a beckon of light for her, even when she couldn’t be near you. Your mere existence had brung her hope. Whether you knew it or not, you were the reason for the difference Shuri had made in the world. You’d made an immutable change in her life and she would forever be grateful. As Shuri reached the end of the alter she was met with the Elders.

“Ikumkazi wam, come.” The Merchant tribe elder stepped forward beckoning Shuri to her.

Shuri stepped forward and turned towards the crowd.

“Citizens of Wakanda, I Elder of the merchant tribe present to you Queen Shuri Udaku the Black Panther.”

Shuri gave her warriors salute and kneeled before the crowd. Their arms crossed over there chests in Salute to their Queen. The elder stepped aside, welcoming you and your family as you stepped forward in your traditional Wakandan garb.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”The elder speaks up. “Tomorrow you will bare that weight, once conjoined with our beloved Queen and Panther. Today her shoulders are strong, mighty. As a gracious gift from bast runs through her veins. But she will not always carry the strength of the Black Panther. Tonight we test your willingness to bare the weight with your lover.”

Another elder steps forward handing you a wooden bowl with a deep iridescent purple liquid.

“Now my dear you will place this to your loves lips and strip away the powers of the Black Panther.” Slowly you walk up to Shuri who gave you a reassuring smile.

“Will it hurt?” You say concern filling your voice. Shuri looks up to you.

“My love, you don’t need to be concerned for me. I will be fine.” She reaches out squeezing your hand reassuringly.

With that, you place the liquid to her lips and she sips.

It immediately takes effects, veins poping from her forehead and neck, her teeth clenching, and brows furrowing. The people closed their eyes bouncing their shoulders to beat of the drums as Shuri groans in agony. As fast as it started it was over. She gave herself a second and stood to her feet, as the girl you met in your dorm several years ago. She’d grown her hair back. Once again rocking the curly top that you loved so dearly. Love filled her gaze as she took your hand. This was who you loved Not the Queen of Wakanda, not the Black Panther just Shuri.

She led you forward as the dancing and chanting began to start again your families combining behind you as she led you to the river. The two of you stopped at the edge the water, it tickling the tips of your toes before you turn your heads locking eyes adoringly before Shuri nods her head in reassurance. Together the two of you step into the water submerging yourselves in the blessed water.

People came, baring gifts of fruits and herbs to anoint your union as the full moon reached its peak. The Elders reached their hands out to you praying for the success of your marriage and reign as Queens of Wakanda.

You leaned forward, foreheads touching as Shuri’s hands snaked around your waist, your arms wrapped around her neck. And you heard her sniffles.

“They’re here Shuri. They’re watching. And they are proud.” She lifted her head allowing herself to be proud.

“I’m so exited to live the rest of my life with you bambo’lwami.” Your smile gave the moon a run for its money.

“I’m so glad you said yes.”

Shuri believed in the green light, the orgasmic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter- tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther ... So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

#Spotify #shuri fic #princess shuri #shuri fanfiction #shuri smut #shuri imagine #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #shuri black panther #shuri angst #shuri x you #shuri

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bettyfrommars · 11 months

Text

Breaking the Curse

a Gargoyle Eddie story

Words: 792

This is a short smut blurb inspired by a conversation I had with @2clones-1kamino about needing some balrog/demon/gargoyle Eddie, and of course I have to make it so he's in love.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part4

gargoyle!Eddie Moodboard

It started out innocently enough. There was no way you could’ve known about the curse.

There was no way you could’ve known that the huge, 7ft stone gargoyle statue in your aunt's garden had once been a living, breathing man.

You used to visit every summer as a kid. You painted watercolor pictures of him and introduced him to your friends. You called him Goyle. He was your Goyle, and you truly believed that he looked out for you, even though he was just an inanimate statue at the time.

The years rolled on, as they do, and soon enough, you were an adult. You spent years away, having your own adventures, and making a life for yourself. Slowly but surely, you forgot about Goyle, until one summer, your aunt passed away, and you returned to pay your respects.

In the past few years away from the gargoyle, your life had taken a horrible turn. You’d lost several jobs and a relationship, and now your beloved aunt had died mysteriously. After the funeral, while still in mourning, you found your way out to the garden after nightfall, coming up behind his dark stone body hunched on a pedestal just beyond the archway hedge, near the rose bushes. The curve of his bare ass, long spade tail curled around his hip, and chiseled wings pulled down tight against his body, his big head arching down, as if in shame or penance.

You let your fingertips drag along his hip as you passed; the full moon was the only light you needed because you knew Goyle by heart. You knew that demon face with the handsome snout, full lips, two horns curled flat against his head, and wide-set eyes; he was carved from stone, but yet his expression always seemed to change for you. Tonight, you could tell he was hungry.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” you cooed, slightly buzzed on spirits, as you got on your toes to take his face in your hands and kiss his snarl of a mouth.

That was when two, big, flesh hands cupped your face in return, claws digging into your head softly, and your lips melted against his with unbridled eagerness. His tongue slipped out long enough to swipe the back of your throat; it tickled, and you pulled back to see that his eyes were a warm brown, and dark hair grew down along his demon face, making him half human.

You barely had time to whimper before you heard the stone crack as he jumped down from the pedestal with a swoop of his wings and a thud—the ground shook--- and then he took you into his arms. You clung to the rock-hard muscles of his back until he stretched you out on the grass so he could rut you with his face; smelling, licking, grunting, from your neck to your aching pussy that was now showing signs of your arousal.

You didn’t speak his ancient language, but just as his snarling mouth made claim to your swollen slit, he said, “need to taste you,” and “you’re mine,” before fucking you with his forked lizard tongue.

You grabbed onto his horns as his massive shoulders spread your legs wide, and the claws dug in, lifting your hips up so he could lick your slit front to back, making you shiver and cum; he was hungry to taste every inch of the woman he loved. The centuries he'd spent waiting for you had been long and lonely.

Mounting you from above, his demon face inches from yours, he could only get the tip in an inch before you cried out, stiffening under him, and his curious eyes found yours as he went slow, stretching you out with purpose, desperately needing to plant his seed deep inside your womb.

Your hips rose up to meet him, moaning, eyes rolling back in your head. His long hair grazed your cheeks, your hand clinging to the muscles of his thick neck. He was mumbling words to you in that old language you’d never heard before, growling at you in a way that made you say, “fuck yesyesyes,” as you came again, twitching, pussy pulsing on the biggest cock you’d ever had before as it impaled you.

He was grunting words as he shot endless pulses of cum inside, thrusting base deep, filling you to the brim until it poured out. His dragon scale wings opened up and his head tossed back in a primal howl. You wrapped your legs around him at the end, planting sweet kisses on his face, and whispered things to each other, words of affection that neither one of you understood.

The next morning, after an evening of too much alcohol and grieving, you wondered if it has all been a dream.

But your cunt bore the residual tenderness and your inner thighs were still sticky with his spend. Your fingertips feathered along the claw marks on your bare hips as you gazed out over the garden with a confused smile.

The stone pedestal was empty, and your Goyle was gone.

#eddiemunson #eddiemunsonsmut #oneshot #eddie munson oneshot

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koqabear · 10 months

Text

✧˚ · . loving you quietly

✩ Playlist ✩

“Beomgyu was taught that actions speak louder than words— he’s grown to care for others in that way, but when he finally decides to let his heart speak for once, he learns that it may have been better to remain silent instead.”

“can you hear it? my heart calls for you. i’ve been here, waiting patiently all along.”

beomgyu x gn!reader [ft. Yeonjun and Sunghoon of Enhypen]

Genre: fluff, angst, f2l, idiots to lovers, slowburn

Word count 12.4k

Warnings: mentions of food, lots of (fake) arguments n stuff, mc has a bit of anxiety, panic attacks/overstimulation, mentions of past toxic relationships, lack of proper communication, they’re both idiots please be patient with them. (lemme know if I should add anything!)

Notes: the Beomgyu brain rot got me again, enjoy and leave me silly little comment if u want me to think about u for the rest of the day ^_^

beomgyu: idk how to flirt i done called them a bitch

It’s no secret your relationship with Beomgyu is peculiar.

Out of everyone else in your friend group, you’d think the two of you would get along the most— same hobbies, same interests, your playlists containing all the same songs every time you go to get aux in the car— yet if anything, your friends have all learned to keep the two of you at least three feet apart at all times.

It’s not like you seriously hate each other— at least, you’d hope not— but it just seems that you’ve both taken quite the liking to treat each other in a much more harsh, unforgiving way.

“That sweater is hideous,” Beomgyu comments, staring you down with those same puppy eyes he always uses to get what he wants. He doesn’t flinch at the glare you send him, gritting your teeth as you watch him take an innocent sip of his shake; your lack of response only fuels him further, his lips twitching in amusement as he pulls away from his straw with a loud pop!

“It’s so tacky.”

Personally, you didn’t expect to be accosted over your comfort sweater in a Steak ‘n Shake on a random Tuesday. Yet here you are, letting out an offended gasp as you pat down your sweater in a self-reassuring manner; sure, the color and pattern aren’t exactly the most pleasing to the eye, but you were lazy and didn’t feel like doing your laundry just yet— if anything, you’re sure you could find a think piece like this in Beomgyu’s closet— or rather a few, to be realistic.

“I know you’re not one to talk,” you begin, your friends sighing and rolling their eyes as they watch your antics ensue. Once you got started, you never stopped; it truly didn’t help that you were so easily provoked, either, “Don’t think I forgot about the time you dressed like Adam Sandler for a straight week.”

“It was summer and the AC was broken!” Beomgyu perks up immediately at your comment, his ears turning red as he turns to his roommate for help; Soobin simply shakes his head, leaving Beomgyu to his defeat as he turns his focus to the fries in front of him— though you don’t miss the way his dimples poke through his cheeks as he bows his head down, a soft huff escaping him as he tries to hide his obvious laugh.

It isn’t long before you get lost in the argument; you’re not even sure if you’re making sense anymore, all logic thrown out the window as you begin to threaten Beomgyu that you’ll fight him in the parking lot this instant if he doesn’t watch his mouth— and like always, he’s never one to back down— it isn’t until you’re both chugging your shakes and telling the other to get ready that your friends finally decide to intervene.

Even as you finally settle down and head back to Soobin’s car, you’re still able to catch Beomgyu casting you stupid looks and sticking his tongue out at you childishly— you would’ve been quick to return the gesture if Taehyun hadn’t smacked him clean upside the head, telling him to “behave” as Beomgyu quickly gave him a look that resembled a kicked puppy.

You’d like to think that you would’ve won the fight— Beomgyu’s hair is pretty grabbable, but you’re sure you would’ve left the battle with a couple of bites on your body; even then, Beomgyu is the least active in the friend group, so you’re sure you could’ve easily tired him out— an easy win for you.

(That, and the fact that Beomgyu is incapable of hurting anyone he cares about.)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Being left alone with Beomgyu is not recommended.

It’s not ideal either, and you’ve come to learn this the hard way; without a mediator there to put up with your antics, there’s truly no way to tell what’ll happen if you’re left alone for longer than five minutes.

You’ve decided to be alone today, your back aching and your muscles becoming numb as you sit in the library, poring over your computer as you feel your vision slowly blurring; you’re almost done with your assignment, yet you can’t help but feel that all these hours of being cooped up inside have come back to haunt you as you feel an ache forming behind your eyes, the words before you becoming nonsensical as your brain slowly turns off.

Once you get in the zone, it’s hard for you to get out of it— you never know when you’ll be able to focus this much again, so you use it to your advantage and try to make it last as long as you can. But it’s draining, and you often find yourself strained by the time you finish— but you’ve worked so hard and you’re almost finished, you’re sure that if you push through the pain a little longer you’ll be able to focus again, right?

Your efforts come to a shattering stop as you feel a tug at your hair, insistent and childish as you try to shrug it off— all you get in return is a flat hand slapping on the top of your head, tilting your head back until you’re stuck staring at the ceiling.

“I’m hungry.”

“How did you find me.”

You’re not sure why that’s your first reaction, but the sight of Beomgyu hovering over your eyes, upside down and pouting, makes you slump back in your chair in defeat— out of all the outcomes and people that could have found you, this one’s definitely the worst.

“You weren’t at the dormmmsss,” he whines, petulant as ever as he jolts your head around annoyingly; his grip is firm on your head, and it takes a sharp slap to the back of his hand for him to pull away, watching him kiss the stinging area softly as you ignore the looks you get from the people around you.

“Okay? Didn’t you stop to think that it was for a reason?” You say, twisting around in your chair to face him; you’re quickly backing away as he’s leaning in, sharp eyes glaring at you as he lowers his volume.

“I wanted to go to that one place you took us last week, but I forgot what it was called— I had something really good but I don’t remember what it was.” He doesn’t seem phased by the puzzled look you send him; your face is scrunching up and you’re left in disbelief as you tilt your head, pursing your lips as you wonder what he could be talking about.

“You mean Steak ‘n Shake?”

You don’t miss the way his eyes widen at the sound of the very popular and well-known fast-food chain; his face feels hot as he clears his throat, shaking his head softly as he sighs.

“N—no… the other one.” His response doesn’t help at all; you’re sure you’ll get wrinkles with the way you’re frowning, truly trying to give him the benefit of the doubt before you’re left at a dead end after a moment.

“That was the only place I suggested.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn there was some other place,” he’s innocent as he straightens his posture, no longer leaning down to talk to you as he runs an impatient hand through his hair. His gaze is fleeting around the room as he goes quiet, the gears clearly being put at work in his head as he finally concludes,“Whatever. Take me there.”

“What? No, I’m busy,” you say, gesturing to your computer behind you as you give him an incredulous look. He simply scoffs carelessly, stepping closer to you until he’s reaching over, shutting your computer clumsily before he’s shoving it in your bag. You’re not sure of what else to do but run after him as he scurries away with your belongings, ignoring your hushed yells for him to stop as he simply glances back at you; his pace quickens shortly after.

It isn’t until you’re exiting the library that you finally allow yourself to run after him, curses and insults escaping you left and right as he suddenly gains an impeccable speed— you choose to chalk it all up to the fact that you’ve been cooped up inside all day, your energy well drained while Beomgyu has more than enough to spare.

“Wait!” You call out, thankful that the area is empty as you push through and chase after him; it’s ridiculous how he already managed to gain such a distance between you two, and your body is already giving in as you huff tiredly, your pace slowing to nothing more than a tired waddle, “you don’t even know where you’re going!”

Only then does Beomgyu give in to your cries; he’s sheepish as he turns around, an innocent grin on his face as he hugs your belongings close to his chest. Even though he’s well off in the distance, you can still see his reluctance to return to you as he looks down at his shoes shyly— but you know better than to fall for that act.

“It’s this way, dumbass,” you sigh, your feet aching as you turn around without another word. You refuse to admit defeat as you begin walking, annoyed that you allowed Beomgyu to get his way again as you try to appreciate the beautiful spring day instead. You don’t need to look back to know that Beomgyu is hot on your trail, his puppy-like antics never failing him as the sound of his shoes scuffing against the pavement reaches your ears; it isn’t long before Beomgyu catches up to you, skipping. His hair is bouncy and fluffy as he wears a leisurely smile, not phased in the slightest by the dirty look you send him— his reaction time is godly as he manages to dodge your quick hand that went to snatch your bag back from him.

“Why did you come bother me,” you grumble, slowing to a stop as you wait for your chance to cross the street; the pedestrian light remains red as you lean against the traffic light pole, crossing your arms as you send Beomgyu another irritated look, “like, be honest, you could’ve just bothered Soobin or something.”

“He kicked me out,” he pouts, whining about the way Soobin called him a “horrible distraction”— you can’t blame him, but you’re also a bit angry that he managed to bring the problem to you instead— “and I didn’t wanna go alone. Plus I’m really craving a cookies-and-cream shake right now.”

“So you do remember,” is all you say, referring to Beomgyu’s shenanigans with the restaurant as you push yourself off the pole. He remains silent, a soft pout on his face as he walks ahead the moment traffic is cleared, leaving you behind as you’re left to scoff at his actions.

Beomgyu also remembered that you have a habit of studying until your body gives out, ignoring your needs with ease— which worries him to death— but you really don’t need to know that.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You think studying really did a number on you today.

At least, that must be what’s showing on your face if it has Beomgyu toning down his annoyingness drastically, going as far as to open the door for you and not react to your snarky comment about how much of a gentleman he was. It’s a bit unnerving really, even when Beomgyu decides to pay for your food despite him always attempting to trick you into treating him every time you go out— you’re surprised that he isn’t asking you to Venmo him immediately after you sit at a table.

There’s something strange about today; you can’t really pinpoint what it is as you find yourself having a civilized conversation with Beomgyu, surprised that you’ve made it to the twenty-minute mark without arguing to the point where you’ve received concerned looks from the patrons around you.

“Do you think I’m dying or something?” You finally blurt out, watching as Beomgyu sends you a confused look, in the middle of taking a sip from his shake as he tilts his head in curiosity. “I mean like, why aren’t we fighting right now— why are you being nice.”

He seems reluctant to respond at that; his eyes have flickered back down to the melting whipped cream topped with cookie crumbles as he feels your stare burn into him, unsure of what to say as he gulps nervously, the shake slowly disappearing until he’s drunk more than half; even then, you persist, leaning on the table as you try to lower your face to meet his eyesight, lowering more and more until your cheek is hovering over the surface of the table. Beomgyu sighs, pulling away slowly as he urges you to sit up annoyingly.

“I don’t know, I guess I just felt bad,” he grumbles, the words feeling jagged and odd in his mouth as he forces himself to spit it out, “You kinda did look like you were dying back at the library, honestly.”

The sassy man that has haunted your life has finally returned; it’s oddly relieving as you find yourself falling back into your antics, scoffing at his words as you throw your straw wrapper at him.

“Okay, rude,” you say, watching the way he plays with the trash you threw at him, “I didn’t exactly ask you to come bother me, either.”

“I know,” Beomgyu says, tilting his head as he reaches over to steal your food; even as you swat at his hands and scold him, he still manages to take a hefty amount of fries from you, a burning need to beat him up lighting inside you as you swat at his hand one last time for good measure.

“But I just love messing with you.”

It’s so strange that a sentence like that would affect you— yet, the feelings that stir within you definitely aren’t normal, and the way you stutter when you spit out an insult definitely isn’t either. The emotion is strange and short-lived as you refuse to dwell on it, clearing your throat as you go to kick Beomgyu under the table; it’s easier to pretend like nothing happened when you’re too busy fighting the boy before you.

The air between you has shifted back to its usual state as Beomgyu quickly gives up on being nice, his childish antics much more welcoming as he tries to steal your drink on the way out; it takes a firm punch to his arm for him to back off, your annoyance evident on your face as you make your way back to the dorms in hopes of getting rid of this clingy mess before you.

“Hey,” your space is quickly invaded as you turn to the source of the sound, the warmth that was spreading through your chest quickly being snubbed out at the sight of the man that’s trying to approach you; Sunghoon’s mischievous grin is dreadfully familiar as he catches up to you much too quickly, unable to find an escape as you simply smile nervously.

“Hey,” you grimace, the grip on your drink tightening as you avoid looking into your ex’s eyes, “what’s up?”

“Oh nothing, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he says, taking yet another step closer as you find yourself gulping uncomfortably, “you haven’t answered any of my messages, you know.”

It wasn’t a surprise to find that Sunghoon still hadn’t given up on you; it was a trait you admired once, but after the two of you broke up you quickly found that the endearing characteristic had quickly turned into your worst nightmare. So here you stand, laughing awkwardly as you try to cycle through the countless excuses you’ve given him every time he’d tried to come up to you.

“Dude, can you just back off? They’re not interested,” you’re not sure you’ve ever seen Beomgyu this serious as he glares at Sunghoon; your eyes are widening at the sudden hostility he’s displaying, smiling nervously as you go to intervene, knowing how quickly Sunghoon can escalate things.

“You’re kidding,” Sunghoon scoffs, unable to let you speak as he’s rolling his eyes, taking in the way Beomgyu stands behind you protectively, “how ‘bout you back the fuck out of our business?”

You’re quick to step in as Beomgyu goes to say something else, placing a firm hand on his arm as you send Sunghoon a sharp glare. The man doesn’t seem to be phased by your antics, sighing heavily instead as he takes in the way Beomgyu still follows you around pathetically.

“Sunghoon, why are you still here? It’s clear that I don’t want anything to do with you anymore,” you refuse to back off as you stare the man down, watching as he simply laughs incredulously at your words; you don’t flinch for a second the moment he begins to insult you, but you can feel the way Beomgyu grows angrier behind you.

“—embarrassing, how you still let your bitch follow you around like that—”

You don’t allow Sunghoon to get too far in his sentence before you’re dousing him with your drink, the projection so sudden that the three of you fall silent. Sunghoon is positively dripping wet with your drink and his face is turning redder by the second, but you don’t let the consequences of your actions set in before you’re tugging Beomgyu’s arm roughly, snapping him out of his trance as you go to run away.

Adrenaline is pumping furiously in your veins as you lace your fingers tightly with Beomgyu’s; you’re not sure if Sunghoon decided to chase after you— you doubt it, really— but you’d rather not find out as you choose to run away blindly instead. The air whips on your face and you’re surprised to feel a grin break out on your face, unsure of where your destination might be as you let out a bewildered laugh.

It isn’t until you’re turning the corner of a street that you find that Sunghoon is hot on your trail; you’re more than surprised to see it, your pace picking up as you tug on Beomgyu’s arm carelessly, eyes flickering from place to place in search of a hiding spot.

Your legs burn and you feel your hold on Beomgyu beginning to slip, yet you quickly find an idea forming in your head as you weave through the trees by a park entrance, pulling Beomgyu along until the soft grass under your shoes turns into hard mulch. You can hear his confused comments as you pull him up the play structure, forcing him to duck down and climb the stairs of the playground before you slump down at your destination.

You feel your back slide down against the warm plastic tube that leads to a slide.

The three circular holes act as windows as the two of you remain huddled in the empty park, giggling amongst yourselves as you look for any signs of your immature ex— you’re left shushing each other and slapping a hand over the other’s mouth as he appears in the distance, clearly soaked and still pissed off as he scans the area for the sight of you; a few moments pass before he’s giving up, probably mumbling angrily to himself as he turns around to leave.

You can feel Beomgyu smile against the palm of your hand— slowly, you turn to him, his eyes filled with such childish joy that you can’t help the way the two of you burst into another fit of giggles; the tube is much too small and you’re knocking into each other as you laugh, incoherent jokes being exchanged between the two of you as you slowly feel the adrenaline in your system ebb away.

“What an asshole,” Beomgyu sighs, placing his hands over his stomach as he turns to you; he’s laying back against the plastic tube, his hair filled with static as it begins to sit up and wriggle around wildly, watching as you laugh and poke fun at him for his wild hair, his head only rubbing against it more as he meets your gaze with a smile that slowly sobers, “you okay?”

You know he’s referring to the onslaught of insults that Sunghoon brought upon you; you’re surprised to find that you had already forgotten all about it, your mind racing as your mouth seems to let loose, spilling your thoughts as you keep your gaze forward.

“What? Oh, I’m fine,” you say, biting your lip before you continue without control, “I just couldn’t stand there and watch him try to insult you too.”

It’s silent at that. All you can hear is the rustling leaves of the trees and an occasional chirp in the distance. Your words seem to set in, and it’s suddenly far too warm in this small tube. You feel scrunched up and achy as you attempt to stretch out your legs, only able to get so far before your feet are pushing against the wall.

It’s a mistake to look back at Beomgyu. He’s sporting that stupid smile that makes you feel sappy, your guard lowering as you find yourself unable to insult your stupid friend. He shifts around, attempting to get more comfortable before your eyes widen— slowly, he reaches out to you.

The action is so tender and his eyes are so fond, his head tilting curiously as he’s leaning his body closer to you. You’re surprised to find yourself doing the same, gulping softly as you watch him hesitantly reach for your face. Tenderly, his face lands on your cheek— you jump up at the shock that sends through your skin.

“Ow!”

His stupid laugh and lack of apology are enough to tell you it had been his plan all along.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your room is a mess.

You’re pacing around, restless and anxious as you run your palms down your clothes; it’s a horrible feeling, your throat gone dry as you glance at the mirror one last time. You’re not one to dress up much, but you know it’s only fair to go all out after the invitation for your friend’s wedding came in the mail like a slap in the face. Personally, marriage at twenty-five is a terrifying concept to you, but hey, to each their own.

Parties have never really been your thing; it was only after an insane amount of mental prepping that you finally decided to send back that small rsvp card, your fingers shaking as you nervously wrote down two for the number of guests.

It was an impulsive decision to ask your friend to come with you as your date-- but you had no one else to ask, and secretly, you wished for this to be the moment the two of you finally got closer. Yeonjun had agreed after some slight convincing, and you couldn’t deny the way your heart soared at the thought of the two of you spending the night together. Yet now here you stand, unsure and riddled with anxiety as you pass by your mirror for the umpteenth time.

Was this too much? Too little? Was the color okay? You hope you’re not overdressed— oh who are you kidding, it’s a wedding— but you also hoped you weren’t underdressed, either.

Your spiraling thoughts had quickly been interrupted by the buzzing of your phone, the notification bringing you out of your reverie as you found yourself drawn to your bed, a heavy sigh escaping you the moment you sat on the mattress; the text messages that stared back at you were oddly reassuring as you skimmed through them.

Yeonjun

hey, you look stunning

I’ll meet you there :)

A smile tugged at your lips; you had been so worried about your appearance that the memory of the picture you sent him earlier had completely been wiped from your mind, his compliment bringing butterflies to your stomach as you hesitantly typed something in return. With your confidence restored, you finally found it in yourself to finish getting ready, trying your best to not overthink things as you smoothed down your clothes in the mirror one last time.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your friend looks gorgeous; it’s a thought that doesn’t leave your head for the rest of the night, a smile stuck on your face as you never miss a chance to compliment her. Yeonjun does the same with you, his kind eyes and soft smile sending a whirlwind of emotions through you as you shyly reply each time.

It’s a bit quiet as you sit at your assigned table. It seems as though you’ve run out of things to talk about, and you find yourself fidgeting nervously with you jacket that remains in your lap as Yeonjun looks around the venue; he’s looking for someone, you’re guessing, and judging the way his eyes widen and a smile breaks through his face, you definitely think he’s found them.

“Hey, is it alright if I go say hi to a friend real quick?” Yeonjun asks, his eyes sparkling as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder. And oh, who were you to deny him when he looked this cute? The way he has you stuttering out a response is embarrassing, but you refuse to let it show as he sends you a happy smile in return.

A slight twinge of regret hits you the moment he gets up to leave— you’re left alone now.

You’re sure you look like a lost child as your gaze follows Yeonjun, unsure of what else to do before he’s getting lost in the crowd. You have no idea who these other people are, and you don’t doubt for a second that the fear must be creeping up on your face by now; the only thing you’re counting on now is the hope that Yeonjun will come back soon.

A few minutes pass; you’re scrolling through your phone awkwardly, pretending as though you’re not counting down the seconds as you glance around the room every once in a while. It’s been ten minutes— you’re sure you look pitiful now, sitting alone at this table hidden in a corner.

After more time passes, you know that Yeonjun probably forgot all about you now. It’s a sad and pathetic thing to feel as you anxiously trudge up to the table filled with desserts and finger foods, biting at your lips as you try not to pity yourself and drown in embarrassment. But before you know it, you’re back to your overthinking self, left on edge as you scurry back to your table the moment you fill your small dessert plate; there were too many people crowding the table, too many strangers that kept glancing at you curiously, probably finding it strange that none of the people at the party seemed to recognize you. (They don’t care, the rational part of your brain screamed at you.)

Slowly, another more time seems to pass by. The bride is too preoccupied and swarmed for you to talk to her, and you’ve “gone to the bathroom” way too many times for it to be considered normal now. You want to go home. It’s such a shame that you couldn’t find the courage to assimilate or even branch out, but the dance floor is too intimidating for you to approach, and you can’t seem to recognize a single song they’re playing.

You’re stuck to be nothing more than an observer, not staring at your phone for once as you scan the room for your date once more; you perk up the moment you find him, hoping that he’ll see you and come back the moment you gain his attention.

All hopes are thrown out the window immediately. You find yourself deflating in defeat the moment you pick up on his body language, watching the way he’s enthralled with the person next to him, so affectionate and bubbly as he stares at them with stars in his eyes.

Oh. You think, feeling pathetic for the way you had gotten your hopes up for even a second. Though, after a moment, you find that the romantic sight isn’t what stung as much— the fact that he left you alone without much more of a thought did.

The room feels stuffy— you told him it was okay to go off on his own, so why should you be mad?— you feel as though everyone is staring at you now, judging you— but you thought he’d return, he insinuated he’d return— the music is so loud, your head is starting to hurt— how would he know you didn’t know anyone else at the party?

The sound of your chair scraping against the floor tiles is unpleasant as you beeline to the entrance, hoping that your brisk steps and troubled expression aren’t too concerning to the people around you. You can feel all the tension within you release the moment you step out, the wind cool on your skin as you let out a heavy sigh of relief.

You feel stupid the moment you begin to reflect on everything, sitting down at a nearby bench as you lean back against it. You feel stupid for everything; for getting yourself in such a situation, for having such difficulties socializing, for coming to this party in the first place— for inviting Yeonjun.

You feel stupid for crying. You feel so, oh so stupid as you let all the built-up stress and emotions leak out of you, unable to stop or control it as you stare up at the sky, at the moon and the stars that seem to be your only company for the night.

“I knew it had to be you,” a voice calls out, and you’re scrambling to wipe at your face, hunched over as you sniffle quietly, much too afraid to turn around to its source as you immediately recognize the mischievous tone.

You don’t say anything, much too afraid that your voice will betray you as you hear footsteps approach you; your heart is pounding, dread that he’ll see you in such a state pooling in your stomach as you stare down at your lap in silence.

“I saw you sitting alone in the corner, but I couldn’t figure out if it was really you,” Beomgyu lets out a soft huff as he takes a seat beside you, close enough so your limbs are touching, his body warm as he silently takes you in.

“Hey, what happened?” It’s embarrassing to hear his voice become so tender, so filled with concern as he immediately reaches out for your hand. You can practically feel his eyes burning into you, begging silently for you to look at him as you shake your head softly.

“Nothing, ‘m just acting stupid,” is all you say, a soft laugh being forced out of you in hopes that he’ll let it all slide. Instead, he shakes his head, bending down to try and meet your gaze that’s cast down at the ground— you turn away immediately, but he’s persistent in his actions as he chases your gaze, poking into your vision until he’s all up in your face; avoiding him is impossible as you laugh at his stupidity, pushing him away as he smiles fondly at you, grabbing ahold of your hands that push at his cheeks in hopes of getting him away.

“You’re not stupid,” he says, his voice soft as he takes in the way your eyes still shine with tears, “well, you are most of the time, but your feelings aren’t stupid.”

A grin is breaking out on his face as he watches you become pouty and angry with him, playfully punching his arm as you insult him in return. It’s quiet for a second, and before you know it, you’re staring at the sky again, shoulder to shoulder with Beomgyu as you try to not think about how close the two of you are, or how you’re slowly leaning your head on his sturdy shoulder, the action welcomed as Beomgyu leans his head on yours in return.

It’s magic; once you start telling him about everything, you can’t stop, surprised that you don’t feel shame or embarrassment for your feelings, the confessions a secret message between him and the moon that shines a light on the two of you. You tell him of all your stress, your troubles, and worries, and how small you felt being left alone inside, feeling helpless as you realized that Yeonjun didn’t find you important enough to return to you.

“I wouldn’t have left your side in the first place.”

The words are innocent as he says them, but it’s enough to make you feel as though the air got knocked out of you, unsure of what to say as you begin to feel your heart pounding against your chest.

“Wha— why are you here anyway?” You say, hoping he didn’t pick up on your stutter as you ask him something that’s been on your mind for a while—you don’t remember him mentioning anything about a wedding at all, and you know for a fact your friend and Beomgyu aren’t even acquainted.

“Hmm? I’m here with Soobin,” Beomgyu says, and you’re furrowing your brows at his words; how in the world did you not see them? “The groom’s his cousin.”

“Oh,” you say, pulling away as you hear someone walking nearby, your body getting tired from being in the same position for so long. Forcing yourself to stand, you watch Beomgyu quickly follow suit, patting yourself down as you look at your clothes pathetically; you let out a soft sigh, ashamed that you let such a pretty outfit go to waste on a night like this.

“God, I feel so stupid for wasting my time on all this,” you say, feeling small under Beomgyu’s gaze as you begin to wonder if you look bad.

Instead, Beomgyu says nothing; he takes a step closer to you, taking your appearance in as you avoid his eyes like the plague. You can feel yourself becoming flustered from his lack of response, your heartbeat quickening as he takes another step closer to you— he’s so close, you can feel his scent drowning your senses.

Softly, he cups your face; your eyes are widening as he tilts your head up, his lidded eyes meeting yours for a moment before he’s leaning in; gently, his lips touch your skin, plush and soft as he places a kiss on your forehead.

“You look beautiful— I’m glad you came.”

Your mind seems to blank at that, unable to say anything more before he’s urging you to go back inside, scolding you that it’s too cold to be out without a jacket— his blazer is coming off the moment he points that out, his jacket heavy on your shoulders as you attempt to process everything.

It doesn’t help that he tenderly takes hold of your hand after, beginning to ramble about how emotional Soobin is as you pretend that you’re following along to everything he says; mentally, you’re still trying to figure out how to react to everything that happened in such a short period of time.

You leave the party with Beomgyu and Soobin (who both made the experience much more enjoyable)— Yeonjun doesn’t contact you even after you’re long gone.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“He kissed you?”

“Don’t say it like that!” You fuss, throwing a pillow at Soobin as you cross your arms in annoyance, “He kissed me on the forehead, there’s a difference.”

“Right, of course,” he mumbles, his words trailing off as his focus is drawn back to his game of Mario Kart; it had been an impulsive decision to visit Soobin the weekend after the wedding, knowing enough about the two roommates that you’d be certain Beomgyu wouldn’t be around— so now you sit on Soobin’s bed, biting your lip as you spill your thoughts in hopes of getting a second opinion.

“So…?”

“Jesus, Soob,” you groan, throwing yourself back on the bed in frustration, “You know damn well he’s not like that with me!”

“Not like what?” Soobin’s obliviousness is almost award-winning, and it has you gawking at him hard enough that he can pick up on it from his peripheral vision, “Was it weird? Are you weirded out by him now?”

“Well— no, of course not…” you mumble, trailing off as you’re forced to reflect on what his actions meant to you— what did you feel for him? You’re certainly not disgusted or weirded out by the actions, but you can’t help but feel strange as the memories of that night seem to pester you endlessly.

“I just… feel confused, maybe,” you admit, brows furrowing as you watch Soobin curse lowly under his breath— your eyes flicker back to the screen of his small tv, watching with slight amusement as he gets hit with a blue shell, the man before you jostling in his place beside you on the bed as he takes a second to process your words. Glancing back at you, his eyes widen, quickly focusing back on the screen as he takes a second to think.

“Confused? Why would you feel confused?” He asks, tilting his head before he’s muttering under his breath again— he groans, throwing his head back as he lands in second place, cursing out the person that took his spot bitterly before he’s throwing the control to the side and turning to you, “you’re friends, no?”

“I— yeah,” you say, unsure of why you feel restless as you sit up on his bed— you feel as though what he’s telling you isn’t really what you want to hear, but what you actually want to hear is unknown, even to you, “I just… you don’t think anything of his actions?”

Soobin pauses at your words; it’s clear he’s thinking back to the events you told him about, his eyes drifting to the ceiling before he begins to hum softly, fingers drumming rhythmically on his bedsheets before he’s tilting his head thoughtfully.

“Well, I guess it was a bit random, coming from him,” he begins, watching as you perk up at his sentence, “but he was just trying to comfort you, don’t you think?”

That definitely doesn’t seem to be what you wanted to hear. It frustrates you as you press your lips together, unsure of why you feel oddly underwhelmed at the thought that there was no deeper meaning to his actions— that it had all been done because Beomgyu simply felt obligated to.

“Yeah, I guess so…” you mumble quietly, unsure of why you feel much more tired than you did a few seconds before, telling Soobin to go back to his game as you let yourself get comfortable on his bed— he’s quick to question your sudden behavior change, but it’s far too late for you to talk to him as you wrap yourself in his blankets, kicking his side playfully the moment he asks you to not fall asleep on him; you’re able to see the way he laughs with a slight roll of his eyes, but your eyes feel much too heavy for you to take offense to it.

Your dreams are filled with what-ifs and romantic scenarios with a perfect, faceless stranger, their aura so comforting and warm that you can’t help but feel like you’re at home.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

There’s something weird about Beomgyu.

Granted, Beomgyu’s weird in general— you’d like to chalk it up to you just being your normal, overthinking self again, but you’d almost say that your relationship’s dynamic has changed; it’s subtle, but it’s there— even if you’re withholding from saying anything from the fear of being proven wrong— his gestures, the way he looks at you, it’s all… shifted.

He doesn’t try to fight you as much as he used to; if he does, he’s quick to drop it, not as petulant and persistent as you’re used to— it always leaves you confused and oddly irritated, smacking Beomgyu’s head away like a child the moment you notice him staring at you a little too long— it never fails to leave you disoriented, his eyes hiding something that you’re not sure you’d like to uncover as you choose to retaliate with violence.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you sneer, throwing your pillow at Beomgyu as the others remain unphased at your antics; it was just supposed to be a normal hangout like any other, yet Beomgyu just insisted on catching your attention with his stupid eyes— his eyes that resembled a puppy’s as you caught him staring at you multiple times in the last thirty minutes, catching you off guard every time as you were left flustered by how soft and fond he looked— after the tenth time of catching him, you found yourself to be tired of watching as he simply smiled and looked away like all the other times.

“I’m not even looking at you,” Beomgyu responds immediately, his face stoic as he looks down at his phone. (That he had just pulled out in a weak attempt to deceive you.)

“Stop lying, you little freak!” You continue, a frown on your face as you throw whatever else is next to you on the bed; you can hear Hueningkai whining about you abusing his plushies, but you don’t pay any mind to his comments as Beomgyu catches it effortlessly, hugging the Molang plushie tightly against his chest as he tilts his head at your comment, batting his lashes in faux innocence. Defeatedly, you groan, lying back on the bed as you throw an arm over your face.

“God, you’re so annoying,” you whine, able to kick Beomgyu’s leg with your limited reach; you can hear the bed shifting past the noise of Soobin and Hueningkai raging on Mario Kart, but you try to not react to it as you press your lips together and shut your eyes tightly— after a moment, you feel Beomgyu’s hand poking your side.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, and you can practically hear his pout as he continues poking you, trying to get a reaction out of you as he speaks, “I know you don’t mean that, right? Come on, tell me you don’t.”

You remain silent for as long as you can— but that proves itself to be incredibly difficult, because when Beomgyu wants a reaction from someone, he won’t stop until he gets one— and after what feels like forever, you finally decide to look at him, simply because you feel as though a bruise will form at your side if this child next to you keeps poking it so aggressively.

“Yes, I do mean it,” you say, squinting your eyes as you find Beomgyu’s face hovering over yours.

Beomgyu has always been like this— always touchy with others, never one to miss up on the chance to cling to the people he cares for— yet, you find your heart beating a little harder now, eyes shaking as you find yourself so close to him that you’re practically sharing the air you breathe; so close you could count every lash on his round eyes that stare down at you, close enough that if you crane your head up even a little, you could kiss him.

Oh god, that’s weird, you realize, eyes widening as you turn your head to the side, looking away from him and slapping your hand flat on his forehead in an attempt to push him away; you succeed without much of an effort, only able to look at him once he’s sat up completely.

“Get away from me,” you scold him, yet even though it’s lighthearted as always, you can’t help the way your voice wavers weakly, quieting down as you watch him continue to pout at you, “seriously, you have no concept of personal space.”

Usually, you’d expect Beomgyu to up his antics by a hundred; torment you like a toddler, forcing your friends to intervene once they’ve decided they’ve had enough of your disruptive behavior— anything would be better than watching Beomgyu narrow his eyes at you, oddly quiet before he lets out a soft “hmph.” Crossing his arms, he scooches away from you until he’s entirely pressed into the corner, far enough so that you can’t touch him no matter how much you stretch.

And just like you requested, he refuses to look at you the rest of the time— his action baffles you so much that you end up scooting over to torment him, whining petulantly for him to look at you again before you give up, kneeling next to him as you watch the way he stares at the wall in front of him, not even hiding his annoyance as he says thought you didn’t want me to look at you.

That’s enough to stop you completely— why were you doing this? Why had his actions bothered you so much? You remain silent after his comment, unsure of what else to say before you’re settling down next to him, stretching out your legs and crossing your arms as you mirror his posture; you look like scolded children, you hear Taehyun comment at some point, but you pay no mind to it as you remain by Beomgyu’s side diligently— it’s enough to have your mind racing with odd thoughts after approximately five minutes.

Beomgyu always smells so nice, you find yourself thinking, the familiar smell enveloping your senses and making your arms hug yourself a little tighter— he smells of fresh laundry and a warm spring breeze. Your eyes grow heavier as you watch your friends play Minecraft on the television— it feels so warm and comforting as you take in the way the sun has already set— you’ll probably have to go back to your dorm soon, but you can’t really find the energy to wake yourself back up as the calming music of the game quickly affects your mind.

Your upper body is sliding against the wall behind you; you don’t mean for it to happen, but it’s such a slow progression that you don’t realize the moment you’re now shoulder to shoulder with Beomgyu— his sweater is warm against your skin, and suddenly you regret wearing a t-shirt and not something warmer— your breaths are evening out, and as much as you want to see Soobin’s finished house that he keeps boasting about, you can’t help the way your vision blurs as you watch the screen in front of you, your head lolling forward a few times before your mind decides to fall asleep.

Beomgyu can see from the corner of his eye the moment you fall asleep, your head dropping down in an uncomfortable position as he finally turns to look at you.

You have no concept of personal space, your voice rings in his head, and he can’t help but find himself laughing as he watches the way you remained glued to his side the moment he began ignoring you, your shoulders pressed together as you slowly begin to lean more of your body weight onto him. Slowly, he moves, careful to not wake you as he reaches out for your head; his hands are gentle and tender as he moves your head to rest on his shoulder, reaching over to a nearby blanket before he’s throwing it over your shoulders— you’re warm beside him as Beomgyu tries his hardest to suppress his smile, biting his cheek so hard he thinks he might just draw blood.

You remain unaware of it all, shifting in your sleep so you’re practically cuddling into his side, searching desperately for more of the scent that brings you dreams of flower fields and love.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your theory has been proven right— something has changed about your relationship with Beomgyu, but it’s definitely not him.

It’s you.

No, Beomgyu has changed a bit as well— he’s sweeter and a lot more gentle around you, sure, but it hasn’t been enough for it to be glaringly obvious— no, the problem lies with you, and the way you’ve begun to act and think around Beomgyu.

Friends don’t act the way you do; they don’t spit out insults left and right and act coldly while their mind races with dangerous thoughts, heart racing a little faster when their mind begins to whisper sweet what ifs; no, friends don’t do what you do, finding yourself staring at Beomgyu much longer than you’d like to admit before you’re paring it off with a swift, snarky comment, enough to start a petty argument that’ll have you wondering if Beomgyu was always so pouty when he talked, his lips pink and soft as you found your eyes drifting down to them more times than you’d like to admit.

Friends don’t pair off such thoughts with violence— it’s enough to have your friends asking if Beomgyu has managed to piss you off somehow, and even though you try to play it off each time, you can’t help but wonder if you really are angry at him.

The answer is somewhat of a yes— but you’re angrier at the way you can’t seem to act the same around him anymore, angry at the way you’ve begun to see him in a new light involuntarily— every intrusive thought is attempted to be pushed down as you try to force your old, feisty behavior back on him.

Eventually, Beomgyu picks up on your behavior as well, and he reluctantly distances himself from you on the assumption that he has angered you somehow— the sudden loss is enough to make you angry with yourself, feeling awkward around him every time your friends hang out together.

Tonight was no exception.

You’re trailing behind the group the moment you feel your mind beginning to wander, the bright lights from the stalls around you and the various items being sold falling numb on your brain as you get lost in thought, the music playing all around becoming muddled to your ears— the festival being held tonight was supposed to be a way for all of you to take a break from your studies and have fun, yet you seem to be failing at the latter as you find your eyes drifting— like a vicious habit, they fall on Beomgyu.

Oh, this is so weird, you think to yourself, still not used to the thoughts that begin to formulate in your head; no matter how much you try to push them away, you can’t help but notice how good he looks tonight; his hair styled nicely, bangs falling into his eyes with every breeze as his hands quickly come up to push the hair out his eyes; the soft lights from above and the lanterns that are lit as decoration turn the scenery around you into one big haze, absentminded as you watch your friends become distracted with the many food and souvenir shops, your mind much more occupied with other things as you find yourself daydreaming.

Like a coward, you turn away the moment Beomgyu catches you staring; your cheeks feel hot and you try to pretend as though you don’t feel Beomgyu staring at you for a moment, much more focused on the cute keychains the stall in front of you is selling as you show Hueningkai happily— it’s enough to distract you from your traitorous thoughts as you wonder if you should buy one, glancing at the price tag before you sober up and decide that it’s better to walk away; you’re giggling with Hueningkai as he pokes fun at you for being so cheap, falling into the playful banter before you feel the urge to look away from him— your eyes meet with Beomgyu’s on instinct.

The way your expression turns awkward and your words die on your tongue doesn’t go unnoticed by Beomgyu— you’re mentally kicking yourself as you watch him turn his back on you, and you’re beginning to wonder if you’ve taken the role of defense so hard that you’ve driven Beomgyu away from you— guilt seeps into your chest as you stare at his back, trailing behind him like a sad puppy as you begin to reflect on your recent actions.

The more you dwell on it, the more guilt you feel, trudging along with everyone else as the distance between you and Beomgyu grows; it’s enough to have you realize how your actions must have come across to the boy in front of you, your heart sinking as you watch the way his eyes immediately jump away the moment they meet yours— avoidant, scared to see your reaction as he quickly distracts himself with something else.

You’ve been acting so childish, you realize, wondering how you can get Beomgyu to at least talk to you again as you try to fall into step beside him— all attempts to strike up a conversation fall short as he responds curtly to you each time, clearly hurt by your previous actions as you find yourself giving up after a while.

Oh, why does it hurt so much to have Beomgyu ignoring you? You’ve done this to yourself, yet you can’t stand the thought of not being by Beomgyu’s side tonight. Your heart feels heavy and the lively atmosphere around you has become a lot more dull than you’d like as you quickly find your thoughts spiraling out of control, wondering what you can do to fix things.

“I heard there’s a firework show happening in an hour,” Soobin says, appearing at your side as the others become distracted with another booth nearby. You’ve decided to fall behind as you notice a booth that’s selling jewelry, two hairpins catching your eye as you stare at the pretty pieces decorated with intricate flowers. You’re snapped out of your daze as you look up, your fingers still running over the flower designs in your hands as you feel the metal slowly warm up from the heat of your skin.

“Apparently the view up there is supposed to be the best,” he continues, nodding at the end of the hill that’s already filled with people, a big tree that grows in the center of it all illuminating them from the warm lanterns that hang from its thick branches, “we should go, don’t you think?”

“Hmm… yeah,” your distant and soft voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Soobin as he raises a brow at you, eyes slowly taking you in before he’s following your line of sight— without meaning to, you’ve found yourself staring at Beomgyu again, watching as he’s gone quiet as well, mirroring your mood and no doubt lost in his thoughts as the idea of you being the cause of this brings a frown to your face.

“We’ll head up in thirty minutes…” Soobin continues, watching as you snap out of your daze and turn away from him; staring down at the pins in your hand, wondering how much they might cost as you begin to rummage for your wallet quietly, “We’ll try to get a good view, okay?”

“Okay, sounds cool,” you say, not entirely processing his words as he ushers you to follow behind him once you’ve bought the hairpins— you can see the way he glances back at you every once in a while, but you try to ignore the concern in his eyes as you force yourself to smile, brightening up your mood in hopes that you can finally get him to stop worrying.

It doesn’t take long before you’re hiking up the large hill; there’s a man-made trail you follow along, and you can already spot the crowds of people from afar, the number of friend groups and couples huddled together making your stomach twist involuntarily.

Inevitably, you find yourself growing tired; the hill wasn’t steep, but you weren’t exactly the most energetic tonight as you quickly found your steps trudging along, watching your friends continue to walk ahead as you reassured them that you were fine— just a little tired, don’t worry.

You’re stopped in your tracks completely as you stumble over a hole in the ground— you’re tripping, letting out a soft gasp before you’re tumbling to the ground; you’re left to fuss over the dirt on your clothes before you realize how much you’ve fallen behind, sighing in dismay as you slowly straighten yourself out— your hands brush over your pockets, and you freeze entirely when you reach inside, only able to find one hairpin as you feel your heart sink at the realization.

It’s completely dark now— there’s not even a ray of light that could assist you in your search, the lanterns from afar not doing much to illuminate the ground below you; you’re falling to your knees immediately as you begin to pat the ground around you in a panic, only able to feel grass and dirt as your hands become dirty, wincing slightly as you feel a particularly sharp rock scratch against your hand; your teeth sinking into your wobbling lip as you feel your emotions threaten to tumble down.

Patting your pockets in search for your phone, you realize with dread that you seem to have dropped that as well; you pause your search in defeat, staring at the dark ground around you as you begin to wonder what you should do— you feel so childish at the feeling of a lump forming in your throat, your heart racing against your chest as you begin to dread the feeling of your eyes stinging— in one last attempt to keep your composure, you sniffle, wiping at your eyes before you go back to your search, desperate to find the items as you pat the ground around you harshly.

“You’ll stab yourself with a rock if you keep doing that,” a voice above you says, and you’re scrambling to make yourself look put together and nonchalant as you raise your head to the sound; squinting, you wince at the bright light that shines at you, shielding your eyes from it as you find the face of the figure that speaks to you— Beomgyu’s expression is unreadable as he stares down at you, tilting his head as he waits for you to say something— after a while, he simply sighs, pointing his phone’s flashlight at the ground and coming to your side with slow steps.

“What happened,” he asks, although his voice is so distant and tense that it barely comes out as a question, “What’re you looking for?”

“My phone,” you mutter sheepishly, avoiding his gaze completely as you let him shine the ground around you with his light. It’s silent between you two, and you can’t help but be frustrated at how tense you’ve managed to make the atmosphere around you again— after what seems like forever, you’re finally able to spot your phone, scattered on the hill below as you carefully make your way to it.

Beomgyu finds it a bit odd that you’re reluctant to make your way back to him, shining your phone’s flashlight and pointing it to the ground around as you seemingly search for something else, despite your words that you’d only lost his phone. He’s taking a step toward you, about to call your name before he sees it— something shines in his peripheral vision, reacting to his phone’s light as he finds himself walking to it without much thought.

“The fireworks are starting soon,” Beomgyu says softly, his voice much closer than you expected as you find yourself turning to face him; his phone is put away, and the only things able to illuminate him are the remnants of the light from the lanterns that manage to reach the two of you and the fireflies that softly twinkle around him.

You slowly tuck your phone away in defeat; it’s much too embarrassing to admit what else you were looking for, gulping nervously as you glance back up the hill— you can see your friends in the very distance, their backs facing you as they remain huddled together— and back at him, unable to stop the way your lips part in shock, eyes widening as you find Beomgyu slowly handing something to you.

The pin is free of dirt as he holds it delicately in his hand, as though he were afraid to break it; you can’t help but notice the way his palm shakes as he waits for you to take it, letting out a slow exhale before he smiles bitterly.

“It’s pretty,” he says, lips pressed together as you take it from him. The small thank you that leaves your lips is awkward and forced, and Beomgyu thinks he might just burst as you immediately look away from him— he feels tormented as he waits for you to say something, anything, only to watch as you continue to ignore the elephant in the room.

Ten minutes. That’s all he has before your attention is taken by the pretty show that is about to begin, and Beomgyu will be damned if he doesn’t take this chance to confront you— to get things back to how they were before.

“Do you hate me?” His statement is strong enough to have you looking at him once more, eyes wide and scandalized as you uselessly attempt to stutter out a reply. Beomgyu licks his lips nervously as he backtracks, clearing his throat as he realizes that he may have started off a little too strong.

“Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?” He attempts again, his mind racing and taking control of his mouth as he doesn’t allow you to respond, “You’ve been acting so cold to me recently, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Things have been weird since the… since the wedding thing.”

It seems as though that’s enough to have Beomgyu putting everything together, his brows knitting together in a frown as he realizes how he’s become more vulnerable around you— and how much you’ve pushed him away in retaliation.

“I’m sorry if it was weird. I didn’t mean to change things between us, I’d understand if it made you uncomfortable, but you’ve been acting so mean to me recently, and I can’t help but feel as though I’ve really crossed the line—“

It’s surprising to Beomgyu when he feels his words begin to stick in his mouth, stumbling over them and stuttering, repeating his points over and over as he realizes it’s all happening again. You’ve managed to catch him at a vulnerable time yet again, and he can feel his cheeks grow warm in frustration as he watches as you stand before him, unsure of what to say as he continues to pour his heart out to you.

“Beomgyu,” you say quietly, interrupting him with ease as he finds himself out of breath, sighing shakily as he watches the way you clutch the hairpin close to you, pausing for a second as you begin to think of what to say.

“I don’t… hate you,” you begin, your every word uncertain as though you were trying to figure the answer out yourself, “I’m not mad at you, either. And— and you didn’t cross any lines, nor do I find you weird— well, maybe a little, but…”

“But?” Beomgyu continues, finding himself unable to hold himself back as he urges you to continue, “You’ve been so— so avoidant, and it’s weird because you’ve made me feel as though I did something wrong—!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong Beomgyu!” You say, sighing in frustration as you take in the man before you— Beomgyu seems to be doing no better than you, but in this moment, you feel as though everything is finally coming together, the man in front of you reminding you of everything you’ve been dreaming of— of comfort, of home, of love.

Choi Beomgyu is the type of guy who is brutally honest. He’s the type of person who will ridicule you and poke fun at you in order to get a reaction, to act like a child and throw tantrums in order to get his way and bat his eyes innocently when accused. He’s the type of person that will have you wondering if he’s really in his twenties, and isn’t actually three children hiding under a trenchcoat.

Choi Beomgyu is the type of guy who will show up unannounced, who will find you no matter how far and force you to eat because he figured out that you’ve been cooped inside all day. He’s the type of guy that loses fights on purpose, who will cling to you like a baby under the pretense that he’s only doing it to be annoying. He’s the type of person that will sneak compliments at the most inconvenient times, who will put a blanket over your shoulders and move your head when you’re asleep because he knows how much your neck will ache if you leave it in a certain position.

Choi Beomgyu has loved you quietly— in his everyday actions, treating it like second nature as he cares for you in secret— through his words, through his thoughts, and through his eyes that manage to spill enough emotions that leave you speechless.

Choi Beomgyu is the type of person who will always be vulnerable to you, no matter how dangerous; even if it means you pushing him away again, he grits his teeth and stands before you, baring his heart and asking you to take care of it the way he’s taken care of yours.

“You wouldn’t even look at me,” He says, taking a step closer to you as his voice drops significantly; he’s hesitant, afraid to hear your response as he attempts to keep his gaze cold.

“Why are you being like this?” His voice is hurt and angry, and you can’t help the way everything seems to bubble up and spill out of you uncontrollably the moment he grows defensive again.

“It’s because I like you, dumbass!” The words are a confession to both him and yourself as you finally let it out— the words feel new and strange in your mouth, your tongue testing everything out as you take in the way the sentence leaves a taste behind it— it tastes sweet.

“I like you and it’s weird because it’s all so new, I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this about you and I’m scared because…” you huff, brows furrowing as you take a second to think; Why were you scared?

“Because… I don’t know,” you admit, shoulder sagging as you take in the way Beomgyu can simply stare at you, waiting for you to finish, “I don’t know. I like you and I’m afraid, this is all so new and I thought that if I tried to push these feelings away, it’d all go back to normal, because I was afraid that you’d… that you wouldn’t feel the same.”

Afraid you’d be wrong. Afraid you’d get hurt again, that you managed to interpret all his actions wrong and would simply be getting your hopes up— afraid that you’d hurt him, even though you already have.

“Afraid I wouldn’t feel the same?” He echoes, his voice laced with disbelief as he practically breathes the words out— he feels out of breath, his heart pounding against his chest as his mind begins to process everything you told him— I like you, dumbass, your voice remains on his mind like a broken record, and he can’t help the way he laughs softly, in disbelief as he realizes how stupid this whole argument has been.

“I’ve— I’m the one who should be saying that,” he says, running a hand through his hair before he’s laughing again— then again, and again until it’s all an uncontrollable mess, his eyes creasing and his nose scrunching as he takes in your befuddled expression; you stand frozen before him, incredulous as you wonder how you should respond to a reaction like this.

“I knew you were a bit stupid, but this is just too much,” he teases you, throwing you off guard so much that you slap his arm like instinct; it’s enough to have you snapping out of your heartfelt moment as you pout at him, scolding him for being so mean and ruining what was supposed to be something serious.

Beomgyu is the type to be eerily attuned to a person’s emotions; which is exactly why he chooses to be childish now, when he saw the way your eyes shone with tears and you became shaky as you waited for him to respond, able to get your mind off your irrational fears as you immediately went back to your pouty, whiny self.

You’re so fucking mean, you cry out, smacking him again before he takes your hand; pulling you closer, he smiles, his eyes filled with mischief as he takes in the way you quickly fluster from his proximity.

Beomgyu smells of spring and comfort, his hands warm against your skin as he cups your face gently; you can’t control the way you gulp at his actions, his eyes lighting up as he waits for you to do something— to pull away, to shut him out, anything that could stop the dangerous path his mind is taking— but you don’t, your hand that remained a fist against his chest slowly pressing against it, shaking and firm as you attempt to steady yourself; in turn, you feel his heart, fast and thundering against your palm as you find yourself getting closer to him; close enough to watch the way his hair falls into his eyes, close enough to count every individual lash on his lids that flutter shut, and close enough to feel his lips against yours.

He tastes of honey and the cherry lip balm he always uses, his kiss sweet and unsure as you feel his pillowy lips move against yours; you think you might just melt into him as he pulls you closer, his other hand grasping firmly at your waist before he’s tugging you in closer— chest against chest, trying to feel you wholly as though you’d disappear into thin air the next second— and he tilts his head curiously, deepening the kiss and refusing to pull away even if his lungs begin to burn.

Beomgyu thinks he could stay this way forever; he holds you delicately, as though he were afraid to lose you at any moment, the feeling of your warm palm pressing against his heart the only reminder that he’s alive— yes, he’s alive. This is real, and he finally has you here with him, able to love you as loudly as he wants, if you’ll let him.

And of course you’ll let him— you feel curious as you allow your hands to explore, to run across his shoulders and lace themselves in his hair, able to feel the soft locks that have been blowing about freely all night long— you feel curious to explore these new feelings, letting them in and allowing them to blossom as you finally pull away.

Beomgyu laughs the moment you pull away— because you only do so from the loud sounds of fireworks in the distance, jolting in his hold as you turn around to find the source of the sound; your face is lighting up at the pretty lights, a smile growing on your face as you take it all in.

“So pretty,” you sigh out, looking back at Beomgyu, only to find him already staring at you; you smile shyly as you feel him take in the pin from your hands, reaching up hesitantly before you’re guiding him in his actions; you carefully clip in the hairpin as you smile, watching the way he takes you in carefully— his eyes are fond and sweet as he nods, caressing your cheek before he grins.

“Very pretty.”

You scoff at his response, rolling your eyes before you’re poking fun at how predictable he is— but Beomgyu doesn’t care, and he would do it again, anything to watch as you laugh with joy, growing shy under his gaze as he realizes he’s staring again— but this time, he doesn’t feel forced to look away.

Neither do you. You allow yourself to meet his gaze, uncertain and giddy as you allow yourself to feel everything you’ve tried to hide, to think about everything you’ve tried to ignore. Reaching in your pocket, you pull out the second hairpin you picked, carefully reaching up to brush his bangs out of his eyes; they flutter shut at the action, and you can’t help but smile at how peaceful he looks, his face lit up in every which color as the firework show continues behind you.

“There,” you say after a moment, watching as Beomgyu slowly opens his eyes before he’s reaching for the accessory you’ve put in— you smile as you watch him run his fingers over the design, the same flowers that decorate your pin as you watch the realization dawn on him.

“So pretty,” you say again, and Beomgyu can’t help but smile as you keep your eyes on him— unable to look away, even if it means you’ll miss the mesmerizing fireworks that continue to light up behind you.

As Beomgyu laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly before he’s gently telling you to turn around so you can watch the show together, he wonders if any daydream he’s concocted could ever compare to the real thing; he knows that answer is no, not with the way you still can’t help yourself as you glance at him every once in a while, your eyes wide and alight as you look at him as though he were your whole world— he feels as though he could melt with every glance, his heart beating faster as he realizes that he’ll no longer have to daydream.

He’ll no longer have to love you quietly, biting his tongue at the thought as he fights back a delirious smile— pulling you into him, he feels the way you’re quick to embrace him, inhaling deeply before you’re letting out a sigh of contentment.

Your love, your comfort, your home— Choi Beomgyu has been all of it, and you’re more than ready to reciprocate it all as you hold him a little tighter— taking his heart into your hands, with the quiet promise that you’ll care for him just as he always has for you.

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