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norrizzandpia · 5 months

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Showing You My Love (LN4)

Summary: McLaren’s forced Lando into a PR stunt of a relationship and his girlfriend, Y/n, back into hiding just when she was ready to go public.

Warnings: language, a condom, angst, a sort of break up, but happy ending

Note: not a request IM SORRY this one isn’t as slay as i can do but i just rlly wanted to get something out bc I haven’t posted in a while and miss yall 🫶🏻 this one’s storyline is quite complicated because Lando is in a PR relationship whilst also having an actual gf sooo have fun? ALSO SMUT FLUFF AND ANGST FOR BOTH LANDO AND OSCAR WILL BE COMING SOON I HAVE LESS THAN A WEEK OF SCHOOL LEFT SO JUST BEAR WITH ME 🙏🏻

“Lan?” Y/n shouts as she walks through the door of his apartment, a large smile on her face as she prepares to ask him a question that could set anew relationship.

She hears a soft sigh before he responds, “In here.”

She travels to the living room to find her boyfriend sitting on the couch, his head buried in his phone.

She sits hesitantly next to him, newfound nerves erupting in her stomach.

“Can I talk to you?” She whispers, his blatant disregard for her presence told her this might not be a good time to breach this particular subject.

He nods nonetheless, waving his hand slightly to signal her continuation, “Sure, what’s up?”

She takes a deep breath, the fact that his eyes aren’t on hers makes her want to back out. She perseveres, although, hands clasped in her lap as she asks, “Do you think we could go public? With our relationship, I mean.”

At this, he freezes. Lando’s fingers stop flying over his phone’s keyboard and he slowly turns to stare at her.

The words try to fall from his lips, but they stop right at the cusp. Lando watches as she retreats into herself, a reality check that cuts deep in her heart as he looks to be rejecting her proposition.

“I…” He hesitates, “I can’t.”

Her eyebrows contort, “Why?”

His phone raises to her face, his hand shoving it in her eyeline to see the text conversation he had been having with Zak before she had sat down. Her gaze floats over the blue bubbles for a moment before she understands and her heart sinks.

“I don’t understand.” She does, though. She just can’t bring herself to accept it.

Lando forces her to, “They want me in a relationship, but a PR stunt. A girl named Olivia, they said.”

Her nails rips at the skin of her thumb, “Why not me?”

“It’s good for the team, baby. She’s a big name, her dad is a big investor. I have to do this.”

It hurts too much to ask, “What does that mean for us?”

He nods, “I knew you were going to ask me this. This doesn’t mean anything for us. It just means that we have to stay quiet for a little while longer. I’m still your boyfriend, Y/n.”

She huffs, “Just in private.”

His arms slithers around her shoulders, a touch so cold she wants to shove it away, “I’ll always be yours. Anywhere. Anytime.”

Sure, let’s see if that proves true, she thought.

—

Olivia is a woman of many things. Kindness is not one of them.

From the moment she steps foot into Lando’s life, Y/n is her main target. From backhanded compliments to obvious jests at her, Y/n watches as Lando lets it all go unsaid.

“Y/n?” Olivia’s voice rings in Y/n’s ear as she stops her staring at Lando.

Turning her head, Y/n smile is strained, “Yes?”

Olivia cocks her head and the sinister look looms beneath her blue eyes, “You’re sitting too close to Lando. Remember, he’s my boyfriend outside. Anybody could see you eyefucking him right now.”

Y/n analyzes the situation. At a lunch table in the paddock, Lando sitting to her left, Olivia to her right, fans and employees scattered amongst the ground below them, Y/n feels her tolerance break a bit more.

She slides her chair across the ground, a dry screeching ringing her ears and drowning out the anger toward the two people sitting closest to her.

Olivia, the woman she loathes, and Lando, the man she hates that she loves. Since the beginning of their act, Y/n has understood where her place is, or at least she has understood from the constant reminder from all people involved. Lando, Olivia, Zak, and Jon have made it their duty to remind her of her image as Lando’s best friend, nothing more.

In the beginning, she felt as though she meant a bit more than just nothing, but, as she sits between the couple as they share small talk, she feels to be falling behind.

A sort of feeling that plasters her heart on the wall and spreads it around until its pieces and bits are left on the ground.

A sort of feeling that forces her to grab her purse and leave the table, mumbling an excuse of wanting to find Oscar, the only other man she knows throughout the paddock.

The feeling worsens when Lando smiles at her, nodding his head along as if there’s no problem.

There’s a wetness pooling in her eyes that begs to differ, that counters Lando’s implications.

🏎️

Y/n finds Oscar in his driver’s room, his body hunched over the bench as he texts Lily on his phone. When he hears the creaking of the door, his eyes lift and begin to soften when they take in Y/n.

“Hey! What’s up?” He cheerfully says, the tone making Y/n draw in a breath as she plasters a smile on her face.

She plops down on his massage bed, “Nothing! Just bored.”

At that, he seems confused, “Where’s Lando? He isn’t free? I feel like it can’t get boring with him.” He chuckles.

She smiles softly, head falling down to stare at her hands in her lap, “He’s with Olivia. Thought I’d give them their space.”

She raises her eyes when she hears Oscar let out a scoff. He stares at her blankly before groaning, “I’m so sorry, I know she’s Lando’s girlfriend and all, but, oh my god, Y/n, I can’t stand her.”

Her teeth shine from her giggles, “Ah, she’s okay. She’s not that bad.”

Oscar deadpans, “Y/n, she asked you how much your Chanel purse was and then told you hers was more expensive.”

Y/n shakes her head, eyes falling back down to her lap, “Yeah, that wasn’t her finest moment.”

“It would make more sense for Lando to date you.” He whispers. Whether he meant for her to hear it or not, Y/n doesn’t know. Regardless, she acts as if she doesn’t, not wanting to have to create a situation where she has to genuinely lie to one of her friends.

As if she hasn’t been doing that for the past year she’s been with Lando.

Lying to every person she cherished most was the worst thing to ask of her. There was a resentment that brewed below the love she had for Lando because of the things he made her give up for him.

“Are you staying for the race? I know it goes pretty late into the night.” Oscar pipes up when a silence encompasses them.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m going to go back to the hotel after this.”

“Oh, too bad.” Oscar sighs as he gets up from his seat, walking over to her and peeking in her bag.

Y/n’s eyebrow inches up, “What are you doing?”

Oscar plants a sly smile on his face as his hand lightly pushes the bag open further, “Got any gum in here?”

She laughs loudly as he continues to search through her bag, less ashamed now. She’s keeled over when she hears him cackle. Y/n looks to see Oscar clasping a small package in his hand, a large smile on his face as he stares in disbelief.

“A condom?! Why do you have a condom?!” He screams, which warrants Y/n to slap her hands over his mouth.

She whispers, “Shut up!”

Oscar's mouth slobbers over her palms as he continues to laugh, “Who are you planning on sleeping with here, Y/n?”

She draws a blank, saying the one thing that comes to her mind, “He isn’t involved with F1.”

Another lie added to the pile she agitatedly sits on.

Oscar draws back, “Oh? There’s an actual man in the picture?”

She grins slightly, grabbing her bag and moving toward the door, “And you wonder why I’m leaving early.”

Oscar stays there, still chuckling at the leftover condom in his hand.

🏎️

Hours later, Lando is running around the paddock like a mad man, stopping random strangers to ask if they had seen Y/n.

Oscar stands off to the side when he hears Lando’s frantic voice behind him, petrifying an innocent fan asking for a simple photo. He waltzes over, hand coming to clasp Lando’s shoulder before saying, “Why don’t you just take the picture, mate?”

Lando turns his head, eyeing Oscar before fully moving his body the other way, “Do you know where Y/n is? I haven’t heard from her at all.”

Oscar looks at Lando blankly, “She left. You didn’t know?”

Lando steps back, “Left? No? What?”

Sensing that there is more to this discussion, he leans around Lando and grabs the fan’s phone. He shuffles Lando and the fan into the frame before snapping the picture, ushering the fan away gently.

When they’re left alone, Oscar questions, “How come you didn’t know? It seemed like a set plan when she told me. She’s going to meet some guy, she said.”

Lando’s eyes bulge, “What?”

The tone is low, intimidating and it makes Oscar doubt the platonic dynamic of the two.

“She hasn’t answered your calls? Have you tried to call her?” Oscar changes the subject, not wanting to realize something when Lando actively has a girlfriend.

Lando shakes his head, “No. Who’s this guy?”

“I don’t know, Lando. She didn’t say anything about him. Ask her about it later. After the race.” Oscar tries, knowing Lando’s presence is direly needed in a few minutes when the lights go out on the track.

Lando huffs, “Fine.”

He walks off, clearly irritated at Y/n’s disappearance.

Oscar watches the scene play out in front of him.

Lando’s figure vanishes from sight.

Then, out of the corner of Oscar’s eye, Olivia’s eyes stay on Lando’s distress before he goes out of sight. She leans against a wall, a smirk on her face that reads something dark.

She shakes her head, tapping away at her phone, as she snickers to herself, seemingly satisfied with her boyfriend’s response.

In the sea of people, Oscar is the only person to witness her behavior.

In the sea of people, Oscar is the only person to see Lando’s and Olivia’s relationship in a different light.

In the sea of people, Oscar is the only person to question what really goes on behind closed doors.

—

“Shit fucking race. Shit fucking day. Shit fucking year. Jesus fucking Christ.” Lando whispers to himself as he unlocks the door to his hotel room.

When he enters through the threshold, the lights are completely out, the only light being the soft sunlight bleeding through the curtains. Y/n’s body lays cuddled under the blankets of the bed and the sight melts Lando’s heart, no matter how disappointed he is in her lack of support today.

He checks the clock, noticing the blaring 7 that makes him feel more comfortable waking Y/n up.

“Baby,” He says lightly, hands shaking her body softly, “Love, wake up.”

She groans under his touch, body crouching further under the bed sheets before her eyelids flutter open.

She looks at him in a raw way that makes him feel exposed, her piercing gaze striking his soul permanently.

“Where’d you go?” He asks as she sits up, blankets still wrapped tightly around her cool body.

She sighs, “I left, Lando.”

“So I heard. To go meet a man, might I add.” He says. Although, this time, it continues to be soft, but there’s a passive undertone that communicates the feeling of abandonment.

She shakes her head, “No, that’s a lie. Just like we are.”

He rears back, “Excuse me?”

His hands are wound tightly across each of her arms and they flex under her skin as the truth lingers in Lando’s ears.

Y/n groans as she pulls herself away from him, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What? Me? Us?” He adds, his body standing up and towering over her.

She mimics his movement, the sheets falling from her shoulders as she extends her limbs, “Everything, Lando. This whole situation! I was so fucking stupid to think that you being in a PR relationship while we were together was something that could work.”

Lando shrugs, “What are you talking about?! You’ve never told me it wasn’t working!”

Her jaw drops open, “You thought this was working?! You thought I was fine with you parading around outside with another girl? Something I’ve wanted for way too long!”

“Y/n, this is bullshit! It’s on you for not telling me how you were feeling!” He remarks, hands being shoved inside his pockets as they bicker back and forth.

She rubs a hand over her forehead, “No, it’s not bullshit, Lando! You’re bullshit! This whole fucking relationship is bullshit! It’s been a fucking lie from the moment it started! I don’t want to be a part of that.”

He sits back down, head in his hands as they pull at the strands, “I don’t know what to tell you, Y/n.”

She stands, vulnerable and helpless, before him as she whispers, “Do you know what it feels like to feel like the other woman when you’re supposed to be the main one? Do you know what it feels like to feel like a dirty secret, something to be ashamed of and hide from prying eyes? Do you know what it fucking feels like to feel so incredibly alone next to a man who is supposed to give you the world? It feels like shit, Lando. You make me feel like shit. You and Zak and Jon and Olivia and everyone else tied to your name. You all make me feel like shit.”

There’s a tear that falls from Lando’s eye as he wills himself to look her in the eye, “I still want to give you the entire world.”

“You can’t.”

The weight of her statement and the hard way she says it breaks him. She stopped living in delusions long ago and he stayed in a land where having her was possible.

“I’m sorry,” He says, watching her put clothes on and grab her suitcase.

“I know you are.” She responds, a beat passing before she whispers back, “I’m sorry too.”

Her definitive statement achingly stays with him as he watches her gather her things and call an Uber.

“Where are you going to go?” He says softly, almost as if breaking the silence will break them further.

“My sister’s house. You know, you remember cause I told you, she lives a few hours from here.”

He nods, “Text me when you get there?”

She stands at the door, he stands with her, and she shakes her head, “No, Lando.”

She walks out the door, Lando grabs her arm, “Is this it? I don’t understand. Are we…” He can’t bring himself to say it.

She breathes, “I’m not sure either, to be honest. I know I said I couldn’t do this anymore with you, but it’s not that easy and I know what we have. I’ve never felt this before. I just need some time and space from you, from this world. I need to decide if staying is really worth the situation I’ve been put in.”

She walks further down the hall and Lando watches her, a few more sentences lingering in his brain that has him wishing he had said them to her.

He doesn’t get a chance to say them, however.

The elevator doors close before he can get them out.

—

There’s loud cheering and sounds of yells as Lando throws off his helmet, a large smile on his face as his first race win seeps under his skin.

He throws his body into the group of his mechanics, hugging his favorite people, and when he turns, expecting to see his favorite girl, he sees Olivia instead.

He tries to hide his disappointment as he hugs her, her body not fitting the way Y/n’s had.

There’s a silence that falls upon him as he gazes upon the thousands of people yelling his name and he’s hit with a deep wave of grief.

Grieving over the loss of his best friend, the loss of his girlfriend, the loss of the love of his life, the loss of his Y/n.

Images of her dance in his head as Mark Webber ushers him over, a microphone in each hand as he smiles at him.

A memory of the time she told him all the things she loved about him because he was feeling inadequate plagues his brain as Mark congratulates him.

“Lando! Stellar job here today in Silverstone! How does it feel to have your first race win?” Mark inquires, shaking Lando’s shoulder lovingly.

Lando hesitates to answer because, frankly, it fucking sucks. He meets Jon’s eyes and the man looks as if he’s lost himself. Jon stares at him with a deep gaze, a look Lando recognizes as the way Jon looks when he’s utterly ashamed of himself. Lando can already tell what he’s about to mouth before Jon’s lips begin to move, “I’m so sorry.” He says inaudibly.

The Brit takes the three words as a green light. The confirmation he can get his girl back.

“Not great.” Lando says into the microphone, the crowds falling silent at his surprising words.

Mark frowns, “Oh? Why’s that? This is a happy day!”

Lando shakes his head as he looks down and sighs, “You know, I always thought I would be so over the moon to win my first race, but, as I stand here, a trophy awaiting me, I genuinely feel so disappointed. I feel disappointed because I’ve lost sight of the one win in my life that I lost so stupidly. My best friend, Y/n, as everyone knows her, was never my best friend. I mean, she was my best friend, but she was also my girlfriend, somebody I was incredibly in love with. Somebody I am in love with. Shit, this is so messy and so hard to condense into this short interview, but I have to say it. Olivia and I were a PR stunt. There were individuals that wanted me to be dating someone of a higher status, something Y/n doesn’t have. She was forced to sit through four months of excruciating pain because Olivia and I were being shoved in her face. Y/n is one of the strongest people I know, the fact she was able to go through that with a straight face proves that. But, I can’t let what she told me the night she left me go unsaid.” Lando looks into the camera, as cheesy as he knows it is and says what he had wanted to tell her that night as the elevator doors cut him off, “Y/n, you are not the other woman. You are not a dirty secret and you are not alone. You are the complete opposite of all those things. You are the one person I’ve ever truly loved; the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with; the one person I cannot live without; the one person that I cannot bear hurting. I’ve hurt you, I know that, a lot of people involved in this have and I hate that. I hate that I didn’t stop what was going on, fight back against what they were asking me to do. I’m so sorry. If I could redo it, I would. I would say no to it all and go public with you. I would tell you a thousand times yes that night on the sofa when you asked me if we could go public. I would do it all so differently because, maybe I didn’t before, but I know what I’ve lost now and I will fight so much harder for us, harder than I did that night you walked out because I have been in love with you for so long. I’ve waited for you my entire life, even before I knew who you were. I’ve waited for the person I ended up settling down with, waited for the person who stole my breath. I’ve waited for you and I’m not going to let that go to waste. I was dick and I took you for granted. Please let me show you that that was never the way I wanted to treat you, that I can love you better than that. Please let me back in. It’s public now, baby. Public and I don’t want that to ever change.”

Mark smiles brightly at him as the crowd behind them cheers deafeningly, “Young love, yeah?”

Lando nods, “Yeah.”

🏎️

Caroline sits on the arm of the couch next to Y/n, mouth agape. Y/n mirrors her expression, blanket wrapped around her legs as Lando retreats from the frame.

“What just happened?” Caroline, her sister, asks. There’s a small smile on her face as the shock wears off.

Y/n shakes her head, her hands already trying to find her phone, “I don’t know.”

The two watch as Lando is presented with his trophy, the camera zooming in on him as he mouths, “This one’s for you, love.”

Y/n is smiling so hard it’s painful and her sister watches her with delight. When the champagne spraying is done and the feed ends, Y/n leaps from the couch.

“Did you see that?!” She exclaims, giddy laughter over the one thing she had yearned for and finally got.

Caroline joins her incessant jumping, “Yes! It’s public!”

The two squeal together, but the noises are cut off when Y/n’s phone rings from between the couch cushions.

Caroline smiles before exiting the room, Lando’s contact photo lighting up her sister’s screen and cueing her leave.

However, she stays in the other room, eavesdropping without a care in the world.

Y/n picks up the phone, shaky hand bringing the device to her ear as Lando’s panting floods through the speaker.

“Y/n? Were you watching the race?” He asks.

She nods, tears in her eyes as she whispers, “Yes,”

He breathes out a sigh of relief, “So, you saw what I said?”

“Yes,”

He’s quiet for a moment, “And… what did you think?”

He hears quiet giggling on the other end of the phone and his heart soars to the sky, “You have a way with words, Lan.”

“Only with you,” He adds, smiling to himself over the girl miles away.

There’s a loud grunt and crash on his side of the phone, one that sends Y/n laughing.

“Let me guess, Olivia?” She tries to which Lando laughs.

“Right on the nail, baby.” He whispers as her yells continue.

“What do Zak and Jon think about this?” She asks after a time.

Lando tuts, “They’re glad to get rid of Olivia. Jon apologized to me the second I got off the podium. He said he wants to apologize to you too. So does Zak. They both do. They know how they went about it all was wrong and Jon went on this whole rant about seeing me as a son and how he would never want to treat his son the way he had treated me. Trust me, love, they’re as on board with this as we are.”

Y/n nods before asking quietly, “You’re on summer break now, right?”

“Yes,”

“What are your plans?”

He smiles, “Taking the first flight to you. Why?”

Y/n laughs, “I was going to ask you if I could come to Monaco, to see you, but it turns out seeing each other is a problem already solved.”

He chuckles along with her, “No, baby, you stay right where you are. It’s time I start coming to you now. Time I start showing you the lengths I’d go to to keep you in my life, to keep loving you.”

She blushes, “That speech sure accomplished that.”

His cheeks redden just like hers, “Oh, love, that’s just the beginning.”

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laiiaaa · 5 months

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Carmy with a stressed cranky gf getting her degree and he’s just so good to her ughhhhhhh (so self-indulgent)

“Carmen, could you—could you just, fuckin’—…watch where you’re going?”

He freezes where he took a misstep, leaving your laptop’s charger dangling near the floor after accidentally unplugging it. A simple little thing, a dumb mistake made while caught up in something else mentally. A matter of a charger extended beyond its comfortable reach. It’d be fixed in seconds, but you weren’t having it.

A confused look washes over him. “I-I’m sorry, baby—” He knows you’re in one of those moods—he always knows—and lowers to pick up the cord. “Lemme plug it back in for you—”

“Or you could just not walk right into it,” you snap, fingers tapping away at your keyboard, face illuminated in a blueish hue from the screen.

“Hey.” He perks right back up after fixing the charger, but you don’t look back at him. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t start that w’me, c’mon.” He comes a little closer, perched at the end of the couch right beside you. “You’re in a mood.”

“I’m not.” You definitely are.

“Baby.” Instinctively, his hand comes to rub your shoulder, his thumb presses just a little firmer along the crook of your neck. “Take a break for the night.”

“I need to finish up with this—”

“‘M not asking.” He gives you that look, with his hands extended to silently demand you hand over your computer. “It’s a Friday night. C’mon.”

You pout, and you huff, and you give him those eyes that tell him you don’t want to, but you save your document and hand it over anyway, quickly curling into the end of the couch and not making a move when he sits next to you.

“You mad at me?” he asks, looping his arm over your shoulder, a little hurt when you don’t melt into his touch like you usually do.

You keep your eyes glued to the wall, not paying him any mind. “No.”

“Then why’re you always workin’, huh?” He squeezes you a little tighter, bringing you deeper into his embrace as he cups your jaw—with those firm, strong hands of his that somehow always have you pliant—and turns you to look up at him. “Every time I come home you’re on the computer with that look on your face.”

“I don’t have a look.”

Smiling, he presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah you do.” Then to the furrow in your brow. “But it’s cute.”

He scatters slow, gentle kisses across your face, from your temples, to your cheeks, to your jaw, until he finds your lips and takes them carefully, relishing in your act of apology when your hands circle around his forearms and kiss him a little deeper. And slowly, he feels the tenseness in your body begin to dissipate, feels you turn into him more.

Pulling away, still intent on figuring out your rut, he rests his forehead to yours. “Talk to me, baby. What’s got you actin’ all mean, hm?” His hands hold you close, and his thumbs graze your cheekbones. “Somethin’ I do you wanna talk about?”

“No—”

“No?” He’d be lying if he said a wave of relief washed over him. “What’s goin’ on then?”

“I’m—it’s just that—…” You sigh.

He waits patiently, knowing that by now he’s cracking open that shell. “‘S alright, hon, we can work it out.”

“Carmen, I just—” And your lip quivers, and your throat gets sore, and your vision gets bleary from tears emerging. “I have so much to do, and—…”

“For school?”

You nod against him. “It’s just—I get behind on one thing, and then there’s five other things I need to do, and I try to get ahead but then I don’t sleep, and—I-I’m just stressed, is all.”

“I know.” He coos gently at you and thumbs away your tears. “I know, ‘n you’ve been workin’ so hard, baby.”

“Well I’m still not getting anywhere.” Your throat tightens, and tears keep falling, and you feel your resolve crumbling, the last of your strength dissolving now that Carmen’s handling you so gently. “And I just feel so stupid all the time—”

“Uh-uh,” he nudges his nose against yours, “You don’t get to say that, you’re the smartest person I know.”

He pulls you away carefully, just to look you in the eye—and his gut wrenches, seeing you like this, all pouty and wet with tears, your lips salty when he kisses them slowly to mellow the racing of your heart.

With a calm hand he urges your head to rest against his chest, his lips lending a kiss to your temple. “So fuckin’ smart ‘n you don’t even know it.” Naturally, the rest of you follows, with his arms keeping you close, one wrapped around your waist to hold you tight as the other hand rests with on the back of your neck to soothe you, scratching gently at the nape of it. “Always blowin’ me away, baby, you’re so smart. So hardworkin’, too—”

“But Carm—” Your sobs choke you up then, and there’s a throb in your forehead that has you almost begging for sleep.

“Shhh, what is it?” His hand smooths up and down your back, his voice becomes gentler than ever. “Take a breath, c’mon, take a deep breath.”

You push yourself away from his chest, seeing the tears staining his white tee before you look up at him. “I’m sorry, Bear. All the stress, it’s—I’ve been so mean to you lately—” you don’t even process the vigorous shake of his head— “I’m sorry, Bear—”

“Hey, hey, baby, stop—” He wipes tears from your eyes before they get the chance to spill onto your cheeks. “Stop with that, would ya?” Another kiss to your forehead has you melting. “You’re okay. We’re okay.” Another kiss, slower, to your sob-bitten lips, like he wants you to taste his forgiveness.

“But I was mean to you, and I’m sorry—”

His chest physically aches because he knows there’s only so much he can do for you. “I know,” he tells you, “I know, baby, I got you. It’s okay.”

“I promise don’t mean it, Carmen—”

“Yeah, I know that, hon.” Pulling you tight to his chest again, his strong arms wrap around you fully, and he presses kisses to the skin where he’s nuzzled into your neck. “You’re workin’ yourself to the bone, y’know that?”

“Mhm,” you hum, just happy to be held, to be swallowed whole by his warmth.

“You promise to rest up from now on?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah? Not even listenin’, huh?”

“Mhm.” You burrow into him just a little deeper, eyes slipping shut.

He scoffs, but it’s full of love. “It’s gettin’ late now.” He shuffles you closer to him with little effort, hooking his hands beneath your thighs to encourage them around his hips. “Let’s get you t’bed, hm? C’mon—” he hoists you to his hip with a subtle grunt— “Up you go, baby, that’s it—”

And in the brief minute or two it takes for him to turn out the lights in your shared apartment, and the twenty-some paces to the bedroom, you’re lulled off to sleep in his embrace, stoking that fire in his chest that keeps him going—because knowing you feel safe with him, secure with him, is all he really needs.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto imagines #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu

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tmblrcolouredpaper · 6 months

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Sleepy scenarios with TXT: habits, routines and rituals that occur when you share a bed with them (fluff)

5 scenarios, member x reader

wc (in total): 2691

no warnings

Yeonjun

Refuses to use individual blankets and pillows

One blanket, one pillow

You're freezing? Blanket is not big enough to comfortably lay next to each other? Yeonjun takes up the pillow, so his chest is the only free space for your head to rest? Well, you gotta cuddle the whole night then.

You tuck him in each evening, making sure he has more of the blanket and Yeonjun loooooves it, letting you do this task while having the biggest grin on his face.

You keep complaining about it, but end up giving in to the forced cuddles, because do you want to freeze? No! Do you want to sleep without Yeonjun to have your own blanket? NO!?

Yeonjun always makes sure you sleep first regardless of how tired he might be.

He caresses your arm up and down, gently has his hand on your back or lets his fingers slowly wander over your face.

You end up turning away and taking up all the blanket with one move. That's when Yeonjun knows he can fall asleep now too.

Holds you close and sometimes feels you pulling the blanket back over him in the middle of the night.

It's intuitive how you always end up in his arms with both of you covered by the blanket again.

You basically sleep half on top of him and the one who sleeps longer wins the blanket in the morning.

It's Yeonjun's favorite game. You hate it, but love it.

'Is it raining again?', you asked, refusing to pull the blanket away from your face to look outside the window yourself.

'Yep', Yeonjun chirped and pulled the curtains aside even further with an overdramatic and energized stretch of his arms.

He welcomed the grey weather, heavy clouds imitating the thick blanket on his bed that he couldn't feel covering him most times throughout the night.

He looked back to where you were lying and smiled. This was his favorite part of each day he experienced with you.

'You stole the blanket again', he sighed with the smile still plastering his face.

'I keep telling you to use two blankets when two people sleep in this bed, but -', you mumbled into the singular pillow on the bed, until you felt Yeonjun dropping down on you.

'You just have to tuck me in better', he laughed and clang onto you like a koala on top of a branch.

'I'll tie a rope around you and this stupid blanket', you groaned and tried to wiggle free.

Yeonjun only allowed that process only go as far as your face being visible.

'Look who is ready to face the day', he hummed and kissed the tip of your nose.

Soobin

Wants to see you in his clothes.

Gets too excited to have you with him in these late hours AND the early hours.

Throws a pile of shirts and hoodies on top of you to let you pick what you want to wear.

One shirt, one hoodie, but then also another hoodie that you can cuddle.

He doesn't necessarily need physical contact the whole time. He's happily at peace with your close presence, but he doesn't want you to feel any sort of distance despite remaining a more comfortable sleeping position. Solution: You wrapped up in his belongings and holding onto the soft fabric with his scent as well.

Cuddles in the morning are a must tho.

He'll wear the hoodie you cuddled when the cold morning arrives and lets you wake up in his arms when you're comfortable with such closeness.

'Where is it?', Soobin mumbled half asleep, freezing in the dark and quiet room.

His hand dived through the layers of sheets. His blanket, your blanket, the layers of clothes that embraced you... Somewhere there should have been the grey hoodie he gave you in the evening before going to bed. However, he couldn't find it, too dark to to see and too messy to feel the right cloth.

Frustrated, he let his head fall back against his pillow and he sighed tiredly, feeling too cold to fall back asleep yet too lazy to get up and get another hoodie. Besides, he wanted THIS specific hoodie that must be somewhen around you.

You turned and rolled over, closer to Soobin's side of the bed and he immediately let his hand wanter into the direction he expected your shoulder to be to adjust the blanket. Unfortunately, he took the wrong direction and he hit your chin clumsily. He quickly pulle away and mumbled a shocked excuse.

'S'biiin', you whined half asleep and groaned into the blanket.

'Sorry', he repeated and pulled his own blanket further over his body, getting a sense of hiding in his embarrassment.

You moved again, big movements, freeing your arm and swinging something through the air. It landed on Soobin's face and engulfed him with your sleepy warmth.

'Y'owe me m'ning cuddles', you mumbled and pushed yourself against him, but pushed your arms back under the blanket.

Soobin giggled and proceeded to put on the warm hoodie, finally arriving in the state of comfortable morning.

He pulled you in your blanket wrap closer and felt you resting your head on his chest with a big sigh, making him smile like an idiot.

'Sleep', you demanded and instinctive he listened to your command and closed his eyes.

It was warm and when he sensed you moving again, adjusting your position to mold into him a bit more, a few seconds later feeling your fingers playing with is hair, Soobin was starting into the new day perfectly relaxed and well rested.

Beomgyu

You're his pillow, you're his bed

It doesn't matter where you are, on the train, on the floor, actually in bed, he will rest somehow on top of you

He doesn't even think about it, but once he gets tired, he gravitates towards you.

At the same time, he holds your hand when you get tired.

Let's you play with his fingers until you drift away.

He would literally invent an own morse code system with you, so when he's awake and you're too sleepy to talk to him verbally, you'd still be able to respond to him.

It makes him feel like your guardian at the boarder from awake to dream land.

The one who ends up tired first gets royal treatment.

If you're both tired at the same time, he'd lean against you with his hand close to you, so you can just take it when you need or want to.

The train got emptier and emptier with each stop, yet Beomgyu and you still had some way to go. The moon seemed to follow you and whenever you looked outside, a different cloud was decorating the stone in space. Beomgyu's head was leaning against your shoulder and his closed eyes exposed his luxurious dark eyelashes. He looked adorable and your focus shifted from moon to him, back and forth until you yourself got overwhelmed by a wave of tiredness. You combed his hair with your fingers, a gentle attempt to wake him. He stirred and sat up. Only one glance was enough for him to register your demeanor.

'Your turn', he whispered and his hand found yours and feeling his warmth immediately brought you closer to sleep.

'Set an alarm', you mumbled and took your scarf from your neck to adjust it over his and your legs like a blanket.

'When do we have to get off', he asked and a big yawn escaped his lips when he opened the alarm app, his eyes getting teary.

You took his phone and set the alarm to 10:53 pm, ten minutes before you were supposed to arrive. Beomgyu wiped his eyes and his head landed back against your shoulder. He grabbed your arm and linked it with his own, intertwining your fingers in the process, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

'Just sleep a bit', he mumbled and caressed you felt him tracing your palm with his thumb until sleep finally numbed you.

When the alarm rang, you woke up properly first. Panic occupying your body in no time. You shook Beomgyu away and buried yourself gathering your belongings. The train stopped almost on time at your final destination and you got off, with bags in your hand and Beomgyu still clinging onto your arm, ready to let his head drop against go despite asking through the city.

'Fall asleep in bed, not now!', you granted and felt one bag falling out of your grip.

'We're not dreaming?', he asked and laughed, taking the bags with one and your hand with his other hand, now guiding you home.

Finally in bed that night, Beomgyu asked:'We dream together, right? I always try to follow you to your dream land when you fall asleep first. I always try to find you'.

You hand fount its way into his hair and he buried his face closer the crock of your neck.

'Don't have to try finding me. I'm always there whether you see me or not'.

Taehyun

He's not playing when it comes to sleep.

Practical and organized routine.

Fresh sheets? Check. Water bottle on each side of bed? Check. Phones charging? Che- You forgot your charger and have no battery left? He gives you his phone to watch something or read and charges your phone on his side that while.

Cuddles you to get a sight on the screen as well, but snatches the phone away after thirty minutes and plugs it in.

Refuses on giving you your phone back, because you shouldn't stare at the screen last thing at night.

Literally fights you when you try to reach it. Tickles you, pins you down, laughs with you until you both are out of breath.

Only then, knowing you end the day with a sprinkle of happiness, he switches off the light.

Gives you your phone back in the dark, but you're doomed if he sees that screen shining.

If your head is full and you think you need your phone to distract yourself, he'll cuddle you. He's your distraction and your focus.

'Please just shut your phone', Taehyun whined for the third time this night.

He tried just not facing you, pulling the blanket completely over him, dear, he even built a pillow wall to shut off the light of the phone screen. It didn't work. He might not have seen the light, but he could still sense your whole demeanor, focus on your phone and not even slightly on sleep... or him.

'No', you cried out and he saw the light finally getting off.

'I was in the middle of this Webtoon chapter', you explained and Taehyun finally decided to break the blockade towards you, taking the pillows away and robbed closer towards you.

'Hey', you said in shock when he snatched your phone out of your hand.

'Just charging it', he explained and plugged it in on and placed it on his bedside table.

'Here', he announced and gave you his phone instead.

'It better be a good chapter, because I wanna read with you'.

He watched you opening the app and typing some things in the search bar and to your surprise the correct title popped up immediately.

'It's your account, silly', Taehyun laughed and cuddled closer to you, positioning himself so that he can see the screen.

He read with you, silently. From time to time, he glanced up and studied your face. Once your eyelids wee so heavy you obviously fought not to fall asleep every second, Taehyun repeated his action and took the phone away from you. You demonstrated with a weak 'hey', but in no time you already held onto your own phone again.

'No screen anymore, okay? You need to sleep', Taehyun whispers softly and maneuvered your arm to your own bedside table to signal you to finally put your phone down for the night.

'Can we cuddle?', you asked lowly and felt Taeyhun pulling you closer, embracing you in his warmth and with his attention on you, sleep was not avoidable anymore.

Taehyun felt you breathing in his arms in a calm rhythm. He got a bit thirsty and reached to his side next to the table where he found his water bottle that you prepared for him even before he arrived at home. The luxury of being able to go to bed with everything already perfectly prepared gave him the sense of just sleeping, but he liked to remind himself of his priority that was you and your comfort.

Kai

Other than Soobin, cuddles YOUR hoodie or dresses one of his plushies in one of your shirts when you're not there.

Stays close to you before switching of the lights. A hand on your stomach, a leg thrown over you or you cuddled into him.

Lights off and position for sleep adjusting, you don't sleep right away. You talk. About everything and nothing.

The more sleep-drunk you get the more abstract will the topics end up being.

For instance, you start talking about Pokemon in general and end up designing a whole 'Day in my Life as Mawile'.

You guys have no idea at what point you fell asleep, trying to follow memory line to the last plot point.

Waking up is messy. Blanket messy, pillows everywhere, plushies between and around you, despite them usually chilling aside, away enough to not come in your way.

Sleepy cuddles in the mess of warmth and softness.

Tidying up together, arranging the whole bed setup as a morning ritual.

'This is new', you laughed and pointed at the moiling plushie that was wearing your cropped shirt, regular size on the fluffy creature.

'Oh. OH! Yeah', Kai slightly panicked and suppressed the urge to throw Molang into another room to hide this attire.

'You know I was already wondering where this shirt went?', you teased him, well aware of his embarrassment.

'Oh, sorry, you can have it back', he spoke quickly, making you laugh and hug him.

'It suits Molang way better anyway'.

Kai pulled the blanket over you both when you lied down and his hand instinctively found its way to rest on your stomach, minimalistically rubbing circles over the fabric of the hoodie you were wearing.

You both lied there, facing the ceiling and letting the lights of the passing by cars flicker over the walls. The ticking of a clock is audible and it was a weird atmosphere of quietness and irritating noisiness.

'So', you started and Kai immediately turned to his side, facing you and robbing himself up by pushing his free hand under his cheek, ready to listen to whatever you had to say.

'When and how did you steal, sorry, did Molang steal my shirt?', you spoke, unable to ban some wheezes out of your speaking, because Kai looked absolutely cute the way he was staring at you, all sleepy yet attentive.

'Borrowed. It's borrowed not stolen', Kai corrected in a matter of factly and hurried to place a kiss on your cheek to finish his sentence properly.

'You simply forgot it here and I wanted to make use of it the best way possible', he continued and a second touch of his lips followed.

'Did you at least wash it?', you asked, genuinely not knowing what his answer might end up being.

'Washing machines are not invented yet', he yawned and you made a mental note to wash the damn shirt tomorrow.

'What else isn't invented yet?',, you asked and rolled over to be closer to him.

He adjusted and held you close right away.

'Cars', he said.

'What are those lights then?', you asked and pointed up the wall.

Kai took your hand and pulled it towards his lips to place another kiss, this time on the back of your hand, before he maneuvered your arm around him with a content sigh.

'Gigantic fireflies`, he chuckled and after a few more explanations of what everything technological around you actually is, you two fall asleep, dreaming of a fantasy world with gigantic fireflies and Molang presenting its new shirt collection.

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cameronspecial · 2 months

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Mrs. Cameron All But In Name

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: When Y/N has to burrow Wheezie's phone to text Rafe, she notices something interesting about her contact name.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Y/N and Rafe have been dating for three years now and it is clear they are meant to be together. If it weren’t for their young age, Y/N is sure they would be married or at least engaged by now. They practically act like an old married couple anyway, so when they do tie the knot, it would only really be for legal reasons. With dating Rafe, came a close relationship with his sisters. Sarah and Wheezie have practically become her own siblings and she loves to spend time with the girls. In fact, it’s why she has a bi-monthly girls' night with the pair. Yes, every time they have it they have to chase Rafe out of the house, but Y/N thinks it is important to foster the bond between them, so he always begrudgingly leaves to hang out with Kelce and Topper. “How are things with you and John B?” Y/N questions while tracking the nail polish brush along Wheezie’s nail. Sarah shrugs as she files her nails, “We’re fighting right now. He doesn’t want to go to the Nassau house with us and I want him to go.” “Aww, that sucks, Sweetie. I’m sure he’ll come around. Do you want me to have a talk with him?” Y/N offers. Sarah shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. We’ll make up eventually. We just need to cool off a little.” Y/N nods and finishes off the last coat of Wheezie’s nails. She releases the hand, “There you go, Beautiful. What colour do you want, Sarah?”

Sarah places the nail file on the table and examines her options before picking up a salmon pink polish from the collection. Y/N gets to work on doing the older Cameron sister’s nails, “How about you, Wheezie? Anyone on your radar you want to tell us about.” Wheezie lips pucker as she squints her eyes. “Nahh, I am happy being single. I see what you and Sarah go through with John B and Rafe. I do not need that type of problem,” she informs. The other girls giggle. Y/N checks her phone to see it is dead, “Amen to that, Wheeze. I mean look. My phone is dead, but how much do you want to bet that your brother is blowing up my phone right now asking me when he can come back home? Can I please borrow one of your phones to tell him my phone is dead while I charge mine?” “Of course, here,” Wheezie says, unlocking her phone so that Y/N can use it.

She places the nail polish on the table and scrolls through Wheezie’s messages to find the texts with Rafe. A certain contact name second down the list catches her eye. Y/N Cameron. She freezes at the sight. Her eyes flick toward the younger girl, “Why do you have my last name as yours?” Wheezie’s cheeks redden and her gaze falls away from her brother’s girlfriend. “Rafe did it. He said that it’s going to be your name eventually, so what difference does it make,” Wheezie states. Y/N chuckles with a shake of her head, “That doesn’t surprise me at all.” She types out her message and hits send. My phone is dead, so don’t freak out if I don’t respond. I’m charging my phone rn. -Mrs. Cameron.”

———

His phone chimes and a massive grin crosses his face. He checks his text, feeling his heart flutter at the message. So she found out what he’d been saving her name as in everyone’s contact. He chuckles. It took her long enough to find out. He’s been ordering everyone to change her last name in their contact for years. His smile doesn’t wipe off as he responds. Come on, Baby. You know you are my Mrs. Cameron all but in name. You can’t blame me for wanting to make the process easier for everyone else once we do take the next step.

Smh. You really are something else, Mr. Cameron.

But I’m your something else, Mrs. Cameron, but you know you love me.

You are lucky that I do. Now, I’m going to end this conversation here before you start dirty-talking me. I’m not subjecting Wheeze to those texts.

You know me so well, Baby.

Goodbye, Rafey. I love you.

I love you too, Baby. I’ll see you when I get home.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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mapiforpresident · 2 months

Note

can we get 11 with aitana bonmati x alexia sister!reader and ale finds out

Secret Hotel Kisses

Aitana x Putellas!reader,

Warnings: almost smut but not

Summary: You and your girlfriend get caught in a compromising position.

You kept stealing glances at your girlfriend from across the table, trying to be subtle. You were pretending to listen to your sister's rambling about tactics for the upcoming game, giving her a nod or agreement every once in a while. Aitana blushed under your glances from next to Keira, a lot more worried about getting caught than you apparently were as you smirked back at her. You were currently sitting at dinner at the hotel Barcelona was staying at for your away game.

"Are you even listening to me, hermanita?" Alexia asked from next to you, thinking you had drifted off into space again after you didn't answer her question about if you wanted to watch film with her later.

"Of course I was listening. What did you say again?" Alexia sighed as she repeated her question, used to you zoning out.

"Sure, I'll be up to your room at 7. I want to get a quick power nap in, and I promised Pina and Patri I would go to the pool with them first," You replied as you stood up and cleared your dishes. You headed to the elevator, ready to go up to your room when Aitana appeared from around the corner.

“Heading up?” You asked her with a smirk. She just nodded in reply. You loved the way you could make her blush or be shy just with a smirk. As soon as you both stepped into the elevator, you leaned down to kiss her. Aitana immediately kissed you back, having missed the feeling of your lips on hers the entire day. As quickly as the kiss started, it ended as the doors to the elevator opened. The two of you then headed to your shared room. Alexia assigned the two of you as roommates, believing you were just best friends. She would never let you two room together if she knew you were in a relationship, one of the many reasons you did not want to tell her.

"When are you headed to the pool, bebé?" Aitana asked after you had stepped into the room and closed the door. She was already getting comfy in bed, ready to read her book for a little bit.

"In a couple of minutes, I just have to put on my bikini," you replied as you went to get one out of your suitcase.

"Which one are you going to wear?" she asked, watching you rummaging through your suitcase.

"I think I'll wear the red one since I know it's your favorite." She blushed heavily, thinking about all the times you have caught her staring at you in your red swimsuit that covered very little skin.

~~~

At 6:45, you walked back into your room, hair wet from the pool, to see Aitana still reading her book in bed.

"Hola bebé, is your book good? You read a lot while I was gone."

"Yes, I'm just getting to the good part. I think I might finish it tonight. Keira finished it yesterday and lent it to me, so I'm excited to talk with her about it tomorrow," she replied while marking her page and setting it on the table next to the bed. As soon as she set the book down, you jumped on top of her as she squealed.

"Get off, get off, you're getting me all wet, and your hair is freezing, bebé." You sunk down further into her warm body as she said this, wrapping your arms tightly around her so she couldn't push you off. Once you did this, she gave up on trying to get you to move, knowing that her efforts would not work. She hugged you back, glancing at you to see you staring at her with a loving expression on your face.

"What is it, mi amor?" She asked as she kissed your cheek.

"Nothing, I just love you, and I am so happy you are my girlfriend." She blushed again at your words, always being affected by you. You continued to stare into each other's eyes with wide smiles on both of your faces. After a minute or two, you couldn't resist her lips any longer, and you leaned down to kiss her slowly, putting all your love for her into the kiss.

You continued to kiss her slowly for a couple of minutes before she swiped your bottom lip with her tongue, which you immediately let enter. She also then untied your bikini top, pulling it off your body and flinging it somewhere across the room. You then quickly pulled her top off before starting to kiss down her neck, still going relatively slow, wanting to savor the moment with your lover.

You both were so lost in the kiss; you didn't even hear the first knock on the door or the second one thirty seconds later, a little louder. At this point, you had kissed further down Aitana, currently leaving small kisses right above the waistband of her shorts you were about to pull down.

That was right then Alexia walked through the door using the key card she had for all the rooms. "You better not still be taking your nap, I was waiting for fifteen minutes..." She was talking as she walked into the room but immediately froze in place at what she saw, immediately covering her eyes and shouting, "Aitana Bonmatí, that better not be my sister you are corrupting." Your head immediately shot up at the shout, not having seen or heard anyone entering your room until that moment. You immediately grabbed the sheet covering both you and your girlfriend. Aitana hid behind you, not wanting to face the wrath of her captain, but especially not wanting her girlfriend's sister to hate her.

"Oh my god, I completely forgot about our film session."

"Well, that's obvious," Alexia replied back sarcastically as she still had her eyes covered. "Both of you get dressed, please. I will be back in five minutes; we are going to have a talk." She then walked out the door shaking her head to herself, knowing she was going to be scared for life after what she just saw her baby sister doing.

You and Aitana got dressed in silence and quietly sat on the end of the bed, both nervous for whatever Alexia was going to say to you both. Exactly five minutes later, you heard a knock on the door, shouting for her to come in, knowing she was not going to abruptly walk in again. As she stepped through the door, both your and Aitana's faces sank. Alexia had a frown on her face and was staring back and forth at the two of you as she pulled out the desk chair and sat across from you, not saying a word the entire time.

After another minute of no one saying anything and Alexia glaring, particularly at Aitana, a wide smile broke out on her face. You and Aitana glanced at each other, now both extremely confused as to what was happening.

"I approve," Alexia said, still grinning.

"What?" You replied, since Aitana still had no idea what to say.

"I approve. I know Aitana will treat you well. She is someone I trust, and you know I trust you and your judgement. I am a little hurt that you didn't tell me, but I am glad that you found a good one, even if she is still corrupting my baby sister."

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't tell Alba either. And thank you, Ale, it means a lot to me that you support us and are happy." You replied as you got up to hug your sister, honestly relieved at how this whole thing was going.

"That does not make me feel better; we both know Alba can't keep a secret to save her life anyway," Alexia replied as she moved to hug Aitana. "And you, Aitana, better treat her right, or you will run laps until your legs fall off, and you can't play football again. But I am happy you found someone as good as my sister. I love you both, and you both deserve all the happiness in the world."

"Olga is making you a lot softer, hermana. Ooo, we should go on a double date sometime," You said to your sister as Aitana said, "Thank you a lot, Ale, and I promise I will treat her perfectly like she deserves. She makes me very happy."

"Now let's watch some film," she said as she dragged you both to her room, not wanting to be in your room any longer than she had to, not wanting to remember what she walked in on.

As she let you both into her room, you and Aitana both stopped in your tracks, causing Alexia to run into you. Looking up to see why you stopped, she whined out, "ay dios mío," as Mapi's head shot up from where she had been kissing Ingrid's neck with her hand down her girlfriend's shorts.

#woso #woso x reader #fcb femení #mapi leon #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #ingrid engen #fcb femení x reader

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b2cute · 1 month

Text

Tense

matt and fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, fluff, pet names, that’s it enjoy :)

word count: idk

*y/ns pov*

I drop my bags almost immediately after entering the triplets house. It was finally the weekend and they, mostly Matt, invited me to spend the night after work. I wasted no time saying yes since I was free and find myself now heading up the stairs into their LA house. I throw my shoes off nearby the second case of stairs and walking to Matt’s bathroom to freshen up.

I figured they were all in their rooms doing their own thing so I decided to throw a movie on the couch as to not bother them. I across through netflix until a show caught my eye as I begin to watch.

*matts pov*

It’s been about two hours since y/n was supposed to be home and honestly, she was starting to worry me. She hasn’t entered my room at all or contacted me. Ending the livestream, I head over to the kitchen to grab my phone and call her when I see an arm with painted acrylics hanging from the white plush couch.

I smiled to myself and headed over to see y/n sprawled out on top of the pillows in what seemed like the most uncomfortable position known to man. “Y/n, y/n sweetheart come to my room it’s freezing out here” I whisper in an attempt to soothe her already furrowed eyebrows. “What?” She questions, rubbing her eyes with her hands and lifting herself off the couch. She immediately winces from the pain in her back. “Let’s go sweet girl, I’ll take care of you just get changed and go lay in bed” I whisper, leaning over to plant a short but sweet kiss on her lower cheek.

With that y/n gets up from bed and heads over to my room while I tidy up the living room and take her phone to place on the charger. I head over to the kitchen fill up a cold glass of water how she likes it and shuffle into the bedroom.

The lights were dim with my computer screen flashing white, and the black silk covers were hidden with y/n on top of them. I make my way over to the monitor and shut the computer down as I change out of my clothes, leaving my boxers on. I look over to see y/n tensed up on the bed with a distressed expression painted on her tired face. “What’s bothering you, my love? Talk to me” I say as I climb into the bed hovering over her. “My back, it’s hurting from god knows what” she replies. My heart aches to see her in pain. Whenever I’m sick she calls out of work to take care of me, and here I was feeling helpless. “Oh baby” I whisper leaning to give her a light hug where she tenses up even more under my touch.

After a moment of holding y/n, an idea pops up in my head. “Baby, can you lay on your stomach for me please?” I ask, my face bright from the idea. Confused, y/n turns around nonetheless and rests on her stomach, her head turned to the right facing Matt. “Okay, this might hurt at first but then it’s going to feel good, I promise” I reassure and I slowly straddle my poor girl.

“Matt, what are you doing, I’m not in the mood” She rolls her eyes and lets out a soft chuckle. “No, baby, not what you think we’re doing just close your eyes and relax— here” I hand her the remote lying next to my pillow, “play some music that will soothe you.

Y/n lets out a soft sigh as she hits a playlist with some of her favorite songs, the first one being my personal favorite too. I let out a content hum and I place my hands and the hem of her hoodie and slowly lift it, careful not to hurt her.

I get up momentarily to grab some moisturizer and come back to see y/n almost drifting to sleep once again. I return to straddle her, resting my weight on her butt to not hurt her, and sink. I begin to lather the moisturizer and carefully carefully spread it through her back.

Y/n tenses up again and furrows her eyebrows, as a way of saying “Too rough.” I quickly stop my tracks and go light as I begin on her lower back, kneading the muscles and massaging them. “Baby, you’re so tight, what’s been bothering you” I question, she shrugs before responding. “I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, work has been overwhelming, not living with my mom and dad anymore, it’s just starting to get to me a bit, you know?” her response was just a little bit louder than the music behind us “Yes, baby, of course, I understand, moving to LA with Chris and Nick was the last thing I expected to happy to me, but look at here we are, as long as you’re happy with the decisions you make, there should be no reason for you to feel stressed about it, and don’t bottle it up and take it out on yourself, please come talk to me right away, my love” I reassure her and I move my hands up to the middle of her back. She lets out a soft nod and smiles as I work my hands into a circular motion, getting all the knots and undoing them.

After five minutes or so, y/n starts to relax her shoulders, perfect for me to reach over and massage them myself. She lets out a breath that’s been held and immediately relaxes under my touch, for the first time today. As I smile to myself. I bend over to kiss her on the back of her neck, hugging her from behind.

We stayed like this for a while, drifting off to sleep when a loud bang was heard from the kitchen. I quickly sit up, causing y/n to return to consciousness. “What was that” she asks, her voice groggy. “I’ll go check baby,” I say as I crawl out of the bed, the blanket never leaving us.

I head over to the kitchen, annoyed, as I stare at Chris and Nick laughing their asses off. “What’s so hilarious you had to be this loud” I groan, still half-asleep. They just stared at each other momentarily before laughing again, Nick holding onto the counter for stability while Chris cried. “It's just this—” again cut off by more laughing. I glare at the two until I notice the grip of Chris’s phone and a silhouette of my bed displayed. I walk over there and snatch the phone from Chris’s hand, only to see a picture of me and y/n asleep.

I bite back a laugh as I roll my eyes in annoyance, turning to my room. “You guys are ridiculous” I yawn, and all you can hear is their snickers fading away.

I enter the dim room to see y/n perched up against the headboard, her phone in her hand. “Everything alright, Matt?” she asks, tilting her head slightly. “Everything’s fine, baby, let’s just go back to sleep please” I groan, my voice was becoming tired and my eyelids were fighting to stay open. “I’m energized and my back feels amazing. Come here let me make you feel better” she grins, steering and opening her arms.

I waste no time practically jumping onto the bed. I bring my head onto y/n’s chest, my cheeks resting on her breast and my legs on top of hers. My arms snake around her waist and my eyes shut due to the lack of sleep I've had. “Get some rest, pretty boy” she whispers. Y/n’s hand played with my messy hair as she reached over to plant a kiss on my forehead. “Mm- love you” I mumble before finally resting, safe in y/n's arms.

The end hoes 😜

taglist:

@mqttittude @luverboychris @knowingnothingnoel @whicked-hazlatwhore @mattsdinosweater @n00dl3zzz @sophssturn @sstvrnioloo @sturnioloenthusiast @lolasturniolo @mattsleftnipple03 @ilovemenwithlonghairr @lacysturniolo @guccifrog @hearts4chriss @sttzee @stunza @fawned01 @sillysillygyal @skyslondon @stu2719962

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reminiscingtonight · 3 months

Text

Three's Not A Crowd

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

[WOSO Masterlist]

It was an accident.

If confronted about it Ingrid will vehemently deny snooping.

Because she wasn’t. In any way.

It all began with a simple tidying up. No matter how many times Ingrid reminded Mapi not to leave her various books and bags around the house the Spaniard just never took it to heart.

So doing what she does best, Ingrid puts them away for her girlfriend.

Opening the hallway closet, she starts the daunting task of hauling the heavy bag onto one of the higher shelves. It’s there, when the bag is halfway over her head that something falls out, the zipper not having been fully shut.

A couple curse words are grumbled out when the object smacks her square on the top of her head. Sighing, Ingrid crouches to grab at what she realizes is Mapi’s sketchbook… only to pause when she sees the page the book has fallen open onto.

Mapi’s artistic abilities have always been magnificent. When not busy with football or taking Ingrid out on dates, the Spaniard can always be found sketching away in some corner of their house. Ingrid’s always the first to point out how wonderful she finds her girlfriend’s pieces of art but these particular sketches, they’re nothing if not breathtaking.

Ingrid picks up the book, fingers lightly tracing the unfamiliar face staring back at her. Whoever Mapi’s captured down on the paper is nothing if not beautiful. Your eyes look kind, mouth curled up into the gentlest of smiles.

Surprisingly it isn’t jealousy Ingrid feels at the sight of someone else captured so perfectly by Mapi. It’s curiosity that causes her to flip through page after page of Mapi’s sketchbook, each one containing a different picture of you through what’s clearly multiple different days. In some of them you’re staring right at Ingrid through the pages of the pad, in others it’s only your side profile that’s been captured.

The more Ingrid looks, the more her curiosity grows. And it’s this same curiosity that has Ingrid knocking on their shared bedroom a couple minutes later, book still in hand.

“Who is this?” It’s not an accusation, words coming out soft and curious as Ingrid gently places Mapi’s sketchbook down next to the defender.

Mapi’s body all but freezes when she sees what Ingrid is referring to, eyes growing comically wide. “That’s uh, she’s um-- I just… she caught my eye-- and I… I--”

Mapi’s clearly at a loss of words, and Ingrid is quick to put her out of her misery.

Ingrid puts a light hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Mapi, don’t worry about it. I know you’re loyal. This isn’t me asking if you’re cheating on me. You love me too much to ever think about breaking my heart.”

The blonde’s quiet for a moment, looking down at her fingers. Ingrid waits patiently, as the Spaniard gathers her thoughts.

“She works at the cafe next to the park.”

Ingrid listens, if not with a little too much investment, as Mapi details the first trip that took her across your path. Something about you had Mapi returning time and time again, if just to hear your voice or get some work done in your presence.

Mapi finishes her story and they put away the sketchbook and their day goes on as normal.The conversation really should have put an end to the thoughts swirling around her head, but something keeps tickling at the back of Ingrid’s mind.

She should let it go.

Ingrid knows she should let it go.

But everyone says curiosity kills the cat and that’s exactly what happens.

Ingrid goes to see you.

Well she actually goes to the cafe at which you work at, but it’s definitely with the intention to see you in action.

And see you in action she does.

Right from the get-go Ingrid can understand why Mapi’s been so drawn to you.

You’re soft spoken, eyes sparkling as you take her order. When Ingrid hesitantly pauses over unfamiliar Spanish words you don’t make a big deal out of her sudden switch to heavy-accented English. Instead, your smile grows wider, happy to converse in your native tongue. You converse in light English. Ingrid only stumbles over her words every here and there but you don’t comment, nodding along to everything she says as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

You’re just so nice and just so sweet and…

Ingrid finds herself coming back to see you again. And again. And again.

She grows used to the way your face would light up when you catch sight of her walking through the doors. You’re always quick to nudge your coworker out of the way just so you can take her order.

Ingrid doesn’t expect to feel things.

She’s in love with Mapi, she knows that. The two of them are supposedly going to get married in the future, live the happiest of lives together.

But something about you is just so alluring. And it isn’t like Mapi isn’t attracted to you either. Although her girlfriend has never said it out loud, Ingrid knows her fascination with you is due in part to how beautiful she finds you.

It’s after practice that Ingrid makes up her mind.

There’s really nothing to lose either way. Either it works out, and she can make Mapi happy as well. Or it doesn’t. Worse case scenario the two of them will just have to get their caffeine fix somewhere else.

Ticket clutched in hand, Ingrid walks up to the counter.

---

Working at a cafe was never in your plans.

But neither was uprooting your entire life and moving across the ocean to Spain.

A year ago you had a really nice job, a loving girlfriend, a life you were sure was set to last you until the end. Walking in on your girlfriend in bed with “the friend you didn’t need to worry about” really turned everything on its head.

When your job’s contract ended there wasn’t really anything keeping you tied down to the city you really only moved to for your ex-girlfriend for. So with nothing but a suitcase and plane ticket in hand, you made the rash decision to go to the ever sunny Barcelona.

You’ve only been here for a couple months, but you’re already in love with the city and the culture.

You get used to the everyday buzz of your routine. Wake up, go for a jog, head to work, make some coffee for some pretty girls, go home, rinse and repeat. Really not too much to focus on so it’s no surprise you noticed her right away.

Bleach-blonde hair, reserved but beautiful smile, yeah, how could you miss someone like her?

She always ordered the same thing whenever she came in, one hand clutched around a small book and pencil. You’ve only ever heard her say her drink order, her name, and a polite thank you when you’d bring her drink, but beyond that, she was a mystery to you.

During lulls in your shift you’d often find your eyes drifting to where she sat, head buried in her book as her pencil made its way across the page. Her ink was magnetic, so many tattoos everywhere, her arms, hands, neck.

You come to look forward to the days Mapi would come in. Every Monday like clockwork.

And while Mondays were for Mapi, Thursdays were for Ingrid.

Ingrid was another one of the girls you’ve come to look forward to seeing.

Unlike your Spanish crush, your Norwegian crush grew out of fondness.

At first you thought it was funny, having feelings for someone not from Spain in Spain. But Ingrid would always do whatever she could to make you laugh when she came in. She’s funny and attentive and just so caring, it’s no surprise you find your crush growing with each day.

So yeah, maybe you’re crushing on two women in Barcelona, but it’s not like the other knew about your feelings for them or the other woman, so you feel vindicated to continue pining over Mapi on Mondays and Ingrid on Thursdays.

When Ingrid asked you to accompany her to a Barcelona match your first instinct is to say no.

First off, you never expected her to actually ask you out.

Secondly, and more importantly, your best friend from home was always trying to get you to go to a soccer game with her but you never found much interest in people kicking balls around for ninety minutes. But to squander some alone time with a beautiful girl away from your place of work? Well that sounded pretty appealing.

The closer the match day gets the more excited you become. The day of the game you find yourself trying on at least half of your closet before calling your friend for help. All you really got was a bunch of teasing remarks, but with only a few minutes to spare you make it out the door to the game.

You send a text off to Ingrid when you get to your seat. Everyone around you is already joyous, spanish chattering going off everywhere around you.

But then the minutes tick by and your text is still left unread and Ingrid is still nowhere to be seen. It’s already passed the time Ingrid said for you to get to the game, but you can’t seem to get ahold of her nor can you spot her anywhere.

You frown. Maybe something came up and Ingrid’s just running a little (a lot) behind?

Or perhaps you were just the fool to ever believe a gorgeous woman like Ingrid would ever be into someone like you.

Your heart sinks at the prospect of being stood up.

Suddenly your mood drops, no longer as excited at watching the game as you were earlier. The longer you sit here without seeing any hint of Ingrid, the more you find yourself wishing you never accepted the ticket in the first place.

You’re broken out of your thoughts when the crowd around you starts cheering, the first of players starting to jog out onto the field for warm-ups.

Blinking away what you know would be tears of frustration, you let your eyes rake over the unfamiliar players. Mapi’s the last thing on your mind as you wonder where Ingrid can be, which is why you almost do a double take when you see someone who looks a bit like her jog right past you.

Wait.

Your head whips to the side to track the player.

Mapi’s dressed in Barcelona colors as she lightly pushes one of her teammates on the field. She’s now on the other side of the pitch, but you can still see the way she’s laughing and joking around with her teammates.

Before you can really make sense of what you’re seeing, you feel your heart stuttering to a stop for the second time in seconds.

There’s a familiar tall figure running up to Mapi’s side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. You would know that dazzling smile from anywhere.

Ingrid is on the field.

Ingrid is on the field next to Mapi.

Ingrid didn’t ask you to go to today’s game with her. She was asking you to watch her play in today’s game.

And watching Ingrid play soccer apparently meant also watching Mapi play soccer too.

Although you’re here for Ingrid you can’t help but drool over how good Mapi looks streaking down the field.

She seems to dance with the ball, effortlessly launching it right into the path of her teammates.

You’re standing up and cheering when her assist turns into a goal.

She’s celebrating with her teammates when you see Ingrid tug on Mapi’s sleeve. And then they’re both looking at you. You flush red at the gigantic smile on Ingrid’s face and the confused yet still slightly pleased look on Mapi’s.

When the final whistle blows you’re not quite sure what the proper etiquette is.

You’re still debating whether or not you should head out and text Ingrid later when you notice her heading in your direction.

It’s automatic, the way your lips curl up into a smile.

Until you realize she’s got one hand on Mapi’s forearm.

It’s obvious that the two of them are arguing about something. Mapi’s eyebrows are drawn together, hand’s waving in front of her as she rapidly says something to the Norwegian. They’re still too far away for you to hear them but you can still make out the way Ingrid fondly rolls her eyes at the other woman.

As soon as they come within earshot of you though, Mapi falls silent. She’s looking a bit shy and bashful, not at all as confident as when she was playing earlier, but Ingrid still drags her to a stop in front of you.

“You could’ve told me you were playing in the game when you asked me to come, Ingrid.”

Ingrid grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You let her pull you into a sweaty hug, laughing when she shakes you side to side before letting go. Ingrid gives Mapi a slight nudge before the shorter woman gives you a subdued hello.

She looks nervous. For what you’re not quite sure. If anything, you should be the nervous one. What’s your luck that the two women you’re crushing on know each other?

It almost seems natural, the way Mapi leans into Ingrid, and the way Ingrid so readily slots a hand on Mapi’s waist.

It takes a moment but your heart drops when it clicks.

“Oh, are you guys… you’re together?”

What. The. Fuck.

No, you’re not crushing on two women who know each other. You’re crushing on two women who happen to be together!

“Si,” Mapi confirms, looking a bit uncomfortable at the way Ingrid keeps manhandling her towards your body.

“Anyways, how did you like the game?” Ingrid butts in, eyelashes batting at you.

Your eyes keep darting between hers and Mapi’s. “It was… it was a nice game. I can’t really say I have much experience to compare the match to, but you guys definitely tore up the field.”

Ingrid hums. “Well we’re just going to have to change that, won’t we.”

You don’t really understand what she means so you stay quiet, giving her a polite nod in response. If you were embarrassed thinking Ingrid stood you up earlier, there’s no words that can describe the way you’re feeling now. All you want to do is go home and curl into a ball. You’re going to need a couple days of wallowing about to get over these two stupid little crushes of yours.

“The girls are planning on going out, if you want to come.”

Nervously scratching the back of your head, you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re not quite sure why Ingrid looks so hopeful when Mapi’s literally held in her arms right in front of you.

“I don’t know…”

It’s the sight of both Mapi and Ingrid’s faces falling that instantly makes you start doubting your decision.

“Please?” Mapi rasps, hand lightly falling upon your arm.

Mapi hasn’t really said much this entire time, but your eyes drop to where she’s touching you, face instantly heating up at the simple feel of her hand on your skin.

“I--” You make the mistake of raising your eyes, making direct eye contact with Mapi. The Spaniard’s eyes are soft and it feels a bit as if she’s staring right into your soul. Her fingers absentmindedly dance their way down to your arm as you try to say anything other than how much you’ve been thinking about what exactly her hands can do.

“Well I suppose an hour or two out won’t hurt.” It comes out of your mouth without you really intending it to.

But your heart feels a bit lighter at the way Mapi instantly looks like you’ve just made her day. Ingrid’s sporting a similar smile, chin resting upon Mapi’s shoulder. As gently as she can, Ingrid shuffles Mapi out of the way. You don’t have any time to react before she’s leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. You’re sure your face is flaming red when she pulls back, but then Mapi’s leaning in next, kissing you just as softly as Ingrid did. She lingers for a beat, pausing to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

“Wait outside the corridor for us, yeah? We’ll let security know to let you through.”

Still dumbstruck you nod, not able to get rid of the tingling warmth from your skin.

The two of them bid their goodbyes before disappearing down the tunnel towards the locker room. There’s nothing you can do but stare after their departing figures, hand coming up to touch your cheek as if you can’t believe what’s just happened.

Because now that you’re really thinking about it, what did just happen?

#mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon imagine #ingrid engen imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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wonryllis · 4 months

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ENHYPEN WHEN THEIR CRUSH CALLS THEM BABY.

────𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉 𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍.

( NOTES. ) enhypen as dumbstruck loverboys. fluff. fem!centered. lowercase intended. unedited. 981wc. from my old acct. 𓈃 ๋ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ LEE HEE-SEUNG. 이희승 you both went to spend time at the karaoke while the other members went to the arcade intentionally leaving you two alone knowing heeseung’s crush, at first you both sing a lot of pop and trot korean songs and later when you’re a bit tired, you put some slow romantic english song and while heeseung sits to listen as it’s your turn. you sing a lyric containing the word baby turning to look him in the eye the moment you say the petname, both of your cheeks burning hot and heart beating fast, eyes locked as the song plays in the background. “are you flustered baby?” he asks when you turn away in an avoiding manner, giggling and laughing at you shying away. when it’s his turn, he chooses a similar song and sings it while looking at you.

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ PARK JONG-SEONG. 박종성 jay is busy, playing on his nintendo switch with all his attention invested in there. you on the other hand are trying to find your phone which niki stole minutes ago, moving around the dorm looking for a peek of it from somewhere he could have stuffed it in. just as jay is done with a level, passing it with satisfiable scores, you spot your phone right next to him on the couch deliberately close to him so you won’t be able to see it. without realizing it slips from your mouth and jay is left stunned not being able to process your words,“baby can you please pass me my phone?” he silently gives you your phone while his mind keeps replaying your voice calling him baby and smiling and getting happy internally. remembers to you call you baby from next time.

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ SIM JAE-YUN. 심재윤 the boys have practice for an upcoming award show, so even when it’s lunch time already they barely have time to go get some food and therefore you take up the job of asking each one what they want to eat and get it from the hybe cafeteria for them. when it’s his turn it unintentionally slips from your lips,“baby what do you want?” he freezes the moment he hears you, and you purse your lips as he turns to look at you like ‘what did you just call me?’ with happy hearts in his eyes almost smiling. he thinks he hallucinated you calling him baby because of his massive crush on you but he swears you actually said it but then he needs to make sure it was real, “I’ll have anything you get for me…baby?”,and the look you give assures him it was.

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ PARK SUNG-HOON. 이희승 you, him and jay are out spending your free time on the streets of hongdae, window shopping and shopping. at one point jay goes his own way, leaving you and sunghoon in another shop trying on a number of hats to find one which satisfies sunghoon enough to buy it. unfortunately it that shop you’re unable to decide on one and end up leaving walking ahead looking through the shops to see if any other has good ones. it is then when you spot a black one which exactly like the imaginary one sunghoon had described, in excitement you beam,“look baby!” dragging him in and putting it on,“this one’s perfect!” you don’t realize it but he does, mumbling under his breath,“baby..- baby?” grinning and thinking about it for the rest of his life day.

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ KIM SUN-WOO. 김선우 sunoo and you are at the candy store, picking out sweets, candies amd jellies for the rest of the members back at the dorm and for yourselves. you’re trying every single sample available and reading at the back of the packets and bottles how it’s supposed to taste like to choose one you would love. it’s like your own hansel and gretel candy house adventure. and once you find one whose taste absolutely tingles your taste buds you can’t help but call out to the boy in all excitement, “sunoo, baby this one tastes so good! you should try it, here!” rushing to him and shoving a piece into his mouth. definitely he realizes what you just called him, it makes him giddy and with every bite he’s thinking baby baby baby, now he’s never gonna get over you.

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ YANG JUNG-WON. 양정원 today half of the boys are gone for a schedule while three of them including your secret crush jungwon, are having a day off at the dorm and also being victims to your baking trials which might or might not be edible at times but that depends on your mood. fortunately you’re feeling a rush of happy adrenaline almost done with some macarons. when you’re watching the three have it later, especially jungwon you ask without a filter, “do you like it baby?” to which jungwon first replies without a thought, “yes baby i do!” only realizing what he said when the other two snap their heads towards you both in a what and what twice for each ‘baby’ making jungwon look at them and you back and forth, “did you just call me baby?” “did I? oops.”

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ NISHIMURA RI-KI. 西村力 “you’re supposed to do it like this!” niki shows the move on his character trying to make you understand how mariokart works as you three play late night. you try copying and successfully move past him after sometime now aiming to cross heeseung. towards the end you’re in the lead while heeseung and niki are just behind in a tie and that’s when niki uses a bullet on you and you’re off the victory shouting at the scene, “baby no! what did you do!” at that he’s leaving the game in a shock, “baby?! you called me baby?!” while heeseung is crossing the finish line as first. “you lost!” you try to distract him embarrassed, “I don’t care-” heeseung cuts him off, “you just called him baby yk?” and niki’s hyper, “yes yes yes! what?” and confused.

TAGLIST ( open. )

#enhypen imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen soft hours #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunoo imagines #enhypen jungwon imagines #enhypen niki imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen series

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mooishbeam · 7 months

Text

『♡』 Treasures of the Fraud

♡ featuring: pantalone x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been forever since you've seen your friend, and as the hero of liyue, a new interruption has arisen. you pursue it, only to find memories awaiting you. wc: 9.1k+ (D:)

♡ cw/tw: long lonnggg fic, obsession, mentions of murder, mention of suicide, mentions of blood, manipulation, toxic pantalone, mean pantalone, possessive, spanking, degradation, mild praise, fingering, thigh riding, missionary, overstim, begging, edging, comeshot, pet names (darling, slut)

notes: helloooo!! ive been slow to get stuff out college is kicking my ass rn so sorry. not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. I can't wait to have more time :) art by yion_yi on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

12 years ago

“Come get me!”

The boy with inky curls spiraling down his back dips through trees, ducking under low hanging branches embellished with vibrant autumn foliage. Messy blends of pink and purple melt across the slowly bleeding sun carried into the night. His silhouette resembles that of a malevolent spirit peeking behind the boughs, leaping over tangled twigs and shallow ditches. His excited screeches signal you to chase after the leading direction. You’re both screaming and laughing down the undoubtedly dangerous shortcuts. If your mother knew about the adventurous risks you were taking at 13, you’d never leave the house again. Tag is a troubling game—despite the thousands of times you’ve played with him, you regularly end up being “it”. You don’t care about losing, though; having someone to call a friend is enough.

You turn into a clearing with columns of trees overseeing your small presence, hundreds of them. The colder night is rising, not a celestial body to shield. In this deep blue void, the leaves seem to be aggrieved at your interruption of some secret meeting, angry and smiling faces crumpling in the whispering wind. You spin around frantically, looking for signs or laughter, but neither reveal themself. It’s quiet besides the downy linger of grass. Your shoulders are snatched back and shaken to a rattling shock. You scream, and he laughs.

“Rahhh! Did I get you?” he jests. Your eyebrows narrow, and you push him lightly to a stumble.

“You scared me!”

“Hah, that’s the point. C’mon, it’s late. Let’s go.” He's scared too, swiftly grabbing your hand as you both brave the darkness back to the village.

“We should’ve been home a while ago” you say quietly. You feel the chill in your bones and press yourself closer to him.

“Yea.” He holds your hand tighter at the sound of a small rock bouncing down a steep hill.

“I had fun today. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m moving in the morning” he states. It was nonchalant, but your stomach turns a churning sickness. One you can’t understand yet, it makes you uneasy.

“Oh. Okay, then.” It isn't okay, not in the slightest. But it had to be. Your best friend of 8 years looks at you, aiming to register the gravity of the situation. You both say nothing, but tears start to brim in your eyes in the silence. You wipe them with your arm.

“Will you miss me?” he asks.

“A lot.”

“I’ll miss you too. Lots and lots.” He sways your interlocking hands. You pass by vacant homes tattered and aged by abandonment, overgrown with invading ivy. Homeless reside, caring each other to warmth from the freezing draft. You were lucky to have a home in this little forgotten sector of Liyue. It's a small, unfortunate room, with holes in the roof that drips when it rains and bags over the windows to keep the heat in. The stove never works, and you share a bed with your mother, but every birthday she makes sure to save just enough for a slice of cake with one candle. There isn’t more you could ask for. Everyone in the village suffered from poverty but they made it work, sharing crops and dairy to persevere until the next year. That’s how you met him, sitting on a rock as your mother collected rations. You perform two pebbles in your hands, mumbling sea shanties while imagining voyage on a grueling journey—he sat next to you.

“Those aren’t dolls. They’re rocks.”

“You’re a rock” you retorted.

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to be a rock?”

“...That’d be kinda cool.” You gave him a pile of pebbles, and he joined the trip.

You’re getting closer to the village, still processing who you’ll play with once he’s gone. You glance at him, he’s spaced out in a faraway stare. You crave the power to read minds.

“Can we talk about something? I’m getting sad” you sniffle.

“What should be talk about?”

“What are you going to do after you move?”

“I’m gonna be super rich” he assures, looking up at the starless sky as if a meteor would shoot across and grant his wish. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save the world” you proclaim.

“Cool. I hope you do.”

“Me too.”

You arrive at your makeshift door drawn together with scraps of wood and twisted rope for hinges. A dim candle glimmers inside, most likely your vexed mother waiting for your tardily return. He makes space for your entry, and you undo your hands for the last time. Before you go, he snatches your wrist. His eyes are foggy, cheeks an anxious tinge of pink. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but the strings in his heart are tense. His mouth shapes to say something, but nothing returns.

“Yeah?”

“...I... I’ll really miss you a lot” he whispers with a lump in his throat.

“Then don’t forget me, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?” you say and raise your pinky towards him. He curls around it. “I promise.”

“Good. By the way, you’re it now.”

“I’ll get you back when I see you again!” he chuckles. You bid your goodbyes, unaware that it would mark the unforeseen conclusion.

Leaves crunch under your feet as you make your leisurely traverse to Liyue Harbor. It’s just before sunrise and you finished helping the elderly in Qingce Village carry copious amounts of heavy produce to their homes. The thankful candies from seniors' jingle in your pocket as you stretch your weary arms. Your mom offered to cook, but you're determined to locate the best commissions Katheryne had before afternoon. “Maybe I’ll pick up some rice buns” you think out loud at the rumble of your growing appetite. You still had a long way to go before you got to the harbor.

This was your new normal. After your thundering battle with Ningguang and Keqing against Osial, you became an example of Liyue’s triumph. You also became more aware of Fatui tactics, wiping out their swarms with the raging fury of your pneuma and swinging vision. Days of grueling bloodshed resulted in your victory, cementing you as the lionheart of Liyue. Beat up and bruised, the only request you made after your fight was a hot meal and a place for your mom to retire. They delivered both, and you used your recent hero status to provide help to the villagers where needed, be it casual favors or ruthless assault on Fatui agents. You were neither rich nor poor, and lived off the land and kindness of the Liyue Qixing. They often suggested you focus on less mundane tasks, but to you, the most vulnerable age groups warranted priority. There was something about the lighthearted innocent squeals of children and mellow grandparents rocking in their wooden chairs that made you protective to an almost volatile extent.

Bustling interactions of trade and commerce carry through the wind as you enter the harbor—a sound that’s brought you peace for years. The smell of food vendors has you drooling instantly. As you devour the complimentary rice bun, you feel the yank of a little hand on your skirt. You look down and a boy with brown hair searches for familiarity in your face. You recognize him, babysitting him numerous times. You kneel and pat his head, but he doesn’t react or move.

“Hey, what’s up? Where are your parents?” you question, briefly scanning your immediate area for his family. He’s hesitant to speak, as if he can’t find the panicked words, and rushes into your arms. You hug him instinctively and let him sniffle into your shoulder. You pick him up in your grasp and raise his head with your other hand so that he’ll hopefully be open to your compassion.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” The boy wipes his chubby tomato-red face. “Grandma is on the floor, what do I do?” You quell your rising nerves to suppress his alarm and speak calmly.

“Where is she?”

Speed walking towards the destination, the commotion of a small crowd surrounds a kneeling woman in the distance. She’s on her sun-spotted hands and knees, wailing for some bygone Archon. “Grandma!” he yells and jumps out of your arms. You run after him, relieved that the worst case scenario hadn’t occurred. You push through the group and get eye level with her, forehead pressed to the ground spouting religious scripture.

“Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Wise sunken eyes wrinkled with age and torn by tragedy stick to your heart. Her feeble hands encapsulate yours, and tears stream down her cheeks. “They took my baby!” she rasps, rocking back and forth. “Who did?” you ask, and she weeps harder. “They took her memory...my baby, my daughter!” You support her weight and lift her hunched figure off the pavement. “What did they look like, ma’am?”

“A black hood...red mask” she recalls shakily. Instantly miscellaneous chatter ensues. They whisper nervously in each other's ears, he who shall not be named steals their voices. “Fatui probably got ‘er” you hear the mumble of one. Fatui. Your blood boils at the word, and you direct your view to the shrinking man with hands in his pockets. “‘He’ got all of us” he scoffs. “Did they hurt you guys, too?” you ask, and they stare. They’re pained but accepting.

“500,000 mora.”

“194,000 for me.”

They list off their debt one by one, and you’re horrified at the accumulating number. They seem to endure, however; no longer phased by the incurable tally haunting their lives. “H-how are you paying any of this?”

“We can’t. It adds up. Interest, late payments, it always does. So, we give everything, and ‘he’ takes everything, until we have nothing left. We die poor without a possession to our name” a woman sighs. As a child, you heard of the loan sharks that purposely fed false promises to the poor, and once they were reeled in, charged insurmountable payments to blackmail—it was the origin story of most people in your birthplace. Your soul aches for them, but is there anything you can do?

“...I’ll help you, all of you. I’m sure I can-”

Ningguang arrives. She's a nurturing figure to you, the kind that asks if you’ve been eating well and politely scolds you. “What happened?” You lead the tired elder to the Jade Chamber, and she tells her story through choked sobs. You didn’t expect Keqing to already be there, arms folded and turned away from the situation. Ningguang can barely glance at the woman.

“They stormed my home and took my jewelry and belongings. They took the pendant my daughter gave me; it had her face in it. Archons give me strength, my baby! I can’t afford it; I have nothing!” she quakes. You rub her back and Ningguang nods, listening—you can’t help but notice the anxiety blooming on her abstracted face. They take her through the process and once she leaves, Ningguang and Keqing look at each other with a silent understanding. The room is eerily quiet, and Ningguang paces back and forth in front of the intel wall contemplating an uncertain danger. You fumble with your thumbs.

“What are we going to do about this?” you wonder. Keqing clears her throat loudly, attracting the attention of Ningguang. She looks at you, and sighs deeply. “We already know about this issue.”

Your ears perk up. “Great, so how can I help?”

“By doing nothing, (Y/N)” Keqing says.

“...What?”

“I have eyes everywhere; I’ve known for a long time. The Fatui are not people to be taken lightly, especially the harbingers. A few of their skirmishers were caught trading exotic goods and taxing medicine at high prices, on top of extorting the impoverished regions.” Ningguang points to one of the many Fatui exclusive headquarters on the wall. “Pantalone is the richest man in Teyvat, he has more political influence than anyone can imagine, and they answer to him. We can’t risk getting involved with this. They’ve brought this upon themselves, and unfortunately, they must deal with the consequences.”

You can’t accept this response. How can they just desert them? It doesn’t comprehend in your naïvity—you scold yourself for not spotting the signs sooner, furrowing your brows and looking at them with distaste. “I expected this. You shouldn’t have said anything” Keqing chides. “...Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped before-”

“You’re the last person I wanted to know about this” Ningguang interrupts. Your anger feels misplaced, and you bite your lip in restraint. She sits next to you and offers fleeting comfort with a graceful hand on yours. “You’re quite the reactionary type. In due time, this will be sorted. But right now, I need you to calm down, and trust me.” It sounds desperate, you know you shouldn’t go looking for answers, but a snagging thread pulls at the back of your consciousness, all too convincing. You bounce your leg. “You should want revenge just as much as me. Where we came from, where they end up, it isn’t fair.”

“You know I do, more than anything. But we must handle this with care, before too many people get hurt. I’m doing this for the betterment of Liyue as a whole. It’s not easy to make these decisions.”

“We can’t just go around serving justice, there’s laws we have to act with” Keqing adds. You don’t reply and stand up abruptly to leave. The worried Tianquan grabs your wrist one last time. “Promise me you won’t make a mistake, (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you” she pleads.

“I promise. Thank you.” You flash a half genuine smile, already planning to rebel against her wishes.

Who exactly is ‘he’—Pantalone. You don’t even know where to start looking. Too many headquarters, infinite possibilities. The best way you have to find him is through Fatui agents.

You start taking up odd jobs late in the evening, scouring for the possibility that a fatui agent might fall into your hands. Though you considered playing the part of an impoverished villager taking out a loan at Northland Bank, it didn’t guarantee that you’d meet Pantalone in the flesh—it’s more likely that would raise unnecessary suspicion in the process. It’s awkward at first, seeing the hero of Liyue fish on the dock for petty change throughout the night. As you do, the malicious fire in your eyes burns bright at the occasional voice in chill silence. Your vision glows as you toss the hunting knife between your nimble digits. Listening closely to conversations, hoping that one might be unguarded enough to slip up, but nothing of the sort appears—not even the boldness of Fatui skirmishers enables them to divulge secrets under the baleful existence of Celestia.

The moon illuminates sweetly on the tranquil waters lulling you to drowse. You hadn’t heard much since the start of your escapade. A fishing pole is weak in your resistless hold, and you’ve evidently given up on the idea of portraying the hardworking fisherman tonight. You vowed to help the people of Liyue, but justice was seemingly unfeasible. Maybe a direct approach? Should I ambush their headquarters? More so a suicide mission, you’d have no luck achieving that. Just as you’re about to leave, the crunch of withering grass straightens your posture. You make yourself hidden with a burst of energy and slouch behind the bushes as a Fatui pyro agent charges along the route. Through the glutted leaves obstructing your vision, you can just make out the heavy bag on his shoulder and jagged blade waiting restlessly on the other. His stride points towards Qingce Village. You hold your breath disguising yourself with the scenery and allow him to take a few feet between you before you begin following him. He’s rather shifty, those veiled eyes darting back and forth at the lightest noise. You’re careful to glide behind trees, moving with the heartbeat of the wind and taking advantage of the various melody's nature offers. You suck in a breath and duck behind a boulder a few inches too close, and his head snaps in your direction. The feeling of being watched besets him, but with no way to prove it and time running out, he secures his knife for the hypothetical ambush, and makes haste towards the target. Turning a tree, you watch as the pyro wielder knocks on the house of a small worn cottage. A short stocky man appears, shading half his body behind the door.

“H-hello...” you hear faintly. The Fatui keeps his hand firm on the door, one boot propped under the hinge. He presents the flaming knife loosely as he towers over the man. “We’ve given you time.” You were sure now that he's working for Pantalone.

“I don’t have it. P-please, if you could just give me some more-” He slams his fist against the wood, a resounding thump shakes the home. The man cowers. “Give me everything you have. The Regrator won’t wait any long-”

A small rock flies past his mask, skidding on the ground until it comes to a stop. He glares in the direction of the tree you’re hiding behind. You have no plan, nothing but the distracting impulse to stop the assailant from attacking. “Stay here” he commands, and stalks towards you. His slow footsteps get increasingly louder, playful stomps toying with your obvious whereabouts. He twirls the razor-sharp knife, and as he sharply peeks around the corner, you’re nowhere to be found. “Here, kitty kitty” he taunts, spinning towards the lake, then the village grounds for footprints. He severs the air aimlessly in mirth, believing some amateur fighter came to challenge him. As he monitors the tracks under you, you drop down from the wiry branches. Legs wrap tight around his neck, and you catch hold of his hood trying to pull his mask off. He gags but he’s too quick, throwing off your steadiness as he slams your spine on the grass. He whips around to take a stab at your chest, but you roll away guarding the vital arteries. You kick him in the crotch, and he recoils giving you ample time to stand.

You can’t feel the wet laceration dripping down your abdomen as you take a slash at his throat with your weapon, infused with elemental energy. He leans back and meets your strike. You trade blows, the strength of your smite bursting sparks of light above the scratches and bruises. Your wrist burns with the unmoving knives stumbling you. He begins to manifest blazing knives circling his figure, and you jump back from the singing cut melting the cloth. You wipe the dried blood from your mouth, and in the blink of an eye, he disappears. Suddenly, red auras similar to the pyro agent surround you. One by one, the clones charge at you, and you parry their overhead onslaught. Something is different about the last clone, your vision revealing a brighter outline than the others. When the next clone attacks, as you counter you pretend to fall for his trick. With your eyes on the other, he immediately passes through the black fog to deal the killing blow. You’re quicker this time and heave a heavy tear into his chest. Crimson splatters the grass, it shatters his element and rips open the robe. You tackle him on the dirt and wrestle until you kick his weapon away. Your knee digs into his back, and he can barely breathe with his arm locked behind him and knife rigid against his neck. He ttempts to swing at you, but you wrench his arm tighter and slice into his skin just enough to draw blood.

“Fuck. Okay!” he wheezes. “Where is Pantalone?”

“I don’t know what you’re- shit!” You’ve lost patience long ago and twist his arm to dislocate the shoulder. He lets out a blood curdling scream thrashing in pain—you tug hard and focus him. “Shut up and answer my question. Where is Pantalone?” you demand. He hisses in pain and coughs up phlegm mixing with reddening soil. “Kill me.”

“Just tell me and I’ll let you go.”

“I’m a dead man, either way.” he rasps and hangs his head waiting for the execution. You grit your teeth; a drop of guilt leaves a bad taste as you thwack the pressure point on his neck that forces him unconscious. You glance at the bag he left and limp over to rummage through the contents. Useless papers crumple under stolen items, but one note catches your eye. Presumably a to-do list, you read to the bottom. A list of homes, goods on standby exchanges—at the bottom of those, a rendezvous point:

Report back- Yilong Bank, Liyue

You rest in a plot of prickly bushes and leave in the morning after patching yourself up. You couldn’t stop now, not when you were this close to facing him. You soothe your body from the twigs prodding you all night, and check the wound suppressed by gauze. It’s a light scar now, apparent after bathing in the warm water on the outskirts of Qingce. You contemplated telling Ningguang about what occurred, but imagining the look on her face once she knew kept you moving.

Tucking your vision where it can’t be viewed, you take a waverider to Yilong Port into the afternoon. You concoct a half-baked scheme, one that relies on every scenario being perfect to a tee. Unreliable, but probably your only chance. The plan amounts to scaling the building and breaking in through the office window, snatching everything owned by the villagers and breaking out before anyone notices. Easy in your capabilities, but you have no idea what the building looks like, nor do you know where the office is. The man driving wears all black, an outfit that stands out from the rest of the region. He stares at you blankly, and once you’re aware, you meet eyes. His smile is uncanny, stretching across his face with an abnormal friendliness.

“Is this your first time at the port?” he asks, finger tapping the wheel. Be it sleep deprivation or ignorance; you don’t recognize red flags in his behavior. You smile at the courteous face. “Yeah, the weather’s beautiful out here.”

“Mhm, hot weather up here. On vacation?”

“Nah, I have business here.” The minuscule edge of your vision catches in the light. He homes in on the passing twinkle. You wonder why his eyes widen momentarily, and his finger starts to tap methodically, as if memorizing a coded pattern.

“Business...what kind?”

“Oh...I have some items to trade.” You close off your answers feeling that you’ve said too much. He subsides with a stale expression. “If you’re looking to trade, you might find luck at Yilong Bank” he utters monotonously.

“And where is that?” You feign disinterest, but victory is too loud on your tongue.

“Up the mountain.” The waverider halts at the harbor, and he turns his head away from you unusually cold, akin to a mechanical bot shutting down. “Welcome to Yilong Port.”

You make yourself invisible in the crowd and wait for nightfall. People still roam the port along with Fatui monitoring the front of the bank, which gives you leeway to blend in as you find passage around the back of the mountain. It’s a steep, dark incline jutted with irregular jagged stones. The imposing size of the climb tangles knots in your stomach, and you wipe the persistent sweat on your top. In one huge leap, you latch onto a craggy indent, and begin your ascension.

Your legs feel like jelly with each contact of the unforgiving breeze. You sway alongside the spirit of anemo and swallow your anxiety before leaping to the next rock. Shoes plant into rock and nails excavate fresh cobble on the next jump. By the time you’ve realized, you’re already up most of the mountain. You tug yourself even with the land as a barreling gust of wind goads your glance to the ground, kilometers beneath you. Your breath stills, and for a second dizziness overtakes your nerves at the thought of slipping. I could die, one mistake and I’m dead. You focus, and spring to the next piece. Without warning, rock gives way into pebbles at the weight of your foot. You nearly plunge, but anchor onto the small bump out with one hand. You’re dangling off the edge, playing with death while you fortify your body. Hyperventilation makes your heartbeat thrum incessantly and stress palpitates tired muscles; If you didn't have your vision, you would’ve fainted to your demise. You bite the bullet, push your heels in and persevere through the hurdles. The next thing you clutch is malleable in your palm. You vault over the cliff, the smell of dew is overwhelming. The back of the bank—the end goal—is visible.

One Fatui member remains in the front. You scale up the building effortlessly, nothing compared to the hell you just went through. Shifting window to window, your eyes land on the pitch-black darkness of the room at the top of the building. An ideal glow casts on the fraction of precious gold resting on a coffee table. This has to be it. You slink through the window soundlessly, and land on the balls of your feet. Analyzing the dish, you don’t discern the pendant. You can faintly identify some bookshelves near the dish, and tiptoe further inside. You creep around luxury sofas, and squint at the embellished glass case next to the door, containing all manner of jewelry and valuable possessions. You won; this was it. You scurry to it, moving with abrupt carelessness. One more step.

Click

The fireplace you didn’t heed is set aflame. It flickers sneering shadows on the opposite wall and brightens the case. You pause and hope. There’s a confining silence stirring in the room, like someone is with you. The case is visible now, and so is the key to opening it.

You fell into a trap.

“Looks like I have a little thief on my hands.”

A bittersweet voice in the sable, reminiscent of rich dark chocolate, rolls off the room. He steps out obscurity behind his desk and your eyes adjust, revealing the tight black turtleneck compressing his willowy torso and gloves adorned with silver rings. You can’t see the upper part of his face, but the chains of his glasses hang in front of that duping smile. You expected the Fatui harbinger to be on the stronger side, physically intimidating. It’s not physical, but you feel a certain fear boiling in your body. He’s not terrifying, but you tremble. His presence makes your hair stand and sends waves of goosebumps up your arms. You can’t find the will to move your wobbly legs. His charmed laugh rings in your ears and causes you to hold your breath. He has no vision; you shouldn’t be afraid. You could take him on easily, why can’t you fight?

“Hello, honored hero of Liyue” the headless man taunts. It makes it worse that he knows who you are. How long had he known you were coming? Was your plan doomed from the beginning? Your feet are stuck in molasses as your fight or flight shuts down at the man before you.

“Now, tell me. What is the little thief doing, barging into my office to take the possessions I worked so hard for? Not very heroic of you, If I may say.” There’s power in his stature—you forget how to speak. He holds his palm out to you. Tangled between his fingers, is the ornate golden pendant you’d been searching for, a woman’s face in the frame. Your eyes widen, and the sweet familiar curve of his lips stretches in amusement.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The plod of low-heeled boots accompanies unveiled darkness, and you can observe his entirety. Amethyst eyes drunk with an orchid hue pool into your being. Lazy curls brush against his glasses and kiss his porcelain skin. He’s beautiful, a calm enticing rip current that sweeps you with immeasurable pressure before you can pull yourself out. He leans on the desk, observing the chain halfheartedly. If you weren’t careful, you’d mistake the look on his face for genuine kindness; you’d drown, just like he craved. Nonetheless, you can’t shake the emotion his smile grants.

“Yes. That’s all I need, and I won’t bother you again” you whisper meekly, hoping that he’d let you go with the pendant in a spur of forgiveness. The jest in his eyes says something different.

“Come get it.”

Come get it. Your mind begins to piece the man into a stage of your life you’d forgotten. It can’t be him. Memory tells intrusive truth in short flashes. Inky curls spiraling in front of you as you chase. He was consistently miles ahead of you. It was irrelevant how far apart you were; he’d always find you. That big, curving smile for every match he won. Purple eyes glancing back at yours; the same ones that withheld tears when you said goodbye.

“Come get me!”

Tears stream down your eyes for the friend you thought you’d never see again. Childhood laughter bleeds into his current cat-like conniving snicker, and you gaze at his face.

“I... remember you” you choke. He looks up without a smile, perceiving an unexpected thought, and meets your eyes. There’s a hint of affection in the warm smile beaming on his face. “My my, (Y/N). You have quite the memory.”

You’re motionless, full of something that catches in your lungs. This isn’t the triumph you wanted, and now that you’re face to face you feel powerless. He must’ve known the entire time. Watching you fight and work alone, sending Fatui to roam in Liyue, all done to toy with you. Your lip quivers, swelling in your already deafening heartbeat.

“How long...” you utter. He inquires with the tilt of his head.

“How long have you been messing with me?” Your eyes adhere to the floor, pride that won’t permit you to shed misery for Pantalone. He drinks in your resistant frame, the kind he desires to break; perhaps this game of cat and mouse isn’t done, after all.

“This hurts me too, (Y/N). I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t so…persistent.” Your confusion spills over in shaky, weak huffs. You can’t maintain your composure, and make yourself first to oppose the authoritative man on his own territory.

“How could you do this to anyone? We grew up poor!” You shout with balling fists.

“It’s inefficient to dwell on the past” he replies with gentle cadence and languid grace unrepresentative of his cruel tactics. You nearly regret raising your voice.

“These people are at their wits end and you’re taking advantage of them” you chide. He slowly paces towards you. Pantalone looks down on you from height disparity, but the royal glower pities you, judges worth you can’t see.

“Driven by emotions, are you that simple? You presumed that if you stormed in here, and professed a touching story, that I would suddenly see the error in my methods?” You’re not sure what you’re here for anymore or why you haven’t left yet. Subconscious urges can't determine if they should slap or hug the man inching towards you. “I simply enforce contracts and exchanges. No one can be swindled by a debt accreted on their own.”

“No one asks to be poor either” you interject. Pantalone’s a foot away from you now, analyzing your reactions to his personal entertainment. He recalls the blurry past—the pranks you pulled together that ultimately failed from your loud hurried sneakiness tripping to alert the farmers, helping out for loose change so that you’d split a snack between each other that wasn’t big enough to share, gazing at the twinkling night imagining a distant future—you changed and stayed the same, but he keeps wanting more.

“Weigh the odds. They either die impoverished or live by passage of loans. I merely provide a service. Does that make me so cruel?” You can’t find an answer.

“You’ll always be my friend, but I need it back. It can’t be much to forgive someone’s debt” you plead.

“You still consider me a friend?”

“I think…you’re hurt. And you’re trying to heal. We all are. I know I’ve dealt with a lot as I’ve gotten older and I think you have, too. Power corrupts even the best people in this world, so maybe you’re not a bad person. But you’re doing bad things, and this isn’t the right way to get better.”

Pantalone is quiet for a few long moments. His hands web his face, but you can clearly see the pearly fangs in his open-mouthed smirk. Then he laughs—dulcet and mocking, it lingers for too long as he throws his head back and relishes the obtuse notion. He gazes with insulting compassion and stalks towards you.

“Incredibly…. gullible. Mora is the pathway to all endeavors. Devoid of gnosis or divine knowledge, wealth has rendered me impervious to control. Suffering and destitution only manifest if I will it. I am the guise of a false god, an emblem of achievement.” It’s borderline delusional the way he regards himself, arms moving in theatric grandeur, the star of his own opera.

“Does that make you feel good? Stepping on the backs of the community that raised you, and abandoning them because they chose not to be influenced by greed?” Pantalone towers over you. His fingers brush light against your sensitive ears, trail to your clenched jaw, and finally cup your frustrated cheeks with the cradle of a long-lost lover.

“It does, in fact. I’m not easily swayed by ridiculous optimism, that’s why I’m at the top. You’ve devoted your blood and tears to a region that will succumb to adversity in your absence. Is that not a pointless feat?”

“So what? That doesn’t mean we just don’t help people. You have nothing without the Fatui, you’re a pawn just like the others” you retort. He brings his lips close to the shell of your ear, and his breath hot on the untouched skin drags a tingle up your spine.

“And what do you know about the Fatui?” he whispers.

“I know enough. You’re all disgusting.” He huffs out his nose.

“Disgusting isn’t the right word. I’d say...opportunists.” Pantalone backs up, sliding his hand up your chin and tilting your attention to the intense glint. “But you’re clever, I’ll give you that. If only you were clever enough to know your place.” You'd forgotten you were acting out of line. You refocus your mindset to negotiation.

“I’ll do anything you ask for the debt. Please, just give it back.” The word “anything” evokes a malicious yearning—so forthcoming without understanding the implications of “anything”, of eternity. He caresses your cheek.

“Anything, hm? Even if I said to give up being a hero for good? Would you still call yourself a heroic traveler if you weren’t allowed to travel or adventure as you please?” he teases. Your mouth opens to refute, but you bite your bottom lip instead. Pantalone walks back to his desk and leans while dangling the golden chain. Now that he’s far, the invading space between you two shows how insignificant you are in this luxury palace.

“Your resolve moves me. Consider this; make an exchange with me, and I’ll guarantee not only her debt, but the debt of all residents in Liyue forgiven” Your face instantly lights up, ready to accept it without thinking.

“What is it?” you ask.

“In exchange for regional loan forgiveness, I want you.”

“...What?”

“I want everything you have. It’s the fairest exchange I can make. Your obedience, your loyalty, and your body.”

The choice turns in your frontal lobe. You can’t fathom giving yourself to a man, let alone a Fatui harbinger. It’s unbecoming of a hero to lie with the enemy.

“Absolutely not” you assure.

“Alright. Then allow their village to be reduced to nothing.” No, wait. “You may leave. However, if you do, you’ll cause great misfortune to that woman and her struggling family” You play into his covet so smoothly as you stand in the center of the room, reluctant to leave.

“I’m not a complete monster, so I’ll give you 5 seconds to make a choice.” He sways the pendant in his hand like the transient time of an hourglass. 5 seconds, all you have to sign your life away.

“4.”

What if no one ever sees you again? What’s the point of sacrificing your happiness and freedom, are the people of Liyue truly worth it?

“3.”

You could threaten him, take him hostage so that a harbinger might bow to your demands. That, or they kill you, and the village suffers anyway.

“2.”

You think of your graying mom, the sweet boy with his chubby red face who cries over the smallest things, the grateful elders that give you candy after every good deed, Ningguang and Keqing stressing over the next financial impact.

“1.”

“I’ll do it.”

Pantalone swings the chain into his palm, an undefeated smug overbearing as he sets it on the desk. There was never a point in resisting; he always got what he wanted, no matter how long it took to achieve it. He waited months—no, years—to get you in this exact moment. There’s a daunting beguiling charm in the way he closes the gap between you two. You glare at him; a temper common people would dread shooting. He assesses the pending punishment and lowers himself eye-level. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I can see the defiance in your eyes. Do you want to talk back? Go ahead, challenge me.” You don’t test this scenario and turn your head. “Don’t patronize me. Get it over with, ‘Pantalone’.”

He quirks an eyebrow, and pliable flesh strains your teeth as your face is gripped rough by satiny leather. You’re twisted sharply to the calm expression—it humbles you.

“That’s not how you address your superior. What should you call me?” You don’t answer promptly to his liking, and he tightens his grip. “Answer me properly, darling.”

“...Sir.” Pantalone plants a sickly sugary kiss on your forehead, the kind that makes you forget how petrifying he can be, and lets you go.

“Good.” He walks back to the desk and sits in the onyx chair embellished with silver jewels fit for a king. His chin rests on bridging hands. “Strip.”

You don’t move, your heart hammers in your chest at the request and you stir uncomfortably. You have no experience with sexual gratification, let alone exposing yourself to an old friend.

“(Y/N). Don’t make me say it again.” Keen agitation in his voice serves as a final warning. He eats you with his eyes, homed in on your hands clumsily snaking the top over your head. A glimpse of the scar you received during your fight with the Fatui captures him. He takes a mental entry, for an explanation that might justify why the agent suddenly goes missing. You were generally too busy to look in the mirror or analyze your assets, and pleasure was a removed afterthought—so the hungry fervor warming your skin and permeating the room clamped your thighs shut. You’re visibly flustered and nervous fumbling with the clasps on your bra while stabilizing your anxiety, and he delights in every second of the accidental strip tease. It feels like fresh meat introduced to a savage animal, and the instant your bra omes off, a new vulnerability coils in your gut. You move to your bottoms; the sheen of sweat polishes your plush thighs to wiggle out of them. You’re left in nothing but tantalizing panties hugging you in the right places. His eyes undress and redress you, tracing up and down the perk of your nipples, tempting fullness of your thighs, each unseen curve and perfect imperfect mark on your glistening body. He lets out a deep breath to stop himself from jumping over the table and taking you right there.

“The underwear. Take it off” he says, an undertone of lust. You shimmy the fabric off and fully expose yourself. You impulsively cover your intimate parts and avert your eyes, but you can still feel Pantalone on you, ravaging you. He doesn’t bother telling you to put your arms at your sides, your bashfulness combined with an attempt at stoicism is comical.

“Ah, the little thief is trying to act tough. That's cute” Pantalone teases and leans back in the chair. Manspreading, he pats his thigh. “Crawl.”

He’s hellbent on shaming the defiance out of you. It’s a vile command, but you begrudgingly drop to your hands and knees. You drag your chaffed knees on wood, balancing like a newborn fawn adjusting to its legs. It’s humiliating and downright degrading; the cold floor fails at cooling your burning fever. You’re on the verge of tears, but Pantalone can’t help but smile. You get around the desk and look up at him, waiting for the next horrible thing he’ll have you do. “Unfortunately, the stunt you pulled impeded my paperwork. Be a good thing and sit on my lap until I’m done.” A “thing”—that’s all you were now, a shiny trophy meant to be ogled at but never taken seriously, used and thrown away. You stand off your scraped raw knees and straddle his thigh, hands balancing the leg so you don’t fall.

And Pantalone starts to work. Working as if you’re not there, filling in the spaces on his documents. For some reason, it’s more demeaning this way, you truly are just a prize. One hand dances beautiful penmanship in masterful motions on embossed paper, the other fondles and explores your being. The gloves brush down your delicate spine, nonsensical shapes drawn on your lower back that make you shiver and pool heat in places you’ve never thought of. You’ve never been touched like this, it’s needles light on your skin. They move to your stomach, pleasant circles above the pelvis that threaten to go lower. He’s careful to trail his hand up your cleavage and behind your neck, neglect your hardening nipples and repeat the process over and over. He’s painstakingly slow, savoring the dazed arch of your back, massaging your inner thighs and dragging the sleek material over your rear.

Middle and index sweep across your lips, pulling your bottom lip to reveal teeth, and prods your mouth. Pantalone’s fingers are invasive, they exploit your gums and twirl around the squishy tongue molding to his appetite. He plays with the pink mass, and it fills you like a kiss. He’s everywhere and he hasn’t looked at you once. You hate it, the kind elegance and refinement of his technique that makes every calculated word and action reek of opulence. Yet, arousal pools on the surface, sticking to your labia and clouding your drowsy mind. It’s an extreme ache that doesn’t go away from cold showers or shrugging off like you usually would. You can’t remember what you did today, yesterday, or the day before that. The sensation of him consumes you and persists in spots he left. He smells of expensive cologne, hints of heady wood and sage. You’re lucky his fingers are in your mouth, or piteous moans would spill out of you. Flat on his thigh, the subtle jolts of his leg rub against your hypersensitive clit and set your nerves on fire. Throbbing swells in your core, and you struggle to stay stiff as your hips stutter.

Pantalone knows exactly what he’s doing. Your labored pants sound like saintly melody while you writhe on his lap. The fabric goads your pulsing pussy, and you hang your head in embarrassment of the juices soaking your thighs and his. He’s surprised you have strength left to withstand the itch. You do your best to hover above it, trailing thick strings of slick. “There’s no need to pretend you don’t like this. Just give yourself to me” he whispers. And it’s so enticing, an invitation that might let you come if you ask. However, remnants of pride cling to your melting resolve, you can’t give in yet. He takes the fingers out and presses on your nipple, flicking the bud. You can’t hold the mewl, and he snickers.

“So indignant for the hero of Liyue, to be on a harbingers lap, reduced to a pretty pet.” Your ears tune out the insults. The damp gloves pull and pinch your puffy nipples, then knead to soothe the pain. He does the same to the other, switching between both as he feels you squirm.

He works on the last few pages. Piles upon piles of reports and records—they detail the deaths, or “suicides”, of clients who’d disappeared mysteriously after extended absence of payments for millions of mora, people who dared go against the Regrator. Unruly, uncooperative clients that take advantage of fair exchange, and pay the price for it.

Your arms get tired, and you settle on him again. Pantalone starts to softly bounce his leg, enough for you to notice the friction on your clit. It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore, and start to rut your hips on his thigh. You look messy, smearing your essence on those overpriced slacks and biting back your moans. Pleasure flows in your veins, and you give up. His cock throbs nonstop, print stealing space in his pants. “Did you believe I wouldn’t catch you? You’re not sneaky enough. You’re not good enough," he taunts from the corner of his eye. You hump his leg like a desperate bunny, chasing the addictive high.

“Nasty slut, fucking your hips on a man you barely remember.” He moves his hands to your clit and replaces the slacks with slippery leather. You grind on it harder and hold your moans. More, more, more. He coats it in the mess and finally diverts his attention to you. He teases your entrance gliding vertically on your vulva before pushing one finger in. It hurts at first, but your walls hug him eagerly, pulling it deeper. He coaxes it to take another and starts scissoring your gushy walls.

“I’ll devour you. I’ll inscribe my name upon every surface of your physique until it adorns your lips, and I’m the only thing that remains.” Pantalone starts pumping rhythmically, tormenting, poking everywhere but your g-spot. Gloss drips down his knuckles and glazes his rings.

“S-sir please, s’too much” you whimper, mustering up an ineffective stable voice. “Hmm? Can you hear the lewd sounds you’re making?” Loud squelches sing from him fucking your insides. Each time you try to speak, he elicits another moan.

“M-my sto-mach hurtss” you whine. He holds your waist in place with the other hand and continues the assault. “I know, it hurts? Would you like me to alleviate the pain?” he coos. You nod fast.

“Hold it in. You ask for permission every time you’re close, do you understand?” You don’t reply and try to angle your body to get more contact. You make the mistake of guiding yourself to your clit and earn a harsh stinging slap on your hand. “Don’t touch what’s mine” he orders. You’re frustrated and he’s doing it on purpose, it’s entirely too hot where pleasure and pain blur. “N-not yours” you stammer, and he stops. He pulls out your warmth and you whine from loss of pressure. Looking at him, there's no smile, and the irritation on his face makes your heart drop. You're really in for it.

Without delay, your stomach flies over one of the chair arms, and you hold onto it for dear life. It presses firm on your ribs, and he slants your ass to the air. “You have courage, speaking back to me” he says. He pulls his gloves off and hurls them. They’re lovely, the silken soft hands of a man who hadn't lifted a finger through combat a day in his life. They sink into your sex, and you moan out for him. The other winds back, and you feel the palm hit brutally on your unsuspecting backside. Crack. It echoes in the room, and you almost fly forward.

“Disrespectful.” Crack. He keeps pumping through it, and tears collect in your lashes.

“Disobedient.” Crack. There’s blood rushing to your head, and violent smacks make your pussy flutter and ass ripple; his control won’t give you adequate touch.

“Little.” Crack. Every time he feels you getting there, he pauses. A masochistic pleasure whirls innermost.

“Brat.” Crack. Both cheeks are a sore fiery color and beginning to welt, but he resumes. You’re drenching his palm, sobbing from prolonged edging and Pantalone laughs. “Pfft, you’re crying? Too embarrassed to beg? Perhaps I’ll give you what you want, if you grovel hard enough, darling.” An incoherent orchestra of please’s mesh with broken moans. “Sir m’sorry. Wan’ it so bad, p-please!” you mumble. There’s no dignity on your lips, no residue of the hero you once were. Drunken ardor floods your short-circuiting brain.

“Oh, what do you say? You want it? Is that it? I'll let you have it... but only if you say it loud and clear for me” he croons. He winds his fingers in a come-hither gesture that licks your core.

“Please...I won’t misbehave again!” He spreads your ass apart and watches your hole pucker from lining the brink.

“I’m not sure I want to give it to you now. It's a lot more enjoyable watching you squirm and beg.”

“’M yours, sir. Please give it to me. I’ll be s’good, promise!” you mewl. You’re so pathetic, it’s endearing. He simpers and maneuvers impossibly fast while gyrating your clit. “How humiliating. You’ve satisfied me.” Your eyes roll back, and you dissolve in pure euphoria. There’s black dots in your vision, and it doesn’t stop as he starts torturing your overstimulated clit with the pad of his thumb. Your tears only encourage him. You jerk and spasm, but he moves where you move with insistent skill. “T-too m-”

“Aww, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted, where are your manners?” Pantalone pulls out and delivers staggering mean swats to your pussy, and you recoil. “Say thank you” he demands.

“Thank you, sir.” He hums and picks you up in his arms. Before color can return to your numb cells, he lays you on the desk. You watch him pull his shirt up to his pecs with haste and uncover the lean skinny midsection. Unzipping his pants, he unsheathes his leaking thumping erection. Even his dick is pretty, it curves upwards and shades a starving dusty pink past the thin strip of tissue on the underside of his bulbous tip. Composure thinning, a bead of pre come runs down his tip at the sight of provocation sluicing your ass and thighs. His glasses plunge down his neck, body blushed wildly, but he doesn’t care. Pantalone slides between your labia and groans at the sound. Engulfing the tip in awaiting velvet warmth, “You’re so good for me, hm?” he sighs. You embrace him, delicious searing stretch of your walls forming to his cock. Your orgasm builds just from your body accommodating the size. He places your hands on your calves and holds them at your sides. He slips out, and in one swoop, drives into you. His heavy balls smack against your ass as he thrusts frenetically in the gooey grip he’d been waiting for, stalking and spying for. He digs crescent shapes in your waist and uses you to his abundance. The desk base creaks and grinds on abrading wood and obituaries float to the floor with overturned calligraphy ink from the unrelenting momentum. You throw your head back and indulge the carnal lust washing over you both.

“You’ll never see anyone ever again. Fuck- you’re mine, and mine alone. You’re nothing but a come dump, your purpose is to please me, hah, until I say it’s over” his voice is unexpectedly deprived and weighty with vulgar whimpers. Pantalone eyes your neck and encapsulates it in his slender hand. He clenches tight and releases in sporadic bursts that have you seizing around him. For a split second there’s the image of you—exorbitant pearled collar wrapped around your throat, with “Pantalone” inscribed in bedazzled letters—and he loses it. He swipes your clit rapidly and feeds you deep strokes; you’ll definitely die. You speak, but it’s unintelligible rambling.

“Use your words” he lilts, squeezing your airflow taut. “C-can I, sir, please?”

“You’ll do it on my command.” Pantalone thrusts frenetically, you can feel him bucking, twitching and quickly approaching his climax. His hips sputter, chanting some mixture of your name and curses under his breath. “You’re so obedient for me, aren’t you? F-fuck, darling, go ahead. Come on my cock.” You permit yourself to surrender, white noise streams in and time slows as you come down his shaft. A creamy ring forms at the hilt of his slaps. You recite “thank you” through wails with the semblance of a follower at the altar of their savior. Then he grabs your face and goes in for a kiss.

It’s sloppy and misses half your lip, but its doughy attachment mellows your blissed out head. His lips taste like the bitter excess of green tea, and you crane for a better sample. His tongue does things his fingers couldn’t, and swirls around yours in a passionate bruising waltz. Pantalone breaks away, a string of saliva when he frees himself. “Mm, coming. Gonna claim you everywhere” he whimpers. Sweat on his lustered abdomen, he pumps his tender cock before spurting thick hot ropes across your tits and stomach. He paints your vulva with the rest and plunges the tip in your entry so as to not waste the endless globs of white. He tremors inside you until soft, and when some dribbles out he fingers it back inside.

Afterwards, Pantalone opens one of the drawers on the desk and takes out an embossed loan dismissal form. You can’t read the finer details through hazy eyesight. “It’s already signed, so don’t worry. I won’t deceive you.” He caresses your face in his normal sing-song attitude. “We depart in the morning.” You don’t have a clue where you’re going or how you’ll get there as you drift unconscious. Once you’re asleep, Pantalone shuffles in a different locked drawer. He twiddles the stunning purple geode in his hand, a crystal lined mineral you gave to him years prior. He looks at you, then the druse, and cackles.

“Mine. Always.”

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin au #pantalone smut #pantalone #pantalone headcanons #headcanon #pantalone x reader #pantalone x you #pantalone x y/n #genshin impact pantalone

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heavenlyvision · 4 months

Text

When hell thaws

Word count: 12.6k

Pairing: Bi-Han x F!Reader

This is part 5 to my 'When hell freezes over' series, read all the other parts below :3

one two three four

A/N: It is done !!! As always, thank you for your patience, I hope it has been worth the wait. Enjoy <333

Summary: After a training move gone wrong, you are forced to deal with a minor injury, one that seems to upset Bi-Han more than it upsets you. In the end, you take the initiative to show him just how okay you are.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst (only little bit), minor injury, dirty talk, grinding, cum eating, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, overstimulation, open missionary sex, clit slapping, Soft!Bi-Han, Menace!Bi-Han, no use of y/n

In the morning when you wake up, Bi-Han is already awake, back resting against your headboard. Your head is resting in his lap, one of his hands relaxing on your back, rubbing you soothingly.

You’re a little surprised he stayed in the bed with you, “You’re still here?”

He looks down to you, his hand moves to your head and strokes your hair, “I thought if I left, you would get angry with me again.”

“You could’ve woken me up,” you tell him.

Shaking his head at you, he says, “You looked peaceful, did not want to wake you before you were ready.”

His words are sweet, they make you incredibly happy but you tell him, “From now on, if you need to leave, you can wake me up to say goodbye. You’re not trapped here with me until I wake up.”

“I like being trapped here with you,” he smiles at you.

“You’re being especially docile this morning,” you observe.

He rolls his eyes at you, finding your comment stupid, “Well excuse me for enjoying your company.”

You laugh at him and his dramatics as you pull yourself up, you rest on your legs, kneeling on the bed. You stretch up, your muscles screaming at you lightly as you do, tender from last night, “You need to be more gentle with me, I am sore all over today.”

One of his brows raise at you, “You always beg for me to be rougher.”

You pout in response at him, it’s true that you always want it rough, you just regret it in the morning.

“I can be gentle with you next time,” it sounds like a kindness but by the look on his face you feel like he would drive you mental, fucking you slowly and never pushing you over the edge.

“Why do I feel like that’s a threat?” You ask him.

He doesn’t reply and instead smiles evilly at you.

The way you look at him is filled with scrutiny and his smile turns more sincere, his arms open for you to enter them. You take him up on his offer and fall into him, he holds you in a warm embrace.

“I can be more gentle with you, if that’s what you want?” He tries again, more earnest this time.

You pull back to look at him, you feel warm in the face as you admit to him, “No I like the way we…” you trail off.

“…Fuck.” He finishes for you.

Sighing you say, “Yes… I just need a bit to recover or you’ll break me.”

He glows with pride at your words, loving that he can and does tear you apart.

“Bi-Han!” You call his name, bringing his attention back to the topic at hand.

Looking back to you he says, “I can be gentle with you, sweet girl… for a week.”

You’ll take it, “Thank you,” you smile kindly at him.

He looks soft for you before he comes back to himself, asking, “Just to be clear, that doesn’t mean no sex, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t mean no sex,” you confirm for him.

He nods once, “Good.”

“You are impossible,” you sigh again, leaning back onto his chest.

The pair of you stay like this for a while, wrapped up in each other, both not wanting to start your respective days. As you lay on top of him, you find yourself pining for more from him, the sex is great and the talk you had was more than you could’ve asked for, but you want more moments with him that aren’t sexually charged.

“Bi-Han?” He hums at you in response, signalling you to continue talking, you feel a bit hesitant as you say, “I want more from you… more than just sex.”

He pulls you away to look at you properly, “This hasn’t been just sex to me, ever.”

As you look him in the eyes and see the way he’s looking back at you, you believe him, without a hint of doubt. That doesn’t change the fact that you want more, you want more moments where you share things with each other or enjoy each other’s company. You want a relationship.

“I believe you… but that doesn’t change how I feel about this,” you motion between the two of you.

His large hand holds the side of your face tenderly, “Whatever you need from me, I will give it to you.”

“I want something like a date? I want to eat dinner with you… or something,” you mumble slightly, it feels a bit silly to tell him but you want more connection. You don’t tell him about wanting a label, maybe you’ll bring it up at a better time.

His lips rise in a faint smile, amused at your hesitation over a simple request, “Done. I will plan something.”

“You will?” You can’t hide the way you’re surprised by his unquestioning willingness.

One of his brows raise at you, “Were you expecting me to deny you?”

You feel a little sheepish as you admit, “Well… I was prepared for it.”

His smile grows as he shakes his head at you, “Sweet, sweet girl, you have no idea how much you have me wrapped around your finger.” He chuckles lightly and pulls you back into him, back in your previous positions.

The words he speaks make you giddy, having confirmation about his feelings for you always makes you happy. Knowing that he feels the same for you as you do for him is a reassuring thing to hear. Especially since you want to ask for more, more than just ‘fucking’.

His chest vibrates underneath you as he talks, “Do you have training today?”

“I think so but I don’t think it’s going to be a long day.” You hum your reply.

You know you should get up soon but you don’t want to leave him, being in his arms is probably one of your favourite places.

“I have to get up,” your words are muffled by the material of his robe.

“Go on then,” he encourages.

Lifting yourself up, you go to move away from him but just as you’re almost sitting upright, he pulls you back to him and holds you firmly.

You chuckle at him and then enquire, “Are you going to let me go?”

“When I am ready,” he answers.

“And when will that be?”

He thinks on it for a while before deciding, “Never.”

He is uncharacteristically affectionate this morning, it’s nice but it’s also mildly concerning. You decide not to say anything about it, in fear of upsetting him or causing him to draw back. Which is not what you want.

You instead ask him, “What are you doing today?”

“Whatever you are doing,” his reply is nonchalant.

You pull away just to look at him dubiously, “You’re going to join me and everyone else for training?”

“Sure,” he shrugs but his eyebrow twitches slightly, it makes you smile fondly at him.

Reaching your thumb up, you gently rub between his brows, easing the seemingly constant frown on his face. He relaxes his brows, unfurrowing under your touch.

“I think, you might injure someone if you join us for training,” you murmur, still massaging his forehead.

His eyes glint with pleasure at the idea and you roll yours at him. Sighing he says, “I will not injure any of your friends… not because I like them but because I like you.”

Of course, that’s how he feels, “I don’t think it was necessary that you add that at the end of your statement.”

“It was,” he looks to you firmly, making sure you understand that he does not like them and this kindness is only for you. It honestly shouldn’t make you feel good but you can’t help the flutter in your heart.

His hand grabs your wrist, stopping your massage. He pulls you to him and your lips lock in a tender kiss, or about as tender as Bi-Han is capable of giving. Which is considerably more than you’d think from just looking at him.

You hum against him, always appreciative of his kisses. His hands grab you and then he’s pushing you backwards. You’re on your back with him on top of you, your heads at the wrong end of the bed now. His lips never left yours, the kiss burning with need. Bi-Han’s hands pull your thighs apart enough to slip his waist between them. Your own hands grab onto the back of his neck.

The kiss deepens when you gasp against him, his cock grinding into you slightly shocking you pleasantly. His tongue is in your mouth now, his kisses insistent and full. Your legs wrap around the small of his back and hold him to you, he’s dry humping into you and it feels delicious. Your sleep addled and hazy brain thankful for the sensations he’s giving you.

Both of your movements are lazy and unhurried, the only thing that is hurried are Bi-Han’s kisses. They’re fervent and unforgiving, the way he licks into your mouth and grinds down against you has small sighs and whimpers passing your lips. Sounds that he is forever grateful for, if his groans are anything to go by.

The knock on your door is sudden and sharp, you gasp surprised by the loudness of it. You break the kiss and Bi-Han groans, extremely annoyed by the intrusion.

“What?” He growls out to whoever is at the door.

“I thought you might be here Bi-Han; Liu Kang is looking for you,” It’s Tomas, you think. You can’t be completely sure, not after you’ve just been kissed stupid.

Bi-Han rolls his eyes, “Go away.”

“I would… but you are wanted,” Tomas urges, his tone a little worried about pushing Bi-Han.

“Thank you, Tomas. He will join you shortly,” you try to sound as polite and normal as possible as you call out to him.

He’s apprehensive as he says, “Okay, uhm… Good morning,”

His kindness makes you smile faintly, “Good morning,” you chirp back to him.

Bi-Han repeats, his voice gruffer than before, “Go away.”

You frown at Bi-Han in a reprimanding manner, telling him to be kinder to Tomas. His eyes look unmoved, still completely irritated. His head drops to your shoulder, you jump when you feel he’s still hard against you, it makes your face hot.

Bi-Han’s lips start nipping at your neck lightly, pressing kisses against you. His hips lightly grinding into you again, the feeling makes your brain feel fuzzy. Your thoughts and critical thinking skills slipping away from you.

Clearly, Bi-Han is uninterested in continuing his conversation with his brother, his last words meant as just that, a finality intending to conclude the interaction.

“I will be going now, goodbye,” Tomas rushes out, wanting to get away from the two of you and understanding Bi-Han enough to know he’s not going to address him further.

If Bi-Han hadn’t begun mouthing at the side of your neck, you think you would’ve scolded him or died from embarrassment. Just because everyone knows about the two of you now, doesn’t mean you can make it obvious when you are having your more intimate moments. Moments you would rather remain between the two ofyou.

You want to say something to him but you only manage a whine as his grinding comes firmer, your hands hold his shoulders, pushing him back to look at him. The expression on his face is beyond pleased with the one you have on yours.

“I don’t have to do much to you at all for you to look fucked out,” he hums at you.

You frown at him, “Bi-Han, you’re needed elsewhere,” your words are whiney, they don’t display the seriousness you are trying to get across.

“I am needed where I am,” he replies coolly and it makes you frown at him, “How about this,” he begins, his smile is devious. “You cum in your little panties and I will leave without argument.”

His proposition makes your pussy throb and your cheeks burn, “I doubt that’s –hah– true,” though tempting you really don’t think he’d leave you with no argument.

“Only one way to find out, sweet girl,” he purrs to you, leaning down and kissing you again.

Distantly, you wonder why he was ever so annoyed about the interruption, it doesn’t seem to have slowed him down at all.

With the way the hardness of his dick ruts against you, you can’t think straight, any witty retort you would offer dying before your brain can even think of it, let alone speak it. He’s driving you up a wall and as your moans slip past your lips into his mouth, he swallows them down. His kiss is ravenous for you and he’s making you lightheaded.

He pulls back, allowing air into your lungs. You’re panting against him; his face is smug as he watches how much he’s affected you like this. Just from his clothed cock and full kisses.

“Always make the cutest faces for me,” he murmurs to you, his lips brush over yours faintly.

One of his hands hold the side of your face, while the other grips your thigh, keeping you firmly pressed against him. His grinding doesn’t stop, he’s determined to make you cum like this now. Obsessed with the idea of your cum soaking your panties.

You’re still sensitive from last night and the way he keeps grinding right into your clit has you on the edge. Dangerously close to tipping over.

He groans out to you, “Bet you’re so fucken wet right now.”

You confirm it for him, humming in agreement that yes, you are so wet for him right now. You have a filthy idea that you think would make him feral. One of your hands leave his neck and slip down, under your waist band, temporarily interrupting his grinding but only for a moment. Your fingers swipe through your folds quickly, coating them before pulling them away and presenting them to Bi-Han.

His eyes light up with how barely contained his arousal is, he’s humping into you again, needy. His hand removes itself from your face and snatches your wrist, pulling your fingers towards him, his mouth envelops your fingers, sucking them clean. You gasp out a whine at him, it’s completely depraved and has you so close to finishing.

You can feel the way his cock jumps against you as he sucks your fingers clean, he’s grunting around them, seemingly closer to finishing than you would’ve thought. Your action has caused his mask of control to slip. Your fingers withdraw from his mouth and his hand grabs your face again, his eyes are burning into your own. The assumption you made was correct because he has the most feral look on his face right now and it’s making you quiver with excitement, with pleasure.

“Dirty, you play dirty, trying to fffucken kill me,” he groans at you, his words slurring a little bit. His lips press to yours again, occupying himself with kissing you.

You’re so close to finishing, one word from him and you think you’d cum immediately. And he must be incredibly in tune with your body and its tells, because he parts from your lips and presses his right up against your ear.

“Come on, sweet girl, cum in your panties for me hmm?” He blows cold air against your ear.

It’s all too much and has you cumming, moans and whimpers falling from your mouth. Bi-Han keeps grinding into you, close to finishing himself. Both his hands are on your hips now, having drawn back to slide you up and down his clothed cock. You’re twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm and the sight of you has an evil grin plastering itself onto Bi-Han’s face.

With how he’s pulled back, he can see the wet spot on your sleep shorts from your orgasm, “Got the –ngh– creamiest little cunt, came in your panties for me, such a sweet thing.” His words are becoming more growls and moans than anything else, he’s so close to his end.

“Want you to cum too, Grandmaster,” your voice is small, fucked out and barely present.

But your words affect him deeply, he comes with a bite of your name, falling back down onto you. His hips twitch into yours, sensitive but refusing to stop his grinding movements.

He groans and tucks his head into your neck, “Got me cumming in my clothes like a damn teenager.”

“You loved it,” you singsong to him.

Lifting himself off you, he pulls your sleep shorts off, looking at your cum soaked panties. He grunts at you, “I would’ve stuffed you full if you hadn’t just asked me to be gentle with you.” He smirks, “I did love making you cum in your panties though.”

His thumb rubs over the wet spot and you twitch in response, his eyes stay on your covered cunt, enamoured by the view. He tugs your panties off too and spreads your pussy lips for his viewing pleasure, his gaze forever greedy.

Your legs fight against him, embarrassed by his bold actions. He easily holds you open, unphased by your attempts to push him away.

“Only thing I’m disappointed in, is that you aren’t full of my cum,” he says mostly to himself, his thumb swipes through your slick before he holds it to his mouth and sucks it clean.

You groan at him in embarrassment, “You say, the nastiest stuff, Bi-Han.”

“And you like it, can feel how tight you grip me when I whisper filthy shit to you,” he chuckles at your humiliation.

Leaning down, he plants a final and firm kiss on your lips before getting off the bed and standing up, stretching his muscles. You roll onto your stomach to watch him move around the room.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

He raises a brow as he looks back at you, “What for?”

“Being gentle,” your smile is bright as you look at him.

He hums at you dismissively, “Don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I know… but I will anyways,” you return.

He’s gone after that, cleaning himself up and doing the walk of shame back to his room so he can change and meet with Liu Kang. It was amusing, watching him try and make himself presentable enough to walk back, you don’t think he was planning on staying this long this morning but it’s still early enough to get back mostly unnoticed… hopefully.

You have a moment of realisation, Bi-Han kept his end of the deal. He made you cum in your panties and then he left with no arguments, it makes you laugh.

⋆⁺₊❅.

The morning goes by slowly and training is mostly uneventful, at least it is until Bi-Han shows up. You’re a little worried that he will spar with everyone like he joked, but all he really ends up doing is watch you.

“He became your guard dog real quick,” Johnny says, referencing your previous taunt of calling Bi-Han, Liu Kang’s guard dog.

“He’s not my guard dog,” you say.

Kung Lao pokes Johnny in the ribs, teasing him, “Be careful Johnny, he looks like he bites.”

He does.

You look back at him and see he’s already watching you; his arms are crossed over his chest; you can’t help the way your eyes linger over his arms. When you snap out of it and look back to his face you can see that he definitely caught your shameless staring, one of his brows raised at you.

Your head flips forward in record time, thankfully everyone was chatting amongst themselves and didn’t catch you getting an eyeful of Bi-Han. You would never have heard the end of it, though unfortunately, you know Bi-Han is staring at you. You can practically feel his eyes raking up and down your body.

Kenshi moves in closer to quietly ask you, “Have you guys decided what you refer to each other as?”

They all move in closer, being cautious, in case Bi-Han can hear you. Which you sincerely doubt.

You think you know what he means but you aren’t quite certain, “What do you mean?”

Kung Lao clarifies for you, “Like, is he your boyfriend, partner…”

“Guard dog?” Johnny jokes.

You roll your eyes at him, “I don’t really know… we haven’t spoken about it.”

“What do you want to refer to each other as,” Raiden enquires.

You think on it a bit, calling him your boyfriend feels juvenile, but it also makes you smile. “I don’t really know; I’d prefer if he stopped telling everyone we’re ‘fucking’ though.”

“Maybe you need to talk about it,” Kenshi pushes.

You look at him questioningly, “What, right now?”

“Yes! Right now,” Johnny encourages, no doubt only wanting to see what would happen between the two of you.

Kung Lao side eyes Johnny, “No, not right now.”

“When you are ready,” Raiden adds.

As you stand here, you feel mildly compelled to go ask Bi-Han now, but you don’t know how he’ll react, and you’d prefer to have privacy. The small part of you that wants to know doesn’t win out against the rational side of you.

“I already have plans to talk with him about it and it’s not going to be now,” you state very clearly, mostly for Johnny.

Johnny sighs, disappointed that he won’t be around to witness the conversation when it happens.

“Let’s just finish up for today, I am tired,” you complain.

“I wonder why,” Johnny nudges you, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ew,” you say, pushing him off you and laughing at his stupidity.

You wish you could say that the rest of training flies by, but with Bi-Han’s eyes on you and everyone else aware of his presence, it goes by agonisingly slow. He’s throwing you off your game and when you go to kick, your stance is off, resulting in a pretty gnarly sprained ankle.

It’s embarrassing when you fall to the ground because of it, the pain is bad and honestly you don’t even know how you managed to do this much damage. You try to get up quickly, not wanting the attention on you but you fall right back down. The blood is rushing through your head, and you can’t hear properly.

The guys are all standing in front of you, asking if you’re okay and its overwhelming you. With the pain and embarrassment, you feel like you might shed a couple tears, which would embarrass you even more.

Bi-Han pushes his way past them and kneels down directly in front of you, his hand reaches out to affectionately touch your face, trying to focus all your attention on him, “Sweet girl, are you okay?” His tone is gentle as he speaks to you.

The guys behind you look shocked by him but are still concerned for you, refusing to leave until they hear you confirm that you are okay. Having so many people care for you is making you self-conscious.

“Mm okay, it’s only a little sprained,” you try brushing it off, going to pull yourself up again but he lightly pushes you back down.

“Can you wiggle your toes?” He asks, carefully he pulls your shoe off to see if you can.

You can move them, but it makes you wince, face twisting in pain.

“Some fucken sprain, I’ll need to take off your wrapping to see the damage.” He comments.

You nod to him, “Okay, I’m okay, it’s not that bad.”

That damn brow of his raises at you, knowing you’re putting on a front for the sake of your self-esteem.

His hands are light as he unwraps your leg, careful not to move you too much. When it’s unwrapped, the guys all look a little worried and Bi-Han frowns at your ankle. Looking at it yourself, you can see why, it’s very swollen in a short amount of time. It will probably bruise, and it will be a massive pain in your ass for the next couple of weeks. Great. Walking on this is going to be just downright, delightful.

You try to assure them, “This is okay, it’s not that bad,” Bi-Han is not convinced by your optimism, not in the slightest, “Honestly, I could probably walk on it,” you insist.

He shoots back at you, “Don’t be difficult, this is obviously not okay.”

“There isn’t much you can do for a sprain though,” you shrug.

“You can stay off it,” Kenshi interjects.

“You can ice it,” Kung Lao adds.

Raiden also says, “You can elevate it,”

“You can take some pain meds,” Johnny continues.

You huff at them, “Okay, thank you doctors.”

“You will be doing all of the above, especially staying off it.” Bi-Han directs.

“But that’s going to be sooooo boring,” not being able to go anywhere too far cuts out almost every place you like going to. Gods, you didn’t realise how much you liked walking until Bi-Han took it from you.

He rolls his eyes at you, fast enough that if you blinked you would have missed it, but you didn’t and you give him a dirty look to tell him as much.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.” He says.

You go to give him your hand for him to pull you up but instead he stands and then grabs your waist, hoisting you up easily. You rest all of your weight on your good foot, he goes to pick you up, but you stop him, “Hold on, I want to try walking first.”

He grunts at you but doesn’t pick you up, knowing that arguing with you is more often than not fruitless. Carefully, you put your weight onto your other foot, trying to step forwards on it but it almost immediately rejects that move and you shake, threatening to collapse. Bi-Han’s hands grab you, not willing to watch you try and do this to yourself.

He picks you up in a princess carry, beginning to walk away with you. “Wait,” you object. Bi-Han stops, and you address the guys, “Thank you all, I’m really okay though, it’s not that serious,” you smile at them, trying to convince them of your fine status.

“You know we saw it, right?” Kenshi says, his eyebrows scrunched at you.

They all nod their heads in agreeance with Kenshi and say something to the same effect, all coming to the consensus that, yes, it is that bad.

“Whatever, shut up,” you pout at them, embarrassed.

Bi-Han chuckles at you but walks away again, taking you back to your room. The walk back is uncomfortable, due to the pain in your ankle and the way you’re stewing in your annoyance. Annoyed that you managed to do something so stupid in front of everyone.

Back in your room, Bi-Han sits you gently on your bed. He walks away wordlessly to find your first aid kit and a tea towel before returning to your side, sitting beside you.

“Shouldn’t you find an ice pack or something?” You ask.

“Sweetie, you’re dating a walking ice pack or something,” a smirk is faintly present on his lips. His words make you flush, he’s acknowledging that you’re dating.

“Bi-Han I have a question,” you suppose now is as good a time as any.

He hums at you in response, the tea towel he grabbed is placed over your ankle before his hands turn to ice, trying to avoid direct contact to your skin. Softly, he lays his hands around your ankle, it’s faintly cold and your skin pricks a bit at the feeling.

It also hurts but you ignore it, determined to show no pain, too proud to admit that it hurts pretty bad. You can’t help but feel embarrassed because if it was even somewhat worse, you think you might’ve passed out.

Ignoring the pain you press forward, though you aren’t really sure how to phrase this, “Are… would you… hmm, what am… what are we?” You eventually settle on, after stumbling over your words.

“You are mine, and I am yours,” he says simply, like his statement cleared everything up completely.

This time you hum at him, “But like… are you, my boyfriend?”

His eyes shoot to yours; they glint slightly. You aren’t sure if you’ve upset him or not. You feel incredibly childish asking him like this.

“You can call me whatever you want,” his tone is level, unreadable.

Looking away from him, you say, “I don’t know if I would refer to you as my boyfriend… but I’d like it if you were.” You’re still dancing around your actual question, and you think he knows it.

He smiles lightly before he suppresses it, “Cute,” is all he says.

“Bi-Han,” you whine at him, needing him to express what he’s feeling more. You’re trying to feel him out and he’s making it difficult on purpose.

He looks straight at you, his hands still holding your ankle, “What are you actually trying to ask me?”

You bite the bullet, “I want to know… If we’re in a relationship.”

“I’ve been operating under the assumption that we are, have you not thought so?” His eyes are questioning.

“You never asked or said anything! I didn’t think we were labelled,” you huff at him, “Bi-Han, you need to get better at telling me things.”

“I thought I had,” he mutters.

“When?” You are confused as to when he would’ve even brought up being in a relationship with you.

He sighs at you, “I should have been clearer…”

It’s kind of funny how unsure you’ve been, wondering what you were to him, while simultaneously, he was going about his business assuming the pair of you had been in a relationship the whole time. To be fair, you kind of had been, it just wasn’t explicitly stated and that’s where your uncertainty stemmed from. You need some kind of verbal agreement.

You tell him, “It’s not completely your fault, I could’ve brought this up sooner,” you’re itching to touch him right now, whether to comfort him or be comforted by him, you aren’t sure, “But to be clear, we are in a relationship, and we are exclusive?”

His eyebrow twitches, “You hadn’t assumed we were exclusive?”

“I mean no, I don’t know, you weren’t clear, and neither was I… I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same and wouldn’t want to be with only me, so I didn’t say anything,”

“So, you were with someone else,” he’s working himself up, you can tell.

“No!” You’re very firm and quick, not wanting him to spiral, “No, I was only ever with you… I only ever wanted you; I just wasn’t sure that’s what you wanted.”

“I didn’t think I had ever given you a reason to doubt that,” his forehead is creased from the way his eyebrows pull together.

“I didn’t, not really, but I’ve also felt a little in the dark about your motivations.” You’re being completely honest at the moment and it’s making you feel vulnerable. “I want to be with you.”

“And I want to be with you, only, you,” he confirms.

You release a breath you weren’t aware you were holding onto, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He questions.

“Upsetting you,” you feel guilty for the whole conversation.

“I’m not upset,” you look at him doubtfully, “Well I’m not upset at you, I’m upset with myself for not being clearer.”

You’re smiling at him, “I’m glad we talked.”

“I wish we had talked sooner, had you thinking you weren’t mine,” he grunts at you.

“I’m your girlfriend, your partner, your lover?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, teasing him, attempting to lighten the mood.

“All of the above,” his hands move away from your ankle, done with icing it for the time being. He moves further up the bed, his face close to yours, “But most importantly, you. are. mine.” He murmurs before leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss is warm and filled with so many emotions, you kiss him back, but he pulls away quicker than he usually would, “I will get better at sharing my thoughts with you.”

You think that is the most romantic thing he has ever said to you, and it makes you downright giddy, “Okay and I will ask you directly, if I am confused,” you can’t supress the smile breaking out across your face.

Poking his side, you tease, “You’re my boyfriend,” you’re teasing because it’s a stupid term for adults to use but you also like it more than you probably should.

“Are you sure I’m not your guard dog?” He teases back. The surprise on your face is obvious, “Your friends are not as quiet as they think they are.” He noses at the side of your face before whispering to you, “Do they know that I do bite?” Okay if this is what teasing really looks like, than you aren’t really sure what you were doing.

His words make you hot all over, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You find yourself forever grateful that Kenshi had enough discretion to be quieter with the second half of that conversation.

A hum is his reply to you, his hand on your face strokes your cheek gently, “I will take pity on you, since you are injured.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and pulls away.

“It’s not that bad,” you try maintaining and at the moment it really isn’t that bad, his hands successfully numbed the pain.

“I have eyes,” he counters.

You complain to him, “I don’t want to be stuck in this room all day.”

“You’ll be able to limp around in a day,” he says, though you have a feeling he won’t let you limp very far.

He reaches over and grabs a couple pillows, he carefully places them under your foot to elevate it, “I’ll wrap it after I ice it again.”

“Will you stay with me again, tonight I mean?”

“You’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me now, sweet girl.” He chuckles before adding, “And I think If I don’t watch you, you’ll probably go off wandering around the grounds and hurt yourself more.”

“I would not,” you protest but he pretty much got it dead on, if you were forced to lay down all day, you’d eventually get bored and go looking for things to do. Even if it was to your own detriment.

And by the look on his face, he knows he is right.

There’s a knock on your door and it surprises you, you aren’t expecting anyone to come see you. Bi-Han’s face pulls up into a scowl and you laugh at him, calling out you ask, “Who is it?”

“Liu Kang,” his voice is even, albeit a little concerned, maybe?

You can’t hide the surprise in your voice as you call to him, “Oh, come in.”

He walks into your room and moves straight to your side, “I heard what had happened, are you okay?”

“I am okay, it’s not that bad.” You assure him, at least you try to.

“That’s not what I heard,” Liu Kang says as his eyes look to Bi-Han, who is making a face expressing that you’re lying.

“Needless to say, you won’t be joining training for a bit,” he continues.

You don’t think it’ll be that long, “I mean, give me a couple days and I will be fine–”

“No,” Bi-Han speaks over you.

You are not quiet about your annoyance over this, “Bi-Han it’s fine, I’ll be good in a couple days, four tops!”

“It will be more like a week or two,” he shakes his head at you, “You can walk on it in a day, to encourage the healing process but actual training is off the table, for a bit.”

You sigh at him; he’s clearly not going to budge on this. Though that won’t stop you from trying to push him later.

You try looking to Liu Kang for help, but he doesn’t offer any, “I agree with Bi-Han, take it easy and focus on healing.”

You groan, “What the hell.” Quite frankly, you are not used to people showing so much concern for you, it’s foreign and a little bit annoying.

Liu Kang stays for a bit, talking with you, much to Bi-Han’s dismay but you enjoy his company, you had not spoken with him like this in a while and you missed it. He does eventually leave, once he’s satisfied with your wellbeing and the conversation naturally dwindles. You’re a little sad to see him leave, you would’ve liked to talk with him more but he’s a busy guy and Bi-Han’s annoyance at his lingering presence can only be ignored for so long.

“I’d walk you to the door, but I don’t think Bi-Han would let me get far,” you quip to Liu Kang as he leaves.

Bi-Han grunts at your joke.

Liu Kang smiles faintly at you, “I don’t think your ankle would allow you to get very far either,” he jests back. He’s gone after that.

“He stayed too long,” Bi-Han complains.

You lightly bop him on the nose with your finger, “No he didn’t, you’re just grumpy.”

He grunts at you again, but then he moves back to your ankle and ices it some more. Numbing the dull ache for you, his care for you makes your stomach have butterflies. It makes you happy, how he cares about you, but you’re also distressed, independence is something you pride yourself on and all this fuss he’s making over you is new and unfamiliar.

After he is done icing your ankle, he wraps it up, compressing it. Hopefully to help with the swelling. And like you suspected he would, he stays with you the whole day, keeping you company to prevent you from getting bored and wandering off.

It’s pleasant, having his company but that’s always true.

⋆⁺₊❅.

Later in the evening when dinner rolls around, he walks through your door with both your meals. “They all kept asking about you,” he groans.

“And what did you say,” you press, worried about what he may have said.

“Not much of anything, mostly ignored them.”

Your immediate response is to laugh but you hold it back because they care about you and want to know how you’re doing and right now, no one knows how you’re doing better than Bi-Han. Which is, very unfortunate for them.

“Tell them I’m doing well next time.”

He’s unconcerned as he says, “I told them you were fine.”

“Good,” you don’t ask for further details, not wanting to know exactly what he said for your own peace of mind.

Once you’ve finished dinner, he leaves to return the dishes and grab his sleep wear, along with some fresh clothes for tomorrow. While he’s gone you want to try and have a shower, you feel gross after training today and you haven’t had the chance to wash yourself, not with Bi-Han’s hovering.

You unwrap your ankle carefully and… yeah, it’s still really swollen and achy. Releasing a breath, you prepare yourself for standing up. You’re a little shaky but you manage and with the help of all the furniture in your room, you successfully hobble your way to the bathroom.

Speed is a concern because it won’t take Bi-Han long to get back and you’ll be annoyed if he stops you from having your shower. Undressing is a challenge but it’s no match for you and your unbridled determination.

A sigh of relief falls from you as you finally make it into the warm shower, finally able to wash yourself. Your ankle is protesting about every minimal move you make but it’s worth it for the warm water.

Right as you’re able to ignore the ache enough to enjoy your shower, Bi-Han rushes into the bathroom, startling you. You almost lose your footing in the shower, but your hands come up quickly to grip the walls, enough to steady yourself.

“What the hell?” You’re irritated, he just made an attempt on your life.

He looks almost as annoyed as you, actually… he might look more annoyed than you, “What are you doing?”

“I wanted a shower, I felt gross.” Your voice is small.

He starts angrily stripping himself of his clothes, “And you couldn’t have waited for me?”

You don’t answer, instead pouting and looking away from him. He opens the door and slips into the shower with you. There isn’t a lot of room, and it’s not even like the shower is small, he’s just a big guy.

“Should’ve waited for me, what if you fell over?” He presses.

Frowning at him, you say, “The only time I almost fell over was when you burst in here, frightening me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “But my point still stands, going to the toilet or grabbing something from across the room is one thing, having a shower is another, you could have hurt yourself while I was gone.”

You make a sound of acknowledgement at him, not wanting to be scolded any further, “You’re taking up a lot of room.” You observe.

“Deal with it, you’re either showering with me or you’re done showering,” he grumbles at you.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you shrug, his large size is something about him that has bewitched you.

His eyes look into your own knowingly, he’s aware of how much you enjoy being manhandled in bed. He reaches behind you, a hand coming up to your back to keep you steady as he grabs the soap. His skin touching yours makes you dizzy, he’s large and wet and naked and you want to drop to your knees for him right now.

“Stop having perverted thoughts, I’m not doing anything to you until you heal,” he speaks into your ear.

You complain, “But it’s my ankle and it’s nothing serious.”

“Needy little thing,” he smirks at you.

Rolling your eyes and huffing out a sigh, you try your very best to not think about the heavy weight of his cock in your mouth but it’s a paradox and now all you’re thinking about is sucking his dick, like you had said you would. Though, he still hasn’t changed your sheets like he was meant to.

“Still present, sweet girl?” He asks you.

You’re brought back from your thoughts, and you smile at him, “I’m here, sorry.”

He checks with you, “I’m gonna wash you, okay?”

“Okay,” you confirm.

He lathers your body with the soap, it’s intimate how attentive he’s being. Making sure to clean your body properly, it’s honestly not necessary but it makes your heart feel full. Knowing that he would take care of you with no complaints, or at least minimal complaints, it’s comforting to know. It’s also confronting.

You rinse yourself under the water, once all the soap suds are off your body, you lean into him. Leaning up you kiss his lips; his hands hold your hips as he kisses you back. He only indulges you temporarily, pulling away after a bit. He’s trying his best to restrain himself, but you can feel his semi hard cock resting against the skin of your stomach.

He grabs either side of your face and looks into your eyes, “Take it easy.”

You lightly scowl at him, unhappy with the idea but knowing he’s right, for now anyways. The sprain is fresh and with the prolonged time on your feet you’re really starting to feel it. He turns the water off and guides you out of the shower, covering you in a towel before wrapping one low around his hips.

The view of water droplets running down his abs, down his pelvis and below the towel has your mouth watering. The Gods are unkind because you have never wanted to give head to a man more than you do right now.

He pulls you closer and uses your towel to dry you off, “You got clothes?”

“Yeah, I can go get them–”

He doesn’t speak but his expression cuts you off. Walking away, he comes back with some pyjamas for you. He helps dress you and then guides you back to the bed, you flatten yourself against it and Bi-Han places pillows under your foot for elevation again.

His form wanders around the room and you would love nothing more than to watch him, but you feel way too comfortable to move right now and you don’t want to jostle your ankle. You’ve put yourself through enough pain for now.

The shower has made you warm and docile and even though you’ve spent most of the day in this bed, it’s never felt more comfortable than it does right now.

When Bi-Han is dressed, he crawls into bed beside you and lays flat on his back too.

“Why are you being so resistant to my help?” He asks, clearly fed up with you and your stubbornness. Which is rich considering you think he’d be about as difficult as you’re being, if not more so.

You answer him honestly though, “I’m not used to being cared for and I don’t want to burden anyone.”

“You are not a burden to me,” his tone is firm, serious, he wants you to understand at least this much. “I care for you, deeply. Let me.”

You can’t look at him right now, whatever expression he’s making would make you cry. Opening up to people is hard. At least it usually is, it’s scary how easy he makes it for you. How easy it is for you to give him your heart, there isn’t much you wouldn’t do for him and it’s frightening.

There are a million things you want to say, or a billion things you could say but you ultimately settle on, “Okay.”

He holds himself up on his forearm so he can look over you, his hand on the side of your face. He’s searching for something in your expression, but you don’t really know what it is. His own gaze is open and soft for you, and you think this is his way of being vulnerable.

You realise he’s been vulnerable with you every step of the way, not being quiet about how much he wants you, how much he likes and cares for you. You think to Bi-Han, that is one of the most scariest things he can admit to. For you, it’s being cared for and for Bi-Han, it’s caring for another. What a pair you two make.

“Bi-Han,” you want to say more, something profound but all you manage is, “Thank you.”

He smiles so softly at you, filled with so much affection, “You’re welcome.” He replies before dipping to take your lips in his, the kiss is caring, unhurried, kissing you only to kiss you, not to take your breath away.

The night you both share is quiet, mostly filled with soft kisses and warm words whispered to each other. The only intention is to be together, nothing more. It’s frightening but only because the longer you talk with him, the more it daunts on you, with how much you have gained, there is so much more you could lose.

⋆⁺₊❅.

It been a bit over a week and your ankle has sufficiently healed – to you it has anyways, Bi-Han says it needs longer before you can train. And you agree with him on that much, it’s not ready for training, it’s still too tender for that but you can walk around freely now and that was what was most important to you.

Bi-Han spent almost the whole week with you, he did have to leave a couple days ago due to Grandmaster duties but he was attentive and borderline doting for the whole week. It was foreign and challenging, to have someone ask if you were okay regularly or remind you to wrap your ankle.

He also made sure you did stretches to help with the healing, it was all very kind of him and you are thankful. But to you, it was frustrating, normally you just brute force through pain until it either goes away or kills you. Which you keep doing because, well, you aren’t dead yet.

For the whole week he spent with you, he didn’t try anything sexual… the whole week. It didn’t matter if you wanted it or not, he refused to do anything that would move your ankle too much. You told him he was being ridiculous but he didn’t want to risk making it worse, you also suspect that if you had hurt yourself, he would’ve endlessly blamed himself. You wonder what would happen if you were seriously injured, how he would cope with it, if he would ever touch you again.

It’s sweet that he cares but it’s also stressing you out because he’s been looking at you like you’ll break. Like you’re a piece of paper and the world is a shredder, with your injury, you think he’s forgotten you are a trained fighter and a damn good one. You’ve been letting him care for you like he asked, which has been new and uncomfortable at times, but it’s literally just a sprained ankle and he’s treating it like you got shot or something.

Anyways, you’re going to show him you’re fine. Currently, it is later in the evening and you are very impatiently waiting for him, he is due back any second. He hasn’t done much more than kiss you in the last week and you know his resolve is weak. Your plan is mostly self-indulgent, you’ll have an actual talk with him about how he’s been treating you like a piece of glass but for now, the course of action you’ve decided on is getting on your knees for him.

When he’s back and sees you, he makes a beeline towards you, “Waiting for me, this late?”

“Yes.”

He smiles at you, “I missed you.”

“Good.” You tell him, grabbing his hand and walking away with him.

“Slow down,” he protests, worried about your ankle, you ignore his concern and continue tugging him forward.

He stops suddenly and it causes you to stop too, showing just how little control you actually had over pulling him.

You groan at him, “Why’d you stop?”

“What are you planning?” He’s unmoving, wanting an answer for your rush.

Looking up to him, you gaze into his eyes, his expression is questioning. The perpetual crease between his brows present as he looks back at you. He looks good right now but he always looks good, it’s not fair. His unanswered question has a single brow raising at you, prompting you to speak.

“I want to suck you off,” you state simply.

His face lights up in shock and delight, suddenly you’re upside down. He’s thrown you over his shoulder and hastily walked off to his room with you. He whispers curses about how you’re trying to kill him on the way there, grumbling mostly to himself.

Back in his room, he very gently places you on the floor, “Are you sure,” he double checks with you, still worried about your ankle – which is fine.

Your response is an eye roll before walking up to him, reaching up and grabbing his face, you pull him down to you, his face right in front of yours. The action has him grabbing onto your hips.

“Unless you stop me, I’m dropping to my knees right now.” You whisper against his lips; you’ve been forced to be bold and straightforward.

He groans at you and takes your mouth in a kiss; you sigh against him. He’s kissing you fervently, in a way he hasn’t kissed you for a while. It makes you unbelievably happy. His tongue slides into your mouth and it makes you whimper. He’s holding you firmly to him, lips greedy and hands exploratory.

His hands grab at your ass before moving up your whole body, one of them lands on your neck, holding you. He moves your head to the side and his tongue continues to lick into your mouth. The kiss is overwhelming, especially since the last time you were kissed with so much ferocity was over a week ago, you’re needy and desperate for him.

The moans that slip from you can’t be stopped, not when he’s taking over all your senses. All you can see, hear, feel, smell, is him. You aren’t capable of pulling back from him, too involved in the feeling of his lips on yours. He’s the one who pulls away from you.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper against him, and not just from the past few days but you’ve missed him while he was beside you. Missed his overwhelming presence, everything he does takes your breath away. He takes up so much space in your life but he made himself small in fear of hurting you and that devastated you.

“I missed you too,” he replies.

You look at him with an intensity you hope reaches him, “No. I’ve missed you.”

He looks struck by you, by your words. You don’t wait for his reply, dropping to your knees in front of him instead. Whatever needs to be said can be spoken about properly later. Your plan was this and you are not getting side tracked, not when he’s finally letting you do this for him.

“Sweet girl–” You look up to him, on your knees and waiting. The sight makes him groan, “You’re always playing dirty.”

You hum as you reach up to his pants, palming at his erection, it makes him growl out your name. He seems to be sensitive; you wonder how much he deprived himself. He shrugs off the outer layer of his shirt, giving you unobstructed access to his pants.

When you plant a kiss on the head of his cock over his pants it makes him twitch in response, you don’t tease too long because at the moment, teasing him is just teasing yourself. You pull his pants down enough to free his dick from them, he groans at the feeling.

Grabbing the base of him, you kiss the tip of his bare cock, obviously not completely done with teasing him. Your tongue licks along the whole underside of him and Bi-Han almost keels over at the unexpected feeling.

“Ffffuck,” he sighs out above you.

Opening your mouth on him, you suck his tip in, your tongue flicks at the slit of his head and he shudders in response. You hum around him and he grunts at the feeling.

His hand reaches out to your face, gently cradling you, his thumb strokes high on your cheek bone, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

You start moving your head up and down his shaft, sucking him in, you’re practically drooling on his fat cock. He stretches your lips with the width of him and you can barely take half of him down. One of your hands compensates for what you can’t take, gripping the base of him and twisting lightly, while the other rests on his thigh, holding him for purchase.

“Doing such a good job, sweetie,” he praises you and it makes your cunt jump.

He’s groaning above you and the sounds he releases are making you needy, arousal spiking. You try to take more of him but it has you choking on him, tears spring to your eyes, your throat spasms around him and Bi-Han moans. Your thighs clench at the sound of him, a small moan of your own falls from you.

Tears are slipping from your eyes at the sheer size and weight of him on your tongue, spit drooling down his length and the corners of your mouth.

“Ffffuck, look at me, sweet girl –ngh– wanna see your pretty wet eyes,” his words are on the verge of slurring, lost in the feeling of your mouth suctioned around him.

You hum around him and look him in the eyes, he’s fucked at the sight. Devastated by how you look with his big cock in your mouth. The longer you suck up and down his dick, the closer he is to cumming. When you pull back your tongue licks at the tip of him and he whimpers, eyes fighting against the pleasure, wanting to watch you for as long as possible.

He temporarily loses the battle and his eyes slip shut as he grunts at the feeling of your warm mouth and tongue, you’re loving how his face is pulled into a pleased expression. His hips mindlessly pull back and forth lightly, you let him use your mouth. His hand rests on your head lightly for leverage.

Your cunt is throbbing with need, your thighs are clenching together for some kind of friction. As he carefully fucks into your mouth, you can’t take it any longer and one of your hands reach into your pants, rubbing into your clit. The stimulation makes you moan around him and Bi-Han’s eyes flick back open to look at you.

His gaze is low and lidded as he says, “Sucking me –hah– off getting you all worked up, sweetie?” He moans low in his throat, still moving his cock in and out of your mouth.

You nod against him as best as you can, your hand not stopping, shamelessly horny for him at this point. Your head is meeting his thrusts and he groans at the feeling, mumbling filthy praise to you. He’s getting close based on the way he’s twitching in your mouth, you take more of him down, swallowing around him, a large moan comes from him at the unexpected movement.

He pulls from your mouth completely all at once and it makes you whine, not understanding what you did wrong. Your own hand withdrawals from your panties, waiting for him to talk to you.

His eyes are closed and his eyebrows are drawn up in concentration, “Fuck, I almost came.”

“I know, I wanted you to,” you tell him, still confused.

“Sweet girl, I’ve not been inside your pretty little cunt in over a week.” His gaze is dark, “I’m cumming inside you.”

Based on the look on his face alone, he’s trying to kill you, “I wanted you to cum in my mouth…” you pout slightly.

He tuts at you, “Sweet talker.” His hands reach for you and pull you up, he undresses you. Almost tearing your clothes in his haste to see you naked. His hands grope at your breasts, tugging at your nipples, “Mm gonna fuck your tits one day.” His words are blunt.

“Okay,” you answer simply, because yeah, he will.

His smile is evil and pleased, “Never change, my sweet girl.” He leans down and kisses you, full and heady.

He picks you up effortlessly and carries you to the bed, still gentle with you as he drops you onto it. He doesn’t follow immediately, staying standing to undress himself completely. He’s always so pretty, and as you watch him undress you feel completely captivated by him.

“Bi-Han, you are beautiful,” you tell him.

He’s stunned by your choice of words; he enjoys your compliments even though he finds the ones you give him odd in phrasing. He recovers quickly, retorting with, “Mmm and I’m gonna look even more beautiful stuffing you full of my cock.”

Crawling onto the bed, he pushes you onto your back and spreads your legs. Always shameless in how he stares at you with greedy eyes. He rubs the head of cock through your folds, collecting your wetness and teasing you. As he kneels between your legs, he pushes your legs open as wide as they’ll go, bending them.

His hands hold under your knees, keeping you wide open for him. One of his hands leaves your knee to direct the tip of his dick to your pussy hole, slowly pushing into you, the stretch stinging the tiniest amount.

“Gods, always so tight, no matter how much I fuck you open,” he groans as he slips his cockhead inside you. His smile turns evil as he’s struck with an idea, “You’re gonna cum on every inch on me since you’ve been so needy.”

You shake your head at him, “It’ll be too much.”

He dismisses you, not even looking you in the eyes, all his attention on how his tip sits inside you, “You’ll be fine, want as much of your cum coating my cock as possible.” You whine at his words, cunt jumping and Bi-Han feels it, his smile growing at your reaction.

The hand that guided his cock head into you moves to your clit, rubbing circles into it, tight and controlled. The stimulation makes you clench down on the tip of his dick, whimpering at the feeling. He continues playing with your clit, you realise that he probably is going to keep his promise and you will be crying and shaking by the time he’s done with you.

Embarrassingly, with how worked up you are and how full just the tip of his dick fills you, you cum quickly. Your pussy flutters around him and he groans at the feeling.

“Poor girl, I’ve so been cruel and neglectful, got you fucken needy enough you came at the smallest touch,” he’s trying to take pity on you but he’s delighted by how quick you came. The joy in his eyes cancelling out any sympathy his tone may have held.

“You’re gonna kill –ngh– me,” you pant out at him.

He chuckles at you, “Never, I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweetie.”

The thumb on your clit picks back up as he slips another inch inside you, he repeats the process, playing with you until you cum on him. He adds another inch and continues, and with how the overstimulation gets worse after every orgasm, you cum faster each time.

At some point you’re able to cum just from him slapping your clit a few times, pussy jumping in shock and pleasure at each tap, eventually toppling you over the edge. What were moans, turn into wines and whimpers, tears fall from your eyes. Overstimulated to high hell and he’s not even completely inside you yet, almost, but not quite.

“You look so –mmph– cute when you cry, all fucked out and cock drunk, such a pretty girl,” he compliments you but you’re not convinced of your presence in the room anymore.

When you try to reply, it’s mostly a mumbled mess of words, mostly consisting of his name and when you look at him, his eyes are bright and beyond pleased with the state he’s reduced you to.

Because of how fucked you are, you don’t take any notice of how fucked Bi-Han is, you may be cock drunk but he’s pussy drunk. Having stopped temporarily because his orgasm is crawling up his spine, his control only able to hold on for so long before it snaps. He really wants to keep his promise and there’s only an inch of him left, it’d be a damn shame to give up so close to the finish line.

He takes a few breaths to stave off his orgasm before slipping the final inch inside you, your cunt throbs around him. A guttural groan is pulled from him, he pushes through and rubs your overstimulated clit again, his thumb slipping over your skin from how wet and messy he’s made your pussy.

You moan and whimper at the sensations, not able to do much but take what he gives you. Your cheeks are tear-stained and your vision is blurred, glazed over. Bi-Han is having a hard time, both your messy cunt and tear-stained face too much for him, both views that please him deeply and put him right on the edge.

His thumb speeds up and you cum very suddenly, a sharp whimper ripping from your lungs as your cunt creams all over him again, for the umpteenth time.

He moans at the feeling and the sight, his eyebrows pinched in pleasure, “Fuuuuuuck,” is all he manages. He slips his cock out of you until only the head remains, so he can look at the way your cum coats him. The sight of it making his dick jerk.

His eyes close, controlling his breathing for a moment. Your own breath is shuddering, you need a moment as well. Completely stupefied by how many orgasms he’s given you.

“Mmm I’m not done yet, sweet girl,” he warns.

You prattle out slurred words to him, “It’s –hah– so much –mmph– Grandmaster.”

“You can take it,” he hums at you before slamming back into you completely.

Being full again makes you borderline scream, last minute biting your lip to supress it. It doesn’t stop it but it turns into a loud strangled moan instead. Bi-Han laughs at your struggle, ecstatic at how he’s got you screaming on his dick.

He’s not slow about this part, to close to his own end and not actually wanting to kill you. He’s fucking into you quickly, still kneeling and pushing your legs back, using them as leverage. He keeps his fingers off your clit for now, which you are grateful for but each time he thrusts into you, his pelvis grinds into you and it has your pussy clenching at the stimulation.

Grunts and groans fall from his lips, they border on growls. Even with your poor vision you can see the wild look in his eyes. His control has snapped and he fucks into you like it’ll be the last thing he’ll ever do. Burying his cock so deep inside you it can be felt hitting your cervix. Lewd sounds of wet slapping fill the room, the squelch of your cunt obscene.

He’s getting closer to his end, that much you’re certain of, his cock twitching inside you. He grinds into you, his pelvis grinding into your clit. The abrupt stimulation shocking you and pushing you completely over the edge. Your cunt grips his cock hard, as you spasm around it, your release gushing around him.

He moans loudly as he cums, letting go, finally satisfied enough with how much he’s made you orgasm to allow himself the same pleasure. He grunts out your name along with various compliments, at least you think they’re compliments.

“Ffffuck, got the messiest cunt –mmph– so pretty when you cry, God– love how you look full of my –ngh– cum,” his words are filled with moans and are slurred as he babbles on about how perfect your pussy is.

He stays pressed to you for moment, letting you both ride out the high together. The amount he’s cum inside you is obscene, leaking out around him. He slips his cock out of you, sad to leave but always happy to see the sight of your cunt filled, obsessed with the way his spend dribbles out of you. You don’t even have the energy to fight off his hungry eyes, actively fighting passing out instead.

When he’s had an eyeful he pulls back, hopping off the bed and tugging on his pants before walking into the bathroom. When he comes back he sits you up and hands you water. Which you try to refuse.

He grumbles disapprovingly at you, “Drink it, I’ve just fucked you within an inch of your life.”

You feel boneless but you reach up and take the glass, you take a sip and pull away but he grunts at you in a reprimanding manner. So, you drink it all down while he watches. Once you’ve finished with it, he returns it to where he got it from, when he comes back, he sits beside your still sitting form.

“Are you okay?” He asks, genuinely concerned.

You’re blank for a moment before responding, “Mhm mm good,” you smile lazily at him.

It makes him chuckle, “Got you fucked dumb, sweetie.” His hand reaches up and rubs your cheeks, wiping away some of the tears there, “You really are pretty when you cry.”

“You’re pretty when you cum,” you retort.

He smiles at you, “Flatterer.” It’s quiet for a moment before he asks, “Hungry?”

You nod at him.

⋆⁺₊❅.

Bi-Han gave you a bit to recover before the pair of you wandered through the grounds to get to the kitchen attached to the main dining hall. You were still a little wobbly as you walked here but Bi-Han supported you, that and your curiosity was piqued enough to soldier through it.

When he’d asked if you were hungry, you half expected him to pull out an energy bar or something, so when he asked you to gather yourself before changing you were confused and very intrigued.

“What are we doing here?” You enquire.

He looks back to you, “I’m gonna make you something to eat.”

You’re a bit shocked at that, cooking isn’t something you considered him able to do. Though, it’d be equally surprising if he wasn’t capable of making anything at all.

You smile at him, “Can I help?”

“I’m sure you could,” his hand holds onto the side of your face, “But I’m not gonna let you.” He finishes, pecking you on the lips before turning around and looking through the cupboards of the kitchen. Pulling out everything he needs.

Pouting lightly, you complain, “Rude,” though you might not be the most help currently. Still a little spacey from the high of all your orgasms.

He chuckles at you but says nothing more, continuing to grab stuff. From what he’s pulled out, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be anything extravagant but he could boil you an egg and you’d be over the moon.

As you watch him light the stove, you wonder aloud, “Can I count this as a date?”

“No, I have something else planned for our date.” He replies, frowning, obviously having higher standards than this.

“I think I’m gonna count it,” you move closer to him and lean against the bench top.

He only grunts at you in acknowledgement, saying nothing further. Instead focusing on what he’s doing.

You wait patiently for him, watching him cook, he seems to be making some kind of noodle dish. Something simple, it smells good and it reminds you of being sick and making chicken noodle soup for yourself. Memories of cold winters and runny noses, being alone with only your plants to entertain you. Cooking and talking mindlessly to them, trying your best to find joy in the solitude.

“It smells good,” you hum to him.

He pats your head lightly, “It’s almost ready.”

It doesn’t take much longer; he dishes it up not long after his last statement. You both stay in the kitchen; you sit up on the bench and Bi-Han stands in front of you. Both holding your bowls, they’re warm and it feels nice to hold, warming your cold hands.

It’s good, not the same as what you used to make but you think you like this more. It warms your body better than yours ever did and you find yourself wishing for Bi-Han to have been present in your past.

You tell him as much, “It’s really good, thank you, Bi-Han.”

“I used to make this for my mother, when she was sick,” he reveals.

He’s shared something with you again, something private, something you didn’t ask for and it makes you happy, “I bet she loved it.”

“She did.” He doesn’t look sad right now, he looks content.

You decide to share a piece of yourself with him in return, “I used to make something like this for myself, when I was sick but it never tasted this good.” It’s not as special of a memory, but it’s a memory, nonetheless.

He frowns, “No one made it for you?”

“I didn’t have anyone,” you answer, continuing to eat rather than look him in the eyes.

He places a hand on your thigh, “You have me now.”

“And you have me,” you smile at him, placing your hand over his.

Dinner is good and you both don’t talk much, when you do speak it’s to sing him praise over the food. Enjoying it a lot, you think he blushes lightly at your unending compliments. He brushes you off, saying it’s a simple dish and you’re being silly but you only laugh and insist. You insist because it is that good to you, it makes you warm and you feel content after eating it.

When you’ve both finished he washes up all the dishes he used, cleaning up after himself, you help him. He tries to protest but you ignore him and continue helping, you can do this much. He cooked after all.

Once you both finished tidying up, you say to him, “Thank you, it was very nice.”

“You are more than welcome,” He pecks your cheek.

The pair of you are standing in the kitchen still, and in this empty moment you decide to bring up what should have been spoken about a week ago. “Bi-Han, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the last week.”

His eyes flick to yours, not saying anything but showing you have his attention.

You sigh, “I feel like you had been treating me like I’ll break, like I’m frail, but I am strong and capable. I messed up a little during training and sprained myself, it happens. It didn’t mean I was dying.”

“I didn’t think you were dying,” he objects.

“You were acting like I might.”

He groans, hand pinching the bridge of his nose, “I was worried about you.”

“And I understand that, but you barely touched me, and I don’t mean just sex. You take up so much space in my mind, in my heart, and you withdrew from me even though you were right beside me.” You pause, trying to find the right words, “You… you looked at me with so much fear… afraid of hurting me but that hurt more than any injury.”

He considers you for a moment, unsure of what to say, “I didn’t mean to but you looked so… delicate, it was a lot… seeing you like that… and it was an accident but what about the future?”

You counter, “And you? You put yourself in harm’s way more frequently but I trust you to take care of yourself,” you ask him, “What if I were to fall apart every time you went away?”

“You aren’t even done with your training yet, it’s not the same.” He argues.

“Maybe not but you didn’t know me before all this, I’ve been through worse, I’ve been through more and I am still here. I am not delicate and I will not break if you touch me wrong.” Your voice is firm, trying to convey to him that you are more than one injury, you are so much more.

“I am sorry,” He’s being genuine, he feels bad for how he’s made you feel because he knows you are capable, but anxieties are not rational. “But if something worse were to happen to you–”

“–The future is uncertain and nothing is promised. My worries are the same as yours. I worry about how I’ve gained so much and it is scary to think about losing it but I am not going to live less because of it.” You cradle the side of his face gently, “Bi-Han, if anything, you give me a reason to live more.”

His eyes are soft as he looks into yours, filled with so many emotions. He pulls you into a hug, it’s firm, he’s holding onto you tightly as he mumbles into the top of your head, “I am frightened…”

“Of what?” You pull back to look at him.

He lets you but leans down and kisses you, it’s tender in nature and when he pulls back the slightest bit, he whispers against your lips, “Of how quickly I am falling for you.”

⋆⁺₊❅.

A/N: Thank you for reading !!! Illegal cliffhanger anyone???? Please forgive me <33 I hope you all enjoyed !! I am a little concerned as to how this will be received, as attention and love for this series grows I get more anxious about writing the next part. I want you all to keep enjoying it so I hope I have delivered :))) PSA !!! Don’t be silly like reader, take your sprains seriously and care for yourself appropriately <333 I have a unique insight into the sprained ankle, due to my poor coordination and bad luck, I sprained my ankle not once, not twice but three times, in the same spot on the same ankle last year and let me tell you. It’s a bitch to heal. Anywhos, as per usual, if you have any thoughts, feelings, questions, concerns or requests do not hesitate to reach out !!! I love you all, have a good morning/day/evening <333

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