[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT AGE GAP ] + [ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ] + [ BREEDING KINK ] - ( there’s a lot to unpack in this one, I know, but you’ll enjoy it.. also pls kindly lmk the artist for the fanart I used so I can tag them thx! )
xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx
Alastor Hartifelt was a fantastic husband.
No one could deny that.
Especially not his darling wife of one year and counting.
You, his sole companion during childhood, dawning from a rich family that occupied an estate near his family’s plot of farming land, and exceptionally infatuated with him early into your friendship.
From the very first time you met him out in the sprawling green meadows of Louisiana’s swamped countryside you found comfort in each other even amidst being ignored or teased by other children.
Their shared hatred and resentment towards you and the older boy cultivated an odd but strong bond between you two, and soon your strife to fit in seemed less appealing than being his truest friend.
Alastor immediately became protective of you, finding your shy nature welcoming like his own mothers, but also irritated by those who wished you harm for the simple fact that your family was better off than their own.
If anyone dared to pick a fight, tease, or berate you Alastor was right there to come to your aid. You’d tell him time and time again that fighting for you wasn’t worth it, that seeing him hurt wounded you more than their words, but for some baffling reason he’d never head your pleas.
Why?…
In retrospect Alastor wasn’t sure of the reason himself but he was certain it had something to do with the way you returned the favor by protecting him in your own subtle ways.
Your arms remained wide open when he needed an embrace, voice full of tender understanding when the two of you held quiet conversations late into the evening, and generally being his safe place when the rest of the world refused to be.
You were his darling from the very beginning…
His everything…
Yet, Alastor wouldn’t dare say it aloud..,
The two of you couldn’t be more different to those who observed your relationship from the outside. Alastor held an air of confidence wherever he went, suave, and well mannered. He could be cunning when provoked, dangerously charming to get his way, and refreshingly decisive under any amount of pressure.
A man every woman in New Orleans wanted, craved even, but it was well known the famous radio host had you at his side.
You, the city’s undisputed princess, daughter of a wealthy businessman, but regarded as the furthest thing from a ‘spoiled brat’. It was expected for those in higher circles to have sour and condescending attitudes but you proved to be different. Soft spoken, interested in the arts more than being out on the town, and some might’ve considered you ‘sheltered’ in terms of upbringing.
The contrast between Alastor and yourself brought about many whispered rumors and questions.
“How’d a sweet little thing like her end up with him?”
“Doesn’t he want someone better suited? Whats so special about her?”
“I hear, he married her for the fathers money. Don’t blame him for it either…she’s a real peach…”
“A little young for him don’t you think? She’s a lovely broad though…”
You’d heard it all. Every sort of rumor or piece of gossip people had to offer you’d picked up on rather quickly and at first it bothered you, but overtime seeing Alastor act indifferent to the scandalous comments made you less weary of them.
He’d never entertain the scrutiny, choosing to remind you his decision to marry wasn’t fueled by any ill will and as his wife you’d never need to worry about him caring for you.
Alastor’s always had, even when he’d left New Orleans to build his career he still thought of you from time to time, but that’s all he’d ever done.
Cared for you…
Love seemed to allude his spectrum of emotions and vocabulary. Yes, he shows you affection, buying expensive gifts, making sure you never lifted a finger for anything other than cleaning or cooking when needed, and proudly showing you off on his arm at parties and social events he attended.
Yes, he strived to hide his murderous tendencies, taking extra lengths to shield you from his ‘hunting’ escapades by planning them weeks before, and then going as far as discreetly cleaning his bloody clothes and weapons the night he returns while you slept soundly in your shared bed.
Alastor took great care in showing you he cared but defining his love for you was never addressed.
Not even on your wedding day.
It was as if he’d scripted his vows to say nothing of the emotion and even avoided saying “I love you” back when you’d accidentally let it slip out during your own speech for him.
You hadn’t pressed the issue at all, knowing Alastor struggled with concepts of intimacy and devotion since childhood, but the lmawing teeth of doubt pricked your skin harder with each passing day of your marriage.
Had you made a mistake agreeing to marry him?
Was he seeing someone else?
Someone knowledgeable of the world, maybe more experienced in life than you were, or more attentive?
Was she prettier?
Were you not his kind of woman?
Where did he go so late at night, at random times of the month, with a leather bag in his hand and a wide smile on his face?…
Had Alastor been seeing another woman for a whole year and you were just too oblivious or infatuated to notice?
Did he even like you anymore? Could he ever love you…?
Were you not enough for him?
Thoughts plagued your mind constantly, causing you to be quieter than usual, and less receptive to Alsstors lingering presence.
Your back was to him, giving a good veiw of your small frame as you cooked in the large kitchen. The familiar sight brought a smile to Alastor’s face. You were so focused, hair tied back by a white silk bow, and a sheer floor length robe to match.
He’d bough both for you only a week prior, claiming he couldn’t just let the items sit in the display window when you’d been staring at with such bright stars in your eyes, but in truth Alastor had imagined you wearing it just as you were now and couldn’t resist buying it on the spot.
Your husband remained silent as he watched you waltz around the kitchen, chocolate brown eyes peering over the top of his glasses as he did, but his smile faltering seeing the distress in your delicate features.
You weren’t the type to frown often, always emitting warmth and sweetness, so the rare appearance of anguish in your expression perplexed Alastor.
What had upset his darling wife?
Who would he have to kill?….
Asking what was troubling you would surely give him answers to both questions.
He stepped forward, coming from round the corner to enter the kitchen fully before striding over to stand by your side as you began to mix what he assumed was dessert in a bowl.
Albeit, he was probably right knowing you had a vicious sweet tooth.
“Strawberry cake I presume?” Alastor finally speaks, making his presence known with a cheeky remark, and you nearly jump out of your skin hearing his silky voice resonate around the room.
Your head snaps up to look at him, eyes wide with slight surprise, but they quickly soften as he smiles. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as he steps closer, initiating his usual habit of brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before kissing your temple gently, and only pulling away when you squeak out a greeting back to him.
“H-hi Al…you’re home a bit earlier than I expected…” you swallow thickly, staring at him adoringly for a moment before lowering your gaze as tinges of guilt build in you. “I’m sorry dinner isn’t quite ready yet…” you whisper, feeling shameful, and more agitated with yourself than before. Alastor had and would never berate you, unlike most men of the time he saw no benefit in treating his wife like a slave, and made an effort to remind you not everything had to be perfect.
“It’ s alright, darling. You needn’t rush yourself,” his voice is low, simmering with reassurance as he lifts your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. You smile nervously as your eyes meet his again, his touch firm and electrifying all at once, and your tummy doing several flips when he smiles back at you.
Alastor studies your face, attempting to pinpoint the source of your masked sadness, “You seem…troubled, sweetheart. Is there something wrong?” His genuine question brings a shock to your heart, tongue going numb as you race to think of a believable reason for your dampened mood, “I…I just had a little mishap with this cake batter is all!..”
You step away from him, turning to face the semi clean counter with a false air of cheeriness surrounding you. The fear of sounding needy and demanding while telling Alastor the truth keeps you from being honest with him outright.
Fake it.
I shouldn’t worry him with my insecurities or doubts…
It might push him further away…
The whisk in your hand spins in tight circles as you focus on mixing the overdone batter, beginning to thicken itself more than necessary as you kept going, using the task as a distraction from Alastor’s keen observance.
Something was wrong.
He was sure of it now.
His eyes narrowed behind the circular glasses, hands finding your waist as he came to stand behind you, allowing his chest to press against your back, and his head lowering to tuck into the crook of your neck.
A shiver racked your body as he exhaled a long, steady breath onto your skin. Your hands faltered, flurried movements becoming lax as you froze in his embrace, “When’d you start lying to me, ma chère…” Alastor mumbled into your ear. Every nerve in your body was on alert, shocked that he’d went much further than his usual bounds of physical affection, but pleasantly delighted he’d given it to you.
“M’ not lying,..”you try to uphold your lie through rising pants, tempted to moan quietly feeling his lips graze behind your ear, neck, and bare shoulder while your robe shifted lower. You weren’t certain if Alastor was inching it down by his own accord or your subtle squirming against him was to blame.
The ending result was the same either way. Your upper body gradually becoming exposed to his leering gaze and the cool air. Alastor hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and flooding your mind repeatedly as he placed chaste kisses on your neck.
“I wish I could believe you, darling…” he chuckled lowly, hands inching towards the lace ribbon keeping your gown tied shut, and with one gentle tug he rendered the fabric useless. “Al..” you whined in slight surprise as he snatched the ribbon off, letting it unravel into a small pile on the tile floor before sliding his cold hands up the expanse of your heated torso.
Nothing.
You were wearing absolutely nothing underneath the thin robe and Alastor audibly groaned when he realized it.
Had you planned on this?
Were you just waiting for him to venture further with you?
All this time he’d watched you frolic and pace around your shared home, wondering what was hidden under you seemingly modest clothing….just to find you wore nothing at all…
Oh, what a rare occurrence it was for him to be such a blind fool.
Your hands flew to grasp Alastor’s wrists as he held you tighter, kneading your soft flesh lovingly, and taking his time to admire every dip and curve you had to offer him.
“Al…please..” you begged, visibly shuddering as he nipped at your neck and played with your breasts. “I won’t go any further until I hear the truth from that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart…”
Damn it….you cursed yourself, slowly losing the will to think as his lips found the most sensitive area on your neck, bruising it with his tongue teeth until you whimpered and rushed out a jumbled explanation for your heavy mood.
“I…Imscaredyoudomtlovseme…th-that you d-don’t want me- Ahm…” you soft voice reached a new octave as your husband slid his free hand between your thighs to cup your mound, gingerly kicking your legs apart with a nudge of his foot against your own, and you tensed all over as he did so.
Fuck, he could definitely feel how desperate you were now, essentially a mess already without Alastor doing much of anything, and embarrassingly unable to control your arousal.
“Love, hm? That’s what’s troubling your precious mind?…” Alastor mulls over your confession, able to maintain his composure despite heat rushing straight through him to the head of his cock as he slid two fingers into your dripping cunt. You jolted from the sudden intrusion, head lulling back to rest on his shoulder as he pumped them in and out of you at a leisurely pace, curling his deft digits fowvard every so often to make you shiver.
His thumb found your clit, pressing defined circles into it as he began to ease your worries, “Love, ma chère, isn’t what I feel for you..” Alastor lets out a soft laugh, trying to calm his own mind before clarifying his vague statement all while pushing you near the edge of your first high.
“No….I feel much more than love for you, my dear. Devotion is a better term…obsession at times…” he admits the darker side of his affection through heavy breaths, cock twitching in his dress pants when you mewl in understanding. Your warm cunt suffocates his fingers for a moment, walls fluttering as the knot in your core threatens to undo itself, causing Alastor to sharply exhale from the inviting fluctuations.
Your lips parted to warm him of your impending orgasm but only a strained moan tumbled off your tongue. Alastor needed no other sign to tell if you were close, inwardly prideful he could make you come with ease.
“Go on, come undone for me , darling,” he insists in a hushed groan, his fingers stretching your walls in a fluid rhythm to drag your climax out, and you could’ve tumbled to the floor from the sheer intensity of the knot inside you snapping on his command.
Thankfully his taller frame kept you securely trapped between him and the counter that you soon found yourself sitting on the edge of after Alastor slipped his hand away from your throbbing cunt.
You watched with a dazed eyes as the older man licked a stripe of your cum off his fingers, brown eyes sliding shut as he let out a satisfied grunt before staring at your willing form perched on the counters edge.
The sight drew a his hidden hunger closer to the surface, toying with his self control as he took it in, and urging him to act on a primal instinct he’d only ever describe as “intense affection”.
Was that a flash of red in his eyes just now?
No , it couldn’t be…
You weren’t left much time to decipher the hungry glint in his eyes before Alastor reclaimed his position near you. His slender waist slotted perfectly between your thighs, the robe now draped off your back, and your hair gradually falling loose from its simple updo as his hands traced your sides.
“Love, sweet girl, is for lonesome fools…” Alastor pressed his forehead to yours, letting you chase his lips for one heated kiss after the next, and only denying you another to whisper against your soft and slightly swollen lips.
“Neither of us are alone or fools, correct?” He huffs as you nod slowly, bringing your hands up to undo his tie, and then proceeding to expertly unbutton his vest and dress shirt.
The general charm that Alastor maintained completely dissolved into pining under your gentle fingertips, an almost desperate shot of adrenaline consuming him as you peppered kisses along his jaw and neck.
If what he said was truly how he felt about you…it was enough to stamp out your doubts, allowing the adoring side of you he’d grown familiar with to resurface, “No…we aren’t,” you respond with a small smile.
He tips your chin up, placing a deep kiss on your lips as he shrugs his shirt and vest off, setting his glasses to the side as well before reaching for the leather belt on his waist.
You paid his actions no mind, busy with fighting his tongue for dominance, but admitted defeat quite fast as his wandered your mouth in expert fashion.
Your soft hands passed over his chest, moving up to tangle in his soft curls, gently tugging the strands to earn a groan from him. Alastor pulled back, a single line of spit connecting you two as he did so, and his hair falling in front of his eyes as he stared down into your tear glossed gaze, “You’re mine, ma chère. Til death and beyond…”
You nod, halfway coherent, but mustering the will to answer him with a content smile.
“Til death…” you repeat the phrase, mind reeling further from logical thinking as Alastor hummed hearing your dazed response, head nestled in your neck once more before he trailed open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your trembling frame. He brought himself as close as possible to you, smiling on your skin as you gasp quietly feeling his clothed erection press flush against your bare stomach, leaning further back in his hold embrace him better. You feared making a mess of the counter but as Alastor trailed his lips down your body and kneeled between your legs he gave one swift snap of his fingers to eliminate the obstacle entirely.
What?….How in the world did he do that?…
Your curiosity would’ve prompted you to ask him about the absurd occurrence if it weren’t for the anticipation rushing your blood as he came face to face with your cunt. “Alastor?…” you squeaked his name softly, attempting to close your legs when he sighed out a warm breath on your glistening folds, but he held them open using one hand with ease. The other resting steady on your waist, guiding you to lay back onto the cold marble countertop, and lingering there as you obeyed his wordless command.
“Good girl…” he praised, tone deepening as you whined quietly, the sound morphing into a loud moan as he lazily flicked his tongue over your slit once…twice…and a third time.
“More…” you pant in the midst of moaning, head craning to the side while your back arched and the urge to scream built in your chest as Alastor obliged your request with vigorous intent. He hummed melodically as your taste seeped onto his tongue, walls ever so sensitive as he explored them tirelessly, and a smirk playing on his lips as you writhed in pleasure.
Your face was soon flushed completely, eyes watering as they rolled slightly with each pass of his tongue over your cunt, and your small hands returning to tug at his soft brown hair. Another coil spiraled in your stomach hearing him groan in response, seeming to enjoy how roughly you pulled his hair, and his gaze drifting up for a split second to get a good view of your satiated state.
Seven hells….she looks even lovelier like this…
Alastor unconsciously drags you closer to his face, not caring at all when you lock your legs around his head and cry out from the borderline bruising hold he has on you now. “Oh god!…” you yelp, throwing him a bewildered glance before tossing your head back as he lapped at your clit like he’d starve to death without it, and the relentless attention to your bundle of nerves was the last thing you could comprehend before the knot unwinded itself.
Your vision blurred over, everything starting to spin as your cum gushed into his mouth, and the tears you were fighting to hide slid freely down your face as he downed every single drop your body offered.
It was all too much, the hunger in his eyes, his hold on you, and your high that never seemed to subside even as he broke away from your cunt with a satisfied smile on his face.
It was all too much at once….
Your head buzzed with euphoric afterthoughts, incoherency daring to cloud your senses entirely, but the sound of Alastor’s voice near your ear successfully halted the sensations long enough for you to comprehend what he was saying.
“You taste divine, ma chère…” his musing flusters you, a light shade of pink coating your cheeks as he dips his head to steal a kiss from you, “Al…” you sigh into his mouth, biting back a keen smile, and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him near.
He chuckles hearing the unsteady tremor in your tone, adding onto his compliment after capturing your parted lips in another deep kiss, “I presume you’ll feel just as wonderful with me inside you, sweetheart…”
His assumption proved true. So much so that the moment his cock passed through your slippery folds a heavy groan of your name was the first and only thing he could manage to say. “Y/n….mon amor…” Alastor held you underneath him, not daring to move without completely relishing in the way your cunt wrapped around him first, and your broken moans dizzying the last bit of self control he was clinging onto.
You tried not to seem overwhelmed, with your legs wrapped around his waist, and your hands cupping his face to keep him as close as possible while your body adjusted to his size. With furrowed brows and a soft smile you praised your husbands well endowed length as he finally drew his hips back, leaving nothing but the head his cock resting in you.
“You…feel…s’good….” You whisper, breathless as he slams back in, swallowing your pleased cries with one tender kiss after the next. He tasted like you, hints of bourbon lingering on his tongue from the drink he’d poured himself before leaving the station, but your essence more prominent than ever.
All that he was, all that he did, and would ever do revolved around you.
His darling wife…
His one and only….
It showed through the sweet phrases he muttered against your lips as he took his time to please you, pace slow and deliberate, but the execution precise and cutthroat.
You weren’t sure when you’d raised your voice, crying out louder as he abused your sweetest spot continuously, and only going silent when a inaudible scream begged to leap from your chest while his cock bullied into cervix. Stars collected in your vision, hands clawing at Alastor’s back as you tried to hang onto reality for dear life, but failing miserably when he sped up his thrusts.
A subtle laugh passed his lips, eyes glinting with greedy lust as your head flew back, exposing all the love bites he’d left on your delicate skin, and the sight caused his cock to twitch inside you.
“F-fuck….Al!” Your eyes watered once more, sliding shut as a familiar pressure built in your core, rapidly gaining density the longer Alastor fucked into you.
He groaned at the sound of you shouting his name in such a twisted mix of ecstasy and anguish. Your soft voice becoming tainted with an edge he’d never imagined it could have. “Close already, my dear?..” he teased you, smile as smug as ever as he stood up straight, hands gripping either side of your hips, and his gaze lowering to where you two connected.
“Look…at…that…” he mused, suddenly slowing his thrusts to a painfully harsh pace, fixated on the way your cunt continuously creamed on his length. Alastor bit his tongue to keep from growling at the view, barely registering your whines and pleads for him to go faster.
“Al…Alastor…please..m’ begging you…please…” you felt your thighs shake as he continued his lazy strokes, clearly wanting to drag the ordeal out for his personal entertainment, and his lack of sympathy for your plight in that moment edged you even closer to cumming.
He knew it too…
That infamous grin on his face as he watched you resort to quiet sobs and desperate moans was a sure sign of the fact…
Alastor knew you needed him, loved him, lived for him..
“Please what, mon chere?” He bit his lip, unhooking your legs from around his waist to push them to your chest, giving his cock a new angle to stretch your cunt with.
You felt like passing out then, all strength evaporating from your body as he reached places inside you that surely didn’t exist before. His taunting didn’t make your dazed state any better, “Please, ruin you? Please, love you?… Let me hear you loud and clear, darling..”
Before you could register the words they flew from you mouth in a hushed flurry of need.
“Please…love me…fuck me like you love me…use me…I don’t care anymore…”
Alastor immediately rewarded your answer, wasting no time as his hips snapped into yours feverishly, flooding the kitchen with the sound of skin against skin.
“Lovely…” he cooed, voice thick with tension as he stared down at your overstimulated form, and within seconds of the praise slipping off his tongue you came undone. He followed shortly after, not caring to ask where you wanted his release, and you made no protest as the warm white liquid spilled inside you.
All you could do was stare, mouth falling open as he fucked his cum deeper, “It’s high time you became a mother, mon chere. You’d like that wouldn’t you?..” Alastor rambled, hardly coherent as his high coursed through him, but his statement crystal clear to you.
“Yes…” you whimper in response, walls clenching his cock as the thought of carrying his child sprung into your mind. “I’d love it…Al.”
His heart nearly stops as a genuine closed eye smile graces your face, a light blush painting your cheeks as he kisses them gently while gingerly slipping his softened cock out of your leaking heat. Alastor then lets your legs fall, lifting you to sit up straight on the counter again before wrapping his arms around your waist.
You hang onto him for balance, feeling entirely small in his grasp, and finding comfort in the embrace as exhaustion trickles in.
Alastor breathed in your sweet scent, beginning to pull your robe back on your tired form before reaching for his dress shirt. He was careful not to stir you away from his chest as he shrugged the clothing back on
“I’d love you and our child more than anything…” he nonchalantly mumbles, kissing the top of your head, and chuckling when your tied eyes go wide with undeniable hope.
“More than anything?…”
“Anything, my dear…” he repeats himself with a soft smile, bringing a hand up to push fallen strands of hair from your face.
That was when it occurred to you…
Alastor Hartiflet could love…
He’d always been able to….
And he loved you enough to share it with another…
How surreal….
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This entire 1st part was brought to you by the Great Gatsby movie soundtrack…❤️ you’re welcome… ;)
[ BONUS CONTENT + ]
Actually it MIGHT BE 12 inches if we are being honest… ❤️ credits to creator.
Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.
Word count: 7.8k
Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read
Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader
Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)
I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx
[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]
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PART 2 (END)
You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.
You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.
“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.
“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.
The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.
He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.
“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.
After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.
“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”
“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.
“Are you sure?” You asked again.
“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.
“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.
“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”
“You know?” You whispered.
“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”
You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.
From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.
You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.
That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.
“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.
You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.
The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.
“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”
You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.
“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”
“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.
“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”
He laughed it off.
Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips.
“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.
“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”
“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.
“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”
“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head.
At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.
“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.
“Like to what?” He frowned.
“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.
Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.
“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”
“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”
He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.
“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.
“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.
You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.
“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.
“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”
A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.
“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.
“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.
“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.
Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.
You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.
“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”
“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.
“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”
“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”
That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.
Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed.
You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.
He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.
“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”
He only laughed at your happy ramble.
You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.
“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.
“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.
“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you.
Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.
“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.
“Hm?”
“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.
“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.
“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.
“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”
You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.
“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”
Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.
The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.
“Nano!” You hugged him.
“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.
“You came.”
“You called.”
Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.
You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.
Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.
“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.
“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.
“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”
You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.
When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.
During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.
Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.
“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.
And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.
So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.
That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.
He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.
“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.
“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.
“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.
Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.
That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.
You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.
“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.
“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.
“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”
It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.
“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.
“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.
“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.
“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.
When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.
“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.
“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.
“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.
“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.
After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.
When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.
Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.
When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.
He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.
Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.
You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.
“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.
“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.
“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”
The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.
“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”
“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”
His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.
“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.
“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.
After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.
“Nena…”
“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.
“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.
“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”
“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”
“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”
You walked past him, leaving at once.
That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.
“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.
He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.
“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.
“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”
Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.
He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.
“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”
His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.
“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.
You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party.
Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.
You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.
“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”
You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.
“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered,
“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”
“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.
You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.
Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.
The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.
All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.
Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.
“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”
You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.
“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.
“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.
“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.
There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.
When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.
“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.
“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”
“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.
You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you.
“Fernando, please-”
“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.
“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.
You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.
Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.
“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.
“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”
You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.
“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.
“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.
“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.
Shame and jealousy burned inside you.
He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.
You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.
“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”
You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.
The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.
“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.
“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”
“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.
“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.
“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.
Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.
You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.
“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.
“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”
You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.
It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.
“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.
“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.
“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”
“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.
“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”
“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”
Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.
“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.
“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.
“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.
“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”
“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”
“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”
“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.
“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.
You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.
“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.
“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.
“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.
“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.
“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.
“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”
You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.
You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.
“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”
Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.
They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.
“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.
“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.
“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”
“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”
“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”
So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.
You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.
You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.
It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.
So you had to prove Fernando wrong.
NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!
✧ tough guy iwaizumi hajime who ends up falling for his best friend’s cute little sister
✧ genre/tw fluff ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ (nsfw at the end ⚠︎)
✧ word count 857
all three of you grow up together, with you being two years younger than tooru. oikawa is always doting on you, treating you like a doll. despite the very little age gap, no matter how old you get, he’s always referring to you as his baby sister. oikawa spoils you rotten. one look from those big brown eyes you both share, but look a lot cuter on you for some reason, and oikawa can’t help but to give you whatever you ask for.
in the beginning, iwaizumi is almost like your other, more responsible big brother when things go wrong. you’re always trying to tag along with your older brother and his friend, which is a recipe for disaster sometimes.
when you inevitably take a spill, and bump your knees, tooru is rolling on the ground, shouting out against the heavens for forsaking you. how could the higher powers let you just fall to the ground like that?? but iwaizumi is is silently wiping off the pebbles from your knee with his little hands, blowing cool air to help assuage your pain. without a word, he carries you back home.
eventually you learn to stop tagging along so much. you can only handle so much pain and embarrassment. other than those moments, iwaizumi and you never really spend that much time together. for the rest of your childhood, you’re more acquaintances than anything else.
but at some point, after oikawa desperately begs you to join the boys volleyball team as it’s manager (“its the only time we’ll be together in high school, you wouldn’t ruthlessly deny your precious and loving and dashing and charming big brother this chance, would you???”), iwaizumi begins to notice you again. but this time, you’re a lot more grown up than you were before. seems like good looks run in the family.
but he’s not the only one that notices. in the same sense that oikawa seems to have the student body under his spell, it seems you do as well, and without even trying.
you’ve had a sheltered childhood that you mostly spent in doors, so you’re shyer than most people. and your brother enables you with his doting behaviour.
iwaizumi finds himself frequently getting jealous at the basket of love letters and confectionery that you have to empty out of your locker and lug home every night. iwaizumi finds that his hands begin to ache after a while bc he clenches them so hard whenever he sees another person confessing to you. and he waits with baited breath to see their disappointed faces as they walk away—an indication that you turned them down again in the way that you always shyly do; an indication that he might still have a chance, yet.
in an effort to put the moves on you, iwaizumi is constantly performing little acts of service for you. he goes out with you to the fountains to refill the water bottles so that you have some company, and so that you won’t have to carry anything heavy—that should be his job, after all. in the most cliche move ever, when an errant ball goes flying right in your direction, iwaizumi coolly catches it with one hand before it can bounce off of your head, making sure to ask you if you’re okay after. he stays behind to help you sweep the floors after practice, striking up a conversation with you. when oikawa stays behind to practice his spikes, iwaizumi walks alone with you home, making sure to keep you away from the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road. iwa also makes sure to put your back against the wall of the train while standing in front of you, keeping you safe from any wandering hands.
eventually, he even starts buying your favourite milk drink from the vending machine, and brings it to you while he visits your classroom, the place where you normally eat your lunch. he sits, and eats with you (to which oikawa complains vehemently bc “why would you just sit in a different spot than we normally do without telling me?? you left me all alone!!")
iwaizumi’s actions don’t go unnoticed. you start to fall for it.
when you two eventually start to date, oikawa is whining and complaining that you two are both stealing each other away from him (there’s also relentless teasing on oikawa’s end bc “iwa-chan, isn’t funny that you fell in love with someone that looks just like me?? are you secretly gay and actually just in love with me :3 ??”)
but what’s really the kick in the back for oikawa is the moment he runs up to his precious little sister’s room to check and see what she wants for dinner. but upon opening the door, he finds both his best friend (who, of which, he didn’t even know was over their place at the moment) on top of his “adorable baby sister who can do absolutely no wrong”; the two of them are naked from the waist down, in the throes of passion.
he falls to his knees, asking god to strike him dead, right then and there.
There was a Chigiri ask for this but I also saw this one so I'll answer them both in this one ask.
Pairing: Yoichi Isagi, Bachira Meguru, Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi, Hyoma Chigiri, Kunigami Rensuke, Mikage Reo, Nagi Seishiro x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, nudes, flirting over text, mutual masturbation, phone sex
A/N: I know there are a lot of horror stories in regards to nudes but none of that will be in here don't worry.
Isagi always has his phone in his pocket so he knows the exact moment when you send him something. Now he has gotten photos of you naked before so he knows to check it in private. He once got your pic in the middle of getting ready for a game and had to go take a very fast and cold shower in order to be able to play properly.
Bachira has his cock ready in his hand the moment his you message him that you bought some pretty, new lingerie. He knows that pics are coming next, and oh boy. He already knows he's gonna be making a mess, but why do it all by himself when you can have fun together? And of course you trade pictures when it's done to show the results.
Sae has a special alert on his phone when you call, text or send him pictures. He never opens pictures in public because he always feels like there's someone watching over his shoulder. He would much rather be with you in person but nudes are a good alternative for you two when he's out traveling. And audio too sometimes.
Rin doesn't always see them right away, he rarely ever checks his phone while he's practicing. Usually he checks it afterwards because if you send him pictures of you naked or doing something lewd, well he's gonna take a shower anyways, might as well make it a longer and colder one.
Chigiri sees the photo as soon as you send it but doesn't respond until he's sure he's alone. Gives you a call, telling you how pretty you look on his bed like that. You're already touching yourself to him, and he is clearly, and loudly moaning and grunting from jerking off, all of it in the Team locker room because he can't help himself.
Kunigami was the one who started this by sending you pictures of himself flexing, straight of the shower and with only a towel around his hips. He didn't expect you to respond with a nude and was pretty flabbergasted. Couldn't deny the effect it had on his cock. He called you right away to get your pretty ass over here and help him with it.
Reo doesn't exactly get a nude from you but instead something much better, you wearing nothing but his jersey, your nipples hard and your cunt clearly wet. He doesn't want you take it off, he wants you to fuck yourself with it on, he's imagining it while pumping his cock, barely able to wait until he gets home and spreads your legs.
Nagi likes getting those kinds of photos in the morning more then at any other time of day. They wake him right up, his cock even harder then it was from his wet dream. It's even better if you're willing to text or be on the call with him while he's masturbating, so that he's able to hear you're pretty voice as he reaches his peak.
18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy
9k
summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.
There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over.
Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat.
“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”
You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”
“The Sakusa family?”
“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.
“He’s coming home.”
“From the war?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.”
She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely.
She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.”
“Why? For dinner?”
“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”
You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”
“We’ve been exchanging letters.”
Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death.
She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”
You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed.
“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?”
You hum and nod. “Okay.”
There’s a pause.
“When will he be here?”
Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.
“Tomorrow.”
You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs.
The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky.
As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.
You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.
“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.
You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.
Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.
The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market.
“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.”
“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”
She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.”
She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.
The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around.
You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times.
You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor?
Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.
You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.
When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent.
Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—
“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.
“Hi… hi.”
He stares at you blankly.
“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back.
“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”
“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you.
He doesn't.
As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there.
You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.
You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind.
Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived.
You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived.
She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you.
“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”
Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens.
“My apologies, miss.”
The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think.
His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”
He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions.
“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides.
“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”
She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup.
The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter.
The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well.
You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already.
To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things.
Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”
By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.”
You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second.
Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder.
Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you.
“How are the vegetables doing?”
“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward.
You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven).
You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.”
Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.”
The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home.
The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.
You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass.
Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold!
After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you.
“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.
Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants.
You drop the bucket.
“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”
You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.
You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.”
It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic.
“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.
“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.”
You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him.
“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.
He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.
He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too.
The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine.
“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves.
“I’ve already forgiven you.”
“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”
He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated.
“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.”
He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.
You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.
Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that).
He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning.
When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless.
You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has.
There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do).
The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead.
In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away.
Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.
“Talk to them,” You encourage.
He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”
“Ask them how they are.”
Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.”
You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”
He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.
When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.
You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help.
“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.”
“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.”
“How so?”
He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside.
When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you.
“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.”
Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively.
“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi.
He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.”
“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.”
The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response.
After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean.
Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright.
“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion.
“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.”
He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.”
You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue.
Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.”
He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter.
“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.”
That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts.
“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.”
You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay.
Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.”
It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out.
You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.”
The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed.
You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way.
He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on.
You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love.
You peer down into the pot.
“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.”
He bites his cheek at your dramatics.
You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way.
He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.”
You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again.
He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste.
When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own.
Your fingers twitch.
“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.”
You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes.
You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut.
You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—
“I’ve arrived early!”
The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor.
“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen.
She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.
“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.”
He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.
“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”
At that, a smile slips onto your face.
“Yes. Cook with love.”
When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love.
You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share.
The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable.
Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.
You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you.
“Let me help.”
Your cheeks burn.
He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?”
It’s a little loose.
“Tighter, please.”
He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching.
“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure.
It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you).
You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one.
The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space.
On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand.
You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door.
You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him.
The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs.
Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers.
“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.”
“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you.
“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay).
“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.”
Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush.
Finally, he fesses up.
“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.”
You see Kiyoomi make a face.
“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.”
“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens.
“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?”
The both of you choke.
You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening.
“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”
“Don’t be like that, Omi.”
“Miya.”
“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”
“You are unbearable.”
Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated.
“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.”
You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes.
After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way.
When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.
You only hum in response.
Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around.
You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe.
As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around.
You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward.
“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole.
“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi.
“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.
Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—”
“Miya.”
“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.”
He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush.
Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you.
“Would you like some dinner?”
“Yes, please.”
You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side.
In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.
“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.”
He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly.
“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left.
“Miya told me to confess to you.”
Your blood runs cold. Confess…?
Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it.
You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room.
When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day.
He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously.
“I wish you could come with me.”
You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile.
“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say.
“Goodnight, angel.”
Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does).
The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done.
As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it.
(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).
Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.
One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy.
The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door.
Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige.
You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely.
When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.
“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.”
And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you.
“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb.
“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day.
The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in.
“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.”
His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.”
Your mouth drops open.
Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.
Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.”
You stay rooted still.
“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.
He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.”
It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together.
(He wants to).
It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt.
“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”
He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth.
“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him.
It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please.
Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear.
He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.
His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name.
He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in.
“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”
Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!”
He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.”
You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll.
You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you.
Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly.
“I love you, Kiyoomi.”
He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you.
In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!”
“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.”
You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes.
“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?”
You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again.
“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.”
He gives an approving cluck.
You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand.
“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe.
“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around.
“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock.
“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.”
“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”
“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately.
“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips.
“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?”
You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.”
“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.”
You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love.
Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.
As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you.
“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.”
You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.
“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”
“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!”
“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!”
“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—”
The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own.
Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.
Summary: carlos and you have been best friends since childhood but everyone can tell you're something more especially the fans. or when carlos and you are together but try to pass it off as best friends until more people catch on
Type: Social Media AU! face claim is Cindy Kimberly
Warnings: UNEDITED so like 3 grammar mistakes in the twitter threads and prob a little more…
a/n: i will forever be in love with the trope of childhood best friends to lovers for carlos because he reeks of old money and someone who needs a lot of history to connect...
all translations of spanish come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!
masterlist
twitter
instagram
yourusername has posted
liked by carlossainz55, drewstarkey, neymarjr, and 1,341,972 others
yourusername back home 🥰
tagged carlossainz55
view all 117,593 comments
worldchampionsisaid not two boys liking her pic when she already has a man 😭
→ outer_bankzz what the hell are drew and neymar doing here...
→ carlosandy/n no fr considering half the post includes him too-
carmenmmundt pretty girlfriend
→ yourusername sending my love to you! call me!
→ georgerussell63 carmen?! she's your what??
→ carmenmmundt she's my main piece, you're just the side one...
→ yourusername take that, george.
landonorris mom, i miss you
→ yourusername i miss you too, son. come home 💙
→ welovey/n not lando being carlos and y/n's child
carlossainz55 feels good to be home
→ liked by yourusername and 417 others
thatonebakucorner i don't get it, do carlos and y/n live together?
→ forthef1wags yeah, they do! after y/n graduated they moved into a place together, you can see her a lot in carlos' vlogs just doing things around the house
→ thatonebakucorner so they're together?
→ forthef1wags they have never confirmed it officially, so who knows
neymarjr 😍😍
→ thestoryofonedirection ew. go away
→ y/nismothering back off 🤺🤺🤺
blancasainzv always good to have you back with the family!
→ yourusername my favorite part of being home
→ carlossainz55 are you sure that's your favorite part?
→ charles_leclerc mate, there are children around...
obsessedwiththem they make it so obvious😭
lilymhe the cutest!
→ yourusername miss you, babe!
→ alex_albon back off my girlfriend.
→ yourusername never.
twitter
instagram
carlossainz55 has posted
liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 2,160,937 others
carlossainz55 never better than at home
tagged yourusername
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wagsforlife the fact they only tagged each other in their posts 😩
yourusername mi vida! (my life)
→ carlossainz55 mi corazón (my heart)
→ rootingforthem their nicknames for each other>>
f1wags number one f1 couple!
→ neymarfan leave it alone, they're not dating.
→ y/nisforlife tell that to their parents who set those two up since birth...
→ marrymey/nl/n of course, it's a neymar fan saying that💀
landonorris dad, mom said to come inside for dinner. (please hurry she's yelling in spanish at the oven rn)
→ carlossainz55 oh no, not again.
→ oneforthewags that seems so much like something y/n would do😭
→ f1circuittrack did lando actually go to them for summer break??
scuderiaferrari home is where the heart is!
→ y/nandcarlando even the admin knows something
y/nisaneed she's so beautiful!
→ liked by carlossainz55 and 510 others
carlosconfusion atp they aren't even hiding anymore...
twitter
instagram
yourusername has posted
liked by lilymhe, danielricciardo, pillowpersonpp, and 1,501,076 others
yourusername can we always be this close? forever and ever
view all 129,107 comments
protectthewags is y/n soft launching??!
taylorswift you're my lover
danielricciardo you're going to drive them crazy
→ yourusername 🙈
tomyloverrr not the taylor swift lyrics, girl's down badd😭
francisca.cgomes you two are so so cute!
→ yourusername sending lots of kisses to you 💋
→ pierregasly she's mine, y/n.
→ francisca.cgomes don't listen to him, my wife 😘
→ thef1wags y/n is stealing every single one of the grid's gfs
carlossainz55 the guy has good taste for the flowers.
→ liked by yourusername and 603 others
lovel/n i want what they have
f1memes drew and neymar are somewhere crying right now...
y/nl/n55 carlos and y/n supremacy
nutsfory/n she's glowing 🥰
shared post by yourusername and carlossainz55
liked by landonoriss, charles_leclerc, anasainzvdec, and 2,913,468 others
yourusername and carlossainz55 never one to be subtle.
view all 196,975 comments
carlossainz55 mi amor, tienes mi corazón para siempre (my love, you have my heart forever)
→ yourusername eternamente tuya, mi vida (forever yours, my life)
danielricciardo just to let everyone know that i won the bet a long time ago 😁
thepaddockfloor y/n is my wag for life
gfsidehoe we already saw this coming
landonorris parents. also, why are the reaction pics on twitter mostly of me??
→ liked by yourusername, carlosssainz55, and 398 others
→ yourusername twitter never fails to make me laugh
→ f1girly not lando seeing the twitter threads 😭
anasainzvdec love you two so much!
→ yourusername love you to the moon, ana!
charles_leclerc i was thinking you were going to keep it a secret forever
Hello!!! I have simple request if you don’t mind how about drunk Hobie with y/n…I wanna see how you would write their dynamic cause I love your writing <3
Thank you for requesting, lovely! 💛
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Tags: use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, drinking, cw vomit, FLUFF
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
You wake up groggily to the telephone ringing loudly inside your shared bedroom. With one eye open, you blindly reach for the receiver, hand bumping all over the mess that is your bedside table. Bringing the phone to your ear, face squished on the pillow, sleep still clinging to your lashes.
“Hello?” Your voice cracks.
“Y/N? It's Ned” you wake up in a flash, mind already flashing to Hobie or his friends having some sort of emergency during their weekly get together. Is there a fire? Did someone get alcohol poisoning? Is he okay?
“Come get your man. He's gonna get kicked out with how loud the fucker is right now. The owner’s staring daggers at him”
Sure enough, there's a loud booming laughter in the background and what sounds to be glass shattering. Ned's swirling his words together but sober enough to put together a cohesive sentence. But definitely not drunk enough to handle his friends' shenanigans.
“Oh shit! Please hurry, he's telling everyone that he's Spider-Man, what a weirdo.” there's a rustling sound then the phone falls, banging on the wall briefly. There's fast footsteps and a muffled, “Hobie! Christ, that's your third fucking glass!”
There's roaring laughter, and an unmistakable voice. “Who you callin’? The coppers? You're no fun anymore, Neddy”
The dial tone ends and you're already putting on your trainers, taking your keys, wallet and coat. You don't even bother changing out of your pajamas, they look presentable enough, right?
The train ride was awkward. You in your pajamas, hair disheveled, and mismatched socks. Good thing there weren't a lot of commuters this late or the staring would actually get to you. There was an awkward silence when you stepped inside, but with you staring right back at them with your sleep deprived eyes, they looked away immediately.
You practically ran to the white horse pub, the party was in full swing, people with sloshing pints in hand and men drunkenly trying to walk straight. Hugging your coat closer, you tie them closed, scanning the pub for the familiar figure.
Spotting Hobie halfway up the table with Ned trying to drag him off, his laughs would make you giggle if not for him being so inebriated, chugging an entire pint while his other friends cheer him on, banging on tables and guffawing over the already loud pub. A friend you've recognized before joins him on the table, finishing his own pint. Hobie eggs him on with him tipping his friend's pint closer to the man's lips, while chanting: you can do it, mate!
The wood wobbles and you quickly make your way towards him. Ned sighs in relief, you smile apologetically before he changes course for the other friend on the table, almost tackling him off it.
You hold onto his leather jacket in an attempt to balance him. He usually has great balance but you don't completely trust his coordination.
“Hobie!” You yell through the loud chatter of the pub. The owner watches on in your peripheral, “Sorry, Joe! I'll get him home!”
“You better! Your boy's a menace, he's been inciting everyone on his little drinking game”
“Isn't that good? People are buying more booze?”
“Don't push it, love. That's the only reason why I'm not gonna make him pay for the broken glasses”
You wince, “sorry about those” He grunts, waving off.
Tugging at his jacket, you call his name again. Hobie finally looks down, eyes flicking from your hands to your face. You'd expect him to greet you with a smile or even drop down and hug you, instead, he swats your hands away from him, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.
You blink in surprise, bewildered at his actions. “Hey! Hobie!”
“What?” he folds his knees to level with you, his eyes blinking a little too quickly, head tilted, hands on his knees for extra balance.
“What do you mean ‘what’? I'm here to take you home. You're too drunk” you hold his hand, tugging him down on the table.
“And you're too bloody handsy” he flings your hand away. “I'm–” he blinks slowly, trying to get his bearings. “I'm have a girl back home, yeah? Don't” Hobie pokes your forehead.
You get cross eyed, a minute ago you'd thought he was just a little too drunk, the kind of drunk where you're wobbly on your feet, now you know he definitely can't see straight. You decide to play along, just so you can tease him in the morning.
“Oh” you bring your hands on your chest in a mock surprise. “Didn't know that, so sorry”
“No harm, but she–she would…could throw hands if she saw you grope me like that”
Grope? “I wasn't– you know what, tell me more about her. She sounds nice”
Hobie beams at you, a resemblance of what he would usually look like once he sees you in a crowded room. He sits on the table like you just asked a child what his favourite dinosaur is.
“She– she's sooo good to me, y’know” you nod, biting your lip to stop a giddy laugh from escaping. “I told her that I was Spiderman and y’know what she did?!” He excitedly yells, good thing no one here actually believes his drunk ramblings or else the entire pub would know that they're currently drinking with spiderman himself.
“No, what did she do?” you smile, eyes twinkling under the dim lights of the pub.
“She said she loves me! And and” he gestures excitedly. “Supports me! Isn't that fuckin' amazing?!” Hobie sighs longingly. “I miss her, I wish she was here. She'd probably bonk me on the head with how much I've drunk though.” He trails off, his eyes glassy. “I should go home”
“Yeah, you should” you slowly inch closer to him. “Hey, babe?”
“Yes, lovie?” Hobie does a double take, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “Lovie!” He tackles you in for a hug. His face snuggling closer to your neck. You rub his back, giggling.
Now you're the one struggling to balance. “I miss you too” you kiss his temple. “Let's go home before you let out anymore of your secrets”
You would have struggled more if you brought him to the tube, luckily enough, you found a cab within five minutes of waiting (and wrangling) with Hobie.
After a round of goodbyes from his equally drunk friends, you finally got him inside the taxi. The driver clicks his tongue at another drunk passenger.
“He better not get sick all over my seats” the driver says gruffly.
“He won't, don't worry” you say with a fake smile.
“I think ‘m gonna be sick.” Hobie opens the car window, letting the cool air in.
“Please don't” you whisper to him, patting his back affectionately whilst you smile at the glaring driver so he doesn't kick you out.
After a car ride that seemed endless and one throw up outside the flat, you're both finally home. Getting him up the stairs was more of a struggle, he wobbled on his feet, almost tumbling off the staircase, if not for you clinging to him he would most definitely fall. Once inside the bedroom, he groans, leaning his entire body on you. Arms enclosed around your shoulders, head lolling to the side.
Hobie drops like a sack of potatoes on the mattress, bringing you down with him. You land on top as he traps you in his embrace.
“You're so good to me” he murmurs against the crown of your head.
“Mm-hmm, so I've been told” you cuddle closer, not minding the smell of alcohol.
“Because it's true” Hobie places a sticky kiss on your head then folding his neck just to reach your temple.
“You're gonna regret this in the morning” you help him in attacking your face by leaning over him, your elbows on the side of his head, fingers scratching his scalp. His hands skim over to your waist, holding you securely.
“I'll never” kiss “ever” kiss “regret” kiss “snogging you”
You laugh from the belly with every peck he leaves on your skin. “I know that, I’m talking about you drinking too much”
Hobie pauses, eyes narrowed from tiredness, lips still pursed together. “Ah that, sorry” he apologizes for his future self even though he would most definitely say it in the morning when you hand him some meds and lots of fluids.
“We'll talk about it once you're sober and without a banging headache. Rest, I'll take care of you” kissing his nose, you leave his side to grab fresh clothes for him to change into.
Before you completely leave, Hobie takes your hand, squeezing it.
“Love you, thank you” You let him bring your knuckles up to his lips, he sighs.
“Love you too, I think you're about to have the worst morning tomorrow” you chuckle, leaning closer to his touch like a planet orbiting its sun.
“With you, it won't be”
“You get cheesy when you're drunk” kissing the tip of his nose, you leave again, turning away, earning a grunt of disapproval from Hobie.
“I hate to see you go but I love watching you leave!” he says with gusto.
You should've brought a video camera with you when you were in the pub.
prompt — all the ways jason todd touches you / jason todd x reader
tags — some nsfw
A STORMY SEA AT BAY;
his fingers are harsh, and you wince when he grips at you like. that.he doesn't mean to hurt you, by god, no. he doesn't ever want to see you flinch. and as soon as you do, he stumbles back.
you realize what's happened. he's going to hate himself now. "jason, no—" you call out, reaching for him, but he stumbles back and runs into the darkness of the night where it'll shroud him. and in that night, he basks in his anger and self-loathing for a while before the boy in blue comes to calm him down. you sometimes wish you could, but he'd be too ashamed.
"i'm sorry," he mumbles when he's back in your arms. he holds you, tight, but not like when he was angry. there is a silver tear dancing on the edge of his eye but he never lets it drop. "i didn't mean to." and you know he doesn't so you hug him back and don't say a word.
EUPHORIA IN A SKY OF STARS;
he grips your thighs as tight as possible, and his face is buried between the valley of your thighs. he's letting out sighs of pleasure through quiet muffles as the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own whimpers and his comments—"fuck, pretty girl, you look so fuckin' good right now. give me another one, yeah?"
your thighs are shaking and you cannot even think properly, not when his eyes are hazy and he looks up at you like that. his fingers are digging so deep into your flesh that they draw out bruises, his tongue swirling around, and occasionally his teeth graze over your inner thighs. you forget that his helmet is to the side, that you're on a rooftop and anyone can appear in seconds and see you two like this. "best fuckin' thing i've tasted in my entire life," he croons, as he shoves two fingers in you.
SLEEPING IN AT SUNRISE;
his touches are gentle, soft. your hands run over the bruises he's collected from last night, and the blood that's dried on his hair or his head or back from last night's patrol and you worry about him. your fingers cup his jaw and you plant delicate butterfly kisses over his face in worry. "i worry about you, jay," you say when he whines at the touch but you know he adores it.
"i'm alive in one piece, aren't i?" he muffles as he flips over to the side so his back faces you. you pout and he knows you're pouting. he flips right back in a flash and he grabs you by the neck and pulls you close before pressing a kiss on your forehead and pushing. yourhead so it lies in the crook of his neck.
"i'm never leaving you," he murmurs, his eyes hooded and lazy. "it's gonna take everything in this universe and more for me to ever even think about not making it back to you." and those are just words, you know, but words have a lot of meaning.
I THINK ABOUT YOU EVEN IF I DON'T KNOW IT;
"so that's what i said to him that other day!" that blonde girl laughs, brushing her arm against jason. jason just nods at her, doesn't even mean to say anything ot her and just keeps his blank face. you've been scowling at her for the past five minutes, and for the past four minutes, she's pretended like you don't exist.
jason looks down at where she's touched him and then shrugs. "i have to go get a drink," he says blankly, his face neutral. the both of you turn around in near perfect sync and start walking down together. jason grits his teeth in anger, thinking about something else (maybe how that blonde girl has been treating you), and takes your hand and squeezes it. he squeezes it so hard it hurts a bit.
"jason," you wince, looking at your red hand. it's cutting off blood. he looks down at your hand in surprise and then his eyes widen for a few seconds before letting it go.
"i'm so sorry, i didn't know i was holding your hand, and with that grip—" you shush him peacefully.
RED IS JASON TODD'S COLOR
"fuck," jason snarls as he pushes you against the wall. there's something in his eyes. jealousy. red is always jason's best color to wear, you've known that for sure. his hand wraps around your throat and he kisses you hard.
"you liked making me jealous, didn't you?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow. there's a glimmer in his eyes as his lips bite down on your neck so hard that there's a faint sliver of blood. you let out a yelp. "seeing me all riled up for a guy whose cock is probably the tiniest fuckin' thing you've ever seen. tell me, did you like me jealous of a guy who can't even please you the way you know i can?"
you open your mouth to answer, but he clamps his hand. over before ou can speak. "don't even fucking answer," he snarls, before ripping your jeans off from your body. you didn't even know anybody could do that. "i'm about to teach you what the right answer is."
so sorry it took me a few days to get this together for you, but i hope you enjoy some of these!
most of these works contain mature themes/content. please heed tags and do not engage with any explicit work if you are a minor!
i'm sure there are a bunch i've forgotten, so please feel free to reblog and share your own work and your faves!
also, please note: there are a lot of fics on these lists that are posted to ao3. it has recently come out that a volunteer was removed from their position for being pro-palestine (you can find the twt thread here). i am in the process of looking for a better alternative, but until then, it is unfortunately probably the best way to share these stories.
while i personally won't be posting to or reading on ao3 for the time being, how you choose to engage going forward is completely up to you! i just wanted to make sure i was being transparent.
hobi x reader
guarded & kanalia by @xjoonchildx — basically anything by ana lbr
just practice & we float by @anotherbtswriter
gone wild by @johobi
liar, liar by @eoieopda
party on you by @here2bbtstrash
do i wanna know? by @yoongiphoria
started with a spark, now we're on fire by @the-boy-meets-evil
renegade by @junghelioseok
midnight confessions by @snackhobi
cry to my room by @kithtaehyung
matters of the heart by @hobidreams
plant boy by @gukyi
sunlit affair by @ubemango
the art of war by @wwilloww
not today, satan by @gimmethatagustd
the wood by @sailoryooons
virtuoso by @hamsterclaw
even though by @moni-logues
anything by @dilfhoseokie
upbeat
for the first time (what's past is past)
same old mistakes
tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)
as always, mxm fics (aka me being embarrassing sope trash) under the cut!
member x member
little miracles by @here2bbtstrash (jihope)
you're not mine, but you're the best (jihope) ⭐
i only always think (jihope)
you made me dream when i couldn't sleep (jihope)
walk the walk (jihope)
polaroid (jihope)
a midnight clear (jihope) ⭐
got an offer you might refuse (jihope feat. jin)
i don't want it at all (jihope feat. jin)
please be my finale (sope) ⭐
i've been calling your name (in this whole universe) (sope)
nothing without sunlight (sope)
same damn hunger (sope) ⭐
hot fuss (sope)
i'd love it if we made it (sope) ⭐
rub your feelings down my spine (sope)
kiss me hard before you go (sope) ⭐
how easy this should be (sope)
all my days (i'll know your face) (sope)
those ocean eyes (sope)
leave you drowning (until you reach for my hand) (sope)
reputation (sope)
snapshots from the breakdown (sope) ⭐
the best is yet to come (sope)
my hands down your pants (no homo) (sope)
first times and stuff & an experiment in threesomes (sope feat. jk)
at least i got you in my head (hopekook)
10/10, would do again (hopekook)
bone + tissue (hopekook)
telepathy (rapline)
delta (rapline)
i get those goosebumps every time (rapline)
i'm on fire (rapline)
when the moon rises (namseok)
how i'm imagining you (namseok)
in your atmosphere (namseok)
why don't you figure (my heart) out (namseok)
the universe needs more you (namseok)
bated breath (2seok)
smile like you mean it (2seok)
gingerbread (2seok)
cowboys love horses (2seok)
natural gnosis and the chaos therein (2seok) ⭐
telepathy for virgins (2seok)
⭐ = personal mxm favorite. please read any of these and return to scream over them with me.
Everyone keeps acting like you aren't over Jeonghan, and you are determined to convince everyone that you are.
Tags: 16k words (I lied omg), dub con for safety reasons, Porn with Plot, frat boy!Jeonghan, college student!y/n, best friend!Jeongyeon, soft!dom to hard!dom Jeonghan, mean!Jeonghan (and y/n loves it), submissive!y/n, female!y/n (sorry gender-neutral friends), impact play, masochist!y/n, sadist!Jeonghan, Jeonghan aftercare king, y/n crys in this but it's not what you think, Jeonghan is a huge tease also
-
Part Six:
“You’re being stupid.”
You were vividly aware of that. After all, how could you not be being stupid when you were sitting on your floor, a hand mirror propped up in front of you and a whisk on your neck.
Arguing with Jeonghan was one thing but this couldn’t really be considered arguing, could it? After all, you hadn’t even let Jeonghan explain himself. You had practically thrown a fit somewhere where he couldn’t do anything about it and then left.
You hadn’t ever thought that you would end up using one of your safe words with Jeonghan, and honestly, the safety phrase that you two had come up with left your lips before you could really think over it carefully.
You remembered what Jeonghan had said. How he got reassurance in the trust you gave him. You wondered how he felt considering in that moment it probably seemed like that trust was gone.
Jeonghan deserved to feel that hurt from lying to you.
… Probably.
You didn’t know why he was lying to you, so you couldn’t really say with full confidence whether he deserved to feel hurt.
You also couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach. You didn’t want to hurt Jeonghan. You still trusted Jeonghan. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to physically hurt you. You just… Also didn’t trust him in some ways. Maybe he would do something to mentally hurt you.
Your mind started to bring up instances in which Jeonghan had showed undeniably that he didn’t want to mentally scar you and you shook the thoughts out as quickly as you could.
You didn’t want to think about this right now.
Your eyes narrowed at your reflection in the mirror.
“Y/n,” Yeongtae said, trying to garner a reaction from you. You ignored him in favor of twisting the whisk over one of your hickeys. Yeongtae sighed.
“Why is she so stubborn?”
Jeongyeon shrugged.
“She’s always been like that. Just let her be dumb. She figures it out eventually.”
You shot a glare at Jeongyeon.
“I’m being dumb?” You demanded. “I’m not the one lying to a fuck buddy about fucking other people.”
Jeongyeon gave you an annoyed expression.
“But you are the one on the floor using a whisk to get rid of hickeys that you know you love,” Jeongyeon pointed out. “And you’re also going to be the one crying in bed later when you realize that the one thing you still have left of Jeonghan has been literally whisked out of your neck.”
You pressed your lips together and focused back on your whisk and neck. You didn’t want to say that Jeongyeon was right because she couldn’t be… Right? This situation was not a situation that warranted crying. You weren’t that emotionally attached to him.
Sure, you had spent a lot of time together, and yes you were abnormally angry at him for just another fling but that didn’t warrant crying.
He hadn’t necessarily hurt you either. He just lied.
It was shitty that he lied to you, but you were mad because he was stupid. Mad because it didn’t make sense. But he hadn’t hurt you, so there was no reason to cry.
Still, Jeongyeon’s words worried you. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your eyes flickering down to the hickeys on your neck. You knew that they would fade with time regardless of you whisking them away, which sort of asked the question that you didn’t really want to address.
Was this it? Were you done with Jeonghan?
He had lied to you, you were mad, those were two things that you were acutely aware of, but did this situation warrant cutting him off completely?
You felt sort of like you were acting out for no reason. If you were a psychology professor evaluating this situation you might say that it seemed like you wanted extra attention from Jeonghan and that was why you were making such a big deal over something that was realistically a conversation.
But with the knowledge that you actually had of the situation that just didn’t align.
“I’m not going to cry over Jeonghan,” you said finally. “I’m over him.”
It didn’t take a genius to know that no one in the room believed you.
“Really,” you insisted. “Jeongyeon knows how I am. He’s just another boy to get over. I’ve been in this situation a million times.”
Jeongyeon shrugged.
“Well, she’s right there. If y/n is good at anything it’s at dropping flings that aren’t treating her right,” she agreed.
“But Jeonghan-”
“He lied,” you interrupted, shooting Jun a glare. “If he didn’t want me to leave, he shouldn’t have lied.”
You thought over your words, that residual doubt still lingering in your mind. You pressed your lips together. “Besides. He’ll be sleeping with other people in no time. I’m not the sort of person that Yoon Jeonghan would get attached to.”
-
The first thing that Jun was greeted with upon getting back to the Alpha Mu house was none other than a pacing Yoon Jeonghan.
Jeonghan hadn’t slept well at all since you had left him at the party, and everyone in the house knew. He wanted to check on you. He wanted to see you. He just wanted one conversation.
“Well?” Jeonghan asked, his eyes flicking nervously to Jun as he toed off his shoes at the door. “Does she miss me? What did she say? Should I call her?”
Jun gave Jeonghan an apologetic look.
“She says she doesn’t care,” he said.
Jeonghan cursed, his gaze dropping to the floor, but the conversation only made Seungcheol laugh humorlessly.
“I told you. I told you that if you treated her badly, she would leave,” he said with a shake of his head. “But what did you do? Used her, abused her-”
“That’s dramatic,” Jeonghan interrupted.
“You lied to her!” Seungcheol argued back.
Frustration filled Jeonghan to the point where he felt like he was going to boil over. The others didn’t get it. Seungcheol didn’t get it. They didn’t see the way he treated you.
“I can explain that to her I just need to talk to her,” Jeonghan insisted. “I’m just going to call her.”
Jeonghan pulled out his phone but just as he did Seungcheol grabbed it.
“No. You don’t get that chance,” he said. Jeonghan’s face was starting to turn red, and Seokmin and Minghao shared looks of resignation to the fact that they wouldn’t be finishing their assignments any time soon.
“Give me my phone back,” Jeonghan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave.
“No,” Seungcheol repeated, squaring his shoulders. “You can’t force y/n to talk to you. If she wants to, if she decides to you will get the chance to get her back.”
“You have been against me and her from day one,” Jeonghan snapped. “You don’t get our relationship. I don’t treat her like an object. This is the last time I will ask. Give me the phone.”
“If you call y/n now, you are risking your entire relationship with her,” Seungcheol said. “You lied to her. She is confused. She doesn’t know where she stands with you. You will only further confuse her if you talk to her now.”
“The solution to this is a conversation,” Jeonghan insisted. He realized quickly that Seungcheol wasn’t about to just give him the phone, so he darted forward, trying to grab it. Seungcheol easily pulled it out of Jeonghan’s grasp.
He hated how sloppy he got when he was emotional. If this wasn’t about you he would have grabbed the phone easily.
Of course, if it wasn’t about you, he wouldn’t be arguing with Seungcheol at all.
“Let her think first. If you don’t listen to me about anything else listen to me about this.”
Jeonghan turned again to face Seungcheol, now even angrier but the anger dissipated when Seungcheol slammed his phone into his chest, forcing them to look at one another.
“Y/n let’s you do whatever the hell you want to her and puts up no fights. She trusts you to respect her when she says no, but she never says no.”
Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed at Seungcheol.
“So?”
“So, she said no. She used one of her safety phrases.” Jeonghan reached up to pull his phone out of Seungcheol’s grasp and once he had it Seungcheol dropped his hands to his sides. “Go ahead. Call her. But if you do, I guarantee she will never trust you again.”
Jeonghan stared at Seungcheol, trying to will him down with just a stare but Seungcheol wasn’t just anyone. He’d been with Jeonghan long enough to know when Jeonghan was just throwing a fit. And Jeonghan had been Seungcheol long enough to know when he was right.
“Fuck off, Seungcheol.”
But he was still going to be mad about it.
-
“Moved on already?”
You looked up at Yeongtae who you hadn’t even noticed had been staring at you for the last few minutes. Your eyebrows furrowed and your head fell to the side.
“Moved on…?” You murmured. He hummed and gestured to your phone.
“You’re checking your phone every ten seconds trying to see if anyone’s messaged you. You must have a hot new boyfriend.” You stared at Yeongtae for a few seconds trying to figure out what would have made him think that but then a smirk started to cross his lips and you realized what this was about.
“Yeongtae, I swear to god-”
“Seriously? Still?” He pressed, a laugh leaving his mouth. “How dumb are you?”
“I’m not dumb, I’m not even checking my phone that often,” you protested.
“Okay, not every ten seconds,” Yeongtae relented. “But more often than usual.”
He closed the book in front of him.
“Has Jeonghan not reached out to you yet?” He asked.
“Of course, he hasn’t,” you replied. “He’s Yoon Jeonghan. Remember? Massive University fuck boy? He’s probably fucking someone else as we speak.”
Yeongtae rolled his eyes.
“I know you’re in denial but be so fucking for real.” You made a face at his choice of words. “Jeonghan was utterly obsessed with you. He certainly hasn’t moved on that quickly.”
You looked away from him, letting an unamused noise of disagreance leave your lips.
“He really hasn’t called you?” Yeongtae asked again, but this time he seemed to be talking to himself. “I would have thought that he would have reached out immediately. Especially considering the way he talks about you.”
You perked up at that, your eyes darting back to Yeongtae.
“The way he talks about me?” You asked. Yeongtae hummed.
“Yeah, some of my study groups overlap with his so I see him every now and then. People are always asking about you, practically everyone has heard about your relationship.”
He shook his head clicking his tongue.
“People are such pigs sometimes. They’re always asking Jeonghan how to score with you, and he gets downright scary. If you didn’t like me I would probably be dead. I’ve never seen someone as relaxed as Jeonghan get angry so fast. He punched this guy Seonghun over you.”
It was a bit hard for you to imagine Jeonghan getting physical with someone else over you. Sure he had gotten a bit rough with Hyeon but you had sort of assumed that was mostly for show because you were there.
“No, he didn’t,” you said with a shake of your head.
“Seonghun has the black eye to prove it,” Yeongtae insisted. “Regardless, Jeonghan didn’t show his face at the last study group. I was sure he would call you.”
“Well, he hasn’t,” you said finally. You let silence fall between you two for a few moments. “… And, he wouldn’t no matter what because I told him not to call me.”
You could feel Yeongtae staring at you.
“Y/n?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re a different kind of stupid.”
“Hey.”
“You told him not to call you?” He reemphasized. “And you’re checking your phone waiting for him to call you?”
“I’m not-”
“Yes, you are,” Yeongtae interrupted. “How long are you going to be in denial over the fact that you still want to be with him?”
“Yeongtae he’s just…” You trailed off, feeling a bit frustrated. “He’s just a guy.”
Yeongtae rolled his eyes.
“You know who is just a guy?” He asked. “Yunjun, Seonghun, Jun, Me.”
“You’re not just a guy,” you protested. “And neither is Jun. We’re friends.”
“Oh,” Yeongtae said, seeming to be actually surprised by what you had said. “So then, because we have a relationship, despite it being non-romantic, you consider us as not just guys.”
You were a little disheartened that he would think otherwise.
“Well of course,” you agreed. “I can’t deny that Yunjun is just a guy, and can’t speak on Seonghun but we spend so much time together, how could I ever think of you as just a guy.”
A small smile crossed his lips.
“So then, all that time you spent with Jeonghan? Him taking you home after you got drunk, him taking you shopping, him building lego sets with you. All of that still reduces him down to ‘just a guy’?”
And just like that you realized that Yeongtae had just been putting on an act to make a point.
“Yeongtae,” you blurted, leaning over the table so that you could hit him lightly. He raised his hands in defense against you, laughing.
“I’m just saying,” he said. “Stop being a hypocrite and I’ll stop getting on your nerves.”
You sighed, returning to your seat.
“Look, I get you mean the best, but I really am not hung up on Jeonghan,” you said. “It’s just the end of…” You hated to say it. “A relationship albeit a non-romantic one. It makes sense that I would feel a little hung up on it.”
Yeongtae rolled his eyes.
“And here comes the psych major.”
You sighed.
“I’m just saying, what ever emotional attachment I have to him-”
“So, you admit there is one!” Yeongtae interrupted.
“Will pass,” you emphasized. “And it will pass fast because Jeonghan and I were barely emotionally attached in the first place. We just got comfortable with each other. That’s all.”
Yeongtae clearly wanted to press the subject but after searching your eyes for a moment he simply shrugged.
“Okay, I relent,” he said. “I’ll let you be stupid as long as you pay for dinner tonight.”
You let out a soft laugh.
“Yeah, of course, you will.”
-
You could feel everyone’s concern in the air as you promptly began to bury yourself in your coursework and it only made your situation more frustrating.
You knew they meant well. You knew that they just thought that you were focusing on work because you were trying not to think about Jeonghan but that simply wasn’t true. He was just a fling; you didn’t get hung up over flings.
You probably just missed the reassurance that Jeonghan gave you. That was it.
There was a soft knock at your door, and you frowned. You glanced at Jeongyeon who looked up at you from the floor.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
She shrugged.
“No.”
You sighed and got to your feet, walking over and cracking the door open. You didn’t think you could have been more surprised by who was at your door.
“Seungcheol?”
The man gave you a tired smile.
“Hey.” A frown riddled across his face. “Did you check to see who was at the door before opening it? You know you should be more careful when opening the door like that.”
You were getting a bit of dejavu.
“What are you doing here?” And on second thought- “How did you know where I live?”
“That’s where I come in-” Seungcheol was suddenly pushed aside by Jun who smiled at you before pushing past you too.
“Jeongyeon,” he whined loudly as he walked into your apartment, falling face-forward into the couch. “I’m really fucking bored, and I need help with chem.”
“You didn’t even bring your bag stupid-”
As Jeongyeon and Jun started bickering you turned your attention back to Seungcheol, leaning on the door frame.
“I don’t suppose you came here for Chem help?”
Seungcheol gave you half a grimace.
“Can we walk?”
-
It was cold out. You hated April. One day it was in the 70s, the next it was in the 40s all over again. Class being cancelled today had meant staying indoors and you had barely bothered to put jeans and a tshirt on. You wished you had thought to throw on a jacket.
Seungcheol had been quiet so far but upon you wrapping your arms over your chest he sighed and shrugged his own jacket off draping it over your shoulders before you could argue.
“Look, it’s about Jeonghan,” Seungcheol started off. You rolled your eyes.
“Yeah. Duh,” you mumbled. You tugged Seungcheol’s jacket tighter around your body.
“I don’t want to intervene in you two’s business,” Seungcheol started. “It’s just that we’re all sick and tired of Jeonghan’s attitude.”
He looked away from you.
“Usually, he’s really easy going but he’s just been a grumpy asshole all week.”
You snorted, finding it hard to believe that he would be so upset over what happened between the two of you, but Seungcheol’s expression stayed scary serious.
“I’m not saying you need to forgive him for being an idiot or anything,” Seungcheol said. “It was stupid of him to pretend like he was fucking other girls. I don’t really know what was going through his head.”
Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrowed as if he was trying to make sense of it, but after a few seconds passed he shook his head.
“Look, I don’t know. Don’t you miss him at all?”
You sighed; a bit heavier than you really meant to.
“Why should I miss him? We were just fuck buddies,” you stated. Seungcheol pressed his lips together, a strangled noise leaving his mouth.
“I just thought you had some emotional attachment to him I guess,” he stated. “After all, you got really jealous over that Chaedom situation.”
“Hey, Chaedom is just a bitch!” You protested, your voice growing a bit higher and louder. You cleared your throat. “I don’t care if he sleeps or slept with other people. Just Chaedom-”
“Right,” Seungcheol agreed. “Funny, that’s what Jeonghan always says about Yeongtae.”
You scoffed, stepping in front of Seungcheol so that he had to abruptly stop.
“Why do you care, Seungcheol?” You demanded. “We aren’t close. Jeonghan will move on and go back to his old ways- If he hasn’t already, and you’re better off without me there all the time anyways. Should I remind you what I sound like?”
Seungcheol raised his hands in the air.
“I’m not trying to pry,” he insisted. “I’m not trying to make you mad, I just…”
He sighed.
“I’ve known Jeonghan for years and never has he ever settled for anyone. He has sex practically once a week.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it was rough for him to go back to his old ways,” you scoffed.
“He hasn’t,” Seungcheol said. You rolled your eyes and you weren’t looking at him, so Seungcheol grabbed your wrist. “He really hasn’t.”
“Give him until the next party,” you said.
“Y/n, he is obsessed with you. He’s changed,” Seungcheol insisted. “You made him want something that he’s never wanted before and that scared him. He wants to reach out for you but he’s respecting your wish for space. Can’t you just… Whatever- Hate him forever, but you have to believe that he-”
“What? Loves me?”
You laughed.
“He doesn’t love me. He’ll move on. This next party for sure.”
“Then come,” Seungcheol said. His face was serious. You just frowned at him.
“I don’t want him to see me and think I want him back or something,” you mumbled. That wasn’t completely true. You didn’t want him to see you at the party because you knew that if he saw you and wanted to… You would let him take you all over again.
“Then come in a disguise. We’ll get Mingyu in on it. A wig, and different makeup than you usually wear-”
“Do you think he’s stupid?” You blurted. “He’ll see right through it.”
“Not if we’re good enough,” Seungcheol insisted. “Just come. Please.”
You took Seungcheol’s jacket off your shoulders, shoving it into his hands.
“you said you didn’t want to get in Jeonghan and I’s business? Well, then actually stay out of it.”
You briskly turned away from him, heading back in the direction towards your apartment. You heard Seungcheol make a defeated sound.
“Just… Think about it, okay?” He called after you.
“Fuck off,” you called back.
-
Unfortunately, what your mind had told you to say wasn’t what your heart was willing to enforce.
You couldn’t sleep that night because of your conversation with Seungcheol.
You had been pretty sure at a time that the boys of Alpha Mu liked you. Enough so that you didn’t think they would like to see you hurt. So, Seungcheol’s words caught you off guard.
If he thought Jeonghan had bad intentions, he certainly wouldn’t come to try and get you to take him back. That being said, it was odd that Seungcheol didn’t seem to care if you actually took back Jeonghan or not. He just seemed to want you to believe that Jeonghan genuinely liked you.
“Are you thinking about Jeonghan again?”
You would think that Yeongtae would have been tired of you glaring at him at this point, but he didn’t seem to care.
“You are so annoying when you aren’t getting laid. How do you make friends when you are in between fuck buddies?”
“Yeongtae I-” You wanted to scream at him as if he was wrong about the fact that you had been overly frustrated but… He was right. You really needed to blow off some steam but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t touch yourself without thinking about how much better Jeonghan could touch you.
Whenever you closed your eyes, you heard him telling you what to do.
Whenever you took your clothes off you could hear him chiding you and telling you that you didn’t deserve him, but he would fuck you anyway, just because he pitied you-
“Oh my god, I don’t have to hear your thoughts to know that you are fantasizing about Jeonghan.”
“I’m not,” you protested. “God, why’s everyone acting like I miss him so much? He was just a fuck buddy.”
“Yeah, but he’s a fuck buddy you are still hung up on. Apparently, he’s more than just a fuck buddy,” Yeongtae argued. You couldn’t figure out how to respond to him, so you just threw an eraser at him. He didn’t even flinch.
“Look, you won’t convince anyone that you are over him until you prove it,” he insisted. “So…” He leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the table and resting his chin on his hands. “Let me set you up on a date.”
“What?” You asked. “Yeongtae, I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.”
“Right. Because you are still hooked up on Jeonghan.”
“No,” you disagreed. “Not because I’m still hooked up on Jeonghan. I just don’t want to go on a date.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Yeongtae prodded. “Maybe you hit it off with the person. Maybe you just relieve some of the built-up horniness in your body. Either way he pays for your meal.”
“How would you even set me up?” You asked, unamused by his prodding. “You don’t have any friends.”
Yeongtae cocky expression dropped into a genuinely hurt one.
“Ouch,” he said. You shrugged. “I told you the guys in my study group are all dying for a chance with you. And despite the fact that any guy with eyes on you makes Jeonghan mad, Minhyuk makes him the least mad of everyone.”
You ignored the comment about Jeonghan.
“Minhyuk?” You repeated. “I actually think I met him at a party once with Jeonghan.”
“Perfect,” Yeongtae insisted. “You even know him!”
“It was like a two-minute interaction.”
“Well, did you like him?”
You thought back on your conversation, and from what you remembered you couldn’t really say that you hadn’t liked him. Yeongtae seemed to notice your hesitance.
“It’s just one date. You guys can go somewhere public, and you’ll see how it goes,” he said, waving his hand in the air. As he spoke, he pulled out his phone. He typed for a little bit on his screen and then looked up at you. “Well?”
You stared at him.
“If I go on this date, you promise you’ll get off my back about this Jeonghan thing?”
Yeongtae very seriously drew an x over his chest with his fingers.
“Cross my heart.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Set up the date.”
-
Despite the fact you were up early quite often trying to sneak out of the Alpha Mu house, you hated getting up early. So, meeting Minhyuk at a coffee shop at 9 in the morning made you want to melt into the ground.
Still, if it would get Yeongtae off your back then it was worth getting up so early.
When you got to the coffee shop, Minhyuk was already there looking at the menu and you were surprised to find that he looked really well-kept when he wasn’t getting drunk at a party.
His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a button-up and a pair of jeans. You felt a little under dressed in your tee shirt but you pushed aside the feeling. This date wasn’t that serious anyways.
“Hi Minhyuk,” you greeted, shooting the boy a smile. He turned over his shoulder, giving you a smile back. You noticed that two of his teeth looked like fangs.
“Hey! I can’t believe you’re actually here,” he said, his voice light. “I assumed Yeongtae was playing a prank on me.” He thought over his words for a second. “Yeongtae is a weird guy.”
You laughed.
���Considering you two aren’t friends, you know him really well,” you commented. You fell in step next to Minhyuk, looking up at the menu in front of you. Your eyes scoured the options but even as you did that your mind wasn’t entirely on the menu.
Minhyuk was taller than you, but not taller than Jeonghan was. Your eyebrows furrowed a bit as you made note of the distance that Minhyuk was putting between you two. Unlike other people in the past, Minhyuk was keeping a respectful distance from you.
Of course, you couldn’t help but think that it was nice when Jeonghan was holding you as close to him as you could get. When he had mentioned that he wanted you as eye candy, he really had meant it.
“So, what are you thinking about getting?” Minhyuk asked. Your attention snapped back to the menu, and you dragged out an exaggerated hum.
“A latte,” you said.
“Of course,” Minhyuk agreed. “But what flavor?”
“Now that’s the question,” you said. You crossed your arms over your chest, letting your head fall to the side. “What flavor?”
Once you had settled on a latte flavor, Minhyuk had insisted you go and sit down so that he could pay for the food. Even though Yeongtae had named one of the perks of going on this date as getting free food, you still persistently argued with Minhyuk over getting your drink paid for.
In the end however, you settled for him paying as long as long as you could repay him in the future.
“So, y/n, why the sudden change in attitude?” Minhyuk asked. “I thought Jeonghan was going to have my head the day that I proposed us trading numbers.”
You snorted.
“You have a good memory,” you commented.
“And then when Chaedom got back, I was starting to realize why he was so possessive.”
You rolled your eyes.
“I didn’t come here to talk about Jeonghan,” you said.
“You should have seen the way that Chaedom came back down the stairs,” Minhyuk added with a laugh. “It was not her day.”
You couldn’t help the smile that flickered across your lips at the statement.
“So, what about you? If you thought, I was so taken then why did you tell Yeongtae to hook us up?” You asked.
“Jeonghan has been testy recently,” Minhyuk replied. “Word on the street was that you two were taking some space.”
Your eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“Why are people so obsessed over Jeonghan and I?” You asked. Minhyuk hummed.
“Because Jeonghan is the guy who never settles and you are the one he settled for,” he replied. “Everyone who didn’t see you before is seeing you in a whole new light now,” he explained. “And I was just the lucky one who got to go on a date with you first.”
That was a weird thing to think about. The thought that people were interested in you now, partly just because you had messed around with Jeonghan for a little bit didn’t sit quite right in your head. Of all the things to come from all of this… That was the most unexpected.
“Well, some of your information is a bit inaccurate,” you said. “Jeonghan didn’t really settle for me. I was a phase just like everyone else.”
“True or not,” Minhyuk said with a wave of his hand. “I’m honored that you came out with me. I’m surprised that you’re over him so quickly.”
You rolled your eyes.
“I’m just another person Minhyuk,” you said lightly. “Besides, there wasn’t much to get over. We were just a passing fling.”
“I’m surprised to hear anyone say that so casually,” Minhyuk laughed. “But then again, you’re a psych major huh? It must be easy for you to sort through your feelings.”
“That’s not entirely true,” you said. “It’s just easier to name my feelings. Not to sort through them.”
Minhyuk hummed and nodded.
“And what feelings are you feeling right now?” He asked, his lips flickering into a smile. You took a drink of your coffee.
“I’m feeling happy,” you replied. “Relaxed.”
“And me? What am I feeling right now?” He pressed.
“Cocky,” you stated. “And flirtatious.”
Minhyuk broke out into a loud laugh, that quickly led to him covering his mouth. You laughed too, surprised by how funny he took your words.
“You’re right,” he said once his laughs had died down a little. “I have to lay it on thick though. If only to see you smile.”
You didn’t normally like people who flirted with you so brazenly, but Minhyuk was a lot more easy going than other guys like him. Plus, it helped that he was really attractive.
Conversation between you and Minhyuk turned quickly to other topics, and you were starting to think that it was going really well. Did you see you and Minhyuk dating in the future? No, probably not. But was it a relief to talk to someone who wasn’t walking on glass around you? Yeah, it definitely was.
You watched as Minhyuk’s eyes flickered over your shoulder, seeming to catch the attention of someone in the middle of your two’s conversation. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the action.
“Oh, Jeonghan-”
It was comical, really. Not only how fast that you turned around but at the fact Jeonghan’s full name didn’t even leave Minhyuk’s mouth before you were turning.
It only took you seconds to realize that no one was standing behind you, only seconds more to register the fact that Minhyuk was laughing. You pressed your eyes shut.
“God, not you too,” you groaned.
“Yeongtae told me that everyone thinks you’re still hung up on Jeonghan,” Minhyuk said lightly. “I had to see for myself outside of your vocal reassurance that you are.”
You turned back to face him, your shoulders slacking a little bit.
Okay, you missed him.
You couldn’t really deny it anymore. You were dying to see Jeonghan. Every day that you checked your phone you hoped to see a message from him, every time you went to the library you hoped to find him studying, every day someone talked about the Alpha Mu party this weekend you wanted to go.
And of course, you missed him.
You had grown accustomed to being around Jeonghan. You liked how he treated you. It was fun to be with him.
You knew that no one had said it was shameful to miss him, but you couldn’t help but feel like it was.
Because he had lied to you. Even if it was a small lie, it was a lie. You two had to have complete trust in your relationship.
But as much as you were homing in on that detail. The fact that he lied, you couldn’t quite put your heart into it.
“But really y/n. Why are you pretending not to be hung up on Jeonghan?”
You sighed and waved your hands through the air.
“I’m not pretending,” you replied. “I’m trying really hard to make it true.”
You looked down at the empty coffee cup in your hands, your eyebrows furrowing a bit.
“Okay, here me out,” Minhyuk said. “Let’s talk this out. Like… A school project.”
You looked up at him.
“Listening,” you said slowly.
“So, in this scenario there is a guy who everyone goes crazy for,” Minhyuk started. “And a girl who ends up catching his eye. Everyone can tell he is obsessed with her.”
“That’s-”
“This is just a random scenario!” Minhyuk interrupted, raising his pointer finger to his lips. You gave him a glare but let him go on. “So, if he is obsessed with her and everyone knows it. Psychologically speaking, why might she think otherwise?”
“Minhyuk-”
“It’s just a little on the spot presentation,” Minhyuk teased lightly. “Surely that’s easy for you to answer.”
Another sigh left your mouth.
“Maybe she thinks otherwise because he really isn’t obsessed with her.”
“What would other people gain by thinking that he is obsessed with her if it weren’t true?” Minhyuk asked. “After all, if he wasn’t then everyone who wanted to get with her instead would have no fear of repercussions.”
You fought the urge to argue with him.
“Okay, fine. There’s a couple of different reasons for it,” you said after a few moments. “Psychologically speaking she could be experiencing Imposter Syndrome.”
You thought over symptoms of Imposter Syndrome for a few moments.
“If not a specific syndrome, maybe she just has blocks to receiving affection, or maybe she’s clinging to negative core beliefs. She could even just be nervous to get into a serious relationship.”
“Okay, now that we’ve acknowledged what could be causing those thoughts, what caused the separation between the two?”
“I thought this was just a random scenario?” You asked skeptically. Minhyuk gave you an annoyed look. “He lied about sleeping with other people. Not saying that he wasn’t. He said he was, but it turned out he was only sleeping with me.”
Minhyuk’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Uh-” You saw him physically shake off his surprise. “Okay, so you find out. You’re mad?”
“Hypothetically,” you mumbled.
“So hypothetically, what is the logical next step to take?”
-
Of all the stupid things you had done recently, this might have to be the stupidest and it wasn’t even your idea.
Sure, looking at yourself in the mirror you looked a little different, but anyone with two eyes would be able to tell it was you.
“Keep in mind, it will be dark,” Seungcheol reminded you as if he could read your thoughts. “And you won’t be close enough to him for him to notice you.”
“And you never wear this kind of makeup,” Mingyu agreed. “And that wig looks nothing like what your hair usually looks like.”
“And most importantly, he isn’t expecting you,” Seungcheol added on.
You sighed. You supposed all that was true.
“I think he’ll still see through it.”
“He won’t,” Seungcheol assured. “This plan is foolproof. All you have to do is hang around my friend Yeonjun at the party, watching Jeonghan from afar. You’ll see that he hasn’t moved on and then you can decide if you want to have that conversation with him or not.”
It was still stupid. Hallmark rom com behavior. And yet, even so-
“Y/n, Yeonjun. Yeonjun, y/n.”
You eyed up the boy in front of you, give him a small smile despite your indifference towards him. He smiled a bit wider than you, his head falling to the side and his eyebrows scrunching together slightly.
“You’re y/n?” He asked, holding out his hand for you to shake. You ignored his hand. “You really do look different. That’s a good disguise.”
Mingyu personally seemed to take pride in that.
“Thank you,” he said with a smile. Seungcheol rolled his eyes and started to push Mingyu away.
“Okay, we’re going to go now so that Jeonghan doesn’t get suspicious of anything,” he said. He gave you a weird look, hesitating for just a moment. You raised your eyebrow at him. “Stick to the plan.”
Stick to the plan.
The plan wasn’t really a plan, and no matter how you thought about it you felt like you were in high school all over again. At your age, putting on a disguise to see if a guy really liked you was a bit childish. But, despite that, the plan was for you to spend the night at the party with Yeonjun, and watch Jeonghan from a far.
Why, Yeonjun? Because the salt and pepper haired boy was someone that you had never associated with before. So, if Jeonghan did think he recognized you, he would be thrown off by the fact you were with Yeonjun.
Maybe it was just the alcohol but as far as you could tell the disguise that Mingyu and Seungcheol had put you in was convincing. Nobody that had bumped into you thus far had recognized you. Even the Alpha Mu boys seemed to be none the wiser.
And Yeonjun, despite his excessive drinking, was proving to be quite the amusing partner in crime. As the night started out, the two of you had been located near the snack table. You had used this time to spot Jeonghan, while Yeonjun used this time to start drinking. At first he was quiet, just focusing on the alcohol, and then he seemed to go practically comatose. He stood next to you, completely silent, completely unmoving. It made him easy to ignore.
Jeonghan had started the night talking to Soonyoung and Seokmin, but as the night progressed, he started to move around the party. You hadn’t really pinned Jeonghan down as a particularly social person, despite the fact that he slept around.
You noticed that other than hanging out with the other frat boys he didn’t really associate with people. You were a bit surprised to find out that he was in a study group with Yeongtae.
Jeonghan didn’t stay with one group of people for very long. Instead, he floated from group to group, sometimes barely even partaking in conversation.
“It’s almost pathetic the way that you are staring at Jeonghan. You’re looking at him like most of the girls desperate for him look at him.”
You fixed Yeonjun under an unamused gaze to which he just shrugged unapologetically.
“Just thought I would tell it as I see it. You’re obsessed with him.”
It was the first time that you had heard anyone flip the tables on you. You were so used to people telling you that Jeonghan was obsessed with you that this felt weird.
“You’re drunk,” you said pointedly.
“Drunk but not blind,” Yeonjun argued back. He leaned towards you, his finger flicking across your nose. As he did, he tipped his cup of alcohol, spilling a few drops on the ground. His eyes widened in despair and he ducked his head to try and catch the spilled drink.
You laughed at him, shaking your head and allowing your eyes to turn back to Jeonghan.
“You really like him,” Yeonjun pressed.
“I’m just trying to see something,” you argued back.
Yeonjun hummed and suddenly his head fell against your chest.
“Hasn’t everyone been telling you? He’s been turning down people left and right for the last few weeks,” Yeonjun said. “Rumors on the street is that he is into someone.”
You rolled your eyes, but honestly found his behavior amusing. You raised a hand to his head, patting him like he was a dog.
“You always drink so much?” You asked him. He looked up at you with a pout on his lips.
“I don’t drink anymore than the next person,” Yeonjun replied. You fixed him with a skeptical look. “Okay a little more than the next person.”
He paused.
“We should get more alcohol,” he stated. Then another thought occurred to him. “You should drink some.”
“I think that if you are so drunk you’re spilling your alcohol than you are too drunk for more.”
Yeonjun whined his protests, but you ignored them. You kept your hand placed on the drunk boys’ head, staring at Jeonghan. A girl had joined him a few moments before. Her hand raised to his arm but he shook it off, looking like he was annoyed by her advances.
“Why are you so obsessed over Jeonghan?” Yeonjun asked. He paused. “Wait. Right. The plan. You don’t think Jeonghan is obsessed with you.”
You grunted, watching as Jeonghan walked away from the girl he had just shook off of him.
“I don’t believe this,” you murmured. Yeonjun peered up at you, his eyes wide and pupils dilated.
“What? That Jeonghan hasn’t fucked with anyone else yet?” He questioned. His eyes wandered over to the man in question who was practically social distancing from the girl in front of him. A completely different girl from the one he just turned down. “Isn’t this irrefutable proof that he actually does like you?”
“He’s got to be…” You trailed off in frustration. “Maybe he’s just being overly picky. He can’t just not be sleeping with other people because of me.”
Yeonjun looked back up at you. There was a moment of silence.
“Well, why don’t you try to seduce him then?”
Listening to a boy as drunk off his ass as Yeonjun was at this point was stupid.
“Yeonjun the plan-”
“The plan is stupid,” Yeonjun blurted out. “You put on a disguise this good just to stare at him from afar? You need to get into the action. Figure out for yourself if he really will sleep with someone else. You know him, what makes him tick.”
He gestured in the direction that Jeonghan was in, stumbling a little bit.
“Go make him tick.”
“He’ll recognize me,” you protested. Yeonjun rolled his eyes and gestured to the people around you two.
“No one recognizes you,” he replied. “Get it together and go figure out if that man is really your man.”
You really did no better than to listen to someone drunk, but something about Jeonghan really did make you stupid.
And yet, you still ended up finding yourself leaving Yeonjun with a girl whose name he had known, making your way towards Jeonghan in the crowd.
Your mind was screaming at you, begging you to not be stupid. Begging you to stay away from him. But even as you thought that, your shoulder was bumping against Jeonghan’s.
Time to see if you were really as good at acting as you sometimes pretended you were.
An innocent smile flickered across your face.
“Oh I’m-” You sucked in a breath that you wished you could say was rehearsed but really you had just really forgotten how nice it was to be in Jeonghan’s presence again. “I’m so sorry.”
You stumbled a little from the inertia of your bump and Jeonghan caught you by the wrist. A confused expression was riddled across his face. His eyes flickered across your body, his gaze pausing at your neck and then flicking back to your eyes.
Your heart stopped. You were sure you had been caught.
“And who might you be?” Jeonghan asked softly, a smile curling across his lips.
Game and point.
Pride surged through your body at the fact you had been able to trick him. Even more excitement buzzed through your body when you saw that undeniable glint his eyes. Lust, interest. His fingers tightened their grasp on you, causing your body to burn with desire.
“Is it important?” You asked. “All that matters is who you are.” Your eyes glinted in excitement. “Yoon Jeonghan.”
Jeonghan’s head fell to the side ever-so-slightly.
“So, my reputation proceeds me as it always does,” he said. His eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t help but wonder what you’ve heard.”
“Just that you always bring people to the finish line,” you replied your voice light.
You worried that your current conversation was too reminiscent of your first one with Jeonghan, but your worry over being caught was clouded by the knot that was growing in your stomach. Why did you feel like this? Wasn’t this what you wanted? To be right?
“Do you want to come upstairs with me?”
Jeonghan’s invitation was tempting, despite your disguise. Mostly because it reminded you just how much you craved him. Being mad at him was exhausting but this also showed that you were right and Seungcheol was wrong. He was the same Jeonghan that he had been when you met him.
Picky. But still willing to sleep with any person he thought fit his standards. You had simply been a glitch in the system. A break in a chain that was now put back together. You were forever just going to be a notch in his belt.
But you couldn’t help it…
“Yeah.”
You were reconsidering everything as you traveled back up those stairs. Now they were so familiar to you. Each little scratch and notch reminding you of a different time that you had traveled up them.
So Jeonghan hadn’t recognized your face. Did that mean he wouldn’t recognize your body?
Surely not, right? How distinct could your body be from others?
You shouldn’t let it get that far. No, you needed to make an excuse- Any excuse to get back downstairs to the party.
Maybe that would knock down Jeonghan’s ego a little bit. If suddenly, a conquest turned him down.
Yeah, that felt like good revenge and totally made up for the lack of self control you had when it came to Jeonghan. You would really have to unpack at some point why you really didn’t care if you were just a notch in Jeonghan’s belt.
Jeonghan opened the door of his bedroom, gesturing you in. He was being a little bit more detached than he usually was when he was about to fuck you, but maybe that was just a difference between you and the other people he slept with.
It didn’t necessarily mean that he liked you more than them.
You opened your mouth to make some excuse to go back downstairs but before you could Jeonghan was slamming the door shut with his foot. Your eyes widened as he suddenly closed the distance between you two. You backed yourself up against the wall and he trapped you there between his arms, his face mere itches from you.
“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you?”
His entire demeanor was different than it had been just a second ago. You could practically feel a hundred feelings radiating off of Jeonghan’s body. Lust, desperation, frustration.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jeonghan’s hand shot up and ripped your wig off of your head. He held it in front of your face, his lips pressed in frustration.
“Do you think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t recognize you just because you had a little bit of makeup on and a wig?”
“I-”
“I understand my reputation,” Jeonghan said. He threw the wig to the floor and pulled away from you. You took a large breath of relief for the space.
Generally, when it came to situations like this, where you were stuck around an angry man. You were, reasonably scared.
But this was Jeonghan. Yoon Jeonghan. He only hurt you when you wanted to be hurt. And he never hurt you over actual anger. You knew you were safe.
“I’m Yoon Jeonghan, and I fuck around. But… Fuck that shit, I only want to fuck you. I thought that we were past this. I thought you understood that.”
You were ripped from your thoughts at that, your eyes wide.
“That’s surprisingly intimate,” you joked. Jeonghan looked at you.
“Y/n, I’m sorry I lied to you about sleeping with other people,” Jeonghan said. He walked back over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders so that you had to look at him. “I didn’t sleep with anyone. Not since we established you couldn’t sleep with other people. I haven’t wanted to sleep with anyone else.”
Again, the scariest thing about Jeonghan was just how serious he was acting. You laughed.
“You sound like you’re about to confess your love to me,” you joked.
Jeonghan’s eyes didn’t leave yours, but they saddened a little bit. His lips pursed together into a thin line. The smile dropped from your face.
“Jeonghan-”
He looked away from you, his hands leaving his shoulders.
“Yes, at first it was just sex. I mean, really. What are the odds that we would find each other?” He asked. “How many people like to get spit on and have their face smacked? You like it when I rough you up. That’s crazy.”
You just stared at him, unsure of what to say. He didn’t look like he wanted you to say anything yet anyways.
“Yes, I’m jealous of the people that you get to spend time with,” Jeonghan said. “Stupid, fucking Seungcheol… I’m not jealous of Yeongtae because I’m scared that you are going to fuck him. I’m jealous because you two have an emotional attachment that we don’t have, and I was scared we would never have it.”
“Why would you want an emotional relationship with a fuck buddy?”
There was silence from Jeonghan, and he turned around to look at you. He had a sad look on his face.
“Y/n, Jeongyeon told me once… In passing, that you weren’t looking for a real relationship.” The air in the room was suddenly so heavy you felt like you needed to sit down. “Why not?”
Your heart skipped a beat, the implications seeming unreal.
“I just...” You tried to figure out the right words to say. Tried to figure out what you were thinking. “I haven’t needed that in my life. No one has proved to me that we would really work out.”
Jeonghan stared at you, and you stared back at him. There was something in his eyes. You were scared that Jeonghan was going to say something that you didn’t think you wanted to hear right now. You needed a distraction.
“Jeonghan.”
“Yeah?”
“I really… I really need you.”
“Fuck,” Jeonghan said, turning his body slightly away from you. “I’m trying to apologize to you, y/n.”
“Apology accepted,” you agreed. You lowered your hands to the hem of your shirt, dragging it off your body. Jeonghan groaned, covering his hand with his face.
“Y/n, I am not that strong. This is the longest I’ve gone without sex since high school,” he said. “Just let me…”
You walked over to him, unbuckling your bra as you walked. You let it drop to ground, knowing that he heard the sound. You grabbed Jeonghan by the collar of his sweater.
“Come on, Jeonghan. I know you need it just as bad as I do. You want me… I want you… The door is closed…”
You took Jeonghan’s hands, pressing them to your bare sides. His fingers obediently wrapped around your body. You dragged his hands up your body by his wrists.
“Come on,” you whined. “Didn’t you miss me? Don’t you want to use me?”
A groan left his mouth.
“You’re not being very good y/n.”
Jeonghan looked reasonably torn. You could tell he was trying to be mature and take this the right way and that scared you even more. Coming to this party you had expected to see Jeonghan flirting with other people, but here he was doing everything that he could to actually amend things with you and you couldn’t wrap your head around why.
“And what are you going to do about it?”
“Fuck it. But we’re talking after this.”
Jeonghan’s hand tightened around your body, and his other hand came to your hair. Braided to keep it hidden beneath your wig. A growl left Jeonghan’s mouth.
“Never braid your hair before seeing me. Ever again.”
He placed his hands square on your shoulders and pushed you back onto his bed.
“Unbraid your hair right now.”
You scrambled to pull the rubber bands out of your hair, your fingers running through the strands of your hair as you struggled to get them out of your braids. Jeonghan meanwhile was watching you, a dark look in his eyes as he practically ripped his shirt off of himself.
“If I don’t have something to pull-”
Just as you got the last bit of your hair untangled from the braid, Jeonghan was climbing on the bed, fingers hooked in your pants as he pulled them off your body. You didn’t have to be told what to do from there and immediately shimmied out of your panties, tossing them to the side and propping yourself up on your elbows, simply anticipating what Jeonghan was going to do next.
You couldn’t help how your body was buzzing just at being in this position again. Being in Jeonghan’s room, being naked in front of him. Normally, you would feel embarrassed, but you really seemed to have no shame when it came to Jeonghan.
“Fuck, look at you,” Jeonghan mumbled, his hands lowering down to his pants. His fingers hooked on his belt and he began to unbuckle it and you had to literally wipe drool from your lips. Fuck. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”
He tossed his belt to the side with a soft clang.
“And even though you are being so bad in distracting me with sex,” he said, unbuttoning his pants with a single flick of his thumb. “You are literally on bed waiting for me to do whatever the hell I want to you, aren’t you?”
You nodded, and you were burning so badly that your core hurt. You needed to be touched by Jeonghan. You couldn’t just lay there under his gaze and watch him get undressed. God, you needed to do something. Anything.
“I know how badly you want to touch yourself,” Jeonghan cooed, dropping his pants to ground. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your eyes on Jeonghan. “But I also know just how badly you need to be good for me. Isn’t that, right?”
Your face was blazing and you could feel your pussy beginning to drip wetness despite the fact that Jeonghan hadn’t even touched you yet.
“Go on y/n. I wouldn’t blame you if you had to play with your cunt while you waited for me to finally touch you,” he said. Your eyes widened slightly but he shot you down quickly. “No that’s not permission. You will get punished if you touch yourself. But I know that you really need to touch yourself. I’m just saying I won’t blame you for succumbing to your own desires.”
A smile flickered across his face.
“What will it be huh? Are you going to relieve yourself? Ease that feeling of desperation that’s just building up in your body?”
Jeonghan laughed at you and dropped his boxers down to the ground. You didn’t speak to him. Too afraid of what you were going to say. You were excited now, thinking that since his clothes were off you wouldn’t have to choose between being good or bad.
You were wrong.
As soon as Jeonghan had stepped out of his boxers he walked up to the edge of the bed, but instead of joining you on it, instead of throwing foreplay out the window and taking you right there, he stopped where his knees brushed the comforter.
He wrapped his fingers around his rock hard cock, groaning at his own touch.
“I love that you let me do anything to you,” he said. “What would you do if I told you that I wasn’t going to touch you at all? What if I told you that I was just going to look at you and get myself off and cum all over you and then just leave you? Make you sit there covered in my semen until I decided that I should touch you.”
He thought over that for a second.
“If I even decided to touch you.”
“Jeonghan-” You blurted, your eyes wide as panic seized your body. “You wouldn’t do that.”
Jeonghan gave his cock a pump.
“Are you sure about that?”
There was something sadistic in his eyes, and it made you second guess everything you knew about him.
“You wouldn’t even-” Your voice cracked. “You wouldn’t even touch me?”
You swallowed hard, unable to help yourself from spreading your legs out a little further.
“Didn’t you miss me at all?”
“I missed you so fucking much, y/n,” And as he spoke his voice grew deeper, shaky even. “That’s why I can’t touch you. I need you to need me as much as I need you.”
You felt yourself whimper at his words.
“I do. I do need you Jeonghan, d-don’t do this to me,” you blurted out desperately. Jeonghan mostly ignored you, his eyes threatening to flutter shut from the pleasure of even just slowly pumping his cock. You thought that him touching himself made it that much more cruel.
“I don’t know why you are complaining,” he commented. “All you have to do is misbehave. Are you really that scared of misbehaving in front of me?”
You nodded, squirming in place.
“Yes. Jeonghan, please,” you begged. “I don’t want to be bad, I want to be good, I want to be of good use to you.”
“You’re good use to me right now,” Jeonghan replied, the corners of his lips quirking up. “You’re so pretty to look at and so good at begging for me.”
A loud whine escaped your lips.
“Jeonghan,” your voice was tiny now, your fingers balled in Jeonghan’s comforter as you fought the urge to do what Jeonghan wanted you to do. You honestly thought that this was crueler than any kind of punishment he could and had ever given you. You couldn’t help the fact that tears were beginning to sprout out of the corners of your eyes.
You scrambled to your hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the bed. Jeonghan narrowed his eyes at you, but you stopped before you really hit bad territory.
“Jeonghan please, I’m not this strong,” you pleaded. You let your eyes grow wider, and tilted your head to the side, puffing out your chest. Jeonghan’s eyes darkened.
“Yeah?” He asked. You nodded, scooting forward more on your knees.
“I need you Jeonghan,” you agreed.
Jeonghan’s eyes fluttered shut and you thought for a second that you were screwed and not in the way that you wanted to be but just as your gaze dropped to the ground, you felt a hand gripping tightly in your hair.
Your head was jerked up and you came face to face with Jeonghan, his nose millimeters from yours. He smiled at you, his tongue briefly flicking across his teeth.
“You promise?” He asked you. Your eyes briefly furrowed and your gaze darted down to his lips. A beat passed and then suddenly you remembered that he had spoken to you. You tried to nod, but found you couldn’t move. You swallowed thickly.
“I promise,” you breathed. Jeonghan snorted.
“Liar.”
You opened your mouth to argue with Jeonghan but you suddenly got pushed back into the bed. Just as your head fell into the comforter Jeonghan was grabbing you by your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows again, but just as you did that Jeonghan was pushing two of his fingers deep into you.
You felt your elbows collapse as soon as he curled his fingers inside of you. A loud desperate moan left your lips.
“You don’t need me,” Jeonghan admonished. He pulled his fingers from you, humming as he slipped his fingers into his mouth. “No, you just think you need me because you do whatever that pretty cunt tells you to.”
His hand came down on your clit, causing your body to jolt and your head to press harder into the bed.
“And your pretty little cunt will get wet for any man who promises to put his dick in you.”
You felt the tips of Jeonghan’s fingers brush your skin, and he slowly dragged his fingertips down your body.
“J-Jeonghan please,” you managed to get out as Jeonghan teasingly ran his fingers down your body. “Th-That’s not true. I-”
Jeonghan’s fingertips slid between your folds, and when he raised them up in front of you they were literally dripping. His head fell to the side.
“That’s not true? Because I’ve barely touched you and you’re soaked,” he pointed out. “You’re either a slut, or you need me so badly you just can’t help yourself, and we know that can’t be true.”
He didn’t leave room for that aspect of the conversation to continue because then he was pushing his wet fingers into your mouth. You desperately sucked at them, hoping maybe Jeonghan would be tempted to do more to you, but he pulled his fingers disappointingly fast from your lips.
His hands returned to your sides, dragging up to your breasts. He cupped your breasts in his hands, giving them a small squeeze. You arched your back into Jeonghan’s touch.
“Jeonghan, please,” you whimpered.
“What?” He asked innocently. “This isn’t good enough for you?”
Frustration bubbled in your chest at Jeonghan’s words.
“You know it isn’t,” you replied, unable to keep the bite off your tongue. Jeonghan hummed and pushed two fingers back into you without warning.
“What about this?” He asked. “Is this enough?”
You opened your mouth to respond- To tell him that no it wasn’t enough- but before you could Jeonghan was sharply pushing his fingers back into you forcing you to raise a hand to your mouth, biting down on it to keep more noise from leaving your lips.
“You know, I almost didn’t recognize you,” Jeonghan mumbled as he pressed his fingers deep inside of you. “You being there in that makeup, with that wig, in those clothes with Yeonjun? None of it made sense. Not after what happened.”
He shook his head.
“But I saw through it. Even though it didn’t make sense I knew it was you, I just got really thrown off by one thing.”
His free hand raised to your neck, his fingers splaying across it. You knew immediately what he was talking about.
“I’m sorry,” you blurted out. Your frustration gone now that Jeonghan was fucking you with his fingers “I don’t know why I got rid of-”
Before you could finish talking Jeonghan was pressing his hand to your mouth. He raised an eyebrow towards you in warning.
“I don’t care why you did it,” Jeonghan replied. You pressed your lips together and Jeonghan pulled his hand away from your face. “The question is can I replace them?”
You felt another wave of heat run through your body.
“Y-Yes,” you managed to get out. Jeonghan smiled.
“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice dropping a few octaves. “Because if I leave more marks on you I expect you to leave them this time.”
You nodded, craning your neck.
“Yes, I’ll leave them, I promise,” he bit out. “I fucking missed them, I regretted getting rid of them so much.”
It was true. Ever since you had successfully gotten rid of the marks, you had hated looking at yourself in the mirror. You missed the marks on your neck even if you had been upset about the whole Jeonghan situation.
Jeonghan didn’t argue with you over it. He leaned forward, the tips of his fingers pinching at your nipples as his lips attached to your neck. At first he just peppered soft little kisses to your neck as his hands kneaded your breasts. The further he leaned down however, the closer his hard cock got to you. You felt the tip of his cock brush your swollen clit and you bucked your lips up, chasing the friction.
“Y/n, I’ve never seen you so desperate,” Jeonghan said teasingly, his hot breath making your head press back against the bed harder. “You’re acting like you haven’t been touched in days.”
“I haven’t,” you breathed. Jeonghan’s teeth bit down on your neck, and then his warm tongue flicked across the spot, as if to soothe your neck after the bite. “I-I- haven’t even touched myself since I got with you.”
Jeonghan’s body shifted further and once again Jeonghan’s tip pressed against your clit. You wiggled your hips so that Jeonghan’s tip slipped between your folds. Both you and Jeonghan let out matching groans.
“Even when you’re mad at me you’re still mine, huh?” Jeonghan said his voice low. “You still need my cock to get yourself off. Can’t come without my permission to.”
You nodded your agreement but as you moved Jeonghan was biting down on your neck again.
“Beg me to fuck you,” Jeonghan breathed against you.
“Jeonghan,” you pleaded. “I really do n-need you. Your cock is the only one that I can be satisfied with. I just, fucking, need you. So badly I need you.”
“It’s s-so hard to resist you,” Jeonghan mumbled and you literally heard his voice crack. You knew normally you would get in trouble for grabbing Jeonghan but you couldn’t help it. You raised your hands to Jeonghan’s forearms, wrapping your fingers tightly around them. You could feel how tight his muscles were, presumably from the strain of not pushing his cock into you.
“Then don’t,” you breathed. Jeonghan laughed humorlessly, picking up at you from your neck.
“I’ve got to take my time with it today, baby,” he said softly and your whole body shivered at the word. He pulled away from you, ignoring the way your hands tightened around his arms as he did. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I never know when you are going to come around for me to fuck. I have to make the most of it.”
Jeonghan’s pulled back his cock, slipping from your folds and dragging a string of wetness from it. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes all over again. The frustration of not being fucked really building up in you.
He began to slide down your body, his mouth trailing kisses to your skin. Your toes curled as his lips trailed over your breasts, his teeth briefly nipping at you before continuing down your body.
“Jeonghan,” you cried out. You tried to move but Jeonghan pressed a hand to your pelvis, pinning you to the bed.
“You’re making it so much harder, to stop from fucking you,” Jeonghan groaned. His mouth came to a stop just above your clit and he started to press wet kisses to your thighs. So close to your pussy that his tongue was darting out to capture some of the wetness that had soaked your thighs. “I want to take you so fucking badly. Give you exactly what you are begging for.”
The tears slid down your cheeks.
“Pl-please.”
He finally wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking on it harder. You still tried your best to move under him, but it was pointless. You reached forward, your fingers burying in Jeonghan’s hair. As good as it felt to have him sucking on your clit, you were still desperate for any thing to be in your pussy. You fucking missed his fingers. You needed his cock.
Jeonghan’s mouth lowered and his tongue ran teasingly between your folds. You let out a wrecked sob, mixed in with a desperate moan and Jeonghan cooed lightly, his breath teasing your clit.
“Poor baby, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you?” He asked. You nodded.
“I’ve been so good Jeonghan,” you begged softly, your breath coming in hics. Jeonghan’s tongue dipped into your pussy and your fingers tightened in Jeonghan’s hair. Not pulling to get him to pull off of you. Just pulling because you couldn’t do anything else.
“You taste so good,” Jeonghan commented. “I could stay down here all day.”
Another cry left your lips and Jeonghan pulled his mouth off of you, sticking two of his fingers into your pussy. His head fell to this side.
“Look at me, y/n,” he said. You looked up at him, your eyes blurry from tears. He clicked his tongue. “Oh look at you. Do you really need cock that badly?”
You nodded and another hic left your lips. Jeonghan cooed at you and raised his body, pulling his fingers from you. He sucked his fingers into his mouth, and then, once they were clean, cupped your face in his hands.
“Don’t cry baby, I’ve got you.”
He slid his dick into you, making a relieved moan leave your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut as Jeonghan pushed himself fully into your pussy. You mewled loudly.
“Fuck, I can’t stand to be apart from you,” Jeonghan groaned. His hands lowered to the sides of your head and he pulled out before pushing hard back into you, your whole body shaking. You raised your hands to wrap around Jeonghan’s body.
“Th-Thank you, Jeonghan,” you breathed out. “But, pl-please, h-harder.”
“Harder?” Jeonghan’s voice was light, muddled with pleasure. “I’m trying to take my time. Really trying to savour this.”
“I know you want to use me,” you pleaded. “Like a slut right? Like your perfect little slut.”
Your fingers dug into Jeonghan’s back.
“I can take it, I can always take it. Stop holding back.”
Jeonghan’s hips stuttered and after recovering, his hips snapped, forcing his cock hard into you.
“Baby, I don’t think you can take it,” he said. “Look at you? Your mascara running, your face red. You can barely take my teasing. You think that you can take it if I fuck you the way I usually do?”
You nodded desperately.
“I can, I really can,” you insisted. “Please, I need it hard. I need to feel you take me. Own me.”
“Fuck,” Jeonghan groaned. “You little-”
He reached forward, his fingers capturing your chin between them.
“You don’t know what you are asking for,” he warned. You forced yourself to look at Jeonghan, your eyes wide.
“Jeonghan, I need you.”
Jeonghan lowered his hands to your neck, his fingers wrapping around them. His eyebrows raised as he stilled himself inside of you.
“What’s your safe word?”
You blurted it out, making Jeonghan laugh at your desperation.
“Good, fucking, girl.”
His fingers tightened around your neck and he began to fuck you fast, deep, and hard. It was a pace that you were familiar with but somehow it rocked your core even harder than it normally did. You felt it growning a little harder to breath as Jeonghan’s fingers tightened around your neck and a whine at the light-headed sensation was ripped from your body.
His fingers loosened at the whine, allowing you to gasp for a breath of air, but as soon as you did Jeonghan was tightening his grip on you all over again. You felt yourself clamp hard around Jeonghan’s dick as a wave of pleasure shot through your body. Your fingers clutched at Jeonghan’s back but just as they did Jeonghan raised his hand to your face, hitting you across it lightly.
“I’ve been letting you misbehave all day,” Jeonghan growled. “But if you want me to own you, you’re going to have to be good.”
His thumb swiped across your face.
“No touching.”
Your hands dropped to the bed, raising above your head. You arched your back, hoping for Jeonghan’s hands to return to your throat but he was much too focused now. You loved it when he became borderline animalistic. His hips were snapping into you, his lips curving up with every desperate cry of his name.
“You gonna tell me exactly how much you missed me?” Jeonghan asked. “Tell me about how I plagued your thoughts every day. How you can’t do anything but think about me and need me?”
You tried to find the words to talk back to Jeonghan, but you couldn’t find your voice no matter how hard you tried. Your silence earned you another slap which went right down to your core.
“God, you’re so pathetic,” he cooed. “So fucked out you can’t even find the words to respond to me. You always get like this eventually don’t you?”
“Only with you,” you managed to get out. Jeonghan lowered a hand to your clit and he began to messily rub it in circles.
“I know baby,” he said softly. “And you’re going to come just for me aren’t you? After all the teasing and the touching, you were able to hold back until just now. What do you think that makes you?”
“Good,” you blurted back. “I’ve been so good.”
Jeonghan’s lips flickered into a smile that you could just barely make out.
“You have been,” Jeonghan agreed. “So, fucking good for me.”
He shook his head.
“Even though you’re loud.” He gave you a particularly hard thrust. “Messy.” Another thrust. “Fucking shameless.”
He reached forward, pressing his forehead to yours.
“You are so fucking good. I fucking love-” His voice faltered before he quickly added: “Fucking you.”
Without warning you felt Jeonghan begin to unload himself into you, you screamed out in pleasure but Jeonghan cut you off by pressing his lips to yours.
“Come on baby, you have my permission,” Jeonghan mumbled against your lips. “Come for me, okay?”
You didn’t have to be prompted further. You didn’t care about being good. You raised your hands to Jeonghan’s neck, pressing him down further on you. Instead of screaming you focused on kissing Jeonghan, you whole body shaking as you came around his cock. As you were coming down from your orgasm, you felt Jeonghan pushing his cum deeper into your pussy.
Unfortunately for you, Jeonghan’s thrusts stopped, as soon as your grip on his neck loosened.
Jeonghan slipped his cock out of you, and a small whine left your lips. You covered your face with your hands finding both comfort and disappointment in the feeling of Jeonghan’s cum beginning to leak out of your pussy. Instead of immediately getting up to start a shower however Jeonghan wrapped his arms around your body, pulling your back flush to his chest and then proceeded to bury his face in your neck.
You let him hold you for a few minutes, focusing on his breath on your neck and the beating of his heart that you could feel against your back before finally speaking.
“Are you not going to start a shower?”
Jeonghan let out a humorless chuckle.
“I never thought there would be a day where you wanted a shower immediately after,” Jeonghan commented.
“It’s just uncharacteristic of you not to try,” you replied softly. Jeonghan was silent for a few seconds.
“It’s just I have to leave you to go start the shower,” Jeonghan said. You frowned at his words.
“And…?”
“And what if when I get back, you’re gone?”
Even as he spoke his arms were tightening their grip on you.
“Jeonghan I’m not going to leave,” you said softly. Jeonghan didn’t seem convinced. “Jeonghan-”
Jeonghan sighed.
“You’re right. I’m being selfish,” he said with a sigh.
He stayed still for a few more seconds, making you think for a moment that he hadn’t meant his words, but then he was pulling away from you.
Your first thought was that you shouldn’t have complained about him holding you. Now it was cold. And before when he was just holding you there was no need to address the situation you two were in at all.
“I’ll be right back,” he said softly. “Don’t go anywhere.”
He walked to the door and paused, looking at you before he left the room.
As soon as Jeonghan was gone you sat up in his bed, using your elbows to prop yourself up.
Just leaving while Jeonghan was gone hadn’t really been something on your mind until Jeonghan mentioned it, but thinking about it know you didn’t think it was a bad idea. After all, you still had a lot to think about.
Had Jeonghan really been unwilling to sleep with anyone who wasn’t you? Or had he known you were there to watch the whole time?
You swung your legs over the side of Jeonghan’s bed, and shakily got to your feet. You looked around the room trying to find your clothes but then you remembered your shopping trip with Jeonghan. You wandered around Jeonghan’s room, trying to see if maybe he had just thrown the bag somewhere.
You were about to give up hope when the brief thought to look in his closet. You pulled open the door, a small frown flickering across your face. At first the closet looked the same as it usually did, but then you noticed something odd about the clothes hanging to the right.
They were the ones that he had bought for you. Your frown deepened as you moved the hangers trying to see if you were right and you were. He had taken the time to hang up every piece of clothing he had bought for you.
Why would he hang up the clothes? Take up space in his own personal closet, just for some person he was sleeping with.
Your thoughts briefly flickered back to what Jeonghan had been trying to tell you before you had distracted him with sex but before you could think about it too much, Jeonghan’s door was creaking open again.
You saw him peak at the bed, a disappointed look crossing his face before you cleared your throat. His eyes flickered to yours and his head fell to the side. Without a word he walked over to the closet and grabbed one of his own shirts. He looked at you.
“Hands up,” he said softly. You did as you were told and Jeonghan slid his shirt onto you. He gave you a small smile and then quirked his head.
“Come on.”
Jeonghan led you to the bathroom, even though it really wasn’t necessary. You thought maybe it was because he genuinely was worried that you would leave. The shower was already running, and you expected Jeonghan to leave once you were inside, but instead he closed the door behind you two. You gave him a questioning look, but he just shrugged, raising a hand to his neck and glancing away from you.
“I thought maybe you would like some help.”
“Jeonghan, I don’t need help to take a shower,” you said. Jeonghan closed the distance between you two, his fingers coming to the hem of his shirt. His fingers briefly brushed your skin before he lifted the shirt back over your head. Once he had dropped the shirt on the floor he raised his hands to your hair, briefly brushing his fingers through it.
“I’ve always wanted to brush your hair,” he said softly. Your face burned hot under the attention. You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat.
“You’re really not going to take no for an answer,” you said with a sigh. Jeonghan’s eyes widened softly, and he pulled his hand away from you.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. You pressed your lips together.
“Don’t be,” you mumbled. “I know my safe word.”
You stepped away from Jeonghan to step into the shower. You didn’t know how Jeonghan did it, but he always managed to have the shower at the right temperature.
“You can join me,” you said.
Jeonghan smiled.
“Well only if, you’re sure.”
He waited for your nod and vocal confirmation:
“I’m sure.”
Jeonghan climbed into the shower with you, but his focus was surprisingly on getting you clean. He had grabbed a clean washcloth from under the sink before getting in and he immediately put some soap on it to start running over you. You narrowed your gaze at the fruit scented soap you had never noticed before.
“One of your sluts leave that?” You asked. Jeonghan’s hand stilled from where it was rubbing soap suds onto your body. He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, it’s not Chaedom’s.”
You frowned at him, making him sigh.
“I bought it for you,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “As much as I liked you smelling like my body wash, you also smelled like every other boy in Alpha Mu.”
He focused back on cleaning you off, not elaborating on why he saw that as a problem. Not that you really needed him to elaborate. In all of your relationships, you had never taken a shower with anyone. Building on that, you had never had anyone touch you so gently.
Jeonghan was so focused too. Even though his hands were all over you it was clear he wasn’t trying to turn you on at all. Even though, him being so gentle was turning you on.
Jeonghan crouched down, rubbing your ankles with soap. You watched him for a second and then crouched down as well. Jeonghan looked up at you in surprise, his wet strands of hair falling in his face. You smiled at him and brushed the strands out of his face.
“You’re so weird Jeonghan,” you said softly. His eyes widened at your words. “Why are you being so gentle?”
“It’s after care,” Jeonghan responded as if it was obvious. You gave him a half-annoyed look.
“Even washing me is more after care than you normally give me.”
“Before I was scared of my feelings,” Jeonghan said. He thought about that for a second. “And yours.”
He cleared his throat and looked away from you.
“Besides, this might be the last time I see you. I want to make the most of it.”
Your heart hurt a little to hear Jeonghan say that, but you tried to push down the feeling.
“You worried about not having a pussy to creampie?” You asked, trying to keep the mood light. You laughed. “You gonna miss having someone who loves to be degraded by you so much?”
“I do love how you always do what I say,” Jeonghan replied, a smile flickering across his lips. “But you’re also the same girl who knows what she wants. Turned down Chan and threw a drink in Yeongtae’s face. All for me.”
You rolled your eyes.
“I turned down Chan to turn down Chan, not for you.”
“But you did turn down Yeongtae for me.”
You turned your eyes away from him, making Jeonghan sigh. He raised his hands to your face, turning you towards him. He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes flickering down to your lips before he reached over, putting some face wash in his hands. You groaned as Jeonghan start to lather the soap into your face. You let yourself fall back onto the floor of the shower, light-heartedly swatting away Jeonghan’s hands.
“Why’re you being so thorough?” You whined. Jeonghan just smiled, waiting for you to stop talking so that he could dip your head back under the flow of the water. He rubbed his fingers a little over your face until he was satisfied that all the soap was off of your face. He pulled your head back and grabbed a brush.
You groaned, but he ignored you starting to work the brush through your hair.
“Jeonghan you don’t need to be so thorough,” you insisted. Jeonghan just scoffed.
“Maybe I should have been helping you all this time. It seems that you were cutting corners,” Jeonghan mumbled.
“You know what’s nicer than a shower?” You asked Jeonghan. “Your bed. You have such a nice bed.”
Jeonghan rolled his eyes.
“You’re aging me,” he commented. He reached around to grab what you assumed was shampoo, He set the brush down and began to massage it into your scalp. You figured arguing with Jeonghan further was pointless, so you finally fell silent, resting your head on your hand while he cleaned your hair.
You watched Jeonghan’s eyes as he worked the soap into your hair, making sure to coat your whole scalp and get it even in the ends of your hair. His lips were quirked slightly up as he watched his own hands work through your hair. He was giving off such a strange aura.
“Y/n, you’re so beautiful,” Jeonghan mumbled. “More beautiful than anyone I’ve ever slept with.”
You didn’t want to humor him, so you didn’t respond to Jeonghan’s words. He didn’t mind.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Jeonghan asked. You frowned slightly.
“Yeah, at the-”
“Not the party,” Jeonghan said with a shake of his head. “Freshmen orientation. I slept with your roommate.”
Your eyebrows furrowed, and you tried to catch Jeonghan’s eyes. It was pointless, he was too focused on your hair.
“We didn’t meet freshman orientation,” you denied. As you spoke, Jeonghan tilted your head back under the stream of water.
“Well, not entirely. I met your roommate immediately. The first few hours of freshman orientation and as soon as we got there, we skipped the first meeting to fuck in your dorm. You came in just after we had finished. You didn’t bat an eye. You were so nonchalant. You turned your back while your roommate got dressed and you two practically got to know each other while I just sat there and watched.”
Jeonghan laughed.
“And then you two just left me. You didn’t say a word to me.”
Jeonghan pulled your head forward again and then started to put conditioner in your hair.
“You never gave me the attention I wanted from you. Not then, and it drove me crazy. That whole weekend I was trying to get your attention without getting your attention.”
Jeonghan shrugged.
“Nothing. And then freshman orientation ended, and I thought I would never see you again.”
His fingers got caught in a knot in your hair and his eyebrows furrowed. He focused in on it.
“But we’ve had a few lectures together here and there. You make friends so easily. I just watched from afar.”
Jeonghan pushed your head back again under the stream of the water.
“Only at parties when you were forced to them by Jeongyeon. Never drinking when you did go. Nothing ever seems to phase you.”
Finally, Jeonghan’s eyes flickered to yours. You pressed your lips together, just taking in what Jeonghan had to say. You weren’t really sure what to think of all of this, but you forced yourself to stay in the moment. Just focus.
“When I say that I crave you, I mean it in a way you will never fully understand. I have wanted you since day one, but I have waited for you, and I never thought that I would have the chance to be with you.”
Jeonghan’s hands left your hair to cup your face with his hands. His eyes flickered to his thumbs that brushed over your cheek bones to your lips, your nose, and then back up to your eyes.
“And then I found you in my room and you were more amazing than I had ever imagined you would be.”
A sad look flickered over his face.
“I’m sorry I lied.”
“It’s okay,” you said softly. Jeonghan’s hands fell from your face, and he looked away from you.
“It’s not okay,” he replied. He cleared his throat and stood up. He leaned out of the shower and grabbed a towel, holding it out for you to walk into. You got back to your feet and did what you knew he wanted you to. He wrapped the towel around your body, and you turned around to look at him still standing in the shower. He pressed his lips together into a thin smile.
“I’m going to wash myself off. If you’re in my room when I get back, we’ll talk just a little bit more before we sleep okay?”
You opened your mouth, wanting to say something but no words left your lips. You didn’t know what today. You just nodded and did as he said.
Once you were in Jeonghan’s room your mind was racing and you were faced with your least favorite conflict of the mind. The choice between fight or flight.
You could leave now. Jeonghan was giving you the chance to leave, having already said what you assumed were the things he believed were most important to get out. If you left now you had a lot to think about.
Well, you had a lot to think about either way.
If you stayed, you could really talk through your feelings with Jeonghan. If you trusted him, you could really get some answers that you needed.
You thought for a while, drying your hair as you thought about what clothes to put on. You liked that Jeonghan had bought you all these clothes to wear while you were over but… Nothing hit quite like wearing one of his freshly washed shirts.
You put aside the thought and put on the pajamas he had gotten for you.
As you wrapped your hair in the towel that you had been left with you thought over the most important question in your mind.
Did you trust Jeonghan?
Could you trust Jeonghan?
It was a bit ironic that you weren’t really sure if you could considering you had done nothing but trust Jeonghan up until this moment. You trusted him not to hurt you. You trusted him to not tell others too much about what you two did. You even trusted that he wasn’t lying to you about the people that he was sleeping with.
Maybe that’s why it was a bit hard to trust him now.
You looked to where you had dropped your phone on Jeonghan’s floor when you first got in the room and you picked it up. There was a good way to test the validity of what Jeonghan had said.
You searched your contacts for the name of your freshman orientation roommate and let out a breath of relief when you found you still had it.
The phone rang only twice before Geumseong answered the phone.
“Hello? Y/n? Is everything alright?”
You pressed your lips together.
“Hi, yeah, no I’m fine I just… I had a weird question,” you replied. You gave it a seconds pause and then said: “Do you remember sleeping with anyone at freshman orientation?”
“Oh god, of course I do,” Geumseong replied. “That was the best sex that I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Do you remember…?”
“Yoon Jeonghan,” Geumseong said without much of a thought at all. “Fucking shame, he doesn’t sleep with anyone twice.”
You felt your heart pounding in your throat.
“Are you sure?” You asked, your voice kind of airy. Geumseong hummed a confirmation.
“How could I forget?” She asked. You sat there trying to figure out what exactly you were going to say back, but just then the door to Jeonghan’s room opened and Jeonghan appeared. To his credit, he look surprised.
“Okay, well, that was all I needed to ask. Thanks,” you said into your phone. “We should get together sometime.”
“We should!” Geumseong agreed. “I’ll call you later this week.”
The line between you and Geumseong disconnected and you dropped your phone to your lap. Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at you.
“So, you want to talk?”
“Let’s say I believe that you’ve liked me since freshmen year.” You did. Geumseong was practically undeniable proof. "Why did you never approach me?"
"Y/n, you’re too good for me.”
You blinked.
“Huh?”
Jeonghan turned away from you to get changed into pajama pants.
“I’ve never settled for anyone in my life,” Jeonghan replied. He turned around when he was dressed. “I just knew I was going to end up breaking your heart.”
Your eyebrows furrowed even further.
“So then why did you…?”
“Ever fuck with you?” Jeonghan finished. He closed the distance between you two and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you. Instead, he brushed past you, sitting on his side of the bed. “I’m selfish. You were right in front of me, and you wanted me. I honestly thought that maybe fucking with you would get you out of my system.”
Jeonghan laughed.
“I’m stupid,” he concluded. “You just became that much more irresistible to me.” He seemed to think for a few moments. “Did you ever wonder why I decided to retire to my room that night at the party?”
You thought about it for a moment.
“No,” you replied, but now that he brought it up, it was a bit odd.
“I was so angry that Jun introduced you to Chan. Would he have been good to you? Undoubtedly. But I wanted you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you two and looking over at you talking. Then you disappeared and I thought you were in Chan’s room…”
Jeonghan didn’t have to go on.
“Okay, so then why lie to me about being with other girls?” You pressed. Jeonghan sighed.
“I don’t know what it is about you, but you drive me crazy. I think about you all the time. Seeing you with other men when I want you is absolutely infuriating but you?” Jeonghan laughed airily. “It drove me crazy that you kept saying you didn’t care if I slept with other people. I needed you to be obsessed with me the way I was obsessed with you. So I lied.”
You glanced over at Jeonghan to find that this whole time he had been talking he had been staring at you. When your eyes met he looked away from you.
“And I kept lying because I thought that maybe the longer it went on, the further it got, then you would start to feel the same way I do,” Jeonghan stated. “But I think that I just ended up emotionally detaching you more.”
You didn’t respond because again you were at a loss for words. You didn’t think anyone had ever liked you as much as Jeonghan was making it seem like he did. Building off of that you had never thought anyone would ever like you as much as Jeonghan was claiming to.
And yet, here you were.
Jeonghan seemed to sense your internal struggle.
“You should sleep,” Jeonghan said softly. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor?”
It seemed Jeonghan just couldn’t stop surprising you.
“What? No. It’s your room, your bed-”
Jeonghan raised his hands in the air.
“Just want to give you space if you want it. Go to sleep then, okay?”
You didn’t think that you could fall asleep after this conversation with Jeonghan, but regardless you nodded.
“Right.” You laid down in his bed, taking note of the fact that he was pressed as far on his side of the bed as he could get. “Good night.”
“Good night,” he echoed.
But you couldn’t sleep. Minutes turned into hours and Jeonghan’s breath evened to the point where you knew that he was asleep. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked over at his sleeping body. You thought carefully over his confession, running his words on repeat through your head.
Fuck, why was this so confusing?
He was in love with you. Well, he hadn’t said it in those exact words but you could feel it anyways. Looking back he had been fairly obvious about it. Every time he was with you, every time he held you, every time he kissed you he did it all as if it would be the last time he ever got to.
You knew how you should feel in this situation. You should feel relieved, and excited but your brain just refused to accept what Jeonghan was telling you as the truth.
It wasn’t because he had lied to you about sleeping with other people, even though you had made a big deal about it. You made a big deal about it because it didn’t make sense. Now you knew why he did it. Now it made sense. Even if it felt unreal.
Your lips pressed together as you watched Jeonghan. You kept having this feeling like everything was super complicated when in reality it wasn’t.
warning(s): just spider + reader being cute idiots in love, spider actually being a lovesick puppy that happily follows you wherever you go, subtle brains x brawn dynamic, the tiniest hint of suggestive content (?), first kiss trope, slightest mention of making out, & getting caught (oop-)
word bank: ikran — winged creatures used for flying + hunting
note: set before the events of atwow! i keep overdoing myself with these 4k+ fics 😭 but anything for you guys <3 there’s nearly not enough spider fics on this app. give my boy some love T-T! also, tumblr’s being weird & not letting me tag some people on the posts so i’ll try to tag those with a line through their user in the comments.
You loved spending time outside in the forests of Pandora, soaking in everything you saw. You spent more time out of the lab than in it most days.
Spider even joined you at times, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. You probably knew the forest better than the boy, even with his frequent associations with the Sully children. You practically never left the beautiful scenery and spent too many hours exploring every little thing you could. So, he found it best to follow your lead whenever he tagged along on your journeys.
Norm liked to say that you were a lot like Grace Augustine in some ways. Always wanting to analyze and study every single plant you came into contact with. Always too caught up in admiring the beauty and wonder that Pandora provided. Of course you never met the woman but you saw plenty of her video recordings with Kiri and on your alone time. You could say that the two of you had similarities but none that were too significant.
You knew almost every inch of forestry on the moon-planet. Almost.
There was this one place that Spider had stumbled upon many years ago after running around with Lo’ak. It was his little hideout spot whenever he needed time to himself or wanted a break from things. He didn’t think about sharing it with anyone else until you mentioned how bored you were one night, complaining about how you practically seen every inch of the forest and that there was nothing else to see. You loved everything you saw on Pandora but missed the first time admiration one held whenever they saw something they had never seen before.
Spider wasn’t exactly sure if you had already scoped out his little getaway spot but nonetheless, he still wanted to share it with you.
“I don’t think you’ve been to this place though,” Spider speaks up one day, pulling your attention away from whatever you were studying underneath the microscope.
The teen also often offered his company to you whenever you were in the lab doing whatever scientists did. He liked spending time with you, even if you were too caught up in doing sciencey stuff that he had absolutely no clue about.
“What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.
A shit eating grin stretched itself onto Spider’s lips. Good, he thought, she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
“You said that you’ve seen every inch of the forest,” he replied, twirling a pipette in between his calloused fingers, “but, I’m sure you haven’t seen my hideout.”.
Curiosity sparkled in your eyes, back straightening in attention.
“What does it look like?” You asked, genuinely excited about the secret place Spider had kept from you for whoever knows how long.
Spider had you right where he wanted you. Like a prey in his web. There was no way that he was going to give you any details of what it looked like. Where’s the fun in that? He wanted to see the pure, genuine look of amazement on your face when you finally saw the place he was talking about.
“Nuh uh,” Spider tsked, poking your cheek with the pipette, “I am not falling for that. You’ll just have to wait and see tomorrow,” he finished, face inching closer to yours.
Your eyes rolled in annoyance, not pleased with Spider's answer. You at least wanted to know where the spot was or what some of its features looked like, it would help that anxious-excitement feeling that always crawled its way into your stomach whenever you discovered something new.
“Wherever you’re taking me better not be somewhere where I have to climb,” you retorted, slightly pushing back his head with your hand, him snorting in response.
“It’s not that bad. Besides,” he replies, “I can always carry you up there.”.
Spider was ridiculously strong for a human boy his age. The first time you realized it, your stomach twisted in knots. The two of you were play fighting in your early teens when the male managed to pin you down with just one arm, the other slithering in between your bodies as he tickled your stomach. It was in that brief moment that you realized how different and quickly Spider was changing, thanks to puberty.
Just the thought of Spider carrying you up to wherever he had in mind without even breaking a sweat made butterflies erupt in your stomach. You began to wonder how his toned arms would feel around your body or how his tense back would feel against your front as it flexed due to his climbing. (Your mouth began to water a little at the thought. Oh how you wished he would just pull you into his embrace and hold you so you could feel the flexing of his muscles as he did so.)
You quickly scoffed the thought away, shaking your head at the dirty blondes' response. He very obviously took pride in his strength and the fact that he could most definitely carry you anywhere without much difficulty.
“Sure you could, Spider,” you added, your eyes squinting a little at the boy in front of you, unplugging and turning off the microscope you were using.
Spider smirked at your response, tossing the pipette to the side as he saw that you were getting ready to clean up, signaling that you were done for the day and we’re going to head off to bed.
“Night, beautiful,” Spider whispered, ruffling your hair a bit before he turned and left the lab you were occupying.
“G’night,” you replied, pink dusting your cheeks in reaction to the nickname he gave you early on into your friendship.
He always called you that. Max had explained to him what the word meant when he overheard Jake call Neytiri that when he was only a child, wondering what it meant. Max told him that he should only ever mean it whenever he called someone it. So he did. You were the only one he called beautiful and probably would be the only one he ever called that and truly meant it.
“Tomorrow, three hours before eclipse,” Spider quickly added, heading peaking through the door of the lab, a smile on his face as he voiced the time he planned on taking you out.
You only hummed out in acknowledgment, shooing him away as you focused on your task of cleaning up your area of the lab.
You really couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
———
“Hurry up, you’re going to make us late,” Spider whined out, sprawled out on your freshly made bed, a ball of yarn in his hands as he tossed it up and down towards the ceiling.
You rolled your eyes at the boy, annoyed at his words. It wasn’t like there was someone else waiting for you at the spot he wanted to take you to.
“We are fine, Spider,” you scoffed out, finishing tying up your shoelaces together besides the teens head as your body was in a seated position. Your hand briefly reached out towards Spider’s knotted locs, messing with them a little before he turned his head to teasingly nip at you, teeth not making contact with your skin. You squealed in response, hurriedly pulling back your hand in order to avoid the boy's sharp teeth.
Spider barked out a laugh at your response, tossing the ball of yarn to the side, softly landing on the floor with a dull thud. Another thing he loved, messing with you. He took great joy in doing it and seeing your reaction.
“Yeah well, the faster you finish getting ready, the faster we’ll be at my spot,” he retorted, pushing himself up to a sitting position, a bored look on his face as he looked at you.
Spider had only been in your room for around fifteen minutes, barging in when you just finished braiding your hair yelling about how long you were taking and how by the time you were done, it’d be sunrise already. He was all ready to go and had been waiting for you for almost thirty minutes before coming into your room unannounced. He usually did, which caused you to throw whatever was closest to you at him, demanding him to get out. You got used to it over the years but still, you needed privacy and sometimes, you felt like you rarely had that around Spider due to his spontaneous barging into your room. You gained the ability to change out of and into your clothes incredibly fast, almost always narrowly missing flashing Spider.
“Okay, okay, I’m all ready,” you responded, hands going up in surrender as you stood up from your spot on the bed, dusting off the back of your thighs and the front of your shorts.
Spider groaned out in relief, hopping off the bed and grabbing your packed bag that was placed by the doorframe, throwing it over his shoulder before grabbing your hand and rushing you out in excitement.
“You’re gonna love it, I swear!”.
———
The both of you had arrived and climbed up to the place Spider had wanted to take you to in an hour and a half. The sun was just at eclipse when you arrived. Spider didn’t hesitate to crouch down a little so you could jump onto his back, legs and arms tightly around his neck and waist before he began the ascent up.
“We’re here,” Spider whispered, slightly out of breath from the exercise. He tapped your thigh twice, signaling that it was safe for you to let go.
The first thing you saw were vines. Lots of them. It covered almost every inch of solid rock, clinging across the surface until your eyes landed on a small opening, the vines dangling over it as the twine and its leaves cloaked the opening. No wonder you never knew of this place. Regardless of it being too high up for you alone to climb, it was very well hidden by the green vines.
It seemed like it was a cave, from what you could see. Peeking past some of the small openings in between the vines, you couldn’t see much light through the gaps. It seemed to be pretty dark and the only light that was getting through was the sunlight that managed to squeeze between the vines.
“You excited?” Spider asked, anxiety settling itself in his stomach. He wanted you to like his secret spot. It was special to him. He didn’t even tell Lo’ak about it and he tells the Na’vi boy practically everything.
“Very,” you replied back, eyes still glued on the intricate weaving of the vines. You tried to imagine what was behind the plant's structure, excitement setting in.
You liked finding new things but this felt different. More personal. Spider told his loved ones almost everything, so you were genuinely surprised when he brought up the fact that he had a secret hideout. And knowing that you were probably the only other person to see and know about this place made it even more special and personal.
“C’mon,” Spider whispered, taking your hand in his as he gently pulled you inside, pushing the vines to the side to make room for the both of you to get through.
It was dark at first, the numerous vines making a dull thud sound as they fell back into place once Spider let them go. But then, small blue dots of light appeared, scattered across the walls and ceiling of the cave, lighting up the space in its dim light. The longer you two walked, the more brighter it seemed to get. The biolomenscient dots got dimmer and dimmer the further you and Spider went, the warm glow of the sunset replacing it.
Another opening made its way into your line of sight, giving you the perfect view of the eclipse and more.
“Holy shit,” you whispered out, hand still grasping Spiders.
The sight before you was absolutely breathtaking. Ikran flew across the setting sun, shrieking in delight as they dipped and dived. The floating mountains were scattered across the sky, thick and large vines connecting them to each other so they didn't drift too far from another. The vibrant colors the setting sun emitted settled across the horizon and danced across the tops of the trees beneath the cliff you and Spider were currently standing on.
Spider smiled at your response, warmth spreading across his body as he came to the conclusion that you were enjoying the sight before you. He felt nervous before, not wanting you to not like where he was taking you. But now, he felt so happy. Happy that you were awestruck and couldn’t tear your eyes off of everything in front of you.
“Like it?” He asked, hand squeezing yours to catch your attention.
“Like it?” You replied, eyes still darting across the beautiful scenery in front of you, “I love it! How come you didn’t take me here earlier?” You pouted at the end.
The boy only chuckled in response. To be honest, he considered this place to be his. Like a little secret. He wasn’t planning on sharing it with anyone. But the more he thought about it and visited the small cave slash cliff hideout, the more he wondered what it’d be like to share this place with you. He was over the moon when you agreed to tag along last night. This was no longer going to be just his spot but the both of yours.
Spider slightly tugged on your hand, guiding you to follow his actions in sitting down, legs dangling over the cliffs edge.
“It’s so beautiful,” you commented, settling yourself next to Spider, hands still intertwined.
The human boy hummed in response, eyes never leaving the side of your face. The setting suns colorful rays reflected off the glass of your mask, highlighting your bright eyes as you continued to gawk at the gorgeous sight in front of you.
To Spider, your beauty could never compare to what was in front of him. He had seen this kind of sunset millions of times before but he always found himself thinking of you whenever he gazed at the eclipse and the colorful horizon. You were truly one of a kind. He always felt special whenever you graced him with your presence. His eyes never left your face whenever the two of you hung out, oftentimes running into things on accident which made me even more flustered once your laugh reached his ears. If he were in a Na’vi body, his tail would be swaying furiously back and forth like a dog excited to see their owner whenever his eyes settled on your figure. You always had a special place in his heart. Which makes this moment even more special.
“Hmm, just like you, beautiful,” he whispered back, nudging your shoulder with his.
A wide toothed smile made its way across your lips, a giggle escaping them as you shook your head at the boy. “Cheesy,” you replied, eyes finally tearing away from the sunset and settling on Spider.
Your breath hitched in your throat when you realized how close the two of you were. Your shoulders were touching and your clasped hands were in Spider's lap, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. If it weren’t for the masks you had to wear, you most likely would be able to feel each other's breath. Just the thought gave you slight goosebumps.
“Sappy,” Spider agreed, laughing in response to your previous statement. He tended to be overly romantic whenever around you. Albeit he never outwardly voiced his thoughts, he still thought them. You only got a glimpse or two of that side of him, it only being during whenever the two of you were joking around or he was trying to bring your spirits up on a particularly hard day. It never failed to make you feel better or laugh in response.
Your eyes were stuck on Spider's face, glancing from his eyes, to his nose down to his lips, and then back up to his eyes. He was probably the prettiest human boy you’d ever seen, and the only one you’d seen.
“Want to know how I stumbled across this place?” He asked, cheeks reddening at your intense stare.
“Please,” you responded, shifting a bit to face more towards the boy, hands still tightly interlocked.
Spider brightly smiled before starting, glad to be finally sharing this, his place with you.
———
You had stayed out way past curfew, too caught up in the beauty of Pandora to realize just how late you and Spider stayed out.
He had you put yourself on his back again on the way down, your hands returning to grip his shoulders as your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. You found yourself thinking about his muscles and his strength again, making yourself blush at every thought. The fact that you were so tightly pressed up against him and could feel his back muscles twitch and flex as he climbed down didn’t help, at all.
But he too was blushing. There have only been a handful of times where the both of you were in a position like this, so close together. Most of them were when you were children and still needed the comfort of someone else to sleep, Norm often finding the two of you entangled together as you softly snored away in your deep slumber. The other time being when you had a tickle fight and he pinned both of your hands above your head and tortured you with his swift fingers against the sensitive skin of your stomach. Spider almost kissed you that day, if it weren’t for Max’s interruption, telling Spider that Lo’ak was there for him. And the other time being now. It had been so long since he had you this close. Of course you two hugged and had sleepovers whenever you were bored, but even then, you never had your body that close to his and vice versa. Spider could feel the beat of your rapid heart against his back, smirking at how fast it was pumping.
It was nice to have you this close to his body. Especially in this circumstance. He felt like he was protecting you, in a way at least. Spider knew that you didn’t have the type of training he did regarding exploring the expanse of Pandora’s forests. You mostly explored on your own and kept to the forest floor whereas Spider leapt from tree to tree with Lo’ak and climbed whatever he could. And regarding this fact, he knew that you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself up to climb all the way to where he wanted to take you as well as back down. So this was the least he could do. Have you cling to his back as he descended back down to the mossy ground.
The minute your feet touched the floor, you took off sprinting, shouting at Spider to race you back to the lab. Poor boy barely had any time to process it, standing there in shock for a few seconds before quickly following after you, catching up to your figure within minutes.
The boy beat you to the lab even with your head start.
“No fair!” You whined out, huffing and puffing from your sprinting. Damn, you thought to yourself, and to think Spider does this everyday.
“Hmm, sucks to suck I guess,” Spider teased, patting your head as you stood there with your hands on your knees trying to catch your breath. Your mask began to fog up from your ragged breathing.
You playfully slapped Spider’s hand away as you both walked up the stairs to the lab, the boy holding the door open for you as you walked through.
Once the door shut, a hissing sound reached your ears, signaling that the filter was forcing out the Pandora air and replacing it with the air you and the other humans needed to breathe. When the small light above the second door turned green, you quickly discarded your mask and pushed through the secondary door.
“That was so much fun!” You exclaimed, wide smile on your lips as you turned back towards Spider, watching him place both of your masks back onto the small rack they usually reside on.
Warmth spread throughout Spider’s chest at your exclamation, proud that he was able to make you this happy from simply sharing his hideout with you. “I’m glad you had fun,” he replied, a gummy smile spreading onto his lips.
“Thank you so much for taking me! I really enjoyed tonight,” you continued, same smile still plastered on your face.
You felt grateful that Spider wanted to share a place he had found and kept to himself for a while with you. It made you feel special. Really special. You wanted to do something for him that showed your gratefulness. But your mind kept drawing blanks the more you thought about it. It had to be a grand gesture that showed him just how much you appreciated tonight as well as him in general.
Silence settled itself between the two of you, it resting comfortably in the air. Seconds had passed from the last time you spoke, eyes darting around Spider’s painted striped skin, the paint fading from the days excursions. As your eyes settled back onto his face, you realized that he was staring at your lips.
A lightbulb went off in your head. Yes, a kiss would work.
“I am very grateful that you decided to share your hideout with me. I feel honored,” you began, taking a step closer to the boy in front of you, “Is there anything I could do to show my appreciation?”.
Spider gulped at your question, one thing coming to mind. But, the boy only shook his head and shrugged. “It’s alright. I’m just happy to have spent tonight with you,” he replied.
Sappy motherfucker, you laughed to yourself, feeling yourself melt at how sweet Spider was being. You knew that he’d never force you to do anything that you didn’t want to do. Another thing that you loved about him. (Right after his face and muscles, of course.)
You hummed in response, inching closer as you did so. You could practically hear how fast Spider’s heart was beating against his chest, making you slightly smile at how you might be the cause of it.
“I think I have something in mind,” you trailed, straining your neck a bit to look up at the boy as you finally stood chest to chest. A few strands of Spider’s locs fell in front of his face and dangled besides yours, hand going out to tuck it behind one of his ears. The boys knees almost gave out at the movement, stomach twisting in knots and skin beginning to tingle from your gentle graze.
“And w-what could that b-be?” He stuttered, dark blush covering his cheeks. He felt his heart beat even faster as the seconds ticked by, if that was possible.
You smiled up at Spider, right hand coming to gently take his left one. “A kiss, perhaps?” You asked, not expecting him to agree right away.
“You…you w-want to…to k-kiss me?” He shakingly asked, the hand in yours intertwining his fingers between yours. He couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. That you suggested that you both kiss. He’s dreamt of kissing you ever since he saw the couple down his hall kiss when he was younger, Max yet again had to explain the action to him. Ever since he knew that he liked you. Since he knew that you’d be the only one for him as long as he breathed.
You nodded at his question, eyes falling from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes. You also dreamt of kissing the boy. You wanted to ever since you saw an Earth movie from the twenty-first century where the two protagonists were lovers. You wanted to experience everything that the two lovers in the movies experienced with Spider. It was something you often caught yourself daydreaming about when you had nothing else better to do.
At your confirmation, Spider gently and delicately cupped your face in his warm and bigger hands, bringing you closer to his lips. There was a sliver of space between your lips and his, the teen boy waiting for something. Spider’s eyes searched yours for hesitancy and when he saw none and received another nod of your head, he pressed his plump lips against yours.
Your left hand went up to his waist to steady yourself, knees nearly giving out on the spot as your brain realized that this was actually happening.
Warmth was the only thing you felt from the kiss as well as adoration and care. You thought the whole fireworks thing was a bit silly whenever a character in a movie talked about it. But this, this was so much better than fireworks. You could feel how much Spider loved and cared for you through a single kiss. Could feel how nervous you made him through his shaky hands and rapid heartbeat. It was much better than fireworks. You felt loved and cared for through your shared kiss. You only hoped that Spider could feel the same things you did from the kiss as well.
The two of you stood there for who knows how long, kissing and pecking each others lips. You only broke away from the kiss two times to inhale more oxygen before you passed out. Spider meanwhile kissed all over your face as you did so, placing gentle kisses against your cheeks, nose, forehead, and chin before slotting his lips against yours again once you filled your lungs with sweet oxygen.
A loud cough erupted from behind you, halting the both of you in your kiss. Fear and anxiety spikes through your system, eyes widening as you slowly turned around to see who caught you and Spider kissing face.
“I don’t want to know,” Max started, arms crossed against his chest as a sleepy expression painted his face, “Just, get to bed. Separately. And if anyone asks, I saw nothing, okay?”.
You swear you never ran to your room so fast in your life, giggling out into the quiet corridors of the lab with Spider trailing behind you. Yeah, sorry Max, but there was no way that either of you were going to bed in your respective rooms tonight. There was too much to talk about and catch up on.
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.
AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...
🔥 Series Masterlist
Word Count: 7,200
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.
Part 13: “Boiling Point”
Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.
This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.
You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.
Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…
But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.
Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.
The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.
“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.
You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.
“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”
Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”
You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.
You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.
You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently, it was.
“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.
It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows.
“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”
“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”
Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.
“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”
“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”
You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.
“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.
You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.
She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”
You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.
“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”
“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”
A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.
“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.
He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)
Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.
“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.
You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.
“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”
“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.
“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”
Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.
“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.
You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”
“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”
You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?
“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”
Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.
He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”
Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”
You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.
Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.
“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.
The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere.
Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.
“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”
You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.
“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”
“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.
“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”
“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”
You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.
“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.
You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”
Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.
“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.
Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.
You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.
A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).
It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.
And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”
When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.
“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.
You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny.
“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”
“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.
“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”
“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.
He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”
Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.
“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.
Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”
“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”
You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?
“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.
Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”
“You think?” Dean asked.
You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.
“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said.
You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.
At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.
There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.
“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”
He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.
“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”
He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.
“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”
His eyes met yours knowingly.
You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”
You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.
Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.
Fucking frat bros.
“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.
“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.
It made you realize something.
As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?
The rest of your life?
Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.
If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.
You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.
So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.
“Hey,” you whispered.
His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”
“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.
“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.
You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”
Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”
A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.
“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”
Your hand tightened on his wrist.
“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”
Dean nodded, and you stood.
“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”
You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.
“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”
Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.
“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.
Benny whistled.
“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”
Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”
Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.
“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.
Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.
Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.
She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind.
Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…
Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.
She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.
“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”
Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.
“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”
Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.
“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”
Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.
“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.
Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”
You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.
You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.
A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.
“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.
The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.
Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.
“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.
“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.
Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.
You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.
His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”
You shoved his hand off of you.
“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”
Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.
You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.
He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.
Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.
Please—
And the hand was peeled away entirely.
You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.
Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.
It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.
The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.
“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.
“What?” Nick choked.
You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.
“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.
“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”
Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.
“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”
“Dean,” you gasped.
“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”
You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.
“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”
Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.
“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”
Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.
“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”
Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.
“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.
Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.
“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”
Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.
Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.
“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.”
“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”
Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.
Nick met his eyes.
“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”
He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”
Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”
Once again, Nick smirked.
“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”
Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.
But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.
“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.
The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.
“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”
Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.
“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”
Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.
Winchester, Nick thought.
Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.
“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”
When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.
Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.
He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.
The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.
You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)
He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.
“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”
Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”
Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.
The car was silent for the rest of the hour.
It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.
Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.
You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.
With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.
“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”
You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
“It started before I even met you, Dean.”
His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.
“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”
You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.
When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.
And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.
All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.
But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.
At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.
I should've told him, you thought. You knew.
Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.
“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.
Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”
“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.
“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”
Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.
“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him.
“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”
He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.
“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”
You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.
Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.
“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”
Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.
“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”
You bit your lip and shook your head.
“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”
“He can fucking try,” he snapped.
“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.
A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.
“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”
He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.
Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.
“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”
The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.
Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.
“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either.
He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.
“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”
After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.
You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.
Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.
You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.
“Dean,” you called.
He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“Come ‘ere a sec?”
He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.
“Can you unzip me?” you asked.
Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.
Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.
Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.
But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.
His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.
“Baby?” you asked.
Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.
You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.
“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.
Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.
He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.
“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear.
“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”
You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.
“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”
You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.
You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.
“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”
You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.
“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said.
You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick.
“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”
“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.
You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.
“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”
Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.
You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail.
Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep.
AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).
Next Time:
The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...
“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.
“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”
You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.
“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.
“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”
Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?
✯a florist and an f1 driver, shall we say perfect match?
✯not requested just a cute idea i had<3
y/ninstagram
liked by floralmagazine, flonorrisshowjumping, lilyhme and 89,000 others
nothing makes me happier than getting to spend all day doing what I love in a shop I created 2 years ago today. happy birthday to my baby🩷
see 10,000 comments
username i went there yesterday it was so cute!
>y/ninstagram thank you so much!🩷🩷
username those colours!!!!
lilyhme still obsessed with my bouquet!!
>y/ninstagram i’m so glad!! you’re welcome anytime love!🥰
>username what’s lily doing here👀
flonorrisshowjumping yay happy birthday to the best flower shop ever!!🩷🩷
liked by y/ninstagram
>username lando’s sister….?
username SO CUTE!!!
y/ninstagram added to their story!
*comments disabled*
y/ninstagram
liked by cosmopolitan, landonorris, francisca.cgomes and 96,000 others
just a girl in her happy place, nice to get some time away from the shop for a few days🥰
see 15,000 comments
username gorgeous gorgeous girl!!!
username that flower crown?!
>y/ninstagram right?! only took me 2 hours 😅
landonorris any chance you sell flower crowns?
>y/ninstagram potentially for you!
>username LANDO?!
username i see lando in the likes….
francisca.cgomes beautiful 😍
liked by y/ninstagram
landonorris added to their story!
*comments disabled*
landonorris
liked by y/ninstagram, maxfewtrell, mclaren and 889,000 others
nice little break off the track, lots of time to travel, recharge and enjoy the little things, back to work this week! 😁
see 100,000 comments
username lando in his soft launch era????
username LANDO?!
username wait i recognize that flower crown!!!
maxfewtrell yeah lots of rest happened for sure
>landonorris stfu
y/ninstagram i see you finally got the flower crown!
>landonorris i did, 10 star rating for sure 😉
username WHAT IS HAPPENING RN
username wait lando and y/n?! IM UP
y/ninstagram added to their story!
*comments disabled*
y/ninstagram
liked by mclaren, flonorrisshowjumping, landonorris and 100,000 others
am i doing this whole formula 1 thing correct?? thank you for having me mclaren! 🩷
tagged mclaren
see 65,000 comments
username Y/N AT THE GP THIS WEEKEND?! WHAT
username mclaren’s guest or lando’s guest😏
username lando and y/n are def together cmon…
mclaren very happy you could come!! thank you for all the beautiful arrangements!🧡
liked by y/ninstagram
landonorris how was it?
>y/ninstagram it was different, number 4 for mclaren did pretty well
>landonorris yeah he’s decent
lilyhme so great to see you again!!! let’s get drinks this week❤️
>y/ninstagram yes please 🥰
landonorris added to their story!
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y/ninstagram
liked by landonorris, vogue, danielricciardo and 234,000 others
lando really didn’t understand the whole ‘soft launch thing’ very well, but i will say it makes me happy that i can share our love with the world….you are truly special to me in so many ways lan❤️
tagged landonorris
see 101,000 comments
username YES I KNEW IT
username lando failing is hilarious
username flower girl and f1 boy 🫶🏻
liked by y/ninstagram
flonorrisshowjumping doesn’t surprise me he couldn’t keep it secret 😭
>landonorris oh??? and what’s that supposed to mean!!
landonorris im sorry my angel🥹
landonorris i love you so much though 😁🩷
>y/ninstagram yeah yeah i love you too silly boy🩷
username i will sob in the streets 😃
landonorris
liked by y/ninstagram, francisca.cgomes, quadrant and 1M others
my flower girl🩷
tagged y/ninstagram
see 454,000 comments
username oh she’s so beautiful
username i can’t tell if i want to be lando or y/n…
>username both😃
username run me over pls
y/ninstagram i love you so much lan
y/ninstagram you’re favourite person in the whole world❤️
>landonorris you’re mine, i love you
maxfewtrell nasty nasty you two are
>y/ninstagram you weren’t saying that when you asked for the most INTRICATE bouquet yesterday 🤔
listen. I know this may seem weird but I've been thinking about how the boys would save their gfs name in their phone and it has me feeling soft :( chan is for sure the type to put something adorable like darling or sweetheart. What do you think about the others?
it's not weird at all dw!! it's quite adorable actually. thank you so much for requesting :)
ੈ✩‧➛ how bf!skz would save your contact
🎧 ┆ CHAN : he's the sweetest :( like you said, he'd probably save it as my love <3, sweetheart :), loml <3 or something along those lines :')
🎧 ┆ LEE KNOW : he loves annoying you so he probably has it saved as smth like money leech or menace. but he would definitely change it if you don't like it into something worse !!
🎧 ┆ CHANGBIN : he changes your name on his phone very often because he cannot decide which one he finds cuter. the type to give you an adorable nickname and then put a bunch of heart and flower emojis beside it
🎧 ┆ HYUNJIN : this man is such a hopeless romantic :( watch him change your name to my muse before y'all even started dating. he's adorable and gets super shy when you find out he referred to you as that even before you were together
🎧 ┆HAN : he's like changbin! will give you the most adorable nickname and add a bunch of emojis that remind him of you <3 sometimes he might change it to embarrassing stuff like my little pookie wookie bear 🐻🥺 hahaha
🎧 ┆ FELIX : the type to match contact names!! if you save him as my sushine he'd probably save you as my starlight. its so adorable and vv felix-core
🎧 ┆ SEUNGMIN : yn ln. uses your birth name with a full stop and everything. he will do anything to get on your nerves.
🎧 ┆ JEONGIN : the type to put some adorable name like chan but he'd be a lot more secretive about it :( will get so flustered when you first notice what your name is saved as. and don't even get me started on how shy he'd get if the members ever find out HAHA
tags : @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @laylasbunbunny (send an ask to be added/removed)
Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, kissing, breakfast in bed, grocery shopping, watching movies, cuddles, house chores, cooking together
A/N: Would win the husband of the year award for sure.
Husband!Michael doesn't want you to get up on anniversaries, well not get up in the morning at least. He's learned to cook well over the years, especially your favorites. Every year his cooking gets a little bit better and he gets a kisson the cheek for a dish well cooked. That's sure to keep him motivated, you even see him writing down recepies from cooking shows.
Husband!Michael starts to make a grocery list as soon as the week starts so you don't forget to boy anything. It might be a bit early but he'd rather have a list than go shopping with no plan and forget something. He used to do that before and to make multiple trips back. Learned a lot since then.
Husband!Michael kisses you for no reason when you're walking aroundvthe house. Since he misses you during the day he has to make up for the kisses somehow. You can be cooking and he'll start kissing you, ingnoring the protests of the burning food. If it's a little burned then he'll eat it. Won't stop him from kissing you. Besides he loves cooking together, he can help you out. And no this isn't just an excuse to be close and get more kisses.
Husband!Michael enjoys movie nights with you a lot. As long as it's not horror, he's got enough of that in real life trust him. Really any other movie is fine, even if the genre isn't his favorite he'll still watch it. Does watch it for real, he doesn't just say that because he knows you like this movie. If you want him to focus better you can always cuddle up next to him. Just saying.
Husband!Michael leaves notes when he has to go to work and you're asleep. His gandwriting isn't nest so when he's in a hurry you have trouble reading what he wrote down. You can always read the little heart at the end though, he's good at drawing those no matter how fast he's going.
Husband!Michael always looks at the chart with house chores so he knows what he has to do before going to work. He doesn't want you stuck with everything on your own. Not uncommon to hear him curse when he trips over things or he drops things on the floor. As good as he is he can be adoribly clumsy at times. If you come looking he will deny those allegations.
Husband!Michael comes home late at night and crawls into bed with you and wraps his arms around you, finally allowing his body to relax against yours. He always tells you goodnight regardless if you can hear it or not. When he sleeps in you bring him breakfast, he's all drowsy but smiles at you anyway comenting on how pretty you are.
summary: despite your best efforts, remus lupin might just become your friend.
pairing: remus lupin x reader
tags: platonic remus lupin x reader, she/her pronouns, reader is a gryffindor the same year as the marauders, shy reader, mentions of anxiety
The common room was one of your least favourite places to be, but your dorm room was worse, so there you were. It was getting late, and you had a potions assignment due the next day, so you were sitting in a quiet corner trying to work on it. Well, trying to want to work on it. You were only just passing by the skin of your teeth, and if you failed this essay then it would bring your grade down from an Acceptable to a Poor, and that meant that you wouldn’t be able to get the NEWTS you needed. You weren’t sure what those NEWTS were, as the idea of having to do anything after finishing school filled you with fear, but you figured it probably would have something to do with potions. You sort of just picked the electives you enjoyed and then did your best.
Unfortunately, your best didn’t seem to be good enough with this essay, as you had been working on it nonstop for the past four days and you still had another 10 inches of parchment left.
“Disfigurement,” a voice came from above you. You looked up from your homework at a boy, looking bashfully at your parchment.
“Excuse me?”
He had the good graces to look embarrassed by the way you were looking up at him. “Disfigurement is one of the major side affects of using lacewing flies in the potion, a big part of the reason that it’s level three restricted by the ministry,”
Now, normally, a man standing above you and explaining something that you already knew would absolutely ruin your day, Merlin only knew it happened often enough. But normally, the men doing it didn’t look like they were talking about it out of pure interest.
His eyes got slightly dimmer as he realised your annoyance, a darkened honey colour that people wrote songs about. “Sorry, I should’ve- Just because you paused writing doesn’t mean you didn’t know what you were talking about. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” You decided on after a minute. You knew who he was, of course, you didn’t spend seven years in the same grade as someone without learning their name, but you were nearly one hundred percent certain he didn’t know yours.
“I just came over for…” he gestured uselessly at the small collection of cups on the table beside you, with a metal pitcher of ice cold water that stayed full no matter how much you poured it. A group of boys in your year had tried to use it to flood the common room one time. You had a sneaking suspicion the boy in front of you had been involved, despite the fact that he never received detention for it like the others did.
“Go for it.”
He poured two glasses of water and paused, looking at you. “I really am sorry. I’ve offended you.”
“I’m not offended,” you replied honestly. “I normally would be, but I’ll allow it just this once.”
The boy cracked a smile, slightly crooked, and it evened out his whole face, as though he had been created just to smile like that. “Thank you, then.” He corrected softly. “For not being offended by my interruption.” He put the cups down gently and looked for a moment as though he might shake your hand, before thinking better of it and leaving them hanging uselessly by his side. “I’m Remus.”
“So I’ve heard,” you didn’t mean to sound pretentious. “I just mean- we share a lot of classes, so I’ve seen you around a lot.” Now it was your turn to be embarrassed.
Remus continued smiling. “No, I know. I see you all the time. You always snag the good table in the library.” He gestured to you, testing your name out experimentally on his tongue, as though afraid to get it wrong. You nodded.
You liked studying in the library because it made you feel like an actual student. Doing homework on your bed, while the more common alternative, made you feel as though you were doing it wrong somehow. As if, because you hadn’t put in the effort to go all the way to the library and bring your study materials with you that you didn’t deserve to do well on whatever it is you were working on. “Do I?” your voice sounded far away, even to yourself.
“I’ll forgive you, though,” Remus said good naturedly, noticing your change in tone. This interaction had gone on far too long for your liking. You were beginning to feel exhausted. How embarrassing.
Talking to strangers for longer than ten seconds makes my stomach do a backflip, you thought bitterly to yourself. That was why your dorm room didn’t feel as welcoming as it was perhaps meant to. The girls in there talked, like they were friends. And they were friends, it was easy to see that.
You’d been so removed when you first started at Hogwarts, when you were only eleven. So overwhelmed by the hundreds of rooms and the hundreds of students, that when your roommates stayed up all night chattering and getting to know one another, you had felt nothing inside you aside from a desire to go to sleep. It took weeks before your nerves calmed enough to even attempt to contribute to their conversations, and by the time you had realised that maybe you did want to be friends with them, they had accepted your silence.
You gave Remus an awkward smile, the polar opposite of the one he’d given you. As if your grinning was a defect, not something you were designed to do. Sometimes it felt like maybe you weren’t.
He was still standing there. How could you make him go away without explicitly telling him to? You felt nauseous, squirmy under his gaze. Why hadn’t he left yet? “That essay Slughorn gave us is a real doozy, isn’t it?”
You cracked a real, genuine smile at his word choice. You didn’t know anyone who used the word ‘doozy’ and the best part was, it seemed to be entirely unironic. “Yeah, I guess.”
“I was planning on spending the afternoon up in the library, working on it.” His hand fiddled with the hem of his button-up. “Any chance I could sit at the good table?”
You nodded almost instantly. “Yeah, no, sure. It’s all yours. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hog.”
“You’re not,” he let out a breathy laugh. “You’re jumpy, aren’t you?” You felt it, and your cheeks burned at the notion that he could tell. “If you wanted to still study at your same table, and I was also to study there, both of us in complete silence, then I don’t think that would be so bad?”
Remus could see that you wanted to say no, and he didn’t want to push it if you were clearly uninterested, but he also knew that it had been seven years of you being the only Gryffindor girl he’d never spoken to, and also being the only Gryffindor girl he’d ever felt a strong desire to speak to. The others were great, sure, Lily and Marlene had become friends to him more concretely now that Lily and James were seeing each other, and Alice had always been sweet. You, on the other hand, had been described by your roommates as sad. Not ‘pathetic’ sad, but a more deep sadness.
“She’s awfully kind,” Marlene had told him once, hushed in the back of a History Against Magic Lesson. He hadn’t remembered how your name had been brought up. “Think she just likes it quiet.”
“The table’s yours,” you offered. “It’s okay. I can just study down here, it’s warmer.”
“It’s louder, though,” Remus reasoned. “Up there there’s no… well, no guys coming over here to explain something you probably already understand.”
“I thought you said you were going to be there?” You were genuinely confused at what he was asking of you by this point, but he laughed it off. You staved off a frown.
“I always find that homework is nicest when you’ve got someone there,” he offered finally. “Even if you’re not talking, just purely sitting there.”
You didn’t see how that would help at all. You’d probably be too distracted by anyone to even get any work done. But, you realised with a start, the notion of someone wanting to spend time in your vicinity, as innocent as Remus’s intentions were, made your heart ache.
He probably just wanted to be able to sit at the good table without putting you rout, you understood that. But at the same time, if he really wanted to sit there, and he really wanted to not disrupt your routine, then you didn’t see why not, even though maintaining eye contact with him for any longer than a second felt as though you were going to combust in a caramel-irised explosion.
“You can come,” you conceded, gently, hoping as not to come off rude or too territorial about your space. Perhaps it would be better if you studied outside, or in an empty classroom. That way you weren’t getting in his way.
“Excellent,” he was talking too loud, and he could tell that by the way you shrank back in your seat. “Maybe I can finally get my transfiguration grade up, Merlin knows you’re doing well in that class.”
Why would he say that? That made him come across as a stalker who knew all your grades. He hoped you didn’t think that implied you did need help in potions. Your reactions weren’t giving him much, and it was making him nervous. He definitely shouldn’t have come over here, but he had been scrambling for something to say, and now he had to take water over despite the fact that no one had asked for water.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” You closed your textbook so gently it didn’t even made a paper noise as the cover closed. “But if you really do need help, then I might be able to.” You offered him one final smile, cheeks tinged with a visible blush.
You hoped he couldn’t see how dizzy you were getting. You wanted to go sleep and pretend this was all a dream so you could go back to ignoring Remus’s existence like he could go back to ignoring yours.
Unfortunately for you, though, he’d found your little hidey-hole study space that you occupied yesterday, coming in to tease you light heartedly about abandoning him for transfiguration. You didn’t not want to talk to Remus, it was nothing about him. He’d been nothing but sweet and funny in the very limited interactions you’d shared, you were the issue.
“Should’ve known you’d ditch me,” he’d said with a sigh as he sat down, opening his textbook up. You found you didn’t mind his being there as long as you weren’t expected to contribute much to the conversation.
“Thought it would be obvious.” You’d attempted to match his airiness in your tone. It came out strangled.
He sighed gently. “I wanted to pretend it wasn’t so, sweetheart. I thought you and me had something special. I told you about disfigurement in potions and you tell me about disfigurement in transfiguration.”
He’d been attempting to do the spell for about an hour, trying to turn a ball of yarn into a scarf. It was a simple spell that’d normally be of no issue to him, but he just couldn’t get it this time.
After nearly forty minutes of mumbling all but silently to himself so as not to disturb you, you had enough. You reached over and, so delicately he’d thought at first it was simply a breeze, uttered the spell while controlling his hand movements. A long, thickly knitted navy scarf burst from the ball of wool, landing pooled by his crossed legs. You looked up at him, expecting to be reprimanded for the touching, knowing you would have done exactly the same.
“You’re not real,” he said after a moment. Sometimes you felt that way too. “We’re officially studying together every time, now.” He grinned to himself, picking up the scarf and wrapping it securely around your neck multiple times, tucking the ends in to your jumper. It was soft. “Every single time, you little wonder.” You maybe didn’t mind as much this time as you had when he’d last suggested it. Your smile was almost hidden behind the mass of fabric you’d just helped him conjure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see it.