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happy74827 · 7 months

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Chaos Theory

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Mike's crazy schedule finally aligns with one of the so-called "parental meetings" at Abby's school, he decides to see what it's all about. Little did he know he'd come to seriously regret that.

WC: 2,590

Category: Slight Fluff

I failed an exam today, so I wrote this to cheer myself up. I still feel pretty crappy, but this was really fun to write lol.

Also if you see any grammar mistakes, no you didn’t.

『••✎••』

When it came to Abby’s school, Mike was at a disadvantage. He couldn’t go to any of the parental meetings, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was constantly doing something work-related during the time those meetings were scheduled.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping an eye on her grades and school attendance. It just meant he couldn't be there for the day-to-day things. Abby was a good kid, though; she never gave him trouble about the things he missed, and she did a pretty good job of keeping her grades up and attending all her classes.

Her teacher, you, was also very understanding of his schedule and position. He wasn’t sure how many teachers would have been as patient with him as you were. It was part of the reason he had grown fond of you, though it had been a gradual process that happened mostly unbeknownst to him.

At the beginning of the year, he had only been concerned about getting Abby acclimated to her new school. She was a quiet kid, stuck to her drawings, and it was even hard for him to get her to open up sometimes. Runs in the family, apparently. But, somehow, you were able to break down the wall that had been erected around her. Abby still didn't talk all that much, but she would always come back from school with a smile on her face. So, Mike was happy.

Then, like all good things, it came crashing down like a house of cards when his work schedule finally aligned with one of the “upcoming” meetings. This one was apparently a very big deal, and it was strongly implied to show up.

He hated these things despite never going to any before, but he just knew it would be filled with nosey people asking questions about his life. His sister. His “wife.”

God, he was already annoyed. The only saving grace was that it was the last meeting before the holiday break, so once it was over, he would be free for a while. Free to do what, exactly? Work, most likely, but a guy can dream.

The bell rang, signifying the end of the school day and the start of his personal nightmare. The door to the classroom was opened by one of the school's assistants, who held a clipboard in hand and waited for the “parents” to enter the room. He had arrived earlier than the scheduled time so he could speak to the assistant and find out what the meeting would entail, and already he knew it was a bad idea coming in here.

The woman was a nosy old biddy that was all too eager to learn the details of his and Abby's life.

He kept his answers short and clipped, but it did nothing to dissuade the woman. It got worse when he entered the classroom and saw the number of other parents who had shown up. He felt like an animal in a zoo; all the eyes followed his movements as he went to sit closest to the wall and away from the rest of the people.

The surrounding parents looked as though they lived in the next town over. They were clean-cut, hair styled perfectly, and clothes ironed. It was like they were trying to be a picture-perfect family.

He looked down at his own attire. His work boots were scuffed and dusty. His pants had a few grass stains from a recent job. His flannel shirt was buttoned wrong, and the sleeves were pushed up. Even his hair was a mess; he had tried to style it but didn't have much success, so he eventually gave up. The only thing going for him was that he had taken a shower before he left, so at least he didn't smell like sweat and grime.

As the meeting began, Mike had to try his best not to fall asleep. It was the typical teacher stuff. How the kids were doing. What the curriculum was for the following year. What their goals were. Blah, blah, blah.

Mike didn't care. He trusted you, and he knew his little sister was smart. She didn't need someone holding her hand and telling her what she was doing right or wrong. He knew this because he did that, and she didn't need it.

What did interest him, though, was the fact you kept looking his way. You didn't look at the others, and when you spoke, it was usually aimed toward them, but he saw the way you would look at him from the corner of your eye. He figured you were probably in shock that he actually showed up this time.

The meeting dragged on, and he was ready to leave. There were a few moments he had caught himself nodding off as he needed sleep, and this wasn't helping him. But then, like everything else in his life, the universe decided it was his time to suffer.

There was one woman who had sat at the front of the classroom. She wore her hair pulled back tight in a bun, her shirt was pressed, and her face was set in a permanent frown. He hated that lady; she reminded him of his good-for-nothing aunt who only wanted to criticize every choice he made.

The lady was also the mother of the most spoiled, brattiest child in the whole class. That damned kid had made it her life mission to torment Abby. He had come home more than once with her complaining about it, and when Mike had brought it up with you, you had told him that you had spoken with the parent.

That, of course, had done nothing. The child was an annoying pest, and he hated the way she treated Abby, but his sister had learned early on to deal with the bullying on her own. It didn't stop him from wanting to throttle the little shit, though.

The woman, the one who had started all his problems, took the opportunity to start a round of questioning. The first few were innocuous until they weren't.

"You seem to be a very patient woman." The woman had spoken to you, but her eyes were locked on him. "Is it a skill that was learned?"

The question itself was innocent enough, but the inflection and tone she used were meant to cut. He wasn't stupid. He knew she was alluding to something. It was always something, but he had to force himself not to say anything; the woman was a viper, and if he said something, she would attack without hesitation.

"I think anyone can be patient," You had responded diplomatically. "It's just a matter of the situation."

The woman didn't look happy with your answer, but she didn't pursue the line of questioning.

"Well, I couldn’t help but notice a certain someone who decided to finally drop in."

There it was. That was the opening.

Mike could tell you didn’t like the turn of conversation, and you were clearly trying to divert it elsewhere. It was no use, though. Mike could see the glint in the woman's eye as she prepared for the kill. She had a smile on her face, but her eyes were cold. "I was starting to think that Mr. Schmidt had abandoned his responsibilities. Wouldn’t be the first time someone in that family did such a thing."

He couldn’t help but have visions of his accidental mall incident from last year flash in his mind when he processed what the woman had said. He could easily hop over the desk and deck her right in the mouth. He had the muscle for it, and it was very tempting.

However, he would not.

If there was anything Mike had learned over the years, it was how to control his emotions, even if the situation was dire. The last time he had lost his cool, he ended up getting fired, but that was a long time ago… okay, not really, but the point was, he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

He wouldn't give the woman the satisfaction.

Mike leaned forward in his chair, arms crossed over his knees, and looked the woman straight in the eyes. "That's funny. I could say the same thing about your kid."

"Excuse me?!" She hissed, and she seemed offended. Good. He hoped she was offended.

"Okay, okay." You intervened, hands up as if to placate the two of them. "Let's keep this civil, okay? The last thing we want is to be kicked out of the school for brawling. That's not beneficial for any of us." You then looked back at the woman. "Let's not bring personal matters into this."

"Personal matters?" The woman was appalled at your statement, and her voice was so loud in the quiet room. He could tell many of the other parents were looking at them now, and he felt the weight of their gazes on him. It only made his anger spike. "That monkey of his tried to bully mine for three months now, and she's never done anything."

Monkey? Monkey?! Oh, he was going to kill her. It was one thing to talk shit about him; he was used to that, but Abby? No. Absolutely not. His little sister was the best damn thing to come into his life. He wouldn't have it.

But before he could say something, before he could even get out of the chair, you had done something he would never have thought you would. You got up and went to your desk, then you returned, holding a paper. You held it up for all the parents to see.

"This is a drawing my students did a few weeks ago," you started, and he was surprised at the level of calmness you were exuding. "The assignment was for them to draw the thing they loved the most."

Hearing those words, Mike had a feeling what was coming next, but he wasn't going to say anything. It would be like tempting fate. Still, he watched as you grabbed one of the papers, and then you turned it around so he could see it. Abby had done the drawing, and it was not only of him but of everyone else in her class as well. She had even drawn you standing near her with a kind smile. It was the picture she had brought home from that field trip months ago. It was a nice picture. Really nice. He liked it, and he knew Abby was proud of it.

"I made copies of every drawing so the parents could see them," You continued as you held out the picture for everyone to see. "So, tell me, would a bully do this?"

Your voice had a bite to it now, and he could finally see just how angry you were. He was surprised at how much control you were exerting. The other parents, however, were shocked at your sudden display of emotion. Even the woman, who had looked as though she was ready to take you on herself, looked like a deer caught in headlights. She didn't know what to say. No one said anything. Even he was shocked by your sudden outburst.

You were normally such a mellow person. Understanding, even. Always ready to listen, always ready to understand. You were the one who was there to help when something went wrong. You were the person who everyone turned to. You were… nice. You were a kind person. You were—you were just like Abby. That's all he saw in you now. You were just like his sister. You were just like her. You had that same determination and that same look of knowing something that others didn't, but there was also something else. You were a fighter, too. It was just something he hadn't noticed until this very moment.

You weren't the nice teacher everyone thought you were. No, you were more. You were the person he knew his sister was becoming.

"And to answer your question from before," you continued, ignoring the growing outrage from the other parent. "I'm a very patient woman because I understand that not everyone has the same opportunities. Some of us have a responsibility to provide the basic necessities for our family, which can often lead to not being able to attend these types of meetings.”

You looked directly at the woman when you spoke the last part, and you did not look happy. At all. In fact, he was pretty sure that was a little vein on the side of your head.

"Not everyone can be at their best every moment. Not everyone is at their best all the time. Not everyone has the privilege to complain about things not going their way. So, while I am a very patient woman, I will not have any of this derogatory about my students and their guardians." The calmness in your voice was gone, and your voice was rising, and you had started pacing back and forth behind your desk as you spoke. "Because if there is one thing that I cannot stand, it's someone who criticizes others just to make themselves feel better."

You went on to speak about your experience with the woman's daughter, explaining that a meeting needed to be called upon to address the issues with the child. You didn't stop there, though. No, you also spoke about how she should have addressed the situation when it was first brought up and how that, in turn, impacted the rest of your class. You had even pointed out some of the other parent's children who had done the same thing.

Suddenly, this meeting wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

It took a while, but once you finished your little speech, everyone had finally gotten over their shock and embarrassment. The meeting, as such, continued without incident, and by the time it was all said and done, Mike was ready to go home.

As he stood from his seat and made his way to the door, however, you stopped him. You had your bag in your hand and your coat on as well.

"I just wanted to—"

"You don't need to apologize," Mike cut you off. He didn't want an apology. He knew you weren't at fault here. In fact, he was surprised you took the time even to defend him. That didn't happen often. "I was expecting something like that to happen, but I appreciate you speaking up for Abby. She's got a good teacher."

He thought you would be embarrassed or even annoyed, but instead, your face lit up, and your cheeks turned red. "Oh, uh, well, it's my job. It was what I needed to do."

"Maybe, but you did it anyway. So, I appreciate it." He looked around the room and noticed everyone else had left. Even the nosy assistant had disappeared. He didn't know what to say, so he settled with saying the first thing that came to mind. "And hey, maybe next time you can tell them this is why I don't go to these meetings."

Your laugh was light, and you had a smile on your face. He liked the sound of it. He liked seeing it, too. He also liked the way it lit up your eyes. They had a beautiful color. So bright, so shiny. It was almost hypnotic.

"I'll consider it."

Mike wasn't sure how, but somehow, he knew you were telling the truth.

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antiwhores · 24 days

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omgg i saw u did an alpha bakugo and was wondering if you could do reader with a cat quirk that means so goes into heat and she has to leave class and go hide in her room because its so strong and she ends up finding a peice of bakugos clothes and she ends up masterbaiting with it then he walks in on her (cuz he got worried)

❤️❤️🫶🏻🫶🏻

Clearing out my asks (because I forgot about them) :P

It was a horrible day for you. You should’ve known you were about to go into heat.

First, you woke up way earlier than you needed to be up soaked in sweat. Then you had to get up and take a cold shower because you were sill burning up.

By fourth period, you knew what was going on when you walked by Bakugou. His scent almost made you crumble to your knees.

You tried to power through it but everything you did was sloppy. You couldn’t pay attention in class for the life of you. You kept having to take bathroom breaks too. You got your ass kicked in training with Bakugou, more than usual, because everything he got close you fumbled.

“Oi, the hell is wrong with you?” he’d ask with a mean look.

“Nothing!” You snapped. It wasn’t like you.

Bakugou, your bestfriend / crush wasn’t the only one who noticed your antics. Aizawa ended up sending you back to the dorms because he realized what was going on.

As you were walking back, heaving from the burning in your body, you noticed one of Bakugou’s sweaters laying in the commons. Without another thought, you swiped it up and ran to your room.

You got to work until a knock was heard. You checked the time, it had already been 3 hours?!

“Open up ya damn feline.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to hold back the whine that threatened to escape, quickly pulling your pants and shirt on just incase.

“Go away!” you manage to yell out.

“Open the door in three or I’ll break the fucker down!”

You fully believed him, by the time he got to two you had the door creaked open. You only planned on opening it a slither but he forced himself in.

“Is that my sweatshirt?”

You wanted to cry, so you did. You cried and you told him everything about your quirk and how you were sorry about stealing his stuff but he smelled so good and you needed something to alleviate the pain.

He doesn’t say a word as he closes the door behind him. He picks you up from where your slumped on the ground and sets you on your bed.

You almost choke as he starts to unbuckle his pants.

“You should’ve just said so, fuckin’ dumbass.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki #mha x reader

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pedgito · 2 years

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𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. i ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: something that is desired all the more because it is not allowed—you find yourself torn between the idea that even though eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.

cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), background ronance, max is readers bestfriend, eddie likes to wear his hair up for class and hates being formal, bratty!reader (sorta), angsty touches, a smutty cliffhanger, ect & lots more to come (pun intended)

word count: 11.6k - part two, part three, part four

The campus was huge and crowded and everything you hated all wrapped into one—but you couldn’t beat the view, the pleasant Indians weather, and all the amazing classes the college had to offer. And normally, first days would be terrifying, crippling your anxiety, but there was nothing but excitement; for now, at least.

Most of your morning was spent combing through syllabuses and trying to find your classes, which is mostly your own fault, deciding on a major so vastly different from your main course work—by the time afternoon rolls around, you’re forced to walk clear across campus, nearly ten minutes late to your class and faced with a surprisingly unirritated gentleman, who’s three seconds away from shutting the door closed indefinitely.

The man steals a glance at his watch, arm twitching slightly to force his sleeve back. His eyes glance up to you for a moment and back down, “Not a great way to start off your first day,” He comments cooly, face void of any emotion, “is this gonna be a habit?”

“No—god, no,” You respond, slightly out of breath, hand clutching the strap of your book bag, “I’m just getting used to where everything’s at—I didn’t get a chance to visit the campus earlier, I have no idea where anything is or—“

“It’s fine,” He assures, beckoning you into the classroom, surprisingly full, forcing you to the front row, positioned almost directly in front of his desk—this was the beginning of your nightmare, “let’s just be mindful of time, yeah?”

Not that Eddie has ever been punctual a day in his life. But, he’s learned that being a hard-ass is more effective than not giving a shit at all, especially when it comes to his students.

“Yeah—yes, I promise.” You swear, forcing a thin smile before making an immediate line for your desk, hoping that the further you sink, the more unnoticed you’ll be. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case.

The loud slide of the chalk against the chalkboard as he writes his name across the green slab is defeating, most of the class watching in fearful silence—like there was some impending doom about to descend upon them.

“Uh, sir—“ You can see him visibly tense at the word, “are we going to be learning how to play any instruments in this class?” The voice comes from a boy who seems naturally quiet and more reserved, mortified by the fact that he even found the courage to raise his hand and ask a question.

There’s a small roar of laughter from the others, but you look along stoically, watching his face upturn slightly.

“Don’t call me, sir—please,” He laughs lightly, “it makes me feel old.”

“Professor Munson,” He corrects himself, “sorry.”

“You’re fine,” He assures, “and look—this isn’t an intro to music, it’s intro to musical therapy. We’re not just studying instruments and music, we’re also studying behaviors, the mind, how all of this stuff connects and affects people’s thought process and aiding certain struggles they may have.”

His way of talking is animated and refreshing, a stark change from the usual monotone professors you’ve run into all morning.

“So, if you’re just expecting to learn how to play the piano or something, this class probably isn’t for you,” He explains, eyeing down about a quarter of the class that makes a collective groan, “hey—I’m just being honest.”

And you knew you wouldn’t see half of those people in a week, jumping at the first chance to transfer, but you couldn’t help being intrigued. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice for a major, but it took you by surprise; your love for psychology and mind studies mixed with your love of music, it seemed like the perfect storm. Plus, your professor wasn’t the worst person in the world—yet.

He easily snaps open the cuff links to his sleeves, rolling them halfway up his arm, revealing a rather striking depiction of bats, swarming around the expanse of his forearm.

He definitely seemed like a tattoo guy, but it was still odd to see so openly—his feet tap together as he takes a seat on the end of his desk, scanning the room. You can’t help but notice his lopsided tie, wanting so desperately to fix it—it was bound to drive you nuts.

“It’s probably best to get most of your question out of the way today,” He says, “so, shoot them at me while you have the opportunity.”

A few hands fly up, he points off to your right, a couple rows behind you.

“So—are you a therapist?”

He snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head, “No—I don’t have all the proper certifications, but I assist therapist a lot when they’re looking into doing stuff related to musical therapy. I know enough to get by.”

The smile he flashes leads you to believe that he’s trying to be humble.

“Do you play any instruments?” Another student asks freely, the heads of the rest of the class snapping in their direction.

“A few,” He answers, hand waving about in a noncommittal manner, “mostly just guitar.”

He adjusts his tie again, even more lopsided now and you can’t help but stare it down, focused on nothing but the black, shiny material of it—Eddie clears his throat softly, catching your attention.

He’s staring right at you, caught red-handed—quick, think of something—

“Who do you usually work with?” You ask suddenly, “In your line of work, I mean.”

Outside of being a professor, obviously.

Another laugh, more subdued. “Veterans, mostly, and a lot of children.”

Eddie claps his hands together very suddenly, startling most of the class, including yourself. “Anyways, let’s go over the syllabus so there’s no confusion—I don’t need you guys bugging me outside of my office hours, as much as I love to teach.”

You sense another jab coming, but it doesn’t.

The syllabus review is a breeze, setting you up for what most of the semester entails, including when he was available—again, making it very clear that he wasn’t available outside of office hours.

And then he’s adjusting the damn tie again, almost like it’s wringing his neck to death. By the time class ends, he dismisses everyone with a simple wave, a few students lingering around their desks, debating on whether they should drop the class or not.

The voice that trails from the front of the classroom as you take a step down catches your attention, pulling your head up to look at the culprit. “Staying or dropping?” He asks.

Professor Munson. It felt weird and unnatural as it rolled around in your mind, still not falling from your tongue.

“Staying,” You answer surely, “I knew what this class was before I signed up—I’m not about playing roulette with taking a college class.”

“Fair enough.” He’s leaning against his desk again, hands shoved into his slack pockets, shiny, gold watch resting on his wrist, and you can’t take it anymore, the frustration boiling from your chest

“Your tie,” You say abruptly, pointing at the material, “It’s crooked.”

Really fucking crooked.

He takes a glance down, finger slipping in the space between his tie and neck, pulling at the offense piece of clothing, loosening it until it’s snapping away.

He balls up the tie and tosses it behind me, landing messily on his desk. “I never wear those after the first day—hate them. They’re so stupid.”

“Or, you just don’t know how to tie a tie.” You point on, mouth speaking before your brain can catch up—realizing much too late that this was your professor, not a friend.

Eddie scoffs mockingly, “And I’m sure you do.” He counters, watching your face drop slightly.

You did, actually—but that wasn’t the point.

“No one ever taught me.” He tells you, “So I’m wingin’ it.”

You nod thoughtfully, surprised at how quickly you managed to embarrass yourself. “Oh.” You say simply, it’s all you can manage.

You save yourself for further humiliation by offering a wave of goodbye, breaking the uncomfortable tension that had grown between you both, excusing yourself immediately.

And if that was horrible enough, your night would be even worse.

☆.｡.:*

“The Hideout?” You ask curiously, twisting the flyer in your hand, “That place is still open?

Max snatches the paper from your hand, shoving it into the pocket of her jacket, protecting her from the biting cold of wind—the beginnings of Hawkins autumn weather creeping up on you.

It didn’t help that you were barely covered from the waist down, skirt leaving little to imagine as the slit ran high up your thigh, thankfully the long sleeve top you wore was enough to save your upper extremities.

“Nancy and Robin swear by that place—plus, they’ll be pissed if you don’t go.” Max explains in her usual ‘could care less’ tone.

The only reason she was going was because of Lucas—a boy she’d met during her first class that day, who she also invited out, despite barely knowing. You couldn’t blame her, though. Max could handle herself well enough, that was for sure.

The drive is long, further out of town than you expect—hidden on some rundown road on an empty corner, bare except for the small bar, yet the place was packed with cars.

“Okay, maybe this place isn’t as rundown as I remember,” You take note of, “or everyone really wanted to get drunk tonight.”

Either way, you were definitely heading toward the latter option, following closely after Max. It doesn’t take long for Max to be pulled away though, quickly distracted by the only reason she came here, abandoning you.

“Have fun,” You remind her, “seriously.”

You could take care of yourself, settling up at one of the empty tables before the stage, perched on the uncomfortably tall seat, ordering yourself a quick drink as a server passes you.

“Hey!” A perked up voice yells out from behind you, arms wrapping around in a gentle hug—no one had the nerve besides Robin, who quickly caught you in a fuller hug as you turned to face her. “How have you been? Where’s Max?”

“She’s busy,” You laugh, giving her a pointed look, which she catches on quickly. “Where’s Nance?”

“Right here,” Her delicate voice peaks out from behind Robin, watching as her hand sneaks into Nancy’s, squeezing firmly.

You smile to yourself, but Robin sees it, shoving you an annoyed look.

At least those two finally figured it out—almost ten years later.

“So, you two know who’s playing tonight?” You ask curiously, sipping on the beer that the server passes to you on their way through the crowd.

“Yeah, he’s an old friend—we haven’t seen him in a while, though.” They both frown at the mention of it, sharing a quiet glance. “We should’ve invited Steve, Nance.”

“He never wants to leave the house, you know that.” Nancy adds, “His kids keep him busy enough.”

And it seemed like Steve got the life he always wanted, for the most part—but it’s still somber to think about, wishing just as badly that you could’ve seen him once more.

“Maybe next time.” You offer, and both of them smile.

“I’ll have to remind him to invite you to his littlest’s party in a couple months,” Nancy says, “he misses you.”

The feedback startled all of you, pulling you from the conversation and toward the stage, light dimly over the center. The lights around the bar dimmed in contrast, adjusting everyone toward the men gathering in their places on stage.

You squinted carefully, watching the guitarist adjust the microphone, pulling it up to his height. His hair was long, unruly, and obscuring his face as he leaned forward, speaking into the microphone.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He asks with a decent amount of enthusiasm, receiving a hearty applause in return. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

The name blanks in your mind, not ringing any immediate bells.

It was definitely a crowd full of fans—or family, at least. They excitement was palpable, everyone leaning on the edge of their seats.

“This is our first show in a couple years, so go easy on us.” He laughs, head flicking up to move the hair out of his face—again, he spots you almost instantly.

The intake of breath is involuntarily, getting caught in your throat. The blush that creeps up your cheeks is hot and burning, noticeable from a mile away.

Eddie fucking Munson, your college professor—of all the chances and fate in the world this is how your night was going to go?

Eddie clears his throat, immediately averting his gaze. “We’re just doing cover songs tonight—so if you’ve got a request, send it through Gareth.” He instructs, jerking his head over his shoulder.

And despite how mortifying this all feels, Eddie plays his heart out; you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a person who expresses himself through his body and his music, clearly—thrashing wildly and putting every movement he can into his playing, bouncing on his feet. He can’t be bothered to stay still, which is a complete difference from his classroom demeanor.

From what you’ve seen, at least.

“You good?” Robin asks, nothing the ghostly look on your face.

“Yeahyeah, uh—“ You reply distantly, “The lead looked familiar, but I think it’s a coincidence.”

One hell of a fucking coincidence.

“Eddie?” They both ask simultaneously, “There’s no way.”

Eddie Munson. Again, your professor—but also, a friend of a friend, and a complete fucking stranger otherwise. You must’ve pissed someone off well enough down the line to end up in this position; the biggest dose of karma you’ve ever felt.

“Like I said—it’s probably a coincidence.” You assure them, eyes still locked on him.

“Yeah—I don’t think we started hanging out with him until after you moved schools.” Nancy supplies, further attempting to assure you.

Eddie catches another glance at you and you can’t help but down the bottle of beer in one go, immediately leaving your seat to ask for another, leaving your friends to congregate at the table.

The song ends abruptly, falling off of a long guitar solo, and you can’t even dare to look in that direction, faced shoved into the drink you gripped in your hand.

“Come here, come here,” You hear Robin call from behind you, but you know it’s not for you, another rumbling voice slipping through the many others, a weak protest, “Stop being like that.”

There really was no arguing with Robin and Eddie was smart to keep quiet, following her obediently to the bar. The hand that clasps your shoulder is light and gentle and Nancy shoots you an apologetic look as you look behind you.

“Ringin’ any bells now?” Robin asks playfully, holding her hand up under his face, like he was on display. Eddie makes a face, side eyeing her affectionately.

“No, sorry,” You lie easily, shrugging him off. Eddie seems to relax at that, half-expecting you to out both him and yourself—not that there was anything wrong, it was just another freaky coincidence, “What’s his name again?”

And really, it’s just to poke fun, the slight buzz creeping into your system.

“Eddie Munson,” Nancy replies, glancing between the both of you, “Edward, if that helps.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, hand held up in desperation as he called out for a drink over your shoulder, reaching around you to grab the bottle. You visibly tense at the proximity and he notices, still, he doesn’t try to move away.

This was too weird.

“Nope, still nothing.” You tell them, sticking to your story.

Robin shrugs, “Well, I should probably explain—Nancy used to babysit her when she was younger, her and Max and all those crazy little kids that we always told you about—“

It made you wince; babysitter, Nancy, kids. It was the worst sequence of words that could’ve been spoken in history, to your professor, in the middle of a bar, that he was also playing at.

“Robin,” You warn, “I’m sure he doesn’t care.”

“Nah,” Eddie shrugs, leaned beside you against the bar, metal chain clinking against the counter-top, lifting the beer to his lips leisurely, “It’s nice to meet you.”

And the smile seems forced, but his voice is steady, easy—you almost believe him.

But, then Nancy and Robin are pulled off in a different direction, catching up with another small group of friends and Eddie is staring at you.

And not secretly—very, very openly.

“I swear I didn’t—“ You start.

“I don’t usually,” He interrupts.

You both take a hard stop, looking each other down.

“You first,” He instructs, bring the drink to his lips once more, “then I’ll go.”

“I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” You explain, “otherwise I would’ve skipped out.”

He wants to ask why, but the answer seems obvious—no one wants to see their teacher outside of school.

“I don’t usually make a habit of letting my students see me like this.” He motions to his get-up, hair loose and clothes even looser, aside from the obviously homemade jacket he wore, patches hand stitched and worn at the seams, but the weirdest part of it all—the ripped jeans. It felt out of place for someone nearing their thirties. He catches your gaze, the judgement evident. “My point exactly.”

“So, that’s why you don’t know how to tie a tie.” You challenge, taking a long sip of beer, eyebrow quirked in amusement as you swallow, cheeks puffed out by the liquid.

He scoffs softly, amused at your comeback. “We shouldn’t even be talking right now, you know that?” He points out, yet he hasn’t moved an inch, still close enough that if you decided to separate your thighs, he’d fit perfectly.

You hum quietly, “Yet, you’re still here.” Another beer down, another slipped into your hand like clockwork, throwing it back easily. “So, who’s fault is that?”

Him being the responsible adult and all, not that it really mattered here. This would be a level playing field outside of any other circumstance.

“Wait—can I ask a personal question?” And maybe it was the alcohol talking.

“No—“ He answers quickly, but your brain bypasses it.

“How old are you?” You ask curiously, “You look too young to be a professor.”

Eddie looks stunned, affected by your forwardness, but he takes it in stride. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment—I’m twenty nine, a couple years older than Nancy and Robin.”

You don’t press on the additional information, but nod thoughtfully, taking another quick sip of your beer.

“Sorry—it was bugging me. I have a bad problem with filtering my thoughts.” You admit sheepishly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, fiddling with the flimsy zipper on your skirt.

“Clearly,” Eddie laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly, stopping just as his lips pressed the rim, “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”

“Are you going to kick me out if I’m not?” You challenge playfully, Eddie doesn’t bite, looking you down accusingly.

It was as if he suddenly shifted back into teacher mode, judging your choices and feeling the need to scold you.

“I’m twenty one,” You tell him, “don’t have a fucking stroke over it.”

You don’t know why Eddie’s eyes shift, scanning full body, like he’s trying to take all of you in—both of your contrasting styles outside of school are a welcomed surprise; he doesn’t really expect it from you. But, you could say the same for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” He assures you, nursing the beer near his mouth, forearms leaned against the bar now as he looks toward you, eyes catching the way your fingers fiddled with the label on the bottle, “you cold?”

Your leg crosses over the other, goosebumps riddling your skin—it’s like he’s a mind reader, the entrance door of the bar swinging open, a cold blast of air spreading throughout. “Not really.” You lie, gripping the end of your skirt to shift it down.

You could’ve been more practical, shown up in jeans and some worn out band shirt, but you wanted to look nice—feel cute and dressed up for once, was that a crime?

“Hey, there you are,” Max calls from behind you, scattering toward you with a wide-eyed Lucas in tow, “so you met Eddie?”

You turn in your seat, staring the fiery redhead down, a smile plastered on her freckle covered face.

“You too?” You ask incredulously, glancing toward Eddie, who seemed rather unfazed by it all now. “What the hell?”

“He used to live across from me, back in high school,” Max explains, which makes sense.

You moved after middle school, leaving most of Hawkins in your rear view, aside from the occasional letters to Max—both of you swore that despite the distance, college was your nonnegotiable; both of you applied, both of you got accepted, it was some sort of divine miracle, but neither of you questioned it.

“Small world,” Eddie shrugs from beside you, finishing off the last sip of his beer, “you staying out of trouble, Red?”

“Probably not,” She replies honestly, before turning to you sheepishly, “—do you think Robin will give you a ride home?”

“Max,” You groan, her look switching from hesitant to pleading, “fine—whatever, I’ll talk to Robin.”

“I love you,” She says endearingly, wrapping you into a quick forceful hug, nearly knocking you from your chair, “I owe you one.”

“Uh huh,” You reply sarcastically, waving her away, “See you tomorrow.”

When you turn, Eddie is slapping a fresh bill on the counter-top, returning his chained wallet back to his pocket.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you Monday.”

Saying it makes it even weirder.

“I won’t tell anyone.” You assure him, seeing the way his eyes catch yours, almost thankful. He doesn’t have to say it—he didn’t take you for the type to brag, but still, it’s a comforting confession. “I promise.”

The last part feels like too much, but Eddie smiles regardless, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, preparing for the crisp, cold air that awaits him.

Robin, find Robin. Your brain scrambled, searching around for your friend—or Nancy, but neither of them are anywhere inside of the bar.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks softly, pulling the hair caught under the lapel of his jacket.

“I think they left,” You frown slightly, preparing yourself to walk several blocks until the nearest bus station, feet already sore and achy from the uncomfortable heels you wore, “Robin and Nance.”

And Eddie has the internal battle with himself for at least half a minute, weighing the odds of how uncomfortable this could be, or how creepy it may come off, but he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry—he wasn’t raised that way.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks suddenly, swinging his keys into his palm.

“Huh?” There was no way you were taking a ride from your teacher, of all people. “—I’m fine, really. I just need to walk far enough to the bus stop.”

“In those?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring down at the heels that hugged your feet like a vice grip, already sore from only a couple hours of use. “It’s not a big deal—are you going back to campus?”

You nod hesitantly.

Eddie motions toward the door and you follow obediently—your feet could thank you later. You knew there was no harm in a ride home, either, Eddie was far from the normal sketchy men around Hawkins, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like keeping a secret from your parents and doing something that had persistently told you not to, or how often the school system looked down on relations with staff outside of school, no matter the level or severity. It seemed that Eddie was hoping you’d keep this to yourself—he was counting on it.

☆.｡.:*

“Did you enjoy the music at least?” Eddie asks halfway through the drive, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other fishes for his pack of cigarettes; a bad habit he’d yet to break.

“I mean—they were cover songs,” You shrugged, “Metallica is alright, but I prefer Bon Jovi and Quiet Riot—“

“Are you shitting on Metallica, right now?” Eddie asks, shocked by the admission. He manages to wiggle a cigarette out with one hand, tossing the box toward the middle console, “Do you mind?”

Part of you wants to say yes, just to be difficult, but you shake your head. He flicks his lighter opening, lighting the end of the cigarette until it burns a bright amber, ashes falling from the tip.

“You dress like you’re stuck in the eighties, dude.” Eddie seems offended by the comment, but takes it in stride.

“Says the lady who still listens to Bon Jovi.” Eddie sharks, pulling the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing from his nose as he breathes, “

You hate how nice it is to watch, his soft lips pursing into a tight line. One more hit at him and he’d probably fail you out of spite, but you do it anyway.

“Says the guy still singing eighties cover songs.” Eddie winces at the jab, flicking away the ash from the cigarette, held out in the air as he searches for his retort.

“So you hated it?” Is all his brain can muster at a time like this, brain hazy from the amount of beers he consumed—you could say the same for yourself, the alcohol buzz is still ever apparent—you wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this while stone cold sober, that’s for sure.

“No,” You reply honestly. The music was good, the performance was even better, but still—it seemed he was searching for your approval, like it would make all the difference, “but it’s the mid nineties, you need to get with the times.”

Eddie scoffs offensively, a few more puffs before he’s rubbing the cigarette to its untimely demise, pulling into the quiet campus.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” He says, coming to a stop, “—I hope this is close enough, the last thing I need is someone catching me dropping you off.”

Then he shouldn’t have offered a ride, which was his first mistake of many.

It’s offensive how handsome he looks under the dim lights radiating from the inside of his van—an odd choice for a teacher of his salary, but it still makes sense, somehow.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir.” You retort, throwing the last bit in for fun—he tenses again, visibly. He doesn’t correct you, though, which is even more difficult to understand.

He offers a simple wave, friendly and polite, then he’s gone and halfway across the campus before you can even process what happened.

It also doesn’t help that the first thing you see in your dreams that night is his face—ungodly in the way he worshiped your body, from head to toe; it was definitely the alcohol talking.

☆.｡.:*

Monday drags more than you expect, having nursed your hangover during the weekend, it felt like an aftershock was trying to overtake you, your focus lacking. It wasn’t unlike you.

You replay the conversation with Eddie in your head a few times that weekend, realizing that even through your drunken haze, Eddie was not attempting to be teacherly toward you—he was friendly, a natural conversationalist, it felt wrong.

It felt even worse when you fell asleep, his head stuck between your thighs as you dreamed that night, “She’s so pretty,” His voice is faded, muffled—like he’s stuck in a tunnel and too far away, “fucking soaking wet, too.”

And it feels too real as he licks a broad stripe up your cunt, moaning obscenely as his face is coated in your wetness, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit—it’s too much for you to process.

“Good afternoon,” Eddie’s voice carries through the door to his classroom, satchel and coffee in hand, looking just as worse for wear. His hair is tied back in a loose bun, no tie today, and his slacks look like they’re been worn for a week straight, wrinkles and all, “nice to see the class has downsized.”

It has, nearly half of the original class is gone—which really, it was better for you. You couldn’t focus in large classes and it felt less personal, more disconnected than you liked.

Eddie tries desperately to keep his energy up during the duration of the lesson, but he’s lacking on all fronts—maybe he had a rough weekend?

When he hands out the first assignment near the end of class, he stops by your desk, leaning on the railing to speak to the entirety of the class, “And don’t freak out—this is just a basis to see where you heads are at in terms of what music you like, how it makes you feel, it’s just a soft introduction into some of the stuff we’ll be covering over the semester.”

It’s a list of various songs, bands, genres—a mix of things dating back to the early fifties, up until more recently. “Go out, rent some of this if you’ve never heard of it, and write what you feel—that’s it. Easy enough?”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge you most of the class, which is expected, but disappointing. He seems preoccupied, distracted, clearly bothered by something. But, it wasn’t your problem—the only focus you had now was your course work, which was the first thing you started on that night; a very giddy Max rummaging through your dorm room as background noise, so disorganized it could drive you insane.

“He drove you here?” She asks.

“Yes—but you can’t say anything, Max. I’m serious.”

You didn’t have anything to worry about, you knew that.

“I didn’t even know he taught here—or that he was even a professor. I mean, I know he finally graduated but—“

“Finally?” You ask curiously, swiveling in your chair to face her fully, interest fully piqued.

“He had a rough time in high school—he didn’t graduate until he was twenty, I think.” She explains, busy hands now stopped in their tracks. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your eyebrows raise in question, hoping Max would spill everything she knew—you couldn’t help but be curious about him, even if he was your professor.

“He probably doesn’t even know I go here,” She laughs slightly, “His mom and dad were never in the picture, though—at least I never saw them, it’s always been him and his uncle. He hung out with Nancy, Steve, and Robin a lot—closer to when he was graduating, they’ve stayed good friends, I guess.”

You nod slowly, absorbing the information.

“Is he mean?” Max asks randomly and you almost laugh, “My professors are the worst.”

“He’s fine,” You shrug, “It’s kinda nice that he’s not such a dick, you know?”

“What does he teach again?”

“Musical therapy?” You respond, wondering if that would surface any other tidbits of information.

“Oh—that kinda makes sense. He was always listening to music, then he just disappeared after graduation, but his uncle always talked about how he was helping people, doing something he really liked—I just never bothered him about it.”

There’s a long silence before Max can’t help herself, perching herself on the surface closest to you, pens scrambling to the floor as she takes a seat on the edge of your shared desk.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“The weather,” You say flatly, not receiving any type of reaction from her, “—-just music, that’s it.”

“But, babe, you love music.” Max reminds, like it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“And—he’s my professor, it’s fucking weird.” You explain, but even Max doesn’t believe you. “What—why are you looking at me like that?”

“You two are so similar,” She laughs, “It’s freaky.”

“Maxine—what are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” She shrugs, hoping from the desk, “—remember that I’ll be your maid of honor at the wedding, though. We pinky swore.”

“He’s my professor, Max.” You stress again, Max smiles wide, annoying you further.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?” Max asks, realizing that you’d used the same playful jab at him the night before.

“What?” The coincidence was uncanny.

“Eddie used to tell me that whenever I tried to justify doing something I wasn’t supposed to—I’ve grown, obviously,” That’s not entirely believable, but you keep your mouth shut, “the saying stuck with me—it’s kinda fun to use.”

“Whatever—did you get the music I asked about?” You ask, impatiently switching the topic to something less scandalous.

“Everything was spoken for,” Max explains, trying to let you down gently, “I really tried—but I guess everyone in that class had the same idea on where to go, unless you want to take a trip to the store and buy them—“

And it dawns on you, Eddie must have some sort of music collection, “Wait—what time is it?”

Max takes a quick glimpse at the alarm clock on her nightstand, “A quarter past five, why?”

Still open for office hours—you prayed silently, despite your lack of religion, hoping that he was still in his classroom.

“Give me a ride.”

Max doesn’t question it, being the best friend she is.

☆.｡.:*

“I’m busy,” He says before you can even knock on the door, your loud ascending footsteps giving you away, “come back in the morning.”

You peek through the window of the door anyways, seeing a perfectly relaxed Eddie reclined at his desk, feet propped up as he jotted something down in a book, tongue poked out in focus.

“Uh Professor…Munson,” It felt foreign and weird, “I just had a question.”

His demeanor changes on a dime at the sight of you, unbusying himself completely. It’s a little hysterical, but endearing nonetheless. It makes your stomach flutter at the sight, scrambling to button his shirt higher, seem more professional, not that you hadn’t already seen him outside of work.

The door creaks open, his head popping through as you back away, “What’s going on?” He asks, surprised that anyone would dare to bother him outside of normal class hours. It doesn’t take you long to realize that he only mentioned the office hours out of courtesy, he didn’t actually expect anyone to bother him.

“I was trying to work on your assignment—“ His eyes softened, and it made you flinch, feeling exposed, “I don’t really have the money to buy any of the music and everything was already rented out—-so I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Oh,” He wasn’t sure what to expect but he finds himself opening the door wider, welcoming you inside, “Yeah—a few students raided my shelf before class was over but I’m sure there’s some left.”

“Thanks,” You reply shyly, squeezing beside him, watching as he lingered by the door still, hands shoved into fists in his pockets, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir—“

“You can call me Eddie—here, at least.” And that definitely doesn’t feel appropriate, but if he’s insisting, well…

“Sorry, it just feels…strange, I guess.” It’s not how you wanted to describe it, but it’s the only word that comes to mind. “I can’t imagine how weird it is running into your students outside of class.”

“Probably as weird as it feels running into your teacher,” He adds playfully, lightening the mood. It’s nice that he’s not so bothered by all of it, “Oh—I’ve got some Elvis in there, a lot of classic rock. I’m not sure about the newer stuff, though.”

“Max has some of it.” You comment without thinking, sifting through the box of music, picking and choosing as you went.

“Max?”

“She’s—she’s my roommate here.” You answer quietly, unable to meet his eyes as he walks closer, leisurely making his way around his desk.

“I guess I should’ve put that together,” He says, taking a moment to examine the sweater you’d shoved on, “You two share a closet?”

“Among other things.” You smile, grasping the stack of Cd's in your hand, “How did you know?”

You share a glance down at the faded sweater, reading off the name of some random skate shop back in rural Hawkins, a place you’ve never stepped foot inside of.

“I got that for Red on her sixteenth birthday, before I left.”

Eddie’s frowning now, nearly unnoticeable, but you see the way his mouth creases, eyes turned down. “It’s her favorite,” You say, in an attempt to make the mood less dark, “but I always steal it from her—she’s let me take residency over it at this point.”

“It looks nice,” Eddie says suddenly, feeling the slip up as it slides off his tongue, rambling even further as he says, “on you—I mean, it’s a nice sweater—that’s why I bought it.”

You laugh softly, bottom lip jutting out as your mouth curls into a smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

He scratched at his temple, ringed finger shining against the light refracting from the lamp on his desk. You’ve never noticed it before—or them, since his hand was adorned with three, that you could see.

“Hey, those are cool—“ You point out, finger pressed in the direction of his upheld hand. He stops, views his hand, almost like he’s forgotten he was wearing them, “I’ve noticed them before.”

“I try not to wear them during class hours, the administration thinks it’s unprofessional.” The nature of the rings, not the fact that he wore them—if he had a wedding ring it wouldn’t matter, but the thought of marriage made Eddie want to vomit.

“Fuck ‘em.” You say crudely, shoulder shrugged In indifference.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open slightly at the sudden outburst, amusement flooding his face, “I’m still your professor—probably should keep that type of language to a minimum.”

You snort at his indication that he had any type of hold over what you do—he couldn’t be further from the point.

“Or what?” You say challengingly, “This isn’t high school—it’s not like you can give me detention or tell my parents.”

“I am the one handling your grades.” He counters, hip leaned against the edge of his desk. Your free hand travels to your waist, slipping underneath the sweater to rest against the skin.

“You don’t intimidate me—I hope you know that.” You remind him carefully, eyes narrowing in his direction. “The other’s are terrified of you, but that shit doesn’t work on me.”

And he should know better—you shouldn’t even be here and he definitely should be flirting with a student, if you could call it that. Was this flirting? Was this crossing the line? He’s studied body language for a long time, through the process of his treatment of people, and he can’t help but notice how relaxed you seem, almost enjoying the back and forth.

“You should go,” He says quickly, avoiding any further lines being blurred or crossed or misconstrued; you were his student and it was unprofessional, “my office hours are closing soon.”

“Uh huh.” You nod slowly, adjusting the stack of music under your arm, watching the way Eddie’s fingers drum against the desk impatiently, like he can’t wait to get you out of there.

If he was really that bothered, he could’ve said something.

“Thanks again, professor.” You say with grandeur, motioning to the stack of Cd's, “It’s greatly appreciated.”

Eddie tries to ignore the small sliver of skin that shows underneath your slightly raised top that was no longer obscured by your hand, almost like you’re doing it on purpose.

Which, yes, you absolutely were.

You slip by him silently, avoiding the way his eyes follow you. It felt predatorial, but not uncomfortable—and that’s what you hated about it.

He didn’t look at you as a student—he looked at you like something else; you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Eddie turns on the heels of his shoes, “I expect those back tomorrow,” He warns, but there’s no sense of actual ramifications behind it.

You don’t answer fully, a small nod that Eddie doesn’t quite notice. He grabs the sleeve of your sweater gently, his fingertips pressing against your covered arm. “I mean it.”

You look at the hand that gripped your arm for far too long, Eddie still holding on just as hard. “I know.” You appease him, “And if I don’t—you know where to find me.”

The glance to your desk is silent, but done in unison.

“Wanna let go now, sir?”

Eddie hates the way his dick twitches under the material of his corduroy slacks, releasing the bunch of material from his grip. You half-expect him to scold you for the remark, but he’s speechless, for once in his life.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, feeling like he’s made things uncomfortable, but it’s so far from that—he has no idea, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time, hopefully.”

It’s just another playful comment, but it has Eddie gripping his thigh from the inside of his pocket, muscles tensed in frustration.

You leave with a wordless smile that’s burned into Eddie’s mind for the rest of mankind—and it’s definitely not the first thing he thinks about when he slips his boxers down his thighs that night, cock still half-hard from earlier in the evening.

☆.｡.:*

He becomes a permanent fixture in your dreams as the weeks grow on, unbeknownst to him—not that he can say much for himself either, annoyed by the finite nerve you have to walk into his classroom, skirt pulled halfway up your waist, ass barely peeking out of the bottom of the pleated material.

He knows it’s wrong and going against all of the rules set it place for this very reason, but he can’t help himself. So, he suffers in silence—not that it was anything new to him, he’s done it his entire life; under different circumstances and situations perhaps, but the basics of it still remained.

“Fuck—spread your legs,” His voice is hushed, quiet against the skin of your leg as he sucks a deep purple mark into the skin, jerking at the touch of cold metal, the outside of his rings grazing your thighs, “wanna taste you.”

It feels too real—you toss and turn in your sleep restlessly most nights, dreaming about your professor with his hands around your thighs and his mouth buried deep into your cunt.

And with little to no interaction during class, aside from the occasional glance in your direction, he kept his distance—which wasn’t a surprise, he had no idea.

He had no idea that his student was practically pining after him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen him outside of the classroom, dress downed and free of an inhibitions or rules; it was a special kind of torture.

It’s late October when Eddie speaks to you directly, alone—he’s got most of the class set up on various different instruments of their choosing, allowing them to feel them out and play freely, and somehow—by some fucked up fate, you get stuck with a six string and not a clue how to play.

Fake playing wasn’t working, Eddie could spot it from a mile away. You don’t chance the glance up at him, but the squeak of his shoes is enough warning, bracing for whatever remark was going to be sent your way.

“Have you ever played before?” He says instead and your eyes immediately shoot up to him, all previous restraint thrown out the window.

“No, not really.” You say truthfully, watching as Eddie pulled up a chair in front of you, facing the back of it in your direction, thigh swinging over the side—his jeans tightening with the action, along with your thighs. You really needed to get your shit together.

“Here,” His hands come out to rest over yours, adjusting your left hand over the base of the guitar, your right hand around the neck, “This is A,” He presses your finger over the cord, instructing your other hand to strum.

It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar seems old—probably provided by the college rather than Eddie himself, “That’s good,” He praises calmly, “Now try playing an A sharp,” He guides your hand further down the neck, the warm, rough skin of his hand covering your own. He feels tough and worn and you notice the small cuts around his fingertips at this proximity, breath catching as his hand grasps around the wrist that was actively strumming the guitar, “it’s really complicated at first, there’s a lot to learn.”

“Clearly,�� You say, forcing down the smile that threatened to break through, “how long have you played?”

He seems surprised that you cared or even tried to ask.

“Since I was about twelve, probably.” He answers honestly, “More than half my life.”

Eddie still hasn’t moved his hands, either—he can’t be bothered. It doesn’t look as incriminating as you thought, but still, you knew. He helps you play through a few more notes until he’s gotten you to the point of playing a small, five second tone—but it’s all you can really manage.

“It takes a while.” He assures you, not that you wanted to pick up a guitar again after this.

“Why don’t you play?” You ask sweetly, smiling flashing with nothing but devious intent, handing the guitar over toward your professor.

“Nono—I’m really not—“ He protests, setting the guitar back on its stand beside you.

“Not what? That good?” You ask curiously, he was worse at lying to himself than he was to you.

“Are we forgetting how I saw you play that night?” You ask quietly, nothing how his gaze lingered with yours, “Because if that wasn’t you then—“

He gives you a muted look of warning, wanting you to drop the topic of conversation, but you can’t be bothered. He wasn’t in charge of you, not really.

“You can play a Dio song blindfolded, I bet,” You point out, still keeping enough of a hushed town that only Eddie can hear, “Your eyes were closed that entire set.”

“It was my first time back home in a while,” He defends lamely, “It helps with the nerves.”

“I thought it was really good.”

Eddie’s eyes light up in a way you can’t ignore, bordering on shock and adoration, it’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him.

The end of class comes quicker than you want it to, forced to pack your belongings back into your bag in a rush, everyone’s already managed to file out before you can even think of zipping your bag up.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, every other student already long gone, “here, take this.”

It’s a flyer, similar to the one Max shoved into your hands a few weeks prior.

A different bar, same band; one night only.

“I’m probably breaking a thousand rules by giving you that,” He explains carefully, “but maybe you and Max could come out and watch us play—tell her I’ll even throw in some free Kate Bush.”

Your smile is warm, folding the flyer and stuffing it into your pocket. “I told you—I’m not the type to blab, Eddie.”

You hate how easy it feels to say his name in such a setting, still dressed up in his ridiculous attempt at seeming studious and professional. You knew he hated it, he knew it too.

“I can ask her—if not, I’ll still show.” You tell him.

He was only inviting Max to be courteous, but that wasn’t up for him to decide whether or not you actually brought her along. Either way, he was appreciative. He knew that a lot of the support he received back home was mostly done out of obligation and sympathy, but with—it felt real. He didn’t know you, he didn’t have anything to prove to you, and more importantly, you were genuine and honest; he hated that you took up this class. Hated it.

“It’s not a big deal if you can’t.” He offers as an out.

There was no way you were going to miss it, not with how Eddie was looking at you now; despite the circumstance, it was so blatantly obvious to you how badly you wanted him.

“Eddie, I’ll be there.” You assure him once more.

And if the smile that spreads over his face isn’t something worth worshiping, you’d surely find something else.

☆.｡.:*

The bar is small, on the complete opposite side of town—but Max still offers to drive you, but it’s definitely not for your own benefit. She hasn’t shut up about Eddie since you’d told her the situation, the weird looks he gives you, and the horrible filthy dreams you’ve been having; sans the super embarrassing details. She gets it—it’s incredibly amusing to her, but she gets it.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” You asks, fingers tapping nervously against the ripped denim of your jeans, frayed material pulled between your fingertips. “He did invite you.”

“Babe, I’m doing you a favor.” Max interjects, halfhearted smirk on her face.

“He’s my teacher—for the last time,” You begin, beyond desperation, the words falling from your tongue weren’t even believable to your own ears, “I’m not trying to fuck him, Max.”

“I did not say anything about fucking him,” She laughs amusingly, turning into the parking lot of the bar, “—it’s just not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ve known Eddie for a long time.”

“You’re really missing the point.” You say, rubbing the frustration on your face away with your hands, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Oh whatever, don’t tell me you suddenly have some strict moral compass,” Max replies flippantly, “you want to screw him and you know it.”

The suspense is enough of an answer. There was no lying to Max, she knew just about every deepest, darkest secret you carried.

She pulls to a stop outside the entrance, turning toward you carefully, “Also—I can’t pick you up so you’re gonna have to ask him for a ride. I love you.” She rambled it off in one breath, barely giving you time to process. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s the one fight you decide not to pick with her, because for some reason, you know it’s for your own good.

“Hey—you made it!” The familiar voice calls from behind you—Eddie, guitar case in hand, the rest of his band mates in tow. “Red.” He acknowledges, offering her a nod. “There’s parking in the back.”

“Oh—I’m not staying,” She shouts from the driver’s side, “take care of her or I’ll murder you, Munson.”

Max is pulling off before you have any last fleeting chance to run, leaving both you and Eddie at a loss for words.

“Pulled a fast one, didn’t she?” Eddie asks after a moment, gathering by your side, following you into the bar. “She’s sneaky as hell, I’ll give her that.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You huff softly, watching your step as you crossed the threshold, hit in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer.

“A beaut, isn’t she?” Eddie asks sarcastically, but despite that, the bar still garnered a decent amount of attention, packed to the brim with older gentlemen—nothing like bars near campus.

“I think I found your target audience,” You joke lightly, catching the smirk that crosses Eddie’s face as you glance over your shoulder. “I’ll fit right in.”

Eddie slaps a twenty into your hand, “Here, drinks on me—since I forced you here,” You look at him reluctantly, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t plan on drinking tonight.” You insist, forcing the bill back into his hand, “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” He asks, eyeing you carefully, like he’s trying to find a hint or tell, something to figure out what exactly your mind was fighting against—which right now, it was the fact that Eddie looked ridiculous with eyeliner, yet, still criminally attractive.

It’s exactly why you shouldn’t have come tonight, because whatever could happen—you weren’t sure if you had it in you to shut down.

You nod with finality. Eddie takes the money back reluctantly, stuffing it into his front pocket. He feels terrible that you have to sit there, alone—all to watch a shitty cover band play a few songs.

But to you, it was worth it.

You sit and wait, forcing away the bartender a few times until he finally gets the message, leaving you be. It’s quiet, aside from the hum of laughter and idle conversation, Eddie and his group setting up silently onstage—that impending feeling in your gut expanding further as you watch him move around, guitar strap swung over his neck, watching shamelessly as he adjusts the instrument against his body.

He catches your eyes then, sending you a cheeky smile that has you face burning on the spot—at this point, you care less about your professional relationship, if it could even be considered that.

Eddie plays with all the gusto you expect, belting out lyric after lyric on his performance high; it’s unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. It’s hard not to compare him to his classroom demeanor, more restrained and relaxed—it was forced, that was easy to tell. But this—this was Eddie, unafraid and free to behave how he pleased, it was unfair how attractive he was, both in looks and personality. It felt like you’d know him longer than just a few weeks; months maybe? Years?

It was like hanging out with an old friend, discovering new and old things about one another; you’d spill your heart to him at a moment’s notice if he asked—and that’s why this felt so dangerous.

☆.｡.:*

“How was it?” Eddie asks as he rounds the corner, still slightly out of breath and face covered in a sheen of sweat. You hand him a napkin in silence and he laughs, but accepts the offer.

“Good,” You smile honestly, “I really enjoyed the gradual crescendo from Holy Diver into Living After Midnight—“

Eddie could kiss you on the spot, which is such a startling thought that it stops all thinking completely—you were absolutely too good to be true, it was a constant reminder every time you spoke, making him fight with this taboo feeling more and more every day.

“Do you still need a ride home?” He asks suddenly, interrupting your waterfall of compliments, “I was going to head out already.”

“Well, considering Max left me stranded,” You say with an empty bitterness, knowing that her attentions were mostly good, “yes, I do.”

Eddie nods a silent direction—and just like the first night, you follow without question.

☆.｡.:*

The foot that isn’t pressed on the gas pedal is shaking insistently, leg bouncing against the leather of Eddie’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can hear you humming, mumbling the song on the radio to yourself, another classic—one of Eddie’s favorites, and he really can’t help himself anymore.

It was just a small, innocent indulgence. Who could it really hurt? You were both consenting, capable adults—and the worst thing you could do was turn him down, which Eddie really hoped wasn’t the case, but he was beyond caring about norms and rules, driven by the pure fact that he just wanted—wanted you, in any sense of the word.

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, watching as Eddie searched idly through his stack of music, somehow still managing his focus on the road.

“Changing the song,” He comments simply, pushing the disc into the player—the soft synth of the song pushing through the speakers of his van, “do you know it?”

“Corey Hart, right?” You ask, taking a wild guess. You’d only heard the song once, but it was still catchy enough that it stuck around in your brain, “I didn’t picture you as the type.”

“You’d be surprised.” He comments oddly, turning the volume up slightly.

He notices the humming again, the small head bop along to the beat. “You like it.”

It’s more of a statement, rather than a question. You catch the side of his face, the small glint in his eye as he focuses back on the road.

“That's presumptuous of you,” You retort, hands twisting in your lap, “it’s alright, I guess.”

“Mind if I do a little study?” He asks hesitantly, breath catching in your throat for half a second.

“Of me?” You ask with a laugh, “I mean—if you want?”

“Your heart is racing, for one,” Eddie points out slyly, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest as the beat picked up, chorus running through the silence that filled the air, “and you’re squeezing your hands.”

“Okay, genius,” You remark, “You’ve got eyes, good for you.”

He’s not really using his degree in this situation, it’s more of an innocent observation of the already underlying tension that Eddie couldn’t help but notice—the obvious body language giving you away. The song was just a secret favorite of his, but you didn’t need to know that, not yet.

“Mind I make one?” You ask, “An observation, I mean.”

What was the harm in it anyways? Eddie nods for you to continue.

“You’ve been shaking your leg since we left.” You point out, the bouncing coming to an abrupt stop, “and I’ve never seen you do that—ever.”

“It’s the after performance buzz.” He replies cooly, but you can’t be bothered to believe it. “It’s not that unusual.”

“Eddie—you’re making that up,” You tell him, eyeing burning into the side of his face, “what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah—why are you lying?” It’s a bold question to ask, heart fluttering in your chest. But, the way he looks at you has your legs crossing in frustration, squeezing together to relieve that ache growing between your legs.

“So, you want to pretend I didn’t notice that either?” He asks, eyeing the full expanse of your body before stopping on your legs, still firmly crossed in the seat, hands white knuckling each other under the long sleeves of your shirt. “Uncross your legs.”

“What? No.” You scoff, offended by his forwardness for a brief moment.

Eddie slips his hand under your knee wordlessly, prying your legs apart. You can’t help but look at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind—that doesn’t stop your legs from following his order. It made the ache that much worse.

“Don’t,” He warns hesitantly, the small shift in your leg giving you away, “it’s not gonna help.”

“Help what?” You reply dumbly, “I can’t cross my legs? Is that a crime?”

Eddie’s gaze lingers for far too long, noticing the flush of your chest and the way it creeps up your cheeks—they felt like they were on fire. In the midst of all the back and forth, it’s hard to keep focus on the main fact at play—teacher, student, your mind screaming, wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“I can help.” He makes a subtle nod toward you.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. You were very well aware of the issue. You want to weigh your options, come up with some stupid reason to wiggle out if the situation—but nothing comes to mind. The way Eddie’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel has you digging your nails into your own thigh—you’re going to cave, you can feel it.

“Eddie.” You warn, watching as his hands lingers toward the gear shift, resting against the cracked and worn down plastic covering.

“Our secret, right?” He teases, like this whole situation wasn’t built on secrecy. You nod willingly, legs spreading a few inches wider. His fingers trail the seam of your jeans, stopping on the button, popping it open with deft fingers. “Move this way—yeah, there.”

And when his fingers breach the seam of your underwear, your mind sings a soft praise of release, watching as his hand forces its way into the tight space, leaving him no other option but to cup your cunt with his full palm.

There was no turning back now.

His middle finger drags through your folds testingly, matching the slow undulating beat of the song, like this was a game to him. You have no idea how to handle your hovering hands, too afraid to touch him, so they wrap around the headrest behind your head, fingers gripped tightly together.

Your legs spread wider, giving him better access—you were rutting into his hand at the shift of position, feeling that familiar tingle of pleasure as it shot through your body, mixed with the feeling of a bite of forbidden fruit, avoiding Eddie’s heated gaze as he shifted between you and the road.

It feels reckless and stupid, but you can’t find the courage to stop.

The first dip of his finger is like heaven, feeling unfamiliar after so long, despite how often you touched yourself, you couldn’t remember the last time there had ever been anyone else but you—not since the first summer after you graduated; freshly eighteen and naive, letting a much older man have you how he wanted—it’s uncanny, the situation your in now. But this, it doesn’t feel like that.

“Fuck—“ Your voice catches, stomach clenching at the curl of his middle finger as it slipped inside of you and back out, pace so insufferably slow, “—need more.”

“There she is,” He smiles to himself, confidence oozing in his tone, “—shit, you’re such a liar.”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s not talking to you at all—which sends you down a different wave of emotions, pussy clenching around his lone finger, gasping at the way he curls it against the soft walls of your cunt, searching desperately for something out of reach.

“How long has it been like this?” He asks curiously.

Since the moment you met him, is what you want to say.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply breathlessly, back arching away from the seat, cunt pressing further against his hand as he slips a second finger inside.

At the lie, Eddie stops without warning, and it gives you a headache, that slow build of pleasure deflating immediately.

“The truth,” He says, though, it’s more of a demand, “tell me.”

And fuck, if you weren’t putty in this man’s rough, calloused hands.

“Since earlier,” You reply, rewarded with the soft brush of a fingertip over your clit, you quickly unzip your jeans to allow for more room, “when I saw you onstage.”

Eddie’s groan in response tells you everything you need to hear. He slows to a stop at a red light and it’s the first real glance you share with him the entire evening, both of you seeing straight through each other, bodies overran with pleasure.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He says, and it seems a little late for a realization like that, you can’t help but laugh, “what—you think it’s funny?”

“You’re the one with your hand down my pants, sir.” You retort, earning a disciplined squeeze as he shoves his two middle most fingers back into your cunt, molding around him like glue.

“Sorry—I know you hate that word,” You say playfully, “But do you mind if I use it? Or, do you prefer professor?”

It was your turn to play into the guilt he was feeling, though it didn’t seem to be concerning if he still had his hands shoved down your pants so willingly.

“Shut up,” He forces out, swerving slightly at the way you cunt clenched around his fingers, insides fluttering as he curves his fingers wildly, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you, “don’t call me that.”

His hands were larger than yours, making up for all the work you missed out on.

“Too far?” You ask teasingly, knowing that was the least of your worries; all moral lines crossed, blurred, forgotten about entirely. Eddie’s fingers pull back to graze over the sensitive nub, rubbing in small, leisurely circles, “Fuck that—that feels—“

Your moan is so unashamed that it surprises you, hips bucking up into his hands as you nearly leapt out of the seat.

Eddie can’t take the suffering much longer, pulling off onto the winding side road, tucked into a nest of trees. He unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing fuller access as he turns toward you, switching his hands with practiced ease—you couldn’t even open your eyes, face drawn up in pleasure. You knew the moment you looked at him you were done for.

“Look at me,” His voice echoes alongside the melodic tune of the song, his fingers matching the catchy beat—the damn music aficionado he was, toying with you, fingers strumming against your swollen clit like the strings of his guitar, “—I said, look at me.”

Your body works for you, eyes opening on instinct—his voice was rough, authoritative, leaving no room for argument.

“Good girl—It’s what you wanted, right?” He asks with a semblance of a smirk on his face, “It’s why you came tonight?”

You laugh weakly at his words, double entendre, unable to go unnoticed, “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s came tonight.”

His eyes darken, shifting toward your cunt, covered by your clothes, his wrist poking out above the thin material of your underwear.

“You can stop—stop acting like this is my fault,” You hiccup, gasping as he applies heavy pressure to your clit, rubbing steadily, hating how shameful it feels as your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing his fingers were still buried inside you. “Please—fuck, I just—“

All self restraint forgotten, you hand searches for his face, finding its way into his curls, pulling gently at the root, the softest hint of a grunt falling from his lips—the first noticeable sign all evening that he was even slightly affected by this—by you.

And maybe you’ve gone too far, the idea of touching him is where things go wrong, but you can’t be bothered to hold yourself together anymore.

“It’s okay,” He assures you, leaning over the middle console, hand working quickly against your cunt, moaning loudly into the confines of the car, ashamed at how wrecked you sound, “I like it.”

He must’ve noticed your expression, lingering on his face—you could do anything and he’d fall to his knees.

“It hurts—“ You plead, begging for release, “—please?”

It sounds too pretty coming from you, deciding that putting you out of your misery was easier than watching you suffer, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, Eddie’s hands feeling so much better than your own, or anyone that’s touched you before.

Your mouth hangs open on a wordless gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the force at which your high hits you, his fingers gently coaxing you through the descending pulse of your orgasm, near the point of over stimulation.

“Okayokay—“ You ramble, fingers wrapping around the length of his wrist as you pulled him away, heart skipping in your chest at the sight of his fingers flexing against your stomach as he pulls away, fingers covered in your wetness as a result of what just happened.

Your head rests against the back of the seat, chest heaving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. “Not that I’m complaining—“ Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your hypnosis, “but you might wanna let go.”

“Shit—I’m sorry,” You apologize softly, letting go of his hair, looking at him sheepishly, hands returning to your lap to fix your pants.

The song had ended long ago, the gentle rumble of the engine filling the quiet like an ambiance, realization settling between you both.

Who speaks first?

He’s quiet, wiping his hands on a black handkerchief that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, before stuffing it into his back pocket—where it must’ve been all along.

“I’m—“

“Should I—“

The stare you hold is long and tense, brimming with even more sexual tension than before, searching for some way to cope with whatever just happened.

He glanced down at the hard bulge of his jeans, noticing the way your gaze catches. He shifts, pulling at the front of his jeans to adjust himself. “It’s fine.” He lies, not ready to allow this to go any further than it should have.

“I don’t mind,” You reply slowly, voice hesitant as you lean forward, “I want to.”

He feels himself flex at the thought, the idea of your mouth—or even your hand, wrapped around, he was ruined. But, he’s insistent.

“I need to get you back to campus, right?” He asks, though the answer is obvious. It was a grasping at straw attempt to change the subject. “Red’s probably worried about you.”

Not a fucking chance.

“Yeah—you’re right.” You answer, trying to hide dejection, wanting nothing more than to touch him, as intimately as he had you. “We should go.”

It’s like he’s turning on his classroom demeanor before your eyes—and frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s regretting every choice he just made and you know it, watching as he flips the gear into place, back on the road with one swift twist of the steering wheel.

And it could’ve been the heat of the moment or the copious amount of drinks that Eddie had been offered that night, obscuring his rational thinking—but he didn’t reek of alcohol, not a single drop on his breath. So, if anything, it was regret, obvious and plastered over his entire face.

But to Eddie, it's shame.

Shame at the idea of breaking so many rules, risking his job at the hands of some young women—who he couldn’t help but be lured by, entranced at how much of an enigma you were. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even put it into words.

And even after he drops you off that night, he comes in his hand, against the soft expanse of his stomach, the image of your face in his mind as you come apart by the work of his own hand.

He knew there was no going back, allowing himself to fully succumb to the idea that if you were willing to let him have you like that, you’d let him do just about anything.

It was exactly what you wanted.

author's note: and an extra special thank you to @hellfirehoe for dealing with my nonstop horny thoughts about this and helping me proofread.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #my writing #1kfic #5kfic

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xxblairexxss · 9 months

Text

Ashamed

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst, fluff

Word count : 6.7k

You had been feeling under the weather these past few days and had to reject Charles’ offer to go out, let it be for any parties or events without knowing he was secretly feeling disconsolate from the act, oblivious to it, until you saw pictures of him with a girl the next day. Was this his act of defiance of you?

Warnings ; the personalities were heavily inflicted from the reader’s ‘sickness’, cursings, incorrect medication term, incorrect medical terminology

Charles put away his phone and strode, leaving the room as he heard the sound of a pin number being typed in and the lock gave away the soft ring, indicating the door was unlocked. He didn’t need to wait for the ring. He had been waiting for his girlfriend to come back. His gut feeling was saying that something was wrong when you texted him earlier that you weren’t feeling very well. He didn’t get to pick you up from the office because he had other things scheduled to do, and you, being the most understanding girl he had ever met, assured him that it was all fine because your girl friend, Lia would be picking you up.

"Hey, are you alright?" That was the only thing that came out of his mouth, despite knowing what the answer was from your pale face.

You only managed to shake your head before crashing your body into his embrace, soaking in every inch of comfort he could give. He wasn’t home for two days, having to be in Maranello for work stuff, so you were on your own, living life until your body felt different when you woke up this morning. The thermometer didn’t indicate any fever, so you thought it would get better in a few hours.

But it didn’t. You had to lay your head down on the table, your eyes squeezed shut, hoping the headache would calm down after taking the pill, but it wasn’t working. Those hours being at the office felt like a torture; you couldn’t wait to go home, wrapped yourself up in a cosy blanket, to see your favourite face knowing he would be back in a few hours.

You were actually surprised to see him, as he was supposed to be back by midnight, but you had no energy left to convey the emotions.

"Baby?" Charles called out again after getting no replies.

"My head feels so heavy." You mumbled, feeling like you could fall asleep standing up while listening to the thump of his heartbeat against your ear with both of his arms wrapped around your body.

"Have you eaten? Do you want to eat something?" He asked again, this time with his eyes on yours as he broke the hug.

"No. I just want to lay down.."

"Okay." Seeing as if you could lose consciousness any second, he quickly took your stuff from your hands, placing it on the couch before picking you up and going straight to the bedroom where his phone was left, still on and replaying the same video that he was watching earlier over and over. "Y/N, I’m going to help you take off your makeup first, alright?" He stopped you from lying down on the bed and made a quick run to get your makeup remover from the dressing table. He had seen you do it before, and he had also helped you take off your makeup whenever you got drunk from your girls’ night out. It was no difference this time.

"Baby, stay with me. I promise I’ll be quick." He assured you, one hand on your cheek to stop your head from dipping down, and quickly, yet gently, moved the makeup remover wipes across your face. He saw your flushed cheeks and pale lips when he removed all sorts of colour from the makeup, which made him even more worried. "Stay awake, baby. I’ll get your change of clothes." He left the wardrobe room after leaving a kiss on your hairline. Your body was warm.

"Thank you." You muttered as he helped you lay down after changing into pyjamas, which finally felt like you could properly breathe.

"Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything? I could try and cook something simple." He had eaten his dinner with Joris before making his way home earlier, but if you said you were hungry, he would get something done right this second, but you kept telling him no, assuring him that you only wanted him to stay with you until you fell asleep. So be obeyed.

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"Y/N? Where—what are you doing?" Your feet stopped moving further away, your hand still on the knob. You thought that when you fell asleep earlier, you would have woken up feeling better. You did feel better, but your stomach didn’t. You were famished. You didn’t realise you didn’t eat anything yesterday. Charles was sleeping peacefully, facing you with his hand on your waist, and you didn’t have the heart to wake him up, knowing he needed the rest as much as you did.

Your plan to get something to eat without waking him up failed even before you got to step outside the room. "I’ll be right back. Go back to sleep, honey." You gave a smile, though he wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark, before taking another step, but he stopped you again.

"Baby, where are you going? Do you need anything?"

"I’m going to get something to eat." You mumbled, and he frowned. His one leg was already off the bed.

"What?"

"I’m hungry.." The grip on the door knob went loose as you played with your fingers and eyes away when he started approaching you.

"Why didn’t you wake me up, love?"

"I don’t want to trouble you. Go back to sleep, honey. I’ll be quiet." You pushed his middle, convincing him, but he stood there and didn’t budge an inch.

"Then let’s get you something to eat." Your hand in his middle was grabbed as he left a peck on your palm before pushing you to walk ahead of him.

"What do you want to eat?" He asked, peeking behind your hand as you checked through the rows of chocolates in the fridge. "Chocolates?"

"I need something savoury." You mumbled, and he trailed behind as you moved to the drawers. "Ah, this!"

Charles’ frowned when you picked out a pick-coloured instant noodle out of the drawer that was fully stacked with your favourite food, one that was too spicy for him.

"At this hour?!"

"Yes!" You squealed, controlling your excitement that was gone as soon as you looked at him.

"Baby, I don’t think you should eat that right now." He pressed his lips, looking away from seeing your eyes. When he touched you earlier, your body was still warm, but it wasn’t as bad as it was hours ago. Judging from your face, it seemed to him that your headache was gone too, without having to ask you how you felt.

"Please! Just for tonight!" You pleaded.

"Alright, fine. But no more instant food for this week." His yawn that he had been holding in slipped through at the end of his sentence.

"Go back to sleep, honey. You're going to fall asleep standing at this point. I can cook these noodles myself." You patted the cheeks, chuckling. You felt bad for waking him up, but he kept on turning a deaf ear to your words.

"It’s okay. I’m keeping you accompanied." He moved closer, making you face the boiling water on the induction, so he could hug you from behind with his head resting on your shoulder. "If I fall asleep, you can keep me standing straight."

"Do you want some?" You poured in the powder that came along with the noodles after you drained the water.

"I’m okay, baby. Thank you for asking." He buried his face on the side of your neck, which made you giggle as the hot breath tickled on your skin. "Oh, but I do want the seaweed. Do you still have it?"

"Yeah! It’s up there, I think."

"I’ll wait for you on the couch." He leaned in to kiss your cheek while ambling in front of the television, with the seaweed snack in hand.

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"Charles! Have you broken up with the girl?" Louis came, hand slapping on the driver’s shoulder as he took a seat by his side. He had been seeing Charles on his own for the past two events.

"What? No! Never, dude. She’s not feeling well." Charles let out a chuckle at the idea. He had been with you his whole life. There was no way he could ever let you go.

"What’s the point of having a girl when she can’t keep you company?" Louis replied, which sounded like a sneer to the driver. "Right? Isn’t it her job to attend the events with you?"

"No." Charles laughed and tried to shrug off the topic that gradually turned heavy. "She has her own job, Louis. I don’t choose her to be my partner just for a plus one, you know. And I don’t really mind it. Events lasted only for 2–3 hours; I spent the rest of the remaining hours with her."

Louis remained quiet. He never liked you because it felt like his friend right here wasn’t able to do what he actually wanted, just because Charles was too head over heels for you.

You had been with Charles even before his lifestyle became more lavish. Charles always asked for your permission before he did anything, though you always told him it wasn’t necessary.

"Just because I earn more than you, just because you feel yourself lower than me, doesn’t mean I should ignore your rights and title as my girlfriend."

Is what he has been saying all this time. You were grateful for him, of course, but you couldn’t ignore the scowl from his friend, Louis, at times.

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Your sickness came and went. Sometimes you wake up feeling horrible, but it went away in a few hours. Sometimes it lasted for the whole day. One thing was for sure; you have been feeling drained these days. You had no problem coming home from work to do extra housechores before, but these days, you could barely lift a finger. Even sitting at the office felt like you had depleted all of your energy.

"Y/N." Charles called out, still in the same outfit he wore when he left this morning.

"Yeah..?" You slowly rubbed on your eyes, pushing your hand against the bedsheet to muster up all the strength to sit up.

"Y/N, you promised me you would clean the kitchen. Why can’t you at least clear out the used pots and plates?" You heard him sighed.

"I’m sorry. I was so tired." You mumbled, like a kid who just got told off by the mother.

"It’s not like you have to go to work! It’s the weekend." Charles’ voice went a little higher, clearly frustrated. "You were doing fine this morning."

"I know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so sorry." You inched closer to where he was sitting on the bed and grasped his arm. "I’ll get it done right away. Please don’t be mad."

"I’m not mad. I’m just—" He took a breath and drew your head closer to his chest. "I’m so sorry for shouting at you."

"It’s alright. I’ll get it done right now." You get off the bed, still in your blue checkered pyjamas. Your limbs were still sore, though you had been doing nothing other than laying down for the whole day.

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Week passed, Charles had another event tonight, and you promised to attend the event with him this time, considering the fact he had been left to go alone for the past 2 weeks and people started assuming he was single. No, you weren’t going because you wanted to claim he was still yours, but it had been a while since the last time you dressed up, looking pretty in a dress with your hair all curled and styled. You barely wore any makeup to the office now, ever since you hadn’t been feeling well.

The nausea came and hit again as you were going through the rows of clothes. Your feet were fast enough to drag your aching limb to the toilet. Charles headed out to pick up his suit earlier, and he was looking excited when you told him you would be coming with him.

But it seemed like you had to break the promise again. You were so sleepy, your headache came back again. Standing up was so agonising that you were left sitting on the bathroom’s floor for the longest time ever before pushing yourself to lay down on the bed.

"Y/N, you should get ready. We shouldn’t be late." Charles muttered, a little pissed off at the fact that you chose to go to sleep instead of getting ready.

Y/N," Charles called out, more stern this time.

"Charles, I don’t think I can go tonight."

"There you go again. What the fuck is your problem, Y/N? I swear to God, it felt like you were doing this on purpose." The phone in his hand was slammed on the bed, making you flinch. "Do you have any problems that you don’t want to tell me? Is this all an act?"

"What—what do you mean? I’m really not feeling well. My whole body aches." Your brows knitted together, and the drowsiness was gone a little from being accused of such nonsense by your own boyfriend. The boyfriend who had been with you for more than 5 years

"Yeah, right. It’s just the same fucking thing. You woke up feeling all fine, making these promises here and there, and then all of a sudden, oh, I’m sick. Bullshit." You caught him scowling at you as he took his stuff and slammed the bedroom door on his way out.

You wanted to argue with him; you wanted to defend yourself, telling him he was wrong, but you were so sleepy, and it didn’t take long enough for you to fall back to your dreamland, forgetting those hurtful comments thrown at you for a little while.

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"What is it this time? Your sick girlfriend finally died?" Louis came, laughing after seeing his friend, still alone but this time with no smile on his face.

Charles didn’t say anything. He knew Louis wasn’t really fond of his girlfriend despite years of being together, but he had too much on his mind right now to say anything.

"She’s still sick? What kind of sickness does she have?" Louise laughed in a mocking way.

The driver remained quiet.

"You really came just to show that sullen face around here?" Louis squeezed Charles’ shoulder a little harder as he looked around. "I can introduce you to someone. She came alone."

"Eryn!"

Charles looked up, looking at the area where his friend was focusing.

"This is Eryn. Eryn, Charles. Pretty sure you know who he is." Louise winked at her, and she grinned, knowing very well what that look meant. "He came alone, so he needed someone to talk with. You can be his companion." Eryn took over Louise’s spot as he left with a smirk on his face.

Charles remained quiet, not replying to any of the woman’s questions. He wasn’t actually there. His head was replaying every word he said earlier, rewinding the scene just to take a good look at your pale face, and every time his head put the clip back to rewind, his heart was slowly wrapped in penitence.

Why did you do that to her, Charles?

His skin felt cold when he felt the woman’s lips land on his cheek, which made him jump right away. "What the fuck?"

"You seemed to be so far away, so I’m trying to pull you back on your senses."I’m sorry!" She whined, her hand trying to grab his, but he moved away, his face looking completely vexed.

"Don’t touch me. I have a girlfriend." He stood up, teeth clenched from trying to hold his anger.

"She’s not here!" Eryn held on to his arm, trying to stop him from walking away. "You should try to have some fun!"

"Have fun with someone else. I’m going home."

"Louise told me you needed someone!" Eryn pulled Charles back onto his seat, clutching on to his arm so he wouldn’t leave and humiliate her in front of everyone.

"I never said that." He glowered at her suspiciously. "I never said that. She’s enough for me. She’s all I need." He never imagined having someone else by his side other than you; he could never imagine you being with someone else. The thought of you smiling and laughing with a man other than him killed him inside.

"Where are you going?" Eryn yelled, seeing Charles walk away. He never bothered to answer the question.

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The house was silent when he came home. It was looking exactly like it was when he left, so he knew you were still in bed. It was tiring because it seemed like you passed every house chores to him, letting go of every bit of your responsibility in the house. It had been a week since you asked for a leave of absence, while he had to go out and travel back and forth from Monaco to Maranello, so he was expecting you to at least lift a finger to help him.

Charles cursed under his breath after taking a glance at his reflection in the mirror. The lipstick stain on his cheek was rubbed off roughly as he wet his hands with the tap water. It was demeaning to you as his girlfriend if you ever saw him with a lipstick stain from another girl.

Unknowingly to him, his name and yours were already all over the gossip pages after the pictures were taken.

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"Morning, baby." Charles beamed, feeling your arms snake around his waist from the back. He woke up early this morning to clean up the house and got everything done before you woke up. The crestfallen feelings from last night were gone; all he cared about now was for you to be the first person he saw when he woke up. "I made you breakfast. I'm pretty sure this one was going to taste better than my last attempt."

His laugh was unsupported. Your arms around him became more secure as you planted your face against his back.

"Y/N?" You kept quiet, too wounded to reply. "Hey, what’s wrong?"

The phone in your hand was taken away, leaving your shaky hands empty as he looked at the screen.

"Y/N—"

"How could you do this to me?" Your voice trailed off.

"No, listen to what I have to say. It’s not what you think it is."

Charles’ hand that hovered on your cheek was shoved away as you wiped your own tears. "Who is she?"

"Eryn. Louise’s friend. Look, I didn’t know—"

"I trusted you!" You howled, hands clenched into a fist as you punched his chest, again and again as you sobbed.

"I was alone! You weren’t there with me, so I—"

"So you let her kiss you?" It hurt. It hurt so bad to see the guy you loved break every bit of trust you had.

"It wouldn’t happen if you were there with me." Charles muttered. He knew it was his part to calm you down and give you reassurance, but part of him felt like it was unfair for the blame to be on him alone. You should have been there with him.

"Charles, I was sick!" You cried. He sounded so distant.

"And I was lonely, Y/N! I barely saw your face, though we lived in the same house. We stopped watching movies together and stopped making dinner together. I miss you! Sometimes I don’t even remember your existence in this house. Just tell me the truth. Are you tired of us?"

"Stop turning this on me! I wasn’t feeling well, and you know it. I didn’t wish to lay down all the time." Your gaze went to his face, pleading for him to see your reason.

"Bullshit." He scoffed and turned his back on you. The grip he had on the kitchen counter was hard, making every vein in his hand more visible. "You didn’t go to work; you didn’t do shit for days. I was the one who did everything in this fucking house, Y/N! I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you to be so fucking useless."

Some of the tears dropped on your feet, and some of them started decorating the porcelain. "I did what I could in the house, but there were times when..." You stopped when you felt like you were choking on your tears. "There were times where I got so tired, Charles. I got so tired that I just wanted to lay down, and I—"

"You did nothing, Y/N! Nothing! Whenever I came home, you would be sleeping, leaving everything behind for me to clean. Am I your fucking slave? Using my money alone isn’t enough; you have to make me bow down and get on my knees to praise you like a god? Is that what you want from me?"

"I’m sorry.." You went from standing right on his back to a few feet away, unable to look at his raging eyes that were perforating you.

"Yeah, that’s the only thing you could say. How does it feel to win the fucking lottery in your life? I know you don’t actually want to work but didn’t want to make it seem too obvious that you were using me for wealth and fame. Guess that wasn’t enough that you have to make me do everything in the house that you didn’t spend a dollar on, the house that I paid for." He walked away; the scrambled eggs he was making earlier were left forgotten on the stove.

"Charles, that wasn’t my intention." You trailed his steps, hand went to grab his arm as it felt like he was trying to walk away from your life.

"Everything you have on you right now is my money. Your necklace, your bracelet, and your ring. That shirt you are wearing. Everything. I just want you to stop using me for your benefit, Y/N. I came home and went to sleep with no touch or kisses from you. I didn’t even have anyone to talk with about my day. At this point, it’s just worthless of you to keep on being in my life." Charles’ expression went hard. He didn’t know where the thought came from, but he knew how bad the damage was the moment those words slipped off his lips.

"I’ll give back everything." You murmured, taking heavy steps in front of the man you love. "I’m sorry for being a burden." You took his clenched fist and opened it, placing the ring he had given to you on our first anniversary five years ago on his palm. The bracelet with a butterfly charm that you got as a graduation gift was unhooked as you put it with the ring on his palm. You could never forget his sweaty face from chasing the flight back home just to make it on time for your graduation. How he was so nervous to put the bracelet on you with his hands shaking in front of your parents.

"Can you... help me take this one off?" Your long hair was gathered in one hand as you turned your back on him, begging him to take off the bracelet that you were so happy with when you first got it. The bracelet that he gifted for you when he got to join Formula 1. Funny how it was him who achieved something, but you were the one who got a gift. Guess it was true when he said you were using him for your own benefits.

But the bracelet that you had worn with pride and contentment now felt like it burned your skin the longer you left it on.

His hand that was shaking when he first put the bracelet on you, the hand that was shaking out of excitement and nervousness, was now shaking again as he took the necklace off.

but this time it was out of fear and uncertainty about what was to come next.

You weren’t able to look at him because your cheeks were drenched in tears. If your skin could soak up every tear that had dropped from your eyes, it would have reached its limit by now. You heard him weep, but you didn’t dare to bring your gaze up. If being in front of him right now made him feel humiliated and made him bend forward even more from the weight load that you brought, then it would be better for you to just step out and let him go.

"I’m sorry for everything." It was useless to wipe your eyes only for them to shed more tears after, but you still did it. You wiped the tears and left a peck on his wet cheek before you made your way to the room. It didn’t take long for you to pack your things together because, like he said, everything you had on was his. He stood there, eyes on his palm, when you walked out with your luggage. His shirt that you had worn before was put in the laundry bag, afraid he would find it disgusting if you just left it anywhere else.

And you left him. You left the house that had become your home for years. All because of your sickness.

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"When will they discharge you?" Your best friend, Lia, looked back, toning down her voice so she wouldn’t get caught by your boss for loafing around. "I’m so bored in here without you."

"Tomorrow!" You squealed and covered your mouth when she asked you to keep quiet. "I’ll be out tomorrow! But I’ll start working in 2 days."

"I can’t wait to see you! Just let me know whatever you are craving, and I’ll get it done!" She winked.

"I want your brownies! The one with strawberries that you used to bring for lunch.” You rested your hand on your middle.

"You got it!" She confirmed with a grin and looked back right away when there were steps coming. You laughed, seeing her not-so-sneaky attempt to video call you during work, but you hadn’t been able to talk to her for days, so she couldn’t wait for another hour to spill all the tea you had been missing.

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"Charles!" Lia greeted the taller man with baskets full of ingredients. She had stopped by the supermarket to get all the things needed to make her brownies that you were craving when she bumped into the driver in the cereal aisle.

"Lia. It’s been a while. How are you?" Charles grabbed the cereal box in front of him and put it in the basket along with his other stuff.

"Good! How are you? It must be very exciting, isn’t it? I mean, I have no relation to her at all, but I’m still so, so excited; that was all I could think of for this week." Lizzy shook her shoulders, trying so hard not to scream.

"I don't—I don’t get it?" Charles mumbled, slow enough that it didn’t get to capture Lia's attention as she remained in her own bubble, looking so elated about something she just mentioned. "That’s a lot of things you got there." He then changed the topic; his gaze went to the basket she was holding.

"Ah, it’s for Y/N! I hope she doesn’t give you a hard time with her pregnancy cravings, Charles. It won’t be that long; just bear with it. The excessive morning sickness was harsh enough." Lia blurted, looking down as she remembered how horrible you looked when you were hospitalised for hyperemesis gravidarum.

Charles felt like his heart just dropped to his stomach. If Lia walked away right at this moment, he was so sure his legs would give away.

"If you feel like she’s too much or you are too tired to satisfy all her needs and cravings, please let me know. I can help you in bits and pieces. If she wants a banana cake at 3 AM and you are too exhausted, call me. I can bake one and send it to your house right away. I do understand your career and ours; mine and Y/N’s were totally different, so I’ll help you as much as I can. If you need to fly away, please don’t leave her alone. Send her to me. She’s my best friend. She’s always welcome at my house."

Charles tilted his face away from Lia, facing the colourful boxes of cereals, to stop his tears from slipping down. His hand, which was wrapped around the hoops of the basket, nearly slipped off.

Lia chuckled and wiped away her tears, feeling slightly embarrassed for shedding tears in front of the driver. "I’m so sorry, I got so emotional. I’ll get going first. Bye, Charles! Make sure Y/N gets home safely from the hospital tomorrow! I’ll smack you if anything happens to her."

Soon as Lia was gone from the aisle, Charles took his phone out. Fingers hovered on your contact name, the only contact that was saved with a heart emoji.

What have I done?

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Two pairs of eyes were looking at each other when they heard the bell ring. They weren’t expecting anyone, not even a visitor, considering their only daughter had just come back from her week-long stay in the hospital.

"Open it."

"You go." Mrs. Y/L/N pushed her husband towards the door as she hurried back on the couch, ignoring the look from the man.

"Mr. Y/L/N." Charles stood straight when the door opened, and his eyes landed on the older man.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" The tone was unwelcoming.

"I—can I see Y/N?"

"She’s asleep. Come back tomorrow." The older man was going to shut the door before his wife called out, feet approaching those two men who were wrapped in frosty air.

"Come in, Charles. I was going to wake her up for her medicine, but I guess you could do that for me." The soft, caring tone of the older woman reminded him so much of the girl he loved.

"Can I go to her room? If you don’t mind." Charles gulped, ignoring the eyes of the older man.

"Of course! It’s not your first time in here, honey. Come in." The older woman assured before drawing the driver inside the house, asking him to go straight to your room before her husband could say anything.

"I’m not taking the blame if she doesn’t want to talk to us." The older man said, locking the front door.

"He is still the father of the child."

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When Charles walked in, he saw you sitting up, hand on your middle that hadn’t shown much of a shape yet, as you turned your body around to let your legs hang off the bed. It seemed like you didn’t realise he was in the room based on the lack of reaction he got. He stood there, seeing your back, while your hands were busy scanning through the medicines in the dark. He felt the heartache again, the same one he felt at the supermarket in front of Lia. He heard you hum, your body subtly trembling as you swung your legs, your hands still busy going through the tonnes of medicines in hand.

"Y/N.."

Your whole body stopped moving, your voice was gone when you heard it. The voice you had been missing, longing to hear him call out your name,

Charles quickly grabbed one of the medicine packs that nearly fell off your laps and kneeled down in front of you. He took all the medicines you had in hand and flicked on the bedside lamp so he could see your face.

And again, there was no difference from the last time he saw you. Your face was damp with tears. The smooth, pink lips were quivering from trying to keep your cry silent.

He was staring at your face for too long for him to realise that there were trails of tears forming on his cheeks as well. "Which one— which one do you need?" He brought his gaze down, scanning the names of the medicines in his hand.

"I need pyridoxine, promethazine, and metoclopramide." The tears that rolled off your eyes ended up hanging off your jawline.

Charles wiped off the tears hanging from the lower edge of your jaw before he searched through the packaging, putting aside the ones you mentioned. The glass jug that was on the bedside table was taken before you could extend your arm.

"Thank you." You muttered; your arm sleeve was used to wipe your wet lips.

Charles brought up his hand, pulling it back before he rested it on your middle. "Can—can I?"

You nodded.

He brought and stroked his hand on your belly as his tears dropped when you placed your hand on his. "How long?"

"3 months."

"How long have you known?" He looked up, his gaze went back on yours.

"Around 2 weeks ago. Mom brought me to the hospital when I lost consciousness, only to find out we were going to have a baby." You managed to smile at the end of your words, excited to bring the fruit of your love to the world.

We. Charles bit his lips, head dipped down, thinking back on what he had done, yet you were still acting fine, smiling, and addressing the pregnancy as his as well, despite all the horrible things he said to you.

"Lia said you were hospitalised. What happened?" He cupped his hand on your kneecap.

"My morning sickness was too severe; they had to keep me in the hospital because I was too dehydrated and had imbalanced mineral levels in my blood. But I’m all good now. The baby is healthy too." You wiped the fresh tears from your boyfriend’s cheeks.

"Why didn’t you call me?"

"I don’t want..." The next words were stuck in your throat, and the memory from that night came back into your mind.

You don’t want to be a burden to him. He knew that was what you wanted to say. "I’m sorry—"

"I’m sorry.." You said it at the same time. "I’m sorry for being a burden to you. You deserve to be happy, Charles."

"You make me the happiest person on earth, Y/N. Even if I’m not happy with my life, I still want you to be with me, just like you always have. Everything I said that night, I didn’t mean any of it. I didn’t know why I felt so lonely. I missed you so much that I became frustrated. It doesn’t excuse any of my words, I know." Charles’ head was on your lap as you brushed your fingers through the soft curls of his hair. He was still crying. You knew it when some of tears dropped on your skin.

Charles rarely cried. Maybe it was true what your mom had been saying.

"About Eryn, she—" Charles’ was about to continue his words, but you interrupted, which made him lift his head from your lap.

"I know." You smiled, seeing his wet eyelashes. "I know about her. Louis called me and explained everything. It was my fault for doubting you."

"No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a terrible boyfriend. I shouldn’t have stayed with her that night. I should have left; I should have gone home to you."

"Even if you left her, she would still follow you around. Louis confessed to me, saying that he forced her to do things to you because he hated me." You cupped on the cheeks, your lips still curled into a smile, seeing the man in front of you.

"Louis..said that?" He had brought you to meet his friends a few times but never realised any loathing or hatred from any of them. To him, his friends never had any problems with you. His old friends, at least. Louis was one of the guys he met through a mutual a year ago and joined the group a few months after that. You never said anything to him either, so he didn’t want to accuse anything, though he did realise you were uncomfortable whenever Louis came up to him.

"But I realised how much he actually loves you. I was wrong for that. I’m really sorry, Y/N. What Eryn did was all because I asked her to. I asked her to flirt him, kiss him if needed, do anything that could break your trust on him. " Louis admitted feeling dreadful for what he did to his own friend.

"And I think I know why you have been feeling like that." You mumbled, leaning against his touch on your cheek.

"Like what..?"

"Stand up..you’ll hurt your knees." You pulled, or at least tried to make him stand, as he cautiously took a seat by your side, and you finally hugged him, your head against his chest.

"I know why you felt so lonely and frustrated." You closed your eyes as he cradled your head. "Mom said you could be having couvade syndrome."

"And what does that even mean? Do I need to get myself checked? Is there any treatment?"

"No. It’s just something that some expectant fathers would experience." You sat up straight and giggled.

"You mean, from the pregnancy?" His hand went back to your belly.

"Yeah. One of those symptoms is attention seeking."

"Are you saying I was attention-seeking?"Hm?" He pinched your nose as he laughed along with you. He did feel like you didn’t love him because you kept on ignoring him, and he found himself getting mad because you didn’t touch or kiss him like you used to because you fell asleep before him. "It kind of made sense, though."

"You still should have told me what you were actually feeling. I can’t read mind..”

Charles smiled, seeing your adorable expression with your pursed lips. "I know, baby. I know. That was totally my fault, and I am so, so sorry for what I did. I totally get it if you need some time. Just, please come back to me when you are ready."

"No.." You whined, his head was tugged closer, and you hugged him by the neck. "You can’t leave me again."

"I’m not, love. I just thought you needed some time." He stayed in your embrace; arms went around your waist.

"I don’t need that. I just want you to be with me. You can’t leave me."

"Hey—" Charles pulled away when he heard you start sobbing and cupped your cheeks so you would look at him.. "I’m not leaving you, sweetheart."

I guess it was true what his friend went through.

"Dude, my girlfriend has acted like a freaking child ever since she got pregnant. She’s so adorable, I’m telling you." Nico grinned from ear to ear, thinking about his pregnant girlfriend at home.

"Yeah, right." Charles laughed, not denying it but not agreeing with it either.

"I’m serious! Girls get extra sensitive when they get pregnant; it’s like taking care of a child."

The driver only shrugged, his lips still smiling.

"You’ll know when Y/N gets pregnant."

"Ah, I brought this back." He grabbed the small jewellery box he carried with him earlier and took out all the gifts that belonged to you. "Will you take these back, please? I know what I said was harsh, and it made me sound like a miser, but when I bought these for you, there wasn’t any point in my life where I ever thought of the price or you returning them to me if we ever broke up. I bought them because they reminded me a lot about you. I can’t keep them, and I don’t want to keep any of them. I want to see you wearing it. I want to see you show them off to everyone. How beautiful you looked with it." Charles saw your empty stare and pressed his lips, understanding the look very well. "But..it’s okay if you don’t want to. I’ll just keep it safe."

"I don’t want you to break up with me.." You gave a whimper of protest.

"Y/N, that’s not what I meant." Everything he said earlier was ignored, and you only caught the words ‘break up’.

"But you said it.."

"I know, but—that wasn’t my point. I’m not breaking up with you." He smiled when you started weeping again.

Is this what Nico had to go through when his girlfriend got pregnant? It is indeed so fucking adorable.

"Promise?"

"Promise, love.” He brushed your hair away from sticking all over you face and kissed your forehead. “Can I put these back on you?"

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"I told you it was couvade!" Mrs. Y/L/N jabbed her husband’s chest with her elbow, both pairs of eyes still peeking through the door of their daughter’s bedroom.

"How did you know? Rough guess?" He replied.

"Because I know my future son-in-law very well! He wouldn’t do any of that for no reason. Have you ever seen our daughter cried ever since Charles came into her life? No! And you had it too when I was pregnant with Y/N."

"That’s enough. Let’s just leave them alone." Mr. Y/L/N tugged on his wife’s hand, whispering.

"What if they do something inappropriate?"

"She’s pregnant. It’s too late to think about that." He laughed, taking the steps away first, followed by his wife.

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donutz · 4 months

Text

Catnap & Dogday being silly with reader

Request from Wattpad—! Here you go Zeki aph☆

—☆You are a smiling critter in this, if u want to know which one(but don't know what animal or insect to pick) you could start out as a sheep!

It’s early in the morning, and the kids have woken up(some of them, those are the early birds).

You and PickyPiggy help out with the breakfast, surprisingly you two never get tired of it.

PickyPiggy is very familiar with food so of course she won't get bored, but you? It can be confusing on why you never get tired.. Of cooking and baking for the kids.

Both of you cook everyday, at least for breakfast. Cooking over 500 pancakes, bacon(sometimes), and eggs isn't thattt bad!!

That's what PickyPiggy and you say.

So while you were cooking pancakes, you were by yourself. PickyPiggy already took care of the bacon. Seems.. Weird. Because y'know, bacon is pork. But she doesn't know that so let's keep it a secret.

You had 400 already done, just 100 left. Then you and Picky have to work together to set the table and place down the plates of food.

You finished pouring out the batter for a few pancakes then sat down somewhere on the couch.

You're cooking for all the kids, but the little ones come first. The little ones are 1-6, the youth is 7-10, then the older ones are 11-17. Why do the little ones wake up earlier? You're not sure.

Since there isn’t anything to watch except Smiling Critter videos. You decide to watch that. While it was playing, you kind of— zoned out..

‘Why don’t I have hands instead of hooves’?

Then Dogday and Catnap came out of nowhere.

“Sheepy”!

“...”

Dogday jumped on you while Catnap crawled on the couch and sat next to you.

“What’cha doin?!” Dogday asked, he was always so interested in what you do in your everyday life. It’s just a routine, sometimes it doesn’t always stick to that but it’s okay.

“Waiting for the pancakes to cook—” While you were speaking, apparently PickyPiggy woke up and wanted to check on the cooking.

“Oh that’s great! Your pancakes are amazing! As always!” Dogday always compliments you on your cooking.

“What’s the ingredients for em? Again..?” And for some reason he couldn’t remember the ingredients every single time you told him. But you don’t mind.

(This is a real recipe by the way you can actually make this, it’s how I make pancakes!) While making eye contact with Picky, you were stating the ingredients.

“So I first use 1 cup of pancake flour”(You can use any, I think, I’m not sure since I’ve been using the same one every time I make pancakes)

“Then a ⅔ cup of water(If the flour looks like it needs more water you can do a full cup!)” You were hand motioning to Picky to flip over the pancakes since they should be done by now. She did it so you don’t have to worry too much, now.

She’s taking care of the pancakes now that you’re explaining the ingredients to a very interested puppy, and a very much listening kitty.

“Then three slices of butter, after getting the pieces I put it in the microwave, for 30 seconds or 1 minute, depending on how big the slices were”

“And to add some yummy flavor to it I use cinnamon, as much as you want really, also if you want to make it really sweet, you can use milk”!

“After putting the ingredients together, you mix 'em up! And now you pour the batter on the griddle, as much as you want”.

“Also if it’s too dry you could add more liquids(any of them, the melted butter, the water, the milk) or if it’s too liquidy you could add more flour”.

“... Wow! Sheepy you’re so cool when it comes to cooking and stuff!” The puppy was wagging his tail at how amazing you were with your knowledge about making food.

Then he gave you a big hug, he was on your left side so you put your left arm around his back.

“Thanks—”

Then Catnap rubbed his head against yours while purring.

Even if Picky is still in the area, she’s too sleepy to process Catnap’s affection.

You didn’t want to sleep here on the couch so you suggested to the polar opposites that, “We should move to our critter bedroom or something”.

While you three were walking to the critter room, remember how I said that some kids were early birds? Yeah, and someee of those kids were out of their bedrooms. So you and Catnap had to deal with having them go back into their rooms, since Dogday isn’t too good at that stuff.

He sometimes gets.. Manipulated by the kids.. They reason with him and tell him that it’s okay to stay out of the rooms. Then he goes, “Okay!” It’s not annoying, but it is annoying that the kids were taking advantage of Dogday’s kindness.

After that frenzy, you guys were actually heading back to the critters’ room.

Luckily, the workers thankfully had sympathy for the critters so you all actually have a place to rest. Even if you don’t need to sleep.

All the critters, except Picky, were playing around in the room. Then your trio came in and walked in on a party. Like a teenage birthday party, it was actually crazy. And somehow Craftycorn was drawing during all of this??

Catnap, Dogday and you were going towards your bed, just sitting on it, watching the madness. There was so much laughing, the room could be mistaken for a bunch of 3 year olds.

Then, KickinChicken threw a pillow and it hit Catnap’s face..

The room went silent, though, Craftycorn was still drawing.

“Oh! Sorry Catnap! I’ll try not to hit you again”!

He slowly turned his head towards the chicken, looking scary as ever.

But then you scratched the underside of his chin with your wrist(since you’re a sheep and have wool) or if your critter actually has hands then you scratched under his chin with your hand.

“Sorry about him, continue.” And then the playing started again.

And yes, Catnap started purring.

#poppy playtime #dogday #dogday x reader #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gn reader #poppy platime fanfic #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime 3 #catnap #catnap x reader #smiling critters #kickinchicken #pickypiggy #craftycorn

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

I would love something similar to the attending dr Remus story but maybe with ceo!sirius? All of his employees see him as a ruthless business man and are scared of him and maybe reader shows up to have lunch with him and she’s been crying or upset about something and Sirius just melts into a little puddle in front of everyone trying to comfort her 🥲🥲

Thanks for requesting!

ceo!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You swear, Sirius’ office has to be soundproofed. You hadn’t heard a thing on the way over, anticipating him to be quietly working at his desk, but when you go inside he’s standing behind it, all but shouting into the empty room.

“I’m looking at the numbers right here.” Sirius has his hands braced on the varnished wood, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he jabs one finger into the stack of papers in front of him as if for emphasis. “Do you have any idea—”

At the sound of the door opening and your quiet oh, he looks up. The severity melts from his expression, replaced by a familiar smile. “Hi, sunshine.” His voice seems to have melted too, the bark you’d heard when you’d come in replaced by something soft and crooning. “Lunchtime already?”

“Sorry,” you say, hand inching back towards the door handle. “Len said I could come right in, I didn’t—”

“No, I told him to tell you that,” Sirius waves you forward, coming around his desk to kiss you hello. “I never want to keep you waiting, I…hey.” His brows furrow as he moves closer. “Hey, baby, is something wrong?”

You blink. “No.” It comes out sounding like a question.

Sirius palms your face. You lean into the touch instinctively, but then he thumbs at something on your cheek. “You’ve been crying,” he murmurs.

Shit. You’d forgotten to clean yourself up. Have you been walking around with mascara tracks down your face all day? No wonder Len had looked at you the way he had.

“Oh, that’s from earlier,” you say as breezily as you can. “I’m good now.”

But Sirius isn’t having it. He frowns, taking your face in both hands and inspecting you carefully. “What happened?”

You try to shrug, but it feels futile and pathetic when he’s looking at you like that. “I got yelled at by some guy on the way to work.”

“What?” he asks, dismayed. His hands slide down your shoulders to take your hands, guiding you to his seat. “Who yelled at you?”

“It was—I don’t know, just some guy.” Tears press at the base of your throat, but you refuse to let them loose. It was a silly thing to begin with, and you’ve cried enough about it. “I was driving, coming up to a light, and I—okay, I know I was in the wrong, because I wasn’t paying enough attention, and I stopped right in front of a parking lot.” You cast your eyes down, chewing your lip. Sirius crouches by the chair so he can see your face. Clever maneuvering, but you suppose he didn’t get to where he is by poor planning. “I should have left a space for them to turn while the rest of us waited at the light, you know? But I just wasn’t thinking, and then I couldn’t back up, because there were people behind me, and this guy—” You swallow. Sirius rubs your knee, the crease between his brows deepening. “This guy got out of his car and came up to my window and was, like, screaming at me about what an idiot I was.”

Sirius has got one hand on each of your knees by now, his perfectly pressed trousers wrinkling from his crouch. He looks up at you, indignation and upset warring in his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s awful. Fuck, I’d be crying too. Everyone messes up that stuff sometimes, who gave that prat the right to yell at you about it?”

You shrug again, biting your lip to keep it from wobbling. Sirius can tell, and he coos, rising enough to needle his arms under yours. “C’mere, baby.”

You accept the invitation eagerly, pressing your face into his collar and inhaling the faint musk of his cologne. He scrubs a firm hand back and forth between your shoulder blades. A few seconds of silence pass before the phone on his desk crackles to life.

“Uh, sir?”

You jolt away from him as if you’ve been caught, but Sirius doesn’t seem all that phased.

“Yeah, that’ll be all for now,” he says insouciantly. “We’ll have to pick this back up later this afternoon.”

“You’re on a call?” you accuse.

“S’just a conference call, sweet thing. Ran a bit long.”

A conference call?

“What time did you want to reconvene?” a different voice asks tentatively. You cover your face with your hands. They feel cool against the burning heat of your skin.

Sirius rubs your shoulder lightly. “Say, four? And John, take a closer look at those numbers. You could save us all a lot of time by seeing sense.”

“Yessir,” another voice—John, you assume—says. “And, erm, very sorry about your incident, miss. Sure the other bloke was just having an off day.”

“Thanks,” you squeak, but Sirius says over you, “Mind your goddamn business, John,” and hits a button to hang up the phone.

“Sirius,” you say miserably after making sure to check that the light on the phone is no longer on. “How could you not tell me you were on a call?”

“Excuse me, I had other priorities at the moment,” he argues, taking your wrists and prying your hands from your face. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You’ve no reason to be embarrassed.”

“I complained about my road rage incident on your conference call!”

“It was a call full of accountants, love. You’ve probably just reminded them they’re alive.”

You give him a look. “I’m very cross with you.”

Sirius smiles. “Rats, if only there were a way for me to make it up to you.” He stands, grabbing a paper bag you hadn’t noticed from beside his desk. “Would my favorite girl’s favorite sandwich from her favorite sandwich shop be a good place to start?”

“That is a lot of favorites,” you allow, but the words don’t quite process until he pulls a wrapped sandwich out from the bag. You gasp, reaching for it. “Oh my god, how long did you have to wait in line for this?”

“I didn’t,” he says, somewhat sheepish. “Len waited over an hour, though.”

“You owe him a raise,” you say sternly, but accept the peace offering, peeling off the wrapping.

Sirius laughs when you bite into your sandwich and moan. “Damn, baby, you’ve never made sounds like that for me.”

“It’s a different kind of love,” you say through a mouthful.

“Enough to make your shit day a bit better?”

You slow in your chewing to give him a soft look. “More than enough. Thanks, Siri.”

“You’re welcome.” He gives you a saccharine smile, leaning forward for a kiss, but you dodge him.

“Wait, m’chewing!”

“And?” He takes your face in both hands, holding you captive as he pecks you firmly on the lips. “There. Waited way too long for that.”

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astralis-ortus · 14 days

Text

everything will be okay

✱ a bang chan headcanon

— everyone deserves a chan in their lifes.

w.count → 0.4k genre → hurt/comfort warning → mentions of traumatic experiences, mild cussing, subtle mention of possible intoxication a.n → could be triggering, so please check in with yourself if you're in a good headspace before reading

wouldn’t it be nice to be chan’s friend?

sometimes he’d call you up just to show some random stuff he’d been working on, or maybe he’d tell you about something odd he came across just a while earlier that reminds him of you. sometimes it’s a simple voice call, but more often than not he’d facetime you even if it’s just a couple minutes long. he’d take the time you check up on you, because he knows what it feels like to be lonely and didn’t want his friends to ever feel the same way.

when he’s on break, chan would be sure to make up all the postponed and rescheduled game nights or short getaways he couldn’t tag in. he’d go through lengths to make sure everything is perfect; be it something as simple as foods, to something bigger like flight tickets and accomodation. after all, he wants everyone to be happy during the rare times he could spend with them—so when next time he again became the only one to miss out on all the fun, the lot wouldn’t forget to keep him up to speed and looked forward to the next time he could be there in person.

oh, don’t even start with birthdays. chan would make sure the presents he got you is the perfect fit for you. sometimes he’d just straight up ask what you wanted or need, but on the rare occasions he wanted to go the extra length (or maybe when you just refuse to take any presents from him), he’d definitely ask around your friend group to hear about any squeak of ‘oh i need to buy this’ or ‘damn i really wanted that thing’ you might’ve let slip within the past couple months. he'd want to make you feel the best on your birthdays, because he knew how terrifying it is to feel like hitting rock bottom on his birthdays.

as your best friend, chan wouldn’t hesitate to drop everything when you texted him you needed someone to talk to. he’d come over with sweets and ice cream because he didn’t want you to intoxicate yourself while you’re not even in your best shape, or if he’s not physically able to be there, he’d make sure to facetime you straight away while texting a couple other friends to physically drop by and check up on you. chan would be there and listen, because he knew how suffocating it is having to bottle everything up inside.

chan would be the best out of any friends you’ve ever had in your life,

hence,

when it’s your time to be there for chan,

no matter how big or small his worries might be,

you’d make sure to show up for him in a heartbeat.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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clxja16 · 9 months

Text

Enough

Part IV

Charles Leclerc X Wolff!Reader

Genre: Toto Wolff's Daughter Au!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: AHHHHH I think I'm done. well idk, if you guys want more, I could probably write one more. However I don't think anything will top the scene after Charles DNF in the Netherlands. I could literally talk about that scene for hours on end. I need to know what you guys think of that scene, because it's probably some of my best work ever. I hope you guys enjoy though. A lot of time and dedication went into this fic. Also this is in no way a reflection of these people in real life. This is not based on real life events. Nothing in this story is fact. This is a work of fiction, purely for entertainment purposes.

Part I, Part II, Part III

------------------------------------

“I cannot believe you,” Susie says after she hears the front door slam shut from you walking out. She slightly shakes her head, as she looks to the gods, praying for strength. The strength to not kill Toto at this moment.

“Me? You can’t believe me? I cannot believe our daughter, does she even think about how the rushed marriage will look to the public?”

“Toto,” Susie sighs, “you’ve gone too far.” She doesn’t know how she can get him to understand that you’re not a little girl anymore. “She’s chosen Charles, and you have to accept that already.”

“But she could do so much better…”

“She doesn’t want better,” Susie raises her voice in disbelief. “Toto, she doesn’t want anyone else, she wants Charles. That’s it, that’s the end of the discussion.” Susie doesn’t know what more to say on the matter.

“He’s going to hurt her…”

“Toto, that is enough, just because you had an affair that ended your marriage, does not mean Charles is going to do the same! Why can’t you see that?” Susie doesn’t like that she brought up Toto’s affair but it must be said. “Pack your stuff, you’re leaving for the Netherlands first thing in the morning.”

“I don’t have to be there for a few more days…”

“Well, then fucking go to the factory Toto!” Susie can’t handle it anymore, as she stands from the table, “I don’t want to see you, until you apologize to our daughter. Hopefully before her wedding, so help me God.”

Charles had left, around the same time that you had earlier that night to attend a work dinner. He returned home after you and when he did, he found you on the bedroom floor surrounded by all the legal paperwork for the wedding. He could see your eyes were red from crying, and he knew that it wasn’t from happy tears. You were holding a white out pen and the paperwork to change your name stood out among the bunch.

“Ma cherie…”

“Hi,” you greet Charles with a weak tone, you couldn’t even look at him properly.

“What happened?” Charles moves the papers out of the way to take a seat next to, pulling your face to look at him. He can see more tears roll down your cheeks.

“Daddy asked if I was pregnant…”

Charles' brows are furrowed together at your statement, “Why would he think that?”

“Because…” you smile a sarcastic smile, “the only people who get married this fast are people who are knocked up.” You cry, and laugh at the same time as you recall the evening to Charles. You take a moment before you pull away from Charles, wiping away your tears. “I don’t want anything more to do with my father.” You grab the paper for the name change off the floor, and prepare the white out pen.

Charles places his hand on yours stopping you from continuing, “maybe you should wait.” Charles’ watches you carefully, he doesn’t want to say the wrong word, “just sleep on it for now.”

You look up at Charles, and you can see his worry for you. He doesn’t want you to make any decisions that you will regret later on. You stare back at the name you have written across the paper, Wolff-Leclerc.

The next morning you and Charles set out to drive to the Netherlands. The drive surprisingly doesn’t take as long as you anticipate, time travels fast with Charles. However when you do arrive at the hotel, you realize how much the drive took out of you. The two of you pass out, practically right away, and you don’t wake up until the next morning. By that time, you guys have to be at the paddock.

You make it a point to showcase that you and Charles are together. You arrive at the paddock with Charles, dressed in Ferrari red. Part of you does this to spite your father, the other part of you does this because you want Charles to know you pick him over everything else. While Charles is in the driver’s briefing with the FIA, you make a stop at the Mercedes motorhome.

The motorhome is mostly empty, the majority of the team being in the garage at this moment. However you knew your father would be in his office right now. He scheduled all his online meetings with the factory at this time, because the motorhome was quiet. When you make it to his door, you don’t hesitate to knock.

“Come in,” he says, right away. You walk in and hand him the letter in your hand. You don’t say a word to him, you’re trying to make this as clean cut as possible. He takes the letter from you, “what is this?” He asks as he begins to open it up.

“My resignation letter, effective immediately.”

“You’re resigning, what are you planning on doing with your life?”

“I’m going to let Charles take care of me,” you lied to your father. You tell him this, purely out of spite. He always raised you to be able to take care of yourself. His biggest thing was he never wanted you to rely on someone else. So you tell him this, just so he can suffer. You don’t stay to see his reaction, or hear anything more he has to say. You eventually go on to spend the rest of the weekend avoiding him.

You spend Sunday watching the race in the Ferrari garage. The beginning of the race was chaotic to say the least. You knew Charles was making his own calls, when the pit crew is yelling at each other, and no one seems to know what is going on. You see Fred look at you, like you have an idea of what’s going on. You’re too amazed that Fred can see this far back into the Ferrari garage, to even give a reaction to his stare.

As you continue to watch the race, you know Mercedes messed up the strategy. Especially when George had a good qualifying. Then you noticed that Charles couldn’t keep up with the Haas, and you concluded that there must be a problem with his car. When Ferrari does decide to retire him, you see him come out of his car. You can tell by the look on his face that he’s not happy in the slightest. He ignores you as he makes his weigh-in and goes straight to the media pen. You look at Andrea, and you see him shake his head.

You head to Charles' driver's room, knowing he would go straight there after the media pen. It doesn’t take much longer, as you hear Charles’ heavy footsteps. When he enters the room, he doesn’t say anything. He shuts the door, and takes a deep breath. Then he launches the water bottle he was holding across the room, the cap comes loose as it hits the wall, water splattering everywhere.

He takes another deep breath, before saying, “sorry.” Charles runs his hands over his face, he paces the room as he talks, “I know I fucked up the pit-stop, I didn’t give them enough time to grab the tires, before I came in.” He doesn’t look at you as he talks, “that was my fault, I know that, but for fuck’s sake, they left me out there to get overtaken by Hulkenburg in a fucking Haas.” Charles sighs, his shoulders drop, he doesn’t look like himself. He takes a heavy breath, now looking at you and he says, “I’m tired y/n.” Charles sits on the floor, instead of on the bench next to you. He sits by your feet, leaning against your legs, resting his head in your lap. He reaches up to hold your hand, and he repeats, “I’m tired.” His head feels heavy in your lap, you place your hand on his head, playing with the ends of his hair, while your other hand continues to hold his. He looks straight on at the wall.

“Just rest Charles,” you say, you’re not sure how you can comfort him at this moment. “You can rest now.”

“Can I really?” He asks, as he looks up at you. You can see how the season has weighed him down. You slowly nod your head at him, and he closes his eyes. You know that he doesn’t actually fall asleep, but the two of you stay like that for the rest of the race. You stay right there, in that same position, for Charles, for until he’s ready to move.

When the race ends, Charles finally moves, he changes out of his race suit. He heard Pierre got promoted to P3, and insisted on staying to see the podium. You see him put on a smile for his best friend. You watch them make plans to celebrate Pierre’s podium after Monza, during the weekend they have off. You watch Charles pretend he isn’t tired for his friend’s sake. And you feel your love for him grow. You love that he can be vulnerable with you, and you love that he will always be proud of those he loves accomplishments.

As soon as the Dutch grand prix was over, you and Charles hopped on a flight to Milan. The Italian grand prix was a home grand prix for Ferrari, so there were events all week long. Charles’ schedule was packed through and through. You don’t bother him with the wedding stuff, you allow him to focus on Ferrari this week.

Susie comes out to Monza, and she helps you plan for the wedding. Although it’s a small event, she insists on getting you a dress, maybe not your dream dress, but a nice dress nonetheless. Charles is at the Ferrari Ray-ban event, while you and Susie are going through Milan, looking at several dress shops.

You are in one particular shop, trying to pull a few dresses to try on, when you look at Susie and say, “thank you coming Mamma.”

Susie can see as tears line your eyes, she knows that you and your father being at a cross like this hurts you. “Of course sweetheart, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“I wish Daddy felt the same,” you say somberly, “has he said anything to you after that night.”

Susie turns to look back at the dresses, “I-” She pauses for a second, “I haven’t seen your father since that night.”

“What do you mean, you haven’t seen daddy since that night?”

Susie sighs, “I told him that I didn’t want to see him until he apologized to you, so I haven’t see him.”

You can’t help but let out a cackle of a laugh. You slap your hand over your mouth, catching yourself, as Susie looks at you wide-eyed. “I’m sorry,” you say, as you begin to giggle some more, “I’m sorry, but that-” You can’t contain your laughter at this point. You know part of you is laughing to stop yourself from crying, but it feels so good to laugh. And oh do you laugh, “that is too funny, you kicked daddy out of the house?”

“Well,” Susie can’t help but to laugh at your reaction, “I had to sweetheart.” She looks at you fondly, pushing your hair behind your ear, and you stop laughing. “You didn’t deserve that from him,” she says seriously.

You feel a few tears fall, “thank you Mamma.”

Susie shakes her head, “now enough talk of your father, let’s focus on you sweetheart.” She smiles at you, and you nod your head. You try to push all thoughts of your father from your mind, focusing on the task at hand. You and Susie spend the rest of the day shopping.

Being in Italy does good for Charles, you can see it clearly on Saturday. He qualifies in P3, but it makes him happy. The fans make him happy. And even though he didn’t really rest, he isn’t tired. You watch him fondly from the Ferrari garage as he does the post qualifying interviews. After he wraps up on Saturday, the two of you are walking back to his car to head back to the hotel. You can feel the bounce in his step, how light he feels.

“I love you,” you say, as you look at Charles, as the two of you walk. He stops, and looks at you. His eyes full of love, as he displays a fond smile. You take all of him in at this moment. You can’t help yourself from falling deeper in love with him. You’ll never love someone like you love him.

“I love you too,” he says. To anyone else it’s the same ‘I love you’s you said to each other over and over again, but to you, it’s so much more.

It was another Sunday, another Grand Prix, and your second time watching from the Ferrari garage. Although there is nothing technically different from the Mercedes garage, it all felt different. Being at Mercedes it felt like a business, it felt like work. Mercedes was cold, it was calm, it was like a normal nine to five workplace. While being at Ferrari it feels like passion. You feel the desperation to be great like they once were. You understand why Charles remains so loyal. Being there, in the garage it makes you cheer for Ferrari. You see them trying, you feel their need to win, and you want them to be great. It only took two races, but you’re definitely a Ferrari fan.

As you watched the race, you felt yourself constantly holding your breath. Carlos was brilliant defending against Max, Checo and even Charles. He drove to the absolute limit and you were amazed that he held onto the lead for as long as he did. Charles drove the wheels off his car. Going for ridiculous moves, and pushing it to the absolute limit every chance he got. Although you must say, you felt like you were going to have a heart attack watching the last five laps. Yet, when you saw the smile on Charles’ face after the race, you think your almost heart attack was worth it.

Watching them race makes you miss it even more. Watching them push the car to the limit, to the extreme and hold it all together to bring it home, makes you itch to have that feeling under you. When Charles makes his way back into the garage, after all of his requirements, he doesn’t waste any time in finding you. He pulls and holds you close. You let him, sweaty and all. You can’t help but to just smile stupidly at him. Seeing him this happy, makes you happy.

“I know,” he smiles and drops his head bashfully, “I shouldn’t be this happy about P4, but I had fun.”

“I think you should be proud,” you say, making him look at you, “proud that you gave it your all, and you could give it your all.”

Charles doesn’t need to say another word, as he pulls you in for a kiss.

Toto was trying to meet Fred to discuss some things, when he sees yours and Charles' interaction within the Ferrari garage. He witnesses the private moment, away from the crowds, from the cameras, from everyone else. He sees you being deeply in love with Charles. Toto has been watching you all weekend long, and last weekend too. He knows now how much you love Charles. He sees it now. Toto can finally see what everyone else saw.

“Charles,” Fred calls from across the garage, as he beckons for Charles. You let him go, as he catches up with Fred. At this time you notice your father standing there watching you.

“Darling,” Toto calls out to you, as he steps closer.

“Hi,” you say.

Toto doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to make this better, how to fix this. He knows he messed this all up. He knows it’s his fault. He just doesn’t know where to start, when really there’s only one place to start. “I’m sorry.”

You’re taken aback by your father’s apology. You never expected him to actually apologize. You thought that eventually you’d feel guilty enough to make up with your father.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” Toto repeats again, “I should have never suggested you were pregnant and that’s why you guys were getting married. I know now that you really love this boy, and that he really loves you.”

You smile, as you feel a few tears line your eyes. This time you are certain they’re happy tears. “Thank you daddy,” you say, as you hug your father. And just like all the times when you were a little girl, your father has made all your problems go away.

“Now,” Toto starts off, and he pulls back from you, “may I please come to your wedding, if it is still this Tuesday?”

“I hope you do come,” you say genuinely.

Just outside of the Ferrari garage, Charles and Fred watch you and Toto. Fred shakes his head at your father for being so stubborn. While Charles just smiles fondly, because now he sees you genuinely happy.

After all the festivities, you remembered the news that you had to tell Charles. Charles had just walked out of the bathroom, freshly out of the shower. Towel in his hand drying his hair. He sits on the edge of the bed, while you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around him. Pressing your cheek against his shoulder blade.

“I have something to tell you,” you say softly to Charles.

“What is ma cherie?” Although you don’t see it, you can hear him smiling.

“I got a call from Zac Brown,” you say. Charles doesn’t need to hear more as he turns around to look at you excitedly. “Apparently, someone has been constantly raving about me to his drivers,” you say knowing exactly who has been raving about you to Lando and Oscar. “And his drivers keep telling him about it.” You laugh as you see how excited Charles is to hear your news. “Zac asked if I wouldn’t mind doing some simulator for Mclaren.”

“Oh this is great news,” Charles says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“I know it’s not really back to racing…”

“But it’s a start.”

“Yeah,” you smile, “It’s a start.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Charles says, as he kisses you again. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him down. Charles falls against you, planting more kisses over your face.

“Thank you Charles.”

Charles pulls away to look at you, “no need to thank me, I love to brag about my fiancée.”

Today was finally the day. Although it wasn’t a big or traditional wedding, there were certain things that your parents and Charles’ mom insisted you guys do. Like how it was bad luck to see each other before the actual wedding. So you were getting ready in your hotel room, while Charles and his brothers all got ready in another room.

You tried to tell your parents that this wasn’t going to be a big event, that you would make it up to them and plan an actual wedding, however that all fell on deaf ears. They fussed and doted on you all morning before going to the courthouse. You look into the vanity mirror and behind you, you can see Susie and Toto. In between fussing over you, they make up. Your father apologizes and he makes amends. Your mamma forgives and she loves continually. The pieces of your family begin to slide back into place.

As you make your way to the courthouse, Toto insists on walking you in. You smile, allowing your father. You wrap your arm around his, in front of you is Susie and Jack walks in first. Just behind the door, there stands Charles. His brothers by his side, all dressed in matching casual suits. His mother stands just off to the side of them. You don’t know why but the sight has tears falling from your eyes, happy tears.

“Ma cherie,” Charles exclaims as he sees you crying. He comes up to you wiping away your tears with a smile, “no more crying already.”

You giggle, you know a lot of tears have been shed these past few weeks. “It’s happy tears, I promise.”

Charles smiles at you. At this moment, Toto unwraps your arm from his, and gives your hand to Charles. He takes your hand, and both you and him look at Toto. You know what this moment signifies, nothing more needs to be said.

One thing about courthouse weddings, they are very efficient. The officiant says what he needs to, you and Charles both say your ‘I do’s, kiss, and they announce you married. “I now present the two of you married, as Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc.” The officiant looks back down at his paper, “or I should say Mr. Leclerc and Mrs. Wolff-Leclerc.” Your family and Charles’ family cheers at the announcement.

While you and Charles took pictures down by the lake, your families watched on. During the picture of you with your parents, did Toto whisper to you, “thank you.”

“For what daddy?” you question, looking up at your father innocently.

“For being proud to be a Wolff.”

“I am your daughter,” you say, as you look back at the camera and smile.

------------------------------------

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#formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 au #formula 1 angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #ferrari #f1 #f1 charles leclerc #formula one #f1 fic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc #scuderia ferrari

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

Bigger Than The Whole Sky | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: WE’LL GET BACK TO FLUFF SOON. is it a promise? yeah probably. sad stuff will be put on hold after this, we’re getting back to our regularly schedule good dad and husband after this chapter lol

warnings: MINORS DNI. Miscarriage, descriptions of medical treatment, medical inaccuracies, descriptions of medical abortions, depression, cussing, loss of a pregnancy. Simon knows how periods work because he is a good husband.

summary: It’s hard to get over something like this, it’s hard to feel like this. Loss is difficult.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

“You are going through a miscarriage.”

It was like the world had collapsed into the void, a ringing in his ears as he felt your hand squeeze his. He squeezed back, looking to you but you only looked at the doctor. She moved her medical mask up her nose a little before she continued. “Since you weren’t too far along, it’s possible to pass the fetus on your own. We also have a medication that would help it go faster. If neither work after a couple weeks, we will have to do...”

Simon tuned out then, watching your face underneath a medical mask. He knew you would be biting your lip to try to stop the tears, but it was pointless - the mask was wet with the tears you had been crying for hours. His heart kept squeezing, tugging, and tearing. He’s never felt this pain before, and he had no idea how to make it fucking stop. You nodded to the doctor, hand squeezing his, making him tune back into the conversation.

“Mr. Riley, do you have any questions?”

He turned to look at the emergency room doctor, her clipboard held by her hip. He glanced back to you before looking at the doctor again. “What do I need to do to help her?”

It was apparent that the doctor was not used to the question, eyebrows twitched before she spoke, “Make sure she doesn’t strain herself, she needs to stay hydrated and fed. This is a lot for a woman, especially since this was her second baby.”

Was.

What a silly word, what a joke, he thought. That ‘was’ could have been my child.

She cleared her throat. “As soon as she passes the fetus, she will need to take a pregnancy test three weeks later to confirm that she is no longer pregnant. If it says that she still is, come back immediately.” She looked to his wife. “It’s imperative that if you feel you are in more pain than before that you come in immediately. Life-saving treatment earlier on in a failed home abortion can and will save your life.”

Simon’s other hand clenched his leg, out of sight. He pressed the balls of his feet into the floor, trying to stop himself from standing and leaving. He so desperately wanted to run out of here, disappear into the alleyway and scream his lungs out.

You nodded to the doctor, she left with a quiet condolence before the air in the room grew silent.

He couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t dare be the man his father wanted him to be, a horrible husband and father - just like him. He forced himself to sit there, to take the pain and stop himself from running like he normally would have.

Like he did when he learned about Winnie.

He didn’t let himself think on it for much more than that, seeing you distraught and in pain right now was hurting him more than losing what would have been his son. He was sure he’d feel the loss later, but he’d rather have his wife alive than a baby he hasn’t even met. He held your hand with care, moving it to his lips and pressing a small kiss to the shaking skin.

He had carried you back out to his SUV when you had been discharged, lulling your head against his chest as the medicine was making you tired. You were wrapped up in the blanket you had left with, your blood still on it and you needed new clothes to wear when you got home.

He didn’t turn on the radio when he began to drive home. He sat with one hand on the steering wheel, the other settled in between your hands. You kept his hand close to your chest as you gazed out the window.

He’s never done this before, never imagined that he would have to - especially with you. The wonderful wife that loved every shitty part of him, the person who woke him from nightmares that plagued his wicked mind. The light in the darkness, holding his treasures in your arms. He’s fixed things for you before like your grandmother’s necklace you wore all the time, the squeaky floorboard in the kitchen and repairing the water heater - all without real annoyance, only playful grumbles and a smile that you loved to kiss. He’s held you when you’ve cried about missing home, missing your brothers, kissed your tears when the postpartum depression got to be too much. There was no way he knew what to do to even ease your emotional and mental pain, but he desperately wanted to. He’d claw his way through Hell to make this easier for you.

He let out a breath, glancing over to you before saying, “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t even budge, small breaths escaping your lips. He glanced to the road, seeing that he was fine for just a second, before he moved forward to look at your face. Your eyes were closed, head leaned to the side of the headrest and his hand trapped in your clutches.

He let out a huff through his nose, looking back at the road and squeezed the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.” The words stay in the air, directed to no one. He let out a quiet, humorless laugh as he said, “Fuckin’ Hell.”

The lights were on in the house when he carried you inside, he could hear the TV going but he had no desire to investigate. He closed the door behind him with a kick of his foot, hand on the back of your head as your face was settled in his neck. His other arm kept both of your legs on the side of one of his hips, you were still crying. You had woken up in the car earlier, you hadn’t even stopped crying in your sleep. It made his chest tear in half.

“Simon.”

He looked to his right, seeing Price standing in the front room, little Mellie asleep in his arms.

Simon felt tears claw at his eyes, he kept his gaze with his friend. “Can you take the kids for a couple of nights?”

Price immediately nodded. “Yeah.” He nodded towards Simon’s wife. “Is she okay?”

Simon didn’t even look down at you, he shook his head. “Not now.”

He walked up the stairs then, letting Price go back to wherever he came from to get his goddaughter. Simon was careful when he entered the bedroom, he moved towards the bathroom so he could wash you up. He noticed that the blood on the floor was now gone, a towel sat on the side of the bathtub. He quickly sat you down on the side of the bathtub, keeping a hand on you as he turned the water on.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes flickered to yours, red and full of tears. His hand rested on your cheek.

“No need to be sorry.” He wiped tears away with his thumb. “We’ll get through this, okay?”

“It was a boy.” Was all you managed, tears streaming down your face. “Our boy.“

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes. “I would rather have my wife than a son. I don’t care if Mellie is my last kid, because I would still have you. Don’t ever apologize for something you can’t control.”

Your face immediately went to his neck, arms around it as loud sobs erupted from your lips. He held you close to him, pressing his lips to your hair.

The hard part was helping you bathe, you sat catatonic in the warm water. The tears had stopped minutes ago, he was now draining the tub of the pink water, helping you into a towel. Gently wiping off the water from your body, moving to grab some of your clothes from the bedroom before returning. He was quick to grab a pad from underneath the cabinet, he wasn’t unfamiliar to them since you had to keep using them when he had gotten home months ago because of Mellie. He put it in your underwear then kneeled in front of you. He guided your hand to rest on his shoulder, helping you step into them. He pulled them up, then helped you into a pair of his old sweatpants - tying them at your waist. He stood, pulling one of his old band shirts over your head and tugging it on.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before bending down and picking you up into his arms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. He let you cry into his chest, laying down on your bed and letting you curl into his chest. His arms around you, caging you into him as he tried his best to hold back his own tears.

“We’ll be okay.” He spoke into the room, right beside your ear. “You’ll be okay.”

“I want my baby.” Those four words stabbed his chest, ripping open muscle and exposing his rib cage to the biting wind of emotional agony. His hand buried into your scalp, pressing your head to his chest.

He pressed his lips to your head. “I know.”

The hands that gripped his shirt let go, now resting your palms against his chest. “No. I want my daughter, I want Winnie.”

Your husband was only gone a few minutes before he brought back his sleepy daughter, settling her right next to you. Your arms immediately went around the five year old, pressing kisses to her little face. She didn’t even grovel about it, just basking in the love of her mom.

“Be good for Uncle Price.” Your voice was surprisingly steady, the girl opened her eyes and crinkled her nose.

“I wanna stay home.”

Your hand gently pet down her messy curls. “I know, but you know when we had to sit down on the sidewalk after you skinned your knee on your bike?”

The girl nodded.

“And that I told you that you take the time to feel better and not to be scared of your bike. I told you that you didn’t have to ride your bike again, because you were scared to. Because you were hurt.”

“Yeah,” The girl whispered, hands going to rest on your arm.

“And you got on your bike the next day, even though you were scared but you had that time to feel better, and you felt safe again. I’m gonna do that.” You placed a kiss on her forehead, pushing a lock of dirty blonde hair from her face. “I just need some time to feel better, that’s why you’re going with your uncles.”

“Is Daddy going with me?”

You shook your head. “No, baby. He’s taking care of me.”

Her nose crinkled again. “Is Melsie coming?”

You nodded. “Mellie’s going with you.”

Winnie chirped, a smile on her face. “Can I eat ice cream when I go?”

You chuckled, nodding. “Yes. Tell Uncle Price that Mama said so.”

“Love you, Mama.” Your daughter moved forwards, wrapping her arms around your neck. You kissed her again, whispering your love into her ear before Simon pulled Winnie up and away. His five year old looked at his face with eyes that matched his own, her little hands settled on his shoulders. Her little eyebrows were furrowed, the look of a question on her face.

“Go on.” He encouraged, knowing that she would probably pester Price so much that he’d go into retirement.

“I want a brother.” The little one declared, her brown eyebrows furrowed. She reminded him of you. “Mama said I’m gettin’ a brother.”

One hand went from holding her to brushing her hair down, a frown on his face. “Not yet, my little love. He’s not ready.”

Winnie hummed before moving her arms around her father’s neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He glanced down at you, seeing your eyes on him.

“Maybe we’re not ready too.” He spoke. If it was someone outside looking in, it would’ve seemed like he was saying it to Winnie - but he was saying it to you. His eyes didn’t leave yours for a moment more, he then walked towards the door and down the stairs, leaving you alone in the massive bed.

Ibuprofen would help now, but you had no energy to ask Simon. Your fingers gripped the sheets, you curled into yourself in the middle of the bed. You needed to tell Winnie why she was going away, that you weren’t abandoning her. The girl already felt abandoned by her father, you could see it through the way she waits at the front door for him. The way she always checks to see if his car is in the garage, the way she leaves a little bit of water in her cup in case he comes home and is thirsty, even though he’s on deployment. Your hand hovered over your stomach before pressing onto it, pain radiating through your lower back and legs.

You had to come to terms that it wasn’t time yet. It wasn’t time for a little boy with Simon’s spray of freckles, a little boy with a smile like yours. It wasn’t time for a baby again, you figured.

Then why did it still hurt? Why did it drive a red hot spear into your chest, cracking open your ribs? Why did claws rip apart your lungs so you couldn’t breathe?

A large hand settled on your side, large legs settling just behind yours. His arm snuck underneath your chest, pulling your back into his front. The tears started again, red hot against skin you felt was cold. Your arms clutched onto Simon’s, his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your hair.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” You whispered, still not sure if you believed him. “I know.”

“Baby…”

“Simon.” Your voice cracked, hands squeezing his large arm tighter. “Please. I can’t hear it anymore.”

You wouldn’t be able to see it, you couldn’t turn to face him, but his own tears fell down onto the pillowcase. Small tears, barely there in comparison to yours.

“I love you.” His words were steady, even if his heart felt like it was crashing and burning. You were ready for this one, he would’ve been after a while. He wanted what you wanted, and his heart twisted and contorted into painful positions when he knew it was being ripped away from you. “I love you.” He pressed another kiss to your skin, he then rested his forehead on your clothed shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “I’m at fault here.”

“No, you’re not.”

“The baby was perfect at the appointment. I got sick and didn’t care for myself, so he-“

“Stop it.”

“It’s my fault, Simon.“

“These things happen, without rhyme or reason.” He pulled you just a little closer. “You’re a wonderful mother. If the baby’s not ready, it’s not ready. It’s simple. It will never be your fault.”

“But-“

“No. I’m not going to sit here and listen to you degrade yourself for something you can’t control. I can’t do it.”

“It hurts.”

He pulled the blanket farther up your bodies, up to your chin while he gently lifted his arm from your lower stomach. “That better?”

You pressed his arm into your stomach, curling your back into his chest again. You closed your eyes, trying to let go. Trying to let go of the chain you were holding in your open chest, trying to pull the weight at the end of it back up. Your hands kept slipping, the chain falling further and further into your chamber of despair. It wasn’t long before you had fallen asleep, dreamless and in pain.

Simon didn’t sleep.

He held you close to him, keeping your hair from your face. He memorized how your nose curved, the way your jaw defined your face, and how peaceful you were when you were asleep.

He felt his own pain, losing a child was not an easy feat. Simon felt acid-like tears in his soul, but Ghost had pressed his hand into them to make them hurt.

Simon would never have a son. He was grateful that he would never be like his father, beating his boys until he got bored. He was grateful that his girls were strong, loved; that their mother would never be hurt by his hand. He was grateful he would never have to fake his love for his girls.

Simon Riley was grateful he wasn’t going to have a son, so he didn’t have to stare a carbon copy of himself in the face and pretend that he loved him.

hi, i wrote this entire thing like weeks ago and the last paragraph almost made me vomit cause i was so upset

also, we’re getting a flashback for them because fluff and because i want to. i want to show how happy they were >:(

taglist: @sigynxlokiwifelover @lumpypoll @multitargaryen

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x fem!reader #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium

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todomochi-uwu · 3 months

Text

Who (6/?) J. Y & S. M

Pairing: Poly! Jeong Yunho x reader x Song Mingi

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis: You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you.

Author's notes: It's been such a long time, and I'm sorry for that. Life hasn't been quite easy, but as an apology here's some smut. Hope you enjoy.

Other chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

It had been a couple of weeks since that night, and getting used to being back wasn’t quite as easy as you thought it would be. At first feeling like a stranger to the place you had once called home, and while your lovers may try to help with that, you fear they may seem to be overcompensating a bit.

You woke up because of the ungodly amount of sound that came from the kitchen.

“Yunho?” Your eyes could barely focus on the things in front of you, besides, what the hell was he doing at home at this hour? Wiping the floor?

“Good morning, my love.” He sighed and got up, “I’m sorry did I wake you up? I dropped some pans and spilt milk. I’m sorry I’m a bit of a mess right now.” He kissed your forehead before going back to cooking, “I’m making breakfast, are pancakes, okay? We also have cereal, or I can make you some eggs or…”

“Pancakes are okay, but what are you doing here so late in the morning? Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?” You took a seat on the kitchen bar.

“I’m taking some time off, they asked me to. Just to get my head back on my shoulders.” He flipped a pancake, “Mingi will be back in a second he went to get some orange juice, we ran out yesterday and we know how much you like it and…” He kept on going, but you couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.

You looked at him without saying anything. His hands trembled with every move he made; he kept on rambling, not stopping to take a breath, afraid to let any uncomfortable silences come through. He couldn’t stay put, moving things around, not able to focus on one thing.

Mingi came through the door. His hands were full of grocery bags that threatened to snap and spill what was inside of them. “I’m back!” He set everything on the countertop, bags of snacks spilling out, hygiene products you were missing, and a bunch of things you don’t even remember mentioning you needed. “I bought everything you ask for, my love.”

“Mingi, you didn’t have to buy this all at once. I have most of this stuff back at my place.”

“Oh well, now you have them here.”

After everything that you had gone through you felt like you needed a bit of time alone, to take a step back and process. Having to come to terms with the idea of being single, actually trying to move on, Bang Chan, the club, Yunho and Mingi. All that in such a short period was messing with your head. But your lovers seemed to differ.

“Babe, I will come back earlier from work to take you on a date, okay?”

“Mingi, we went out yesterday, I’m sure Jongho needs your help back at the office.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of everything.”

Yunho wasn’t any different.

“My love, how about we go for a walk? Or would you rather watch a movie? We can go for some ice cream.”

“Yun, don’t you have to study? I saw your calendar and you have an upcoming test.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll figure it out.”

You missed them, and not having them around had been a nightmare, but this might be over the top. Not neglecting you didn’t have to mean neglecting everything else. So, a list of all the things you had to do began to form in the back of your head.

First, figure out a way to tell them (in a way that won’t destroy Mingi) that you need some space to understand what’s going on in your head and heart. Second, get some actual work done; bills still need to get paid. Third and last of all (and the one you have been dreading the most) talk to Chan. You weren’t even sure if he would be willing to. Jisung said he hasn’t seen him come out of his apartment, and he doesn’t even answer the door; every single time Minho tried contacting him it goes straight to voice mail. Your friend assures you he only needs a bit of time, but you are not quite sure, this might be it for your friendship, and you won’t lie, it breaks your heart.

____________________________________________

Going back to the first task. You rehearsed over and over again the things you want to say, in your head and front of the mirror, it makes you cringe, but it’s better than to see Mingi drown in tears and sobs.

“I appreciate all the effort you are putting in, but that doesn’t mean you have to neglect everything else in your life...”

“We have to learn how to balance work, our individuality and this relationship...”

“All this will take time, trust is gained slowly, and I’m sure…”

And you swore those would be the words that would come out of your mouth the second dinner was over. It wasn’t easy to explain how you ended up in this position…

Mingi between your legs, lapping at your pussy like a starved man, his mouth alternating between your entrance and your clit, not knowing which one to pleasure first. Meanwhile, Yunho was sucking at your neck, leaving bruises all over the sensitive skin; his fingers pinched and pulled on your nipples, and the sins that came out of his mouth made you tremble.

“Haven’t you missed this, my love?” He said pulling on your earlobe, “Have you missed Mingi eating your sweet, little cunt, mm?”

Mingi let your skin go with a pop, before pushing two of his long, thick fingers inside you without warning, finding a rhythm immediately, kitten licking your clit at the same time.

You couldn’t form any coherent thoughts; pleasure had completely taken over your brain; you could only feel the warmth of Mingi’s tongue and Yunho’s hard cock on your back.

“Please, please, please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“What do you need, baby? Tell us and we’ll give it to you.”

“I need you.” You whimpered.

“But baby, you have us.” Fucking Yunho, always a tease.

“Please, please Yuyu.”

“You need to tell me, love.”

Mingi’s mouth abandoned your core, leaving you aching and in need of more. “Come on, baby. You have to tell us what you want.” He urged, mocking you. “Use your words.” His fingers kept you on the edge, but not giving you any more.

Your mind is clouded by the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "I need..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "...both of you."

Yunho's fingers continued their torturous assault on your sensitive buds, while his teeth nipped your skin, "And you will have us."

Mingi resumed his ministrations with renewed fervour. His fingers delved deeper, stroking that sweet spot inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins, while his tongue resumed its teasing assault on your throbbing clit.

“I need to cum, please.”

"Then cum, my love, cum for us.”

With a strangled cry, you let yourself go, surrendering yourself to the overwhelming sea of sensations your lovers were providing. Heavy breaths escaped your chest, a constant ring in your ears, you could barely tell where you were, but one thing was clear, your lovers were not done with you.

You could feel them moving around you. This time Mingi was the one behind you, holding your knees against your chest, placing small kisses and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, his hands massaged your thighs gently.

“You did so good for us, sweetheart.” His fingers traced patterns in your bruised skin.

The familiar sound of the lubricant’s cap opening made you whimper; you had been conditioned to know what would happen next. Yunho and Mingi would always make sure to prepare you to take them, making you cum a couple of times before even trying anything, but tonight you just couldn’t wait, and neither could they.

“Are you ready, my love?” Yunho’s words made you tremble. You felt both their tips in your entrance, ready to claim you at the same time. Mingi kept his hands on your hips while the man in front of you caressed your legs, waiting for your permission to go on. Both of them slightly shaking with excitement and desperation.

“Yes.”

The sensation of being filled by them was overwhelming, but made you feel complete, whole, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Their movements were slow and hesitant, not wanting to hurt you. Mingi’s moans and whines filled your ears, his hands pinched your skin and his head was thrown back in ecstasy.

“Oh my god, yes, god yes!” He wasn’t concerned by the sounds that left his mouth, too busy enjoying the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

Yunho wasn’t doing any better, groans constantly leaving his mouth, driving himself deeper inch by inch. His eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly opened, his eyes could only focus on the place where your bodies met and became one. The image of his and Mingi’s cock splitting you open wasn’t new, but goddamn was it the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

You closed your eyes, trying to control yourself. Pain and pleasure danced inside you, intertwining themselves and covering your entire being. Each thrust consumed you entirely, making your moans turn into screams, you could feel yourself teetering over the edge. The blonde´s fingers pushed on the small bud of nerves at your core making tears spill out of your eyes, while Yunho’s lips sucked your nipples raw.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned, his hips never relenting their hellish pace. And a single moment of clarity, his eyes met Mingi’s. The same look of need and lust covered his face, red cheeks and dazed eyes, cries escaping his mouth, a small I love you between them. With what little sanity he had left, he took the younger man’s head and pushed their heads in a kiss. their teeth clashing and tongues sucking on each other in ardour, both of them moaning because of the new stimulation.

“I’m going to cum!” You cried. An explosion of pleasure filled your system, as your body convulsed in ecstasy, making you almost pass out. Yunho and Mingi couldn’t hold back any longer, the tight knot snapped, joining you and spilling their seed inside you. Their essence and yours running down your thighs, ending up in the couch’s leather.

The three of you lay breathless, boneless, but complete. You had for once and for all found your way back to each other, and after what felt like an eternity, everything felt right.

____________________________________________

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snghnlvr · 5 months

Note

ok hear me out.. a contract/arranged marriage with any enha member, cliche stuff like yall not getting along n stuff plus yall prolly hate eo's guts. however one day, you got caught in some situation with a guy (idk ur ex or smth) which caused them to be jealous n yea yall fluff things out 🤭🤭

sign me up. | lee heeseung

lee heeseung x fem reader

synopsis : heeseung may have gotten a bit overboard when he saw your ex.

extra : first heeseung work!! | i literally change the scenario last minute because i find angry tuexdo heeseung quite hot <3 | little fluff because they like to argue | yn is petty but heeseung doesn’t care | bad employees talking shit about heeseung 👎 | heeseung saves the day!! | this picture of heeseung as a reference … MADE ME FERAL💢💢

(p.s no i’m not normalizing abusive relationships.)

likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[below the cut]

you’re staring at your untouched plate of food in front of you. the low volume of chattering and jazz music playing, it made you be in a sea of thoughts.

the fabric of your dress made you feel queasy, questioning as to why you’re the person being told to do this. it felt weird. the atmosphere felt weird overall. it didn’t feel right to be in this situation.

your sweaty fingertips lingered around your bare thigh.

the lights reflected on your white plate.

the smoke of the food disappeared into thin air without you noticing.

you didn’t want to spend your night like this.

you didn’t like the feeling of someone that you utterly hate your guts with, in front of you.

unwavering and eyes just wandering around in boredom, no one dared to speak.

your eyes were filled with hatred with every second spent with your husband. your husband that you were arranged for marriage with. you couldn’t reject - you couldn’t even say no because both parents wanted this opportunity to raise their reputation for their jobs. sometimes you hated being rich and just want to be born in a normal life.

you hated lee heeseung with all of your guts because how cocky he is as an individual. with being born with a silver spoon, he doesn’t shut up with his mouth and likes to irritate you because he’s ‘always right’. if someone doesn’t like his idea, he would immediately fire him.

in the evening of 7:00pm, heeseung’s mother arranged dinner for the both of you just to spend more time as a husband and wife.

“you’re gonna have to eat the pasta one way or another.”

you rolled your eyes at your husband’s words. “you could’ve said no to your mother’s request. i know you dont wanna be here either.” you shrugged.

you looked at heeseung as he wears a hardened expression at the mention of earlier.

“it’s my mother, i can’t just say no to her.”

you scoffed at his words. you find it ironic how he doesn’t say no to his mom but says no to his wife.

when you walked into your bedroom, there was a tuxedo and a matching dress on the bed. you sighed. you admit that it’s a beautiful piece, you just felt like it didn’t belong onto your body.

“oh but when i have a say in something, you say no?” you tilted your head to the side, acting confused towards heeseung who seemed bothered with your words. “what a reliable and caring husband to have.” you sarcastically spitted.

“i am considerate with your words. you’re just making reckless decisions and not understanding my perspective.” heeseung’s fist curled up on his lap. you noticed how intense he was staring at you but you didn’t falter.

“your perspective? all i’m saying that as your wife, i should have the privilege to work alongside with you!”

“maybe if you think before speaking you probably would!”

there was nothing but tension as you eyed heeseung without flinching. you became quiet as you realized that you’re in a public environment. it would be pointless to argue here.

heeseung mentioned earlier on how you talked back to his employees and rejected their ideas to make your own ideas stand out to the lee family. you can’t blame yourself, you were just helping your husband not fall into their tricks and make his branding fall into shambles.

you’re well aware of his reputation among his workers. he’s not very well liked because of his attitude. although you felt a bit bad for the bad mouthing, you also agreed on some of their pointers but you kept your mouth shut.

“i was just helping..” you rolled your eyes, leaning back to your chair with your arms crossed and your mouth pouting as you speak.

“look y/n i know-”

“whatever,” you interrupted his words. you didn’t want to hear what he was gonna say.

you stood up after you pulled your purse to your shoulder. “i’m going to the restroom.” you didn’t look at heeseung’s eyes and walked straight to the restroom with your heels clinking away.

heeseung eyed you with the tip of his tongue touching his lip. he took a deep breath in as you shamelessly walked away. he knows how petty you can be during an argument.

however, he can’t help but let his eyes linger your body a bit longer than usually as you disappear from his sight.

as you finished washing your hands and drying them out, you walked outside with your head cooled off.

“y/n.” you turned around only to be shocked from seeing someone very familiar.

“haechan?” you called out softly to make sure it’s the right person you’re looking to.

the male figure smiled upon your calling.

then your heart dropped.

your intuition was correct. your ex is under the same building as you. it’s been two years since you’ve maren haechan especially when you decided to break up with him because he was starting to become violent towards you. as selfish you are, you immediately called it off which obviously pissed haechan off.

“i knew my mind wasn’t playing tricks.” haechan started to take a step closer to you as you were busy staring at haechan at how physically he has changed, making you worried.

you cursed at whoever made the hallway from the dining area to the restroom so far.

“how are you y/n?” you shivered at the way he said your name. with much venom. you hated the way that he’s smirking at you when he saw that you became frozen.

you gulped. your eyes trailed to the floor in front of you so you try to walk as fast as you can without your heartbeat dropping to the floor.

flashbacks from your relationship occurred in your head. thoughts of haechan hitting and verbally abusing you made your body be in cold sweat.

before you can take two more steps, you felt your wrist being tugged forcefully. as your body instinctively turned around, it all went too fast when your head was pounded to the concrete wall and a hand choked around your neck, making you cough and gasp for air.

you became dizzy as the pain began to consume your head. you lowered your head, trying to redeem consciousness as you kept your hand on haechan’s grip whom never wants to let go.

“you bastard!”

then hand from your neck disappeared. your body slowly slide down to the wooden floor as you heard multiple gasps around you.

you try to look across at what was happening and you were too shocked to process your husband currently beating the living shit out of your ex.

“don’t fucking touch my wife like that you hear me!?” you heard heeseung’s voice being laced with nothing but anger and viciousness as his body was on topped of haechan, gripping his collar and eyeing him with every death stare. “you deserve to go to jail, you fucker!” you heard another groan from haechan

you noticed a bit of blood on the corner of haechan’s lips before coughing on air.

a staff came up to you, giving you their immediate attention. “are you okay?” they asked gently as you nodded continuously. “yes..” you breathe out.

“y/n-“ heeseung’s hands softly gripped your jaw, making you turn to him. you can obviously hear how worried he sounded and how angry he looked. “are you okay? what did that fucker do to you?” heeseung stared at the redness of your neck, indicating how rough haechan was to you.

“i’m sorry..” you whispered, trying to look up at him but you eyes kept closing because of the pain. “i’m sorry about earlier..” you whimpered when heeseung gently pressed on the spot that your head was badly hit in.

although you may have hate heeseung’s guts but he’s the only person who understands your struggles with being born as a silver spoon. sometimes both you go have deep conversations late at night alone in your bedroom, whether he talks first or you.

“no shut up, don’t mention about that right now.” you can hear the irritation of his voice that always never fails to make you giggle.

“we’re going home and i’m making that jerk rot in hell.” compared to heeseung’s harsh words, his hold on you was very gentle and delicate. his hand was holding your waist as his other hand was around your head, making sure that he doesn’t touch the injured area. your heart was beating fast because everything happened too fast - seeing your ex for the first time in 2 years and heeseung being in your arms in less than a minute.

“you’re cute when you’re mad.” you suddenly confessed as you dug your head to his chest in order to not look at haechan being escorted away from the staff. heeseung noticed as he kept your body close to his. you didn’t say anything, and he knew. he just silently lets you do what he wants and it makes your heart flutter whenever he does this to you.

with heeseung’s brave soul, he continued to stare at haechan until he’s out of his sight. you slowly fell asleep in heeseung’s warm arms protecting your figure until the ambulance arrives.

“don’t worry y/n, i’m here with you.” were the last words that you heard before falling asleep in his arms.

hope you enjoyed<3 MERRY CHRISTMAS <33

#heeseung #leeheeseung #heeseung one shot #enhypen heeseung #heeseung fluff #heeseungangst #heeseungdrabble #heeseung imagines #heeseung enhypen #heeseung x reader #heeseung x yn #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader

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soap-ify · 5 months

Text

cw — angst, hurt / no comfort, major character death. italic paragraphs are flashbacks!

moon, tell me if i could / send up my heart to you ?

It wasn’t that the love between Johnny and you ever died.

It was still there. Pure, unadulterated, always burning just like a fire. And Johnny, too, was like a fire — boisterous and powerful, smart and fiery.

He kept you warm, but he stung too.

Marrying him was the best decision of your life. But everyone gets selfish sometimes, and the selfish part of you started craving his presence more in your home, rightfully so. You knew that there would be instances like this, where he’d be gone for too long and with no contact, sometimes making it feel as if he was just a hallucination you had fallen in love with all along. Given the radio silence, of course.

Him coming back had started becoming less joyful. You no longer ran up to hug him, and he no longer smothered you up with kisses. You were exhausted, and he was too. A brief eye contact and a soft smile was enough to show that you were grateful he came back alive. A mutual understanding between you two.

You knew he never stopped loving you, and it somehow hurt you even more. Love wasn’t always going to fix a marriage, it seemed. No matter how much you cry and swatted at his chest, distressed whenever he’d come back with a new injury.

You were the one who watched him change after all. More distant, more tired, too focused and tense. He was scared just like you. Yet never short in giving you his love.

“M’gonna get us a wee kitty.” He said one random morning, hair all messy after just having woken up, a sleepy grin adorning his lips, arms lazily wrapped around your waist. “We’ll raise it together.”

You sometimes wished you had his optimism.

“I love ye, I do!” He raised his voice in agitation, blue eyes wide in desperation while you were on the verge of tears, anger simmering beneath you. “But I can’t just quit my work like tha’...”

“I miss you, Johnny… I-I am tired of being scared all the time when you’re gone!” You choked back on a sob, shifting on your feet, careful to not step on the shattered pieces of the vase you had bumped against earlier.

“I know…” His voice cracked too, and something in your heart broke, knowing that he wasn’t going to back down from this mission. “I’ll come back, I promise. I promise m’never gonna leave ye alone like this.” He tentatively stepped forward before wrapping his arms around you, letting you cry on his chest.

Johnny never stopped loving you, and sometimes a weird part of you wished he did, because it wouldn’t hurt this much when he’d break his promises.

It wouldn’t hurt this much when the knock on your door turned out to be Johnny’s Captain and not him. It probably would have stung less if you both had stopped loving each other.

“John was the best of us. He’d’ve fought the world bare handed.”

Price’s words were forever ingrained into your brain, bitterly so, and it made you want to jump on that Captain and wrap your hands around his neck tight. You couldn’t even protect my Johnny.

You didn’t touch Johnny’s dog tags for a good two weeks, not even looking at it, simply pretending that he was still on his mission

“I won’t let you step into this house when you get back.” You said in a broken, frustrated voice while he stepped out of the house with that damn duffel bag, not giving you a single response.

You don’t recall what the argument was. Just a silly thing that got you both frustrated. All you remember was that those were your last words to him, and it hurt. You never meant it, and you knew he didn’t mean all the stuff he said to you too. That’s just how marriages were, right?

But if you knew that was going to be the last time you’d see him, you’d cry and hold him tight, ramble about every single thing you loved and hated about him, tell him about everything.

You wished you were more selfish, somehow able to convince him to not leave the house. Just for once.

Your hands mindlessly reached out for the dog tags after what felt like an eternity, wincing at the cold material. The warmth was no longer there, replaced with this icy air that was rotting you slowly.

Your fingers slowly wrapped around the dog tags, bringing it towards your face, your lips gently pressing a kiss against his name while beads of tears begin rolling down your cheeks for the nth time since the last two weeks, a broken hic leaving your mouth as your breaths gently fanned the steel in attempt to warm it up, your wedding ring gently grazing against the chain.

Your legs finally led you out of your bed, taking you towards his office that was just a few steps away from the bedroom. You never really stepped in there — especially not since he died, and you didn’t want to, knowing that his scent had probably vanished away.

Your trembling hand gently turned the knob down, opening the door with a click while your other hand tightly clutched onto his dog tags, too terrified to let him go.

His office was neat, just a few papers tucked out of a slightly open drawer. The place was sickeningly cold, making you feel nauseous while your eyes stung with the incoming tears, your throat burning up.

Your eyes landed on a canvas at the edge of the room, right beside the window, a stool placed in front of it while a white cloth was neatly draped over the canvas, some paint smudges adorning the visible wood of the canvas’s stand. He never told you he was working on something.

Your body worked faster than your brain and before you knew it, you were in front of the canvas, hand hastily reaching out to remove the piece of cloth and—

You.

It was you on the canvas, a big goofy smile adorning your lips while you held someone’s hand, probably his. You looked so happy, warm colours adorning the painting, only half done. It was unfinished.

Your legs gave out and you fell onto your knees, your hands covering your mouth in shock, the dog tags slipping from your fingers and hitting the ground loudly. Tears blurred your vision and a loud, distressed wail finally left your lips while you crumbled, hands desperately clutching onto your hair, chest heaving.

He was drawing you. He was drawing you before going on that mission. He was always drawing you, every inch of your face forever memorised in his brain, never letting you go. He couldn’t even finish the painting, he hadn’t even started coloring his hand — the only visible part of him in the painting.

A distant meow halted your sobs as you looked around, the cute little ginger kitten he had gotten you two walking over to you, another soft meow leaving it.

“It’s just you and me now…” You sniffled and gently pulled the kitten on your lap, fingers running through its fur in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, your eyes moving back onto the painting, every fiber of your body feeling as if it was punched and squeezed tightly.

“When I die, m’gonna send ye little angels from above.” His drunk words caused you to giggle softly, nuzzling into him while his hands held you by your waist, both of you lazily swaying in the living room to some sappy old song.

“Don’t say that, Johnny.” You huffed playfully, though still meaning your words.

He chuckled and pressed an affectionate kiss on your nose, smiling cheekily. “Ye are bloody right. We’re gonna die old and happy together, yeah?”

Johnny really never stopped loving you. Though just like a fire, he too, vanished into thin air and left behind this undying cold.

#this was torturing my brain for like 2 hours i had to write it #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #cod angst #call of duty #rurufic

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shadowynn · 1 year

Text

| the paradigm complex | four |

pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

genre: yandere!vampire!cult!poly! ateez au

warnings: yandere behavior, cursing, mentions of violence, manipulation, toxic relationships

They'll do whatever you ask. Anything you need. Anything you want. It's yours. They'll fulfill your every desire and whim. Give you the life you had always dreamed about.

And in exchange, you wouldn't just give them your soul. Oh, no. They weren't demons. What good was your soul alone when your purpose was better served alive and well? Your soul was nice, sure but it wasn't all they wanted. It wasn't all they needed. They needed your body, your mind. Your blood. You entirely. Every single fiber of your being was essential and would soon be theirs and theirs alone.

The moment you signed that contract, everything would change. For them and for you.

You just didn't know it yet.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

wordcount: 7.8k

a/n: i had lots of motivation to write this next part, so it's coming your way a bit sooner than normal. i actually meant to have it done earlier, but life got a little crazy. i hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for all your support!

| three | four | five |

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Even before you opened your eyes, you knew something wasn’t quite right; the bed and sheets were different from the one you were used to. They were stiff around you, not quite broken in, leading you to slowly become aware of the growing ache in your neck. But despite the subtle awareness something wasn’t quite right in the back of your mind, you did little more than switch to your other side and bury yourself deeper beneath the covers, hoping for just a bit more sleep before your alarm went off.

Your movement shifted your face towards the windows, however, and left you pulling the comforter over your head to block out the bright light. You groaned, wondering why the hell it was so bright in your room before realization finally dawned on you.

“Shit!” you cursed, yanking the blankets off and scrambling around for your phone. The fact you were currently inside the bed of your new apartment only briefly registered in your mind when the nightstand you instinctively reached for was nonexistent, much more concerned over the fact you were late for work.

Another round of curses rolled past your lips when you finally managed to find your phone tangled in the sheets next to you and saw that it was nearly two hours past the time your shift was supposed to start. You scrambled to unlock your phone, ready to type out an apology to your manager and let her know you would be there as soon as you could when you noticed the previous conversation above. Your brow scrunched as you read and reread the messages between the two of you, trying to not only make sense of her words, but your own as well. The conversation had taken place the night before, and yet, you had no memory of her texting you and letting you know you had been taken off the schedule, let alone that you had openly acknowledged this fact.

You looked up from your phone, briefly taking in your new apartment around you and wondering how and why you ended up here. You remembered coming over to unpack, including Mingi and Jongho coming over to help you, and then of the invitation of going over to Wooyoung’s for dinner, but things grew hazy afterwards. You had gone with full intentions of leaving early to head back to your boyfriend’s apartment, but that clearly hadn’t happened.

Why?

Why hadn’t you gone back? Was it because you had discovered you were being taken off your work schedule? Had you decided to just stay the night here and go back to grab the rest of your stuff later, when the sun was back out? But if so, why couldn’t you remember? If you focused hard enough, you thought you could pull fragments of a phone conversation with Felix, but anything more only made your head begin to throb.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, head collapsing down into your hands. It had happened again; another lapse in your memory.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to you; having experienced similar bouts of amnesia in the past few years. At least, you were pretty sure this wasn’t the first time it had happened. You were pretty sure you had experienced occurrences similar to this one before, but the longer you thought about it, the less certain you were. Any time you had questioned Jae about it, he had always brushed back your concern, saying you were just imagining things, but how could you imagine something that wasn’t there?

You had no time to ponder this last question, pulled away when there was a knock on your door downstairs. The sound had you jumping, wondering who was at your door and what it was they could possibly want from you. You hadn’t been expecting company, at least you didn’t think you were, but who knew at this point. You could have very well made plans the night before with someone and forgotten all about them.

When the knock repeated itself a few moments later, you realized that you couldn’t just continue to sit in bed. You needed to go answer the door, but in your haste to do just that, you knocked over a glass of water that had been set beside your bed. You cursed as the water spilled, setting the glass back upright and taking a quick note of the bottle of Tylenol beside it. A bottle that was most certainly not yours.

You had no time to ponder this new revelation or to clean up the water you had just spilled, and left both items as they were as you continued to scramble your way down the stairs and towards your front door.

It wasn’t until you swung the door open and saw Hongjoong standing on the other side perfectly immaculate that you gave any sort of thought about your own appearance. His hair had been styled to appear effortless, but you were familiar enough with the process to know it must have taken him a while based on your past experiences with Felix, and though his clothes also appeared casual at first glance, you knew they were probably worth more than you made in a month. It was a stark contrast to the sweats you still wore from the day before and the bedraggled state you were in from just waking up.

“Good morning!” Hongjoong’s smile faded as you opened the door, taking in your dazed state. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head, subconsciously attempting to straighten your hair up as you shifted your stance in the doorway. What was he doing here? “I was already awake.”

“Oh, good.” His smile returned. “I didn’t think you had any food at your place since it was all a little last minute, so I brought you some coffee and muffins.” He motioned to the items in his hand, making your eyes widen.

“Thank you.” You struggled to come up with a proper response, taken back by his act of kindness. Why would he do something like this for you and why did it create a wave of warmth flooding through you, especially with the smile he was giving you right now. “Um, would you like to come in?”

Hongjoong nodded, returning his gratitude as he walked past you into your apartment. You closed the door behind him, doing your best to calm your racing heart as he approached the small kitchen to your right. You weren’t upset by his appearance, not really, but the timing had been impeccable, catching you completely off guard as you had tried to piece the night before back together.

“How’s your head doing?” He extended one of the cups of coffee towards you, but you hardly noticed, much more focused on the question he had just asked.

“My head?” Your head tilted, once again trying your hardest to recapture the memories you had forgotten, but coming up short once more. Had you hit it last night? Was that why your mind was so hazy and why you had stayed here instead of going back like originally planned?

It was hard to hide your panic in that moment, suddenly very conscious of the fact you had little memory of your time with him and the others last night. You trusted yourself enough to know you couldn’t have done anything especially crazy, but what if your actions had been purely accidental? What if you had hit your head? God, that was an accident you would have a hard time living down.

“Ah, I see. You don’t remember anything, do you?” It was hard to read his expression, but his smile felt teasing, leaving you more worried than you had been before. Oh, god, what had you done? “Well, if your head’s not bothering you, then I would take that as a good sign. I was worried the hangover would hit you hard this morning. Which is partially why I made the excuse to bring you breakfast. I wanted to make sure you were okay after last night.”

You barely heard his last confession, brain locking on to his reference before. Hangover?

What did he mean by that? You hadn’t drank anything last night, fully acknowledging the fact you still had a long drive back to your boyfriend’s apartment. And even if you didn’t plan on making the drive back anymore, you were certain you wouldn’t have drank much, if at all, not wanting to risk making a fool of yourself later on. His words didn’t make any sense, and yet, it had to be true, didn’t it? How else would you explain the black spots in your memory? You must have gotten drunk.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry.” You could feel your face heating up, more embarrassed than you had ever been before. Not just from the action itself, but from the sudden fear of what you might have done in your drunken haze. “I can’t believe I did that.” Your arms wrapped around your chest, unable to quite look Hongjoong in the eyes anymore. What the hell had you been thinking last night? What had gotten into you to think that had been a good idea?

“No, no, it’s okay.” Hongjoong set the coffee back down on the counter and reached for your shoulder, shifting your eyes back towards him. “If anything, we’re probably the ones to really blame.” His expression was almost sheepish when you met his gaze once more, as though the situation embarrassed him just as much as you. “We might have encouraged you to drink a bit too much in the first place, but you were so excited at the prospect of breaking up with your boyfriend, that we thought it was a proper cause for celebration.”

“Oh.” Your lips twisted, mulling over the new set of information he had given you. What all had you said? How much information about your life had you given them? And god, what exactly had you done once you had started drinking?

You hadn’t… done anything with one of them, had you?

No. You shook your head, though it did little to stop another blush from blooming across your cheeks once more. You may have lost quite a bit of your self-control when you were drunk, but you wouldn’t have done something like that, and you couldn’t imagine any of them willing to partake either. They had been so kind to you so far, more than respectful of you and your boundaries. You wouldn’t have. And they wouldn’t have. You were certain…

…But still? What if?

“Hongjoong, I didn’t do anything… crazy last night, did I?” It hurt to ask, and yet, you needed to know. You couldn’t very well face any of them with the what ifs stuck in your head.

Luckily, he shook his head. “No. Once we realized you had probably had a drink too many, I brought you back here to sleep it off. You pretty much crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow.”

“Thank you.” His words served as a reminder to the medicine and water set beside your bed, finally discovering the origin to both. “And I’m really sorry about last night. It might be hard to believe, but that’s really not like me at all.” You shook your head, trying once again to piece the night together. “I don’t know what got into me.” You just wished you could remember something about last night. Anything.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve all had our fair share of drunken nights in the past, so no one’s judging you for it.” He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze, guiding you over to the kitchen island where the food sat. “But I’m guessing that means you don’t remember we had made plans to go back to your apartment together, do you?”

You graciously took the coffee he handed you this time around. Usually, you preferred tea over coffee, but you would never pass on a cup, especially seeing as Hongjoong had gone out of his way for you. And after the night you had just had, perhaps the coffee would do something to jumpstart your brain again, allowing you access to the memories that were no longer there.

“I’m so sorry, but you would be correct about that.” You paused, taking a sip of your coffee and wishing you could have made a much better first impression with them all. “To be completely honest, the only thing I really remember about last night is getting my ass kicked in Smash Bros.”

The comment earned a chuckle from Hongjoong, easing a bit of the tension in your shoulders. Despite your embarrassment, he didn’t seem to be judging you too harshly for it. “Well, if you’re still interested, I had offered to tag along with you back to your old apartment and help you grab the rest of your stuff.” He opened up the box he had brought, proffering it towards you and prompting you to take one of the muffins inside.

You grabbed one at random, voicing your gratitude as you were once again struck by how kind he had been. Not only had he ensured you made it back to your room unscathed last night, leaving you water and pills to help with the possibility of a hangover, but he had also thought to check up on you and grab you food knowing you had none. “And if you don’t mind tagging along, I would appreciate the help, but you don’t have to. I’m sure I can manage just fine on my own if I need to.”

“I don’t mind, really. After all, it’s the perfect excuse to get to know you better.” His words pulled you in, stopping you in your tracks. You had a hard time interpreting the statement, the smile that swiftly followed causing a strange pit to form in your stomach.

You fiddled with the muffin in your hand, not quite finding it so appealing anymore, as you struggled to come up with a response. “I hate to disappoint, but I’m afraid I’m not all that terribly interesting.”

Hongjoong leaned forward against the counter, propping his forearms up against it as he assessed you from the other side. “I find that very hard to believe.”

Something about his expression resonated within you, and you were struck with a sudden flurry of memories rushing through your mind of the night before. Or, at least, you had thought they were some of your missing ones; the innocent interactions you had with him and the others at the kitchen counter quickly fading to something else altogether. Your fingers fluttered to your lips before you could stop them, wondering why the hell you were suddenly picturing his lips encasing your own, let alone them traveling further downward, flitting over your racing pulse.

“Is something wrong?”

Hongjoong’s question brought you back to reality and you quickly dropped your hand. “No, I’m good.” You shook your head, doing your best to keep the blush the earlier thoughts brought and wondering just what had brought them on. He was attractive, there was no doubt about that, but you had never imagined something like this with anyone before, let alone something that vivid. “Just a bit out of still, I suppose.”

You observed him for a few seconds out of the corner of your eye, trying to figure him out. Hongjoong had been nothing but sweet and kind to you since you had met him, just like all the others, but that didn’t mean you knew him either. He had claimed nothing had happened the night before, and all the signs certainly pointed in that direction, but what if he was lying? What if something had happened? After all, you hadn’t been the only one drinking last night and he wanted to save both of you from the embarrassment.

But you smothered this thought as quickly as it came. There was no way that was true; you just couldn’t believe him or any of the others might have taken advantage of you in that way. The better solution was that you had simply dreamed it; your drunken state bringing your attraction to the man into full focus and into your dreams.

You excused yourself soon after, heading back upstairs to the bathroom to get ready once you realized your appetite had long left you. And one look in the mirror was all it took to further solidify your previous sentiments. Even if you were currently disheveled from sleeping at the moment, there was no way someone like Hongjoong would have shown enough interest in you to ever kiss you like that. He was in a completely different league than you, one you could never hope to achieve. Why would someone like him want you? Why would anyone want you? You weren’t pretty enough. You weren’t confident enough, and you sure as hell weren’t rich enough. And then, you couldn’t forget the utter fool of yourself you had made when you had gotten drunk off your ass last night. You were nothing short of a walking disaster. You knew it. They knew it. And if for some reason they hadn’t figured it out yet, they would. Jae certainly had.

You craved to take a shower and change your clothes, the anxiety of your current appearance creeping up on you, but you didn’t have the proper supplies to do either at the moment. Instead, you settled for simply rinsing your face off with some cold water and pulling your hair up and out of your face for the time being. You straightened out your clothes as best you could, hating that all you could do was wait until you got to your destination to change into something clean.

“I guess I’m ready whenever you are.”

Hongjoong was still in the kitchen when you made your way back down, taking a short detour to clean up the water you had spilled and grab the pill bottle that was his and return it. He was still leaning over the counter as you approached, munching on one of the muffins with his phone in hand. Upon hearing you speak, he leaned back up, giving you another one of his breathtaking smiles, though this time it did little more than deepen the growing pit in your chest. Why the hell was he so nice to you? All it did was serve to make you feel worse than you already did.

“Alright then,” he pocketed his phone, oblivious to the effect his actions had on you, “lead the way.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hongjoong had never wished he could read someone’s mind more than he did now; your silent figure in the passenger seat making him yearn for just a small peak inside that pretty, little head of yours. Sadly, only the demons had that ability, and all he could do was attempt to coax them out of you, but that was a precarious and unreliable process. Without the proper concentration, you could very well just end up telling him what he wanted to hear and not whatever thoughts held you captive at the moment.

When you shifted in your seat next to him, his eyes once again trailed to the curving slope of your neck in the rearview mirror, now on full display with your hair being tied up. The majority of your scent was still covered up by the vampire who had previously taken possession of you, but it had grown stronger since last night, having now been a few days since you had last consumed his blood. It was this singular fact that had saved you the night before. If your scent had been any more prevalent, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself, allowing himself to give in to his desires and sink his fangs into your fragile skin to take his fill.

It had been a combined effort of them all to erase your memories. Your cursed lineage might have made your mind weak to his kind’s manipulation, but without their blood flowing through you at the moment, they were limited on exactly what all they could do with you. Though your boyfriend was far weaker than them, really nothing more than a child, his blood did hold some sway over your mind, helping to keep you close to him and protect you from others’ who wished to manipulate you. And though it had been easy enough to cover their track and lead you to accept his tale of the events with little push, he knew something about it hadn’t sat quite right with you. He had seen the way you had looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking, clearly taking note of the way your fingers had fluttered to your lips earlier. Something had leaked through their fog, but it didn’t concern him. The way your cheeks had continually tinted pink told him everything he needed to know.

He still wondered how the hell they had gotten this lucky. There weren’t many of your kind around anymore; your ancestors long learning how to protect and hide themselves from his kind, so to not only have you walk straight into their lives yourself, but to do so unbound was completely unheard of. No vampire in their right mind would ever let you walk around so freely, especially in another clan’s territory. He had been certain it was a trick when Yeosang had first made mention of it, certain you were there on behalf of your master, but one little taste of your blood was all it had taken for Yeosang to see otherwise. You might have been currently tied to someone else, but you weren’t bound to anyone, not by the standards of vampiric law, meaning you were more than fair game for anyone to take.

“It’s the one up there on the left.”

“Got it.”

Hongjoong’s eyes flicked back to the road when you spoke, taking note of the building you had just mentioned and maneuvering his way over. He had thought he could be patient with you, but the longer he was around you, the less patient he became. Your scent was growing stronger, sweeter than anything he had ever smelled before, and he was beginning to become well aware of the fact the following days of waiting for the other’s blood to leave your system wouldn’t just be tortuous for you.

“It shouldn’t take that long.” You straightened up in your seat, fingers fiddling with the ends of your sleeves and serving as a telltale sign of the nerves flowing through you. Whether this was caused by his presence or the fact you were leaving the relationship you had been tied to for years, it was hard for him to tell. “It’s mostly just clothing and books I’m wanting to grab, but there’s a few other belongings I’d rather not lose too.”

“Don’t worry about the time,” he replied. “I have nothing else to do today, so I’m in no hurry.” And he wasn’t, wanting to fully savor the time he had with you alone and in no hurry to be back at The Paradigm where his brothers would be vying with each other for your full attention. If anything, he would do everything in his power to prolong your time out together, taking full advantage of having you all to himself.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him once he parked the car and the two of you were on your way upstairs. He could hear your heartbeat racing beside him, increasing the strength of your scent momentarily as your nerves got the better of you.

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” You nodded, but your hands fumbled with the keys you held, causing them to drop on the floor in front of you.

Hongjoong understood why your nerves had suddenly spiked. According to Mingi, this wasn’t the first time you had attempted to leave and you feared this time would end up just like all the others. And if you hadn’t happened to have stumbled upon them, it would have. If you had left for anywhere else, you would have just been tracked down and dragged right back to where you had started. But as terrifying as that aspect might have been for you, it was far better than the fate that would have awaited you if he or another vampire wouldn’t have found you in time.

But you didn’t have to worry. Neither of those outcomes would be happening this time around. Hongjoong knew this other vampire would try to get you back once he realized what had happened, but his efforts would be futile. Nothing he said or did would get you back, and would only serve to seal his own fate. He had his own fair share of crimes to pay for in due time, after all, the fact he had been turned illegally was the least of his problems. But, they would deal with that all in due time; they still had use of him yet.

And as much as he hated the vampire who had originally had you - if he had understood how lucky he truly was to have you, he would have never treated you the way he had - Hongjoong had to give him some credit; his former treatment of you making it all the easier for them to draw you in. It had left you with a deep craving for something more, desperate to be loved. Desperate to be wanted. You yearned for a deeper sort of intimacy, wanting to be seen. Wanting to be held. You were broken and desperate for someone to come pick up the pieces, and who was he to deny you such a request? He would do anything you wanted, anything you desired. He would give you the life and love you yearned for, and all he asked in return was you entirely.

And that wasn’t really asking much, now was it?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“y/n!”

It had only taken a few seconds for Felix to notice your appearance, calling out your name and waving you over shortly after you had entered the small store with Hongjoong in tow. You had told the man there was no need for him to come in, that you would only need a few seconds to drop some things off, but he had shrugged your concerns away, simply stating he didn’t mind accompanying you.

You quickly matched the bright smile the blond gave you, taking clear note of the way Felix’s eyes had roamed over towards Hongjoong before slowly returning back to you. His left brow raised, quietly questioning you as to whose company it was you currently kept, all the while doing nothing to hide the sly smirk when his eyes roamed over once more.

You quickly excused yourself from Hongjoong, hoping for a few minutes of peace with Felix to straighten things out before he had a chance to embarass you. Of all the years you had known the man, he had never been known for his subtlety and this was exactly why you had wished Hongjoong would have just waited in the car.

“Who the hell is that?” He wasted no time as you came around the counter, excusing himself from the front to come take with you.

“That is Kim Hongjoong,” your voice was low, pausing for a second to make sure the person of interest hadn’t followed you over before finishing your statement, “the current owner of The Paradigm.”

“Holy shit, n/n!” Felix’s eyes widened. “You weren’t lying; the guy is a fucking god.”

“Felix!” You scolded, hands raising up towards his mouth and muffling the loud reaction he had to your revelation as best you could. You followed Felix’s gaze back to where Hongjoong stood browsing a nearby section of the store, hoping he hadn’t and wouldn’t hear the conversation that was sure to come. He didn’t appear to have noticed, but it was hard to tell if that was a smile crossing his face or not from the angle you were at.

Whatever Felix said next, you weren’t sure. words muffled by your hands still covering his mouth. You gave him a pointed look, but removed your hands allowing him to speak freely once more.

“And just what is he doing here with you, hmm?” Felix’s brows lifted, leaning back against the counter.

“He’s just here to help me out.” You crossed your arms, fighting the blush Felix’s smug expression brought. “I needed some help getting the rest of my stuff from Jae’s, so he offered to lend a hand.” Perhaps not the exact truth. He had been the one to offer without any prompt from you and had then taken you out for lunch afterwards on top of bringing you breakfast that morning, but Felix didn’t need to know any of that. Not when it was clear Hongjoong was just helping you. “He’s just being friendly, Lix. That’s all.” Because why would it be anything more than that?

“Friendly, my ass,” Felix snorted, merely amused by your explanation. “No man would go out of his way to help a girl out this much and just want to be friends, n/n. I would know.”

“Well, you would be wrong this time around. After all, he’s not the only one who’s helped me these past few days.” Though his words did cause your cheeks to tint, you didn’t put much merit into them. Despite what Felix thought, Hongjoong was just being nice. “Mingi and Jongho helped me unpack quite a bit yesterday and then Wooyoung invited me to dinner with them all. They’re just trying to make sure I feel welcomed into their community.”

Felix hummed, unconvinced. “Oh, you young, naive fool.”

“Felix, he’s my boss!” Your eyes narrowed.

“So, you’re telling me if that man cornered you and professed his undying love, you’d just what? Politely decline?”

“Yes!”

But the slight hesitation in your reply and the way your face fully flamed at the thought was all Felix needed to know your answer wasn’t completely honest. In reality, you knew you didn’t want to mess with another relationship at the moment, desperate for some time to heal on your own and not wanting to hurt anyone with a rebound, but you didn’t know what you would do if a scenario similar to the one Felix had just mentioned were to happen. Especially when your mind traveled back to the thought of his lips tracing down your neck…

“And let’s also not forget that I literally just broke up with Jae. I don’t want to date anyone right now.” And you didn’t, right? Right?

“So, you finally did it?” Felix’s expression lightened at the mention of your ex-boyfriend, giving you a much needed distraction from the person you had come in with.

You nodded. “I left the letter on the fridge.”

It should have been simple to write, but it had taken you forever to complete. No matter which way you phrased it, it felt wrong, leading you to scribbling things out and starting anew just about twenty times. The first had felt too harsh, but the second one not quite harsh enough, almost encouraging him that a second chance might still be on the table. Nothing you wrote seemed to work, and if it wasn’t for Hongjoong coming to your rescue at the end, you didn’t doubt you would have never been able to write something that had satisfied you and would still be scribbling away.

“And you blocked him?”

“Oh, no.” Your lips twisted, not quite thinking that far ahead into things. God only knew what he would try to do once he found the letter you had left him tomorrow. “I guess I should, shouldn’t I?”

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, ignoring the message from Yeosang for now asking if anyone wanted to hang out later tonight and clicking on the conversation with your former boyfriend. Your eyes briefly scanned over the previous messages, feeling a tiny stab of panic. Were you really about to do this? Writing the letter had been one thing, but blocking his number felt much more permanent, officially cutting him out of your life completely.

Was that something you wanted?

It was strange. This was a day you had been looking forward to for so long, and yet, now that you were here, you didn’t know what it was that you wanted. You didn’t want to stay. You knew that, but he had been all you had known for so long. What if he was right? What if you did need him? You had never been on your own before, so what if you weren’t capable of it? What would happen when your life fell apart on you and you were left with no other choice but to go crawling back and praying he would take you?

Perhaps cutting him off from your life wasn’t the best choice. Perhaps all you needed was a short break from each other, some time to think things over before finalizing them. Then maybe the two of you could talk things out…

Seeing your hesitation, Felix plucked the phone from you hands, using your distracted state to his advantage.

“He, give that back!” You reached for your phone, but he held it above him, just out of your reach. “Damn you and your stupid long legs,” you cursed, but you didn’t really mean it, not when you knew he was only doing what you weren’t quite able to do yourself, just like Hongjoong before.

“There, all done.” He was about to hand your phone back to you when it buzzed from an incoming message. “Ooo, who’s Mingi and why is he texting you?” Felix’s brows wriggled before opening it up to read. “Hey, just checking in on you to see how you’re doing. Did you and Hongjoong-”

“Give it back!”

Your face tinted as Felix read the message out loud, once again reaching for the phone in his hands. Thankfully, you got him unprepared this time around and were able to snag it back before he found any of the other messages you had on your phone from the rest of them. You didn’t know what you would do if he had found the group message you were in with them. None of it was anything but friendly, but he would find a way to make it seem more than it was.

“I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better,” you mumbled, locking your phone back up and putting it back in your pocket for the time being; you could text Mingi back later.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Felix’s smile turned sheepish as he scratched at the back of his head. “I think it was one of those twenty-four hour stomach bugs or something. It came on fast, but besides some exhaustion this morning, I felt fine.” He shrugged, covering up a yawn with one of his hands. “But, I should be free after work in an hour if you want some help unpacking.”

“Really, that would be great!”

You brightened up at his offer, fully knowing having Felix with you tonight would help calm your nerves. While his teasing helped to distract you from the issue at hand, your mind never fully strayed from it. What would Jae think when he got home tomorrow and found the letter? Would he try anything? And if so, what?

Felix straightened up before you had a chance to go over any of the details for the night, and when you noticed his eyes straying to your right, you turned to find Hongjoong approaching.

You did your best to match the smile Hongjoong gave you, but you weren’t quite able to completely suppress the blush his figure brought from your earlier conversation with Felix. “Hongjoong, this is my friend, Felix.” You were quick to introduce the two when he got close, hoping once again that he had been too far away to hear anything Felix had said about him. “Felix, this is Hongjoong.”

“Nice to meet you,” Felix was the first to speak, a smug grin on his face as he extended his hand towards Hongjoong. “n/n here has talked quite a bit about you.”

You blanched, inwardly cursing the boy out in your head. You should have known better than to trust Felix around any of them, especially once it had been made known you found Hongjoong and the others' each physically attractive.

Hongjoong’s smile relaxed at Felix’s words, earning a soft chuckle that only served to increase your nerves and leave you yearning to disappear. “Likewise.”

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.” Afraid for where the conversation might go if you let them, you quickly rummaged around in your bag for the few items you were there to drop off. “Felix and I just got to talking.” You gave your friend a pointed look, hoping he would listen to your silent plea and not do anything else to embarass you further.

“Right, we were actually just discussing what we were going to do to celebrate y/n’s breakup.” You should have known better than to trust Felix to back down, and you inwardly cursed the boy once more, absolutely terrified for the next words that would come out of his mouth. “We were thinking about maybe going clubbing since it’s been a while n/n’s been out dancing and I know how much you love to.” Felix’s expression was smug as he continued, ignoring how embarrassed the conversation made you. “If you and your other friends are free, you should come too. The more, the merrier, after all.”

You opened your mouth to intervene, wanting to tell Hongjoong he didn’t have to nor should he feel obligated to, but Hongjoong beat you to it, answering Felix’s invitation before you could open your mouth.

“I’d love to, and I’m sure the others would be down as well.” Hongjoong’s eyes brushed in your direction, the smile he gave deepening the blush that painted your cheeks. And for a split second there, you thought Felix might have been right. Perhaps Hongjoong did harbor some attraction towards you. “In fact, I’m close with the owners of Illusion downtown, so I wouldn’t have any issue getting us in if you wanted to go there.”

For a moment there, you had forgotten just who Hongjoong was and the status he must have held in the city, but one mention of Illusion, the most sought after club in the city, was all it took to remind you just who he was. The waitlist for it was months long, and the entry fee far higher than you could ever afford.

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to put you out of your way.” Even Felix seemed taken back by the mention, catching him off guard for a split second.

“It’s no problem, really,” Hongjoong replied. “The owners actually owe me quite a few favors, so I pretty much have acess to it whenever I want, and if we’re going to celebrate y/n’s new status, then we might as well do it in style.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Wait, he was the one to invite us?” San asked, straightening up from the couch once Hongjoong had mentioned their new plans with you on Friday night.

No one had complained when he had first told them, as the idea had been nothing less than perfect. What better way to show you off to the others than at Illusion? But then Hongjoong had let it slip that your friend would be joining them in the endeavor.

Hongjoong nodded. “I think we might have misjudged him. He certainly seemed very interested in our relationship with her.”

He remembered the way your friend had referred to him in the beginning, a reflection of the way you must have referenced them in the past. The way you had immediately freaked out and glanced in his direction terrified he might have overheard you all but clarification of it. Of course, your attempt at hushing your friend had failed. His senses were far superior than your own and he had caught every word that had come out of each of your mouths, even the ones you had whispered in return.

“And what exactly does that mean?” There was a venom in Yeosang’s voice, still clearly upset over the fact you had declined his invitation to come over in favor of the very man they were currently talking about. The very man who was still alone with you inside your apartment one floor down.

“It means he has far more interest in us than he does with her.”

You may have attempted subtly in your attraction to them, but your friend had not. Not only had Hongjoong been acutely aware of the way his eyes had traversed his figure more than once, but also of the way his pulse had quickened when he had finally approached; a telltale sign of the attraction he also felt towards him.

“Oh,” Yeosang chuckled, collapsing back down on his couch. It didn’t quite make up for the fact you had still chosen him over them for the night - something you would not be doing again - but it did help lighten the urge he had to go down the one floor to your room and toss him out, if he didn’t kill him first. “How does he smell?” He had gotten brief hints of the man’s scent since he had arrived hours earlier, but had been unable to exactly pinpoint it between the others that filled the building.

“Does it matter?” Seonghwa’s brow raised, swirling the glass in his hand. Haru’s blood had used to be his favorite, but he had gotten a strong whiff of your own earlier. He had gotten subtle hints of it the night before, but it was much stronger tonight; the former vampire’s scent slowly dissipated with time. It was enough to make his current drink now less than desirable, wishing he didn’t have to wait a few more days for your system to purify itself.

“I guess not.” Yeosang shrugged, mind trailing to a similar train as Seonghwa’s. Out of all of them, he struggled the most with your growing scent and fought the fangs that threatened to come out each time he caught it. “But it does make the experience all the more enjoyable if and when we find the need to get rid of him.”

“Perhaps, but our best use of him is alive at the moment,” Hongjoong replied, setting down his own drink. He had thought spending the day with you would be advantageous, and it was, but even he had been fighting the urge to take you right there in the bookstore. You had gotten so flustered in the end, your scent had become nearly overwhelming, even with the other vampire’s covering parts of it. “He’s made it quite clear that he’s attempting to set her up with one of us.” And the way his teasing had gotten you all riled up, told him you didn’t mind. Not really.

“Really?” Wooyoung’s head cocked. “That’s a new one.” Their very nature was designed to attract humans to them; everything from their physical appearance to the scent of their blood was created to lure in their prey with little effort. The man should have been fighting to get closer to them himself, not encouraging others.

“Does that mean we’re going to let him come?” Mingi looked up from his phone, frowning slightly as he took in the latest text message from you in a new light with the information Hongjoong had just provided. The smiley face you had included in your goodnight message now very possibly having been done by the boy hanging out with you and not yourself.

“I don’t see why not.” Yunho shifted beneath Mingi as he replied, the smile he sent down in his direction clearly stating he had come to the same conclusion as Mingi had over the text message he had boasted over a few moments ago. “I for one, would be more than happy to see just how flustered we can get her through him.”

“I don’t think Yunjin and Jiwoon would mind either,” Hongjoong added, mentioning the current owners of Illusion. “They’ve always had a fondness towards pretty things.”

“I don’t know,” San wasn’t entirely convinced. “I don’t really feel like having to share her attention any more than I already have to.”

“Sannie, she’ll be so drugged up on our blood, I doubt she’ll even remember he’s there, let alone that he even exists,” Seonghwa replied, putting the younger vampire’s mind at ease. “And if he’s as pretty as Hongjoong says, then his attention will quickly be pulled elsewhere as well. Though,” his eyes flashed in Hongjoong’s direction, “I would make it well known another incident like the one before is completely out of question if he’s as useful as you say he is.”

“After what you did last time, I highly doubt they’ll make the same mistake again,” Hongjoong laughed, remembering the onslaught his oldest friend had gone on after discovering one of Yunjin’s members had accidentally killed Seonghwa’s favorite human at the time, only for him to return the favor tenfold. “He was their favorite, remember?”

“Are we settled then?” Jongho asked, face buried in the jacket you had left in Hongjoong’s car from earlier. Wooyoung was also curled up close by, head leaning against his shoulder as he breathed in what pieces of your scent he could gather from it. “Because it’s already late and we still have quite a bit more to discuss.”

The purpose of tonight’s meeting was supposed to discuss how exactly they were going to handle your transition over to them throughout the upcoming days as well as the vampire that was bound to come calling tomorrow night when he noticed the card Hongjoong had left without your knowledge, but one mention of the man currently with you was all it took to get them off track before the meeting had even begun.

For once, everyone was in agreement with the plan. San and Yeosang weren’t entirely happy with the idea, though the latter was just still upset by being rejected earlier, but there was little resistance from either when it came down to it. Yunho had brought up a great point, after all, and if that didn’t work, then they could just do as Hongjoong had suggested and use your friend to make you jealous instead. Nothing would leave you craving their attention more than the sudden loss of it. They knew that from experience.

But in the end, it didn’t matter. One way or another, come Friday night, the transition would be complete and you would be completely theirs. And there was nothing you or your little friend could do about that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglists will be in reblogs :)

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #vampire ateez #ot8 #ot8 x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #mingi x reader #yunho x reader #yandere ateez #yandere

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