#so be on the look out for an actually piece soon hopefully
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Blackmail Material
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: you love your boyfriend more than life itself but who can blame you for keeping a folder of all the blackmail material he has given you over the years … just in case
You hear a bloodcurdling scream from the other room. “Y/N! Come quick!” Charles yells.
You rush over to find him standing on top of the couch, a look of sheer terror on his face. “What’s wrong?” You ask.
He points a shaky finger at the floor. “Sp-spider!”
You look down to see a tiny little spider no bigger than a blueberry crawling across the hardwood. You have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of your brave Formula 1 driver boyfriend absolutely losing it over this tiny critter.
“Really? That’s what all the fuss is about?” You don’t bother to keep the amusement out of your voice.
“Don’t laugh!” He says indignantly. “It’s a monster! Kill it, please!”
You kneel down and take a closer look at the offending arachnid. “Aww, it’s just a little jumping spider,” you say. “It’s actually kind of cute.”
Charles makes a strangled sound of disbelief. “Cute? It’s a beast from the depths of hell! I want it gone!”
You roll your eyes affectionately. “You race cars at over 300 kilometers per hour, but you’re scared of a little spider barely bigger than a piece of lint?”
“Yes! Spiders are my worst fear. Now stop teasing me and get rid of it!” He gives you his best pleading look from his perch on top of the couch.
“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, grabbing an empty glass from the coffee table. You gently trap the spider under it and slide a piece of cardstock underneath, trapping the spider safely.
“Is it dead? Please tell me you killed it,” Charles asks hopefully.
“Of course not, I’m just going to let it go outside. Spiders are good, they eat other bugs.”
Charles visibly shudders. “Well get it out of here! I don’t want to see it ever again.”
You carry the spider carefully to the sliding door and release it on the balcony. When you come back inside, Charles is still standing on the couch looking suspiciously around at the floor.
“The horrible beast has been banished, you can come down now,” you say.
He hesitantly steps back down onto the floor. “Are you sure it’s gone? You didn’t just give it free reign to run wild in the apartment?”
You try and fail to hold back a laugh. “Yes, I’m sure. Your life is no longer in peril.”
He narrows his eyes at you. “This isn’t funny! Spiders are evil creatures with too many legs and eyes. They should not exist.”
You go over and wrap your arms around him comfortingly, though you’re still struggling not to giggle. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But you have to admit, it’s kind of silly that someone who races cars at death-defying speeds could be so terrified of a tiny spider.”
He huffs indignantly. “It’s a completely rational fear. They’re all legs and eyes and they move so fast and erratically and some of them can be venomous. Absolutely horrifying.”
You smile indulgently and kiss his cheek. “Okay, I get it. I promise I’ll protect you if any more evil spiders invade our home.”
“Thank you,” he says, finally relaxing into your arms now that the threat has passed.
But you just can’t resist teasing him a little more. “It was just so small!”
He pulls back and gives you an unamused look. “You’re not going to let this go anytime soon, are you?”
You grin impishly. “Letting my big macho boyfriend stand on the couch and scream because of a teeny tiny spider? Yeah, probably not gonna let you live this one down for a while.”
Charles groans. “This is so unfair. The guys will never let me hear the end of it if they find out.”
You pat his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that Charles Leclerc is terrified of itsy bitsy spiders.”
And if you happened to save evidence of his freak out just in case? Well … it’s not technically telling anyone unless you share the video.
***
You can’t help but grin as Charles paces back and forth in your New York hotel room, running his hands through his hair in distress.
“Chill out babe, I’m sure the airline will find your luggage soon,” you try to soothe him.
Charles whips around, eyes wide. “Chill out? How can I chill out when my La Mer is missing? Do you have any idea how long it took me to perfect my skincare routine?”
You stifle a laugh at his dramatics. “I mean, it’s just skincare products. Not the end of the world.”
“Just skincare products?” Charles looks at you in horror. “That’s like saying a Ferrari is just a car! La Mer is the cream of the crop, the holy grail of skin care! My face needs it to survive!”
You can’t hold back your grin anymore. “Wow, didn’t realize I was dating such a high maintenance diva,” you tease.
Charles huffs, crossing his arms. “I am not high maintenance, I just have discerning taste and an appreciation for quality.”
“Uh huh, sure,” you say. “Is that why you made us stop at three different Whole Foods on the way here from the airport until you found your favorite protein shake?”
“That is completely different,” Charles protests. “My skin is very sensitive, I can’t just use any old drugstore products.”
You laugh and pull Charles onto the couch next to you. “You’re cute when you pout.”
He tries to keep a straight face but ends up cracking a smile. “I can’t help it, I’m freaking out! Do you know how dry airplanes are? My skin is going to be a flaky desert by tomorrow.”
You run a hand through his hair. “Aww poor baby. However will you cope without your six hundred dollar moisturizer?”
Charles narrows his eyes at you. “You joke, but this is serious stuff. Do you want a boyfriend with wrinkles and acne?”
“I mean, a few wrinkles never hurt anyone,” you say, kissing his cheek.
He gasps dramatically. “Don’t even joke about that! I’ll be twenty seven soon, wrinkle prevention needs to start now.”
You shake your head in amusement. “Most twenty seven year olds aren’t this worried about wrinkles. But I guess Formula 1 drivers really are high maintenance.”
“With good reason! We can’t have crows feet interfering with our vision,” Charles says matter-of-factly.
You give him a look. “You’re just making things up now.”
Charles holds your hands, looking deeply into your eyes. “Mon amour, you must understand. Athletes age in dog years. We need anti-aging products just to keep up.”
You burst out laughing, shoving him playfully. “You’re so full of it!”
Charles grins cheekily. “But you love me anyway.”
You lean in and give him a soft kiss. “Yeah I do. Even if you are a high maintenance diva.”
Charles puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I thought girlfriends were supposed to be supportive! My skincare is obviously very important to me.”
You snuggle up next to him, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Tell me all about this super special moisturizer.”
His eyes light up. “Well first of all it contains like crushed up diamonds or something. And they freeze each jar before shipping it to keep the ingredients ultra fresh.”
You make a mental note to Google this later, since it sounds completely absurd that diamonds would be an effective skincare ingredient. Though with Charles, you can never be too sure.
“Uh huh, diamonds. That’s totally normal,” you say, playing along.
“Exactly! And the founder makes sure each jar charges under the energy of a full moon before it’s sold. It’s really an intricate artisanal process.” Charles sighs longingly.
You smile and kiss his pouting lips. “You’re cute. I promise your skin will survive one night without magic moon diamonds.”
Charles snuggles against your shoulder. “I know, I know. Skincare is just part of my routine, it makes me feel relaxed and put together. And smelling like citrus blossoms is an added bonus.”
You kiss the top of his head. “I get that. Hopefully the airline finds your stuff soon. But in the meantime, want me to see if anyone sells La Mer nearby?”
Charles perks up. “Ooh yes, let’s check! I saw they have a Dior down the block too.”
You laugh and take his hand. “Of course they do. Come on, let’s go spoil you with new overpriced skincare products until yours turn up.”
***
You walk into the kitchen and see your boyfriend standing at the counter, a pile of uncooked spaghetti next to him. He takes a portion in his hand … which he proceeds to snap in half before dropping it into the pot of boiling water on the stove.
“Charles! What are you doing?” You exclaim in shock.
He turns to you, confused. “What do you mean? I’m just making sure the pasta will fit better in the pot.”
“But you can’t break spaghetti before cooking it!” You say incredulously. “That’s like a cardinal sin in Italy!”
Charles laughs. “Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal. The pasta will cook just fine this way.”
You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Il Predestinato is out here breaking pasta. Do you have any idea how offensive Italians would find this?”
“I’m sure they will survive the absolute tragedy of some broken spaghetti,” he jokes.
You nod to your phone. “It’s a good thing I’m recording this for posterity then. The whole country needs to know about this travesty.”
Charles’ eyes go wide. “What? No, don’t record me!” He reaches for your phone but you spin away, giggling.
“The people of Italy deserve to know the truth about their hero!” You declare dramatically.
“Mon ange, please give me the phone,” he pleads, trying to grab your arm. You dance out of reach.
“Truth and justice will prevail!” You continue recording as Charles chases you around the kitchen island.
“Come on, delete it! This could start an international incident if it gets out!”
You pause to catch your breath, phone held high. “An international inchident? Wow, look at you being all dramatic now. I thought it wasn’t a big deal?”
Charles runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I didn’t think you’d actually record it as blackmail material! Please, mon amour, I’m begging you, delete the video.”
You pretend to think about it. “Hmm I don’t know … this seems like prime viral video content. Scuderia Ferrari Driver Destroys Pasta, Enrages Italy. Can you imagine the views it would get?”
“Y/N!” Charles lunges forward and tackles you onto the living room couch. You shriek with laughter as he tries to pry the phone from your grip.
“Noooo my video!” You yell dramatically.
Charles pins your arms above your head with one hand and reaches for the phone with the other. “Give it to me!”
You squirm underneath him. “Never!”
He leans down until his face is just inches from yours. “What’s it going to take for you to delete that video, huh?” His voice is low and gravelly.
You catch your breath, hyper aware of his body pressing against yours. “I don’t know, what are you offering?” You ask cheekily.
Charles brushes his nose against yours. “What if I made you your favorite dinner tomorrow night?”
You tilt your chin up in defiance. “That’s all I get for deleting potential internet gold? I don’t think so.”
He moves even closer, his lips just barely grazing your cheek. “Okay, what if I take you out for a nice date too? Dinner and a show at the opera, your choice.” His breath is warm against your skin.
You close your eyes for a second, affected by his closeness but not ready to give in yet. “Tempting, but I think this video is worth even more than that.”
Charles makes a small noise of frustration before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You melt into it for a blissful moment before pulling back slightly.
“Well that’s certainly a start,” you murmur, your heart racing.
Charles lets go of your hands to cradle your face tenderly. “Mon cœur, please delete the video. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”
You search his eyes intently. “Anything?”
“Anything,” he confirms fervently before kissing you again, deeper this time.
You wrap your arms around his neck and give yourself over to the kiss. After several heated moments, you gently break away.
“Okay fine, I’ll delete the video on one condition.”
Charles looks at you warily. “Name it.”
“You have to let me drive your Ferrari.”
Charles groans and drops his head against your shoulder. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
You laugh and pat his head consolingly. “Those are my terms.”
He lifts his head to grin ruefully at you. “You drive a hard bargain. But for the sake of Italian nonnas everywhere, I accept your deal.”
You lift up your phone and pretend to wipe away a tear. “The souls of broken spaghetti can finally rest easy.”
Charles just shakes his head before leaning down to silence you with another deep kiss. As you lose yourself in the feeling of his body against yours, you quietly move the video into an encrypted folder. After all, you never know when it might come in handy.
***
You raise an eyebrow as you watch Charles carefully pour Red Bull into his Ferrari water bottle. “Do you buy those in bulk?” You ask with a laugh.
Charles gasps in exaggerated outrage. “Buy from the enemy? Never!” He screws the cap on tightly and gives you a sly grin. “Max and I have an arrangement.”
“An arrangement?” You echo in surprise. This is news to you.
Charles nods, looking pleased with himself. “Yes, a secret trade deal. I provide him cappuccinos from the Ferrari cafe and Max supplies me with as much Red Bull as I need.”
You burst out laughing. “Are you serious? You and Max smuggle each other contraband caffeinated drinks?”
“Shh, not so loud!” Charles glances around furtively, but the motorhome is empty except for the two of you. “It must remain a secret.”
Still chuckling, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “So the great Charles Leclerc betrays his team for energy drinks. The Tifosi would riot if they knew!”
Charles winces dramatically. “Do not say such things! It is not betrayal, merely … creative problem solving.” He takes a long swig of Red Bull and grins. “The taste of the enemy is sweet.”
“I can’t believe you drink that stuff. And I can’t believe Max is your supplier!” You shake your head in amusement. “Does anyone else know about this arrangement of yours?”
“Only Lando. We needed a neutral third party to broker the deal and make the exchanges.” Charles leans in with a playful smile. “So do not be getting any ideas about exposing our scheme, yes?”
You mimic zipping your lips. “My lips are sealed … as long as you share some of that!”
Charles pretends to think about it for a second before breaking into a grin and handing you the bottle. The carbonated liquid fizzes pleasantly on your tongue, the familiar flavor mingling with the surrealness of drinking Red Bull from a Ferrari bottle. You take one more sip then hand it back to Charles.
“Just don’t let Fred or Christian find out,” you warn teasingly. “Pretty sure this counts as treason.”
Charles just laughs. “They turn a blind eye. The team knows I perform best when properly caffeinated.” He caps the bottle and adds, “But no more for you, ma belle. I only have a limited supply!”
You pout dramatically. “Fine, keep your precious Red Bull. I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone what’s really in your water bottle!”
The can of Red Bull that Charles rushes to give you tastes even sweeter than usual.
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sincerely yours. (10)
↳ gojou satoru/reader
when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.
genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+
tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,
notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3
series masterlist -> episode eleven
“It’s a little weird.”
What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming.
She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be.
Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now?
If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place?
She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you.
But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life?
Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all.
Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that?
“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”
“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”
The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”
I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?”
“Was he like that with you before?”
“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”
To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty.
“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.”
Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.
“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”
“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point.
Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?”
The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.”
“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”
The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.”
Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”
“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”
“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.”
He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.”
As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet.
The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.
Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”
Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”
“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused.
To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?”
Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons.
Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare.
— —
You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction.
To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.
You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband?
She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married.
Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.
Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else.
Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.
If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.
Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu.
You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal.
It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her.
As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman.
And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong.
Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.
Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own.
Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.
If only you could be like her.
As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.
“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.”
A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?
“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse.
“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”
Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line.
“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots.
The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.”
Oh… “He bought more than one?”
Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony.
“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”
Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.
This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi.
There was no you in that vision anymore.
The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.
You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband?
Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one.
At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free.
Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them.
You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest.
Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?
“Giddy up!”
Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.
My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy.
Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.
“Ah!”
Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part.
“Willow!”
You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.
“Nooo! Willow, no!”
Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.
You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell.
“Willow!”
Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness!
You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all.
That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon.
— —
“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.
“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”
He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”
“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”
…
…
“Y/N?”
“Y/N!”
“Are you out of your mind?!”
You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.
“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”
“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”
“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!”
“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!”
The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension.
“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.”
You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”
Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you.
With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.”
To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place.
“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.”
Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy.
“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?”
There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.
But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat.
Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.
“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.”
Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.”
“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”
“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…”
Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest.
“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.”
Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind.
It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right?
You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again.
You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself.
As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.”
That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever?
Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy.
The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital.
So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you?
“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed.
Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.”
You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son.
Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?
If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined.
And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse.
Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself?
The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage.
You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family.
Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight.
“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.”
You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?”
The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it.
“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”
“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.”
Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else.
Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired.
“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?”
She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.”
“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?”
“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.”
You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists.
Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there.
And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi.
“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”
You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera?
You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet.
“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.”
Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.”
Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life.
Both choices had no happy endings.
— —
When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind.
Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were?
He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse.
“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!”
“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?”
Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him?
According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them.
And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you.
Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in.
How sickeningly sweet.
At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality.
It was out of love that he let you go.
You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too.
Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife.
You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore.
So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses?
She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you.
He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off.
And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries.
This woman was all he needed.
But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider.
— —
The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important.
Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it?
You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman.
Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you.
How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it?
Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar.
How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life?
Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate?
God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third?
You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing.
“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions.
It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him.
“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”
Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you?
“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.”
Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.
“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”
You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget?
As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?”
“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart. “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.”
“Y/N.”
“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”
“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.”
“But—”
“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”
— —
It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore.
Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now.
He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway.
As for you, well…
“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?”
He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”
Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire.
These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor.
A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon?
Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news.
“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.”
Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?”
By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy.
“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son.
“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.”
Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?”
Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.”
Monaco? Why would you be there?
Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?”
“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”
No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself?
Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here.
Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth.
“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?
“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”
How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over?
“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”
Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now?
Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces?
Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.”
He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.
Yet none of it was given.
And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi?
#series: sincerely yours#gojo satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#gojo angst#jjk angst
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The Best Kisser
Summary: You were interviewed by Vanity Fair for their lie detector episode which went viral.. and Pedro happened to watch it as well.
Characters: Pedro Pascal x female reader
Genre: romance, fluff
Warnings: flirting, sex jokes
a/n: I am hungry for Pedro Pascal. He. Is. Daddy.
Masterlist
"Who's the best kisser out of all of your co-stars?"
Your eyebrows raised. "There's a few on that list. I don't think I remember them all."
"Don't worry, we have that list." The woman took out a piece of paper for you to read with the camera zoomed in from above you.
"Ben Covington, Daniel Kaluuya, Grant Gustin? I don't remember... Oh, in that one episode of Flash, right..." You went through the list of names while talking to yourself and stopped.
"Looks like you know your answer?"
"Yeah." You handed her the paper back, pressing your lips into a shy smile. "Pedro Pascal."
"Pedro Pascal? Why?"
You glanced at the camera. "Just because."
Pedro paused the video, a smile lingering on his lips. "Ah, cariño, what am I going to do with you.."
Oscar's New Year's party was happening tonight. It wasn't huge, mostly just his close friends and family, and your goal was to reconnect with them after your hectic year. You're good friends with both Oscar and Elvira, and they had invited you to come.
"Y/N, glad you could make it!" Elvira hugged you.
"Hey! I brought my mom's famous lemon pie and some beers."
Elvira welcomed you inside. "Perfect. Here, let me get that delicious smelling lemon pie and you can put the beers outside -- away from the kids, you know how it is. Oscar's outside too!"
"Cool, don't eat all the pie!" You teased and made your way to their backyard.
Oscar was there as she said, talking to a few friends, and a certain friend whom you recognized. A very good friend.
"So, how's the night going so far?" You stood between them, surprising the two men with your presence.
"Hey!" Oscar gave you a hug, "It's been a while! How are you?"
"I'm good," You put the beers down and faced the other man. "Señor Pascal."
"Señorita," Pedro smiled, hugging you and placing a kiss on your temple. "I heard you're gonna star in a big movie soon?"
You let out a nervous chuckle, "Hopefully it works out well. Can't tell you guys what it is just yet, but you'll see soon enough."
Oscar had sensed there was something you two needed to talk alone, so he left to help Elvira.
You offered Pedro the beer you brought. "So how about you? Heard you're gonna be on The Last Of Us? That's a pretty big deal."
He shrugged, beer in hand. "Yeah, it's pretty cool. I have yet to actually play the game, but my nephews are elated."
"Well if you want to try out the game you can borrow my console, I have it." You mentioned, though later hitting yourself in the head when you realized you just indirectly invited him home.
He raised a brow. "I didn't know you're into video games?"
"I like to play sometimes, but it's just good to have for my nephews when they're over."
Pedro nodded while noticing there were more people now. "Hey, follow me."
You and Pedro met when you were shooting a movie, that was 2 years ago. You've kept in touch since, but it was hard to meet in person due to your busy schedules. In the movie you two worked on, both of you were the main characters and the chemistry was off the charts.
Sadly it didn't win or was nominated for awards, but you made a good friend out of it.
It wasn't until Oscar's kid's birthday party that you met Pedro again. You met Oscar through the first Dune movie, and you had no idea that he was best friends with Pedro Pascal.
"It's been a while since I last saw you." Pedro said. "I've missed you, we should hang out more."
You nodded, unable to deny the beat your heart skipped and the blush creeping to your face. You convinced yourself it's the beer. "Yeah, I've missed you too."
Pedro took you to Oscar's balcony, where there were only the two of you. This way you could see the fireworks while also have a private conversation.
"So.. are you seeing anyone right now?" Pedro asked. Despite him being confident in front of the camera and knowing that his fans pray to him day and night, he was still nervous when asking that question.
You were his crush for the longest time -- yes, crushes still exist even for older people. He didn't want to mess it up with you, he knew his persona could come off as a fuckboy who has commitment issues, but he's really not like that.
You shrugged, "Nope. I've just been focusing on myself lately, just.. going with the flow."
Ever since you shot that movie, the chemistry was so great that both of you wanted to make sure it wasn't just 'the high' from filming a movie together and getting too immersed in the characters.
"I saw you in Wonder Woman," You said, "Please never shave off your mustache again."
Pedro laughed, "What, you're a fan of my mustache?"
"Pedro, please." You smiled, leaning against the railing next to him. "I used to play with your facial hair all the time when we were shooting that movie, remember?" You unconsciously traced your fingers along his beard.
The realization only hit you after Pedro was looking at you with adoring eyes. You pulled your hand away and you could feel yourself getting red in embarrassment.
"Sorry, I.. don't know why I did that." You turned the other way, letting the cool wind hit your face in hopes that it'll cool you down.
Pedro chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand, hiding his victory smile and the redness crawling up his cheeks. Did you really just caress his face like that??
Taking a big sip of his beer, Pedro gathered the courage to look at you once more, noticing your (also) flushed face and he smiled. He might have a shot at this after all.
"So," He cleared his throat. "Best kisser, huh?"
You knew exactly what he was talking about. "You.. watched the video?"
"You went viral." He smiled, "Of course I watched it. How could I not? When my cariño is talking so sweetly about me.."
You covered your face, "Okay, so I complimented you. And yes, you were the best kisser out of all my other co-stars. Congrats, I guess?"
Pedro had a grin on his face, a teasing grin, and you're now looking at him with a knowing look. Mostly because you both noticed the change in the mood, noticed that the chemistry is back, and that you both wanted this.
You didn't know how long you two were on that balcony, but it was probably a long time cause the crowd downstairs were starting to count down the new year.
"10! 9! 8! 7!"
Pedro turned his body so he was trapping you between his arms, "So, princesa,"
You looked up at him, holding his intense gaze, waiting for him to finish his question.
"You think I'll still hold that title?"
Your heart fluttered, you could see the hunger in his eyes, and you knew you felt the same way.
"I guess we'll find out."
You said it in barely a whisper, but Pedro picked it up loud and clear. He snaked one hand behind your waist and the other on your face, pulling you closer.
Everyone counted from three, two, one, and Pedro smiled sweetly at you, holding you close with your noses touching before pressing his lips to yours.
This was probably the first time ever you've missed the fireworks, but if this was how you'd spend the rest of your new year's, you really wouldn't mind.
---
a/n: in case you can't tell, I have a massive crush on this man.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#the last of us hbo#tlou#tlou joel#tlou hbo#hbo the last of us#frankie morales#frankie#pedro#pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#joel miller#javier pena#narcos#pedro pascal narcos#the mandalorian#din djarin#game of thrones#oberyn martell#pedro x reader#rpf
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Lonely Nights
Requested: Yes [Are you willing to write toxic Ghost? Like after sex he just kinda leaves you to play on his xbox?]
Warnings: Lack of aftercare, inattentive partner
A/N: Gahhhhh, I was very hesitant about this one. I do think Simon can be very…..not great to partners, even ones he’s close with. Especially the ones he’s close with. I think he has a hard time registering his partner’s feelings and remembering the courtesies of aftercare. I think he’s more used to one night stands that he kicks out after he’s done with them, not people who put their whole hearts in his hands. You know? So he kinda just…..accidentally treats a partner like that because it’s what he knows.
Ghost has never been the most….in touch with his emotions and those of the people around him. Even yours, as close as you two might be. It’s just not something he really manages to do well. He tries, God knows he tries, but he just fails, time and time again. And you’re left to pick up the pieces of yourself that he broke off with every accidental pain he caused. And you know he doesn’t mean to, that he just doesn’t know how to do this, be in a normal relationship, a loving one, but you’re not sure how much more of this you can take.
This would be one of those times. You were hurting everywhere after he had been too rough with you, practically on the verge of tears when he finally rolled off of your sore body, snatching his pack of cigarettes and his old beaten up lighter from the nightstand before making his way out into the living room like he usually did. You were stunned, for lack of a better word. Shocked that he had actually left you like this. You knew he wasn’t the best at these things, but how could he not notice the state you were in? Your emotions? Your pain? How could-how could he just leave you like this? How could he be so oblivious to something so plain to see?
Your legs shake as you crawl out of Ghost’s bed, almost slipping and falling onto your ass in your attempts to get up, hobbling out to the living room with a thin blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You wanted to call out to your lover, beg him to come back to bed with you, but your throat felt like one big bruise and when you opened your mouth to speak, you could only wheeze.
And then you saw him, lounging half naked on the couch, cigarette in hand as he watched rugby on the tv. You knew he noticed you coming in, he always did. But just like all the other times, he didn’t even bother to acknowledge your existence, just taking a long drag from his fag before puffing the smoke out through his nose, looking all the part of a lazy dragon who’d just fattened himself up on some knight who died screaming in agony.
Whimpering, you stepped closer, silently begging for his attention and affection when you sat beside him on the couch, croaking quietly to him as you touched his arm. A twitch was all you received in response, having to manually wrap his arm around your shoulders for any kind of comfort. He didn’t pull away, but neither did he lean in, stroke you, pull you closer. He was dead weight around you, devoid of the affection you so desperately needed in this instant. With a whimper, deprived and needy, you lean in closer, nuzzling your head against his chest like a lonely kitten, trying to get even an ounce of his attention.
“Not now, Love.” Was all you got, Ghost’s cold hand sliding under your chin and lifting your head up and away from him. “Go back to bed if you’re feeling tired.”
Heartbroken, you try to protest but just end up coughing, hand clutching your pained throat to try and stifle the growing ache. That at least earned you a little rub on your back from Ghost but it ended all too soon for you, not even a word of protest from him as you stood and shuffled back to your shared room, his eyes laser focused on the tv the whole time, while yours kept hopefully glancing back at him, only to end up disappointed once more as the door shut behind you with no interruptions except for the tv turning up just a bit louder right before you started crying, curling up on the bed and seeking what little warmth remained under the covers, face buried in Simon’s pillow and hoping beyond hope that he’d come in and scoop you up into his arms, apologize for leaving you so hurt and sad, promise to never do it again.
But it never came. And you spent the whole night alone in that big bed until Ghost finally came back in, just the slightest bit tipsy as he crawled onto his side of the bed, giving you nothing more than the lightest kiss to your head before he was dozing off for the night.
And that. That was what broke you, your heart shattering in your chest and cracking the fragile dam that you’d built up against your tears. Through shaking shoulders and quiet sobs, you felt resolve sink into your bones.
You couldn’t take this anymore.
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closer - tattooartist!bucky barnes x female!reader
Plot: Y/N's feelings towards her tattoo artist intensify the closer he gets to her.
Pairing: TattooArtist!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Warnings: A few mentions of needles - specifically tattoo needles - and the sensation and pain of getting tattooed (specifically when it goes over a bone). If that sort of thing gives you the squick, I wouldn't read.
Notes: Welcome to... whatever this is. I just missed tattoo!artist Bucky and I hc him as a flirt and a slight pain in the ass so here we are!
Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.
“Alright.” Bucky grins, loading up his tattoo needle with ink. “You ready to start?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“You’ll be fine.” Bucky reassures. “Besides, it’s not like it’s going to be any different from the other ones I’ve done for you.” He chuckles.
He’s right, of course. This is not her first tattoo by Bucky Barnes. In fact, by this point, Bucky’s done most of Y/N’s growing collection of tattoos, and claims to be the very reason she was ‘bit by the tattoo bug’. And he’s right. Since she got her first tattoo from him, Y/N’s been itching to get more. She doesn’t see skin on her arms anymore, she sees empty space, a canvas for Bucky to fill with his art. And if she could, she’d have him cover her entire body with it.
Of course, the fact that her favourite tattoo artist (his words, not hers... although she agrees with him) is the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen is also why she keeps rushing back whenever she can. And he's also a massive flirt. Yet although it’ll never amount to anything, it never does… that doesn’t mean she can’t spend their sessions hoping for it. That one day he’ll notice her, really notice her, and tell her he’s just as much in love with her as she is with him.
As Bucky gets to work, Y/N turns her head, watching him. Of course, a lot of her sessions are also spent oogling her tattoo artist. Multicoloured tattoos of various designs and sizes cover Bucky's arms, piquing her curiosity. She's always wanted to ask him about them, to tell her the stories behind them, what was going on in his life back then to make him choose that design.
The familiar warm feeling of love begins to pool in her gut again, and Y/N sighs.
There's a lot of things she wants to know about Bucky.
"I can see you staring, you know."
"Just checking you're doing a good job." She lies. Bucky rolls his eyes.
"Oh, please." He looks down at her, trademark smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You use that excuse all the time. You just can't resist me."
Asshole.
Thankfully, Bucky soon drops it, going back to working on her tattoo. Today, he’s doing a piece that snakes up her arm and onto her shoulder, meaning he’s frequently getting up close and personal, more so than she’s used to. However, she doesn’t mind that at all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As Bucky works, Y/N occasionally glances over at him, still watching him curiously. Both because she actually enjoys seeing Bucky at work, and because again, he’s gorgeous. Thankfully, Bucky doesn't seem to have noticed this time. Or if he does, he doesn't call her out on it.
Some of Bucky’s brunette strands escape his man bun, framing his face. Y/N has to stop herself from reaching up and tucking it behind his ear. Despite how close she and Bucky are, that gesture is too intimate, too close for them… even as he moves further up her arm and onto her shoulders.
At one point, she glances over again, not realising he’s a lot closer than expected. So much so that her skin almost brushes against Bucky’s hair. For a split second, a flash of pink crosses Bucky's cheeks, and she frowns.
Was he...blushing? Because of her?
“Oh, sorry.” She murmurs, her cheeks burning. How does he even look hotter up close? “Just tell me to move back if you want… or just move me out of the way.” She jokes awkwardly, only adding to her embarrassment. Hopefully, this session will be over before she makes even more of a fool of herself in front of Bucky.
“It’s okay.” Bucky smirks, running a hand through his few strands of hair, a sight that makes Y/N glad she’s laying down to witness. “You’re perfect, actually.” He chuckles. “Don’t tell the others I said this… but you’re my favourite client.” He winks.
She swears this man will be the death of her some day.
As Bucky continues the tattoo, he suddenly goes over a tender area, and she winces in pain. “You okay? You’re doing great, but let me know if you wanna stop, alright?” Bucky says. Gritting her teeth, Y/N nods.
“I’m good.” She gasps. "I just forgot how much that hurts."
It’ll all be worth it. It always is.
At least, getting to see Bucky makes it worth it, anyway.
“Good girl." Bucky smirks.
Fucker.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The remainder of the session passes in silence, and Y/N’s head swirls. If she told him the truth, laid her heart out on the line… would it be so bad?
She braces herself, opening her mouth to speak. But Bucky gets there first.
“You know Y/N, we’ve known each other for long enough that I feel like we’re friends. So the trust between us is solid enough.” He chuckles, refilling his ink.
In actuality, she and Bucky have known each other for almost three years. Not that she’s been counting or anything. And despite Bucky doing most of her tattoos, she’s been at the shop infrequently enough that she wouldn’t consider themselves ‘friends’. But the thought that Bucky considers them friends makes her heart do that funny thing it always does whenever she sees Bucky - when it somehow beats too fast and almost stops.
God, she wants him so badly.
“Yeah, that’s true. And besides, you’ve been up close and personal with me a lot.” She chuckles, another batch of heat spreading across her cheeks. Bucky laughs brightly, and Y/N grins just as wide.
“You’re right, I have.” He nods. “To be honest, by this point I’m convinced I could say or do anything, and you’d say ‘yeah!’, tattoos or otherwise.”
“Yeah!” she giggles.
“Okay.” Bucky muses, looking up at her with a smirk. “Go on a date with me then.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#tattoo artist au#tattooartist!bucky barnes#tattoo artist bucky barnes#bucky fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#marvel fanfic#marvel oneshot#marvel fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic
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what's up, mr. hollywood?
—SUMMARY: if someone hasn’t heard about jeon wonwoo, they must be living under a rock. one of the grandest stars in hollywood, face to rom-coms and thrillers, shows the spectrum of a real celebrity. though, that is ruined when a bitter ex-girlfriend decides to drop pictures of him almost naked for the world to see, splitting it in half—should he just do an underwear campaign or disappear from the limelight for good?
so, he decides to travel to the most secluded villa he can find, and in there, he happens to fall in love with books and a certain librarian who speaks too much and still, leaves him with too little information about her.
eager to get to know her more, wonwoo forgets that he’s actually a celebrity and that reality must strike at their door one day. hopefully, not any time soon.
—TITLE: what’s up, mr. hollywood?
—PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x reader
—GENRE: glimpses of notting hill!au ; strangers to lovers!au ; celebrity!au ; actor!au ; idiots in love!au ; librarian!au ; bookstore!au
—TYPE: fluff ; angst if you squint ; suggestive if you squint ; humor given by jun’s character lol
—WORD COUNT: 13,270 words
—NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want to support me, you can ask me to write something for you over there.
He could get tied down by the diamonds that wrap around the wrists of the women that transcend in his life, like the pieces of paper of a script that he never really imagines in his list of cinematography. That way, it would be easier to wake up in West Hollywood, in a mansion so big that—sometimes, though he won’t admit—he gets lost in the rooms. Wonwoo wouldn’t have to think twice on promising with a band a supposed forever that ends in five months. Like everything in this plastic world does.
Wonwoo could get used to the sweet taste of fame, that bathes the gold of his latest Oscar for a film he knows will follow him to the grave. The flashing of lights, the egotistical boosting and the screaming voices that grant him the benefit of leading a generation while he feels inherently lost. Pursuing a fraction of what he was able to give through three years of pressure for completing only two hours of film, applauded by the critics, but now a shadow he will always have to follow, mimic and surpass.
He could get used to being famous.
He could.
He could.
He could.
The truth is, Wonwoo isn’t, doesn’t and won’t. He’s there, then he’s not. It’s been like that for nine days now. Spank Magazine! Decided it would be a great idea to plaster him in his most delicate and reckless state. Wonwoo had been sharing a few summers with the same woman, Courtney, a love that never really translated into nothing more than a week together, drinks to be shared, kisses to be yearned for and then, he’d leave London. With nothing to seek for other than the faint breeze that is the complete opposite of the blaring sun in Hollywood, and the idea that he has someone waiting for him in case he feels lonely in between films.
The drinks must have gotten heavy, or Wonwoo isn’t really as smart as he grants himself to be. Always. He thought he’d never miss a step and he almost hears his manager, Sandara, laughing at him straight at his face. If only she wasn’t trying to erase the image of Wonwoo looking out of a window in white boxers in some secluded penthouse in central London. This summer, it seemed like Courtney wanted something else. Fame.
He hadn’t realized the picture had been on her iPhone, neither did he think that the moment he got off his plane that took him back home he would have to see literal signs at the airport that showed him half naked. The first thing he did was hide, and the second…okay, he hadn’t really thought of a plan. Other than compulsively buy a plane ticket to a villa in France and hope, perhaps, that he won’t have to explain if his shoulders are really that big naturally or not.
“You could have totally stopped this from happening.” Sandara looks unlike how she does when they are in Hollywood. Normally, she’s wearing a straight pencil skirt paired with a button down and her hair in a ponytail. She never misses the coffee with three shots of espresso and perhaps, a line of sugar—or cocaine, her energy is unmatched—, but now, she’s trapping a croissant in between her hands and she has tried to make the enormous yellow sweater she has paired with green leggings work. The frog look isn’t half as bad on her slim body.
“I know.” Wonwoo walks slowly, while she roams around him like a puppy would. Sandara has always said it. Wonwoo’s weakness for complexity gravitates him to women that leave everything to desire. He pulls the cap a little over his head, covering more of his eyes in case anyone sees him while walking to the nearest library. “I never said it wasn’t my fault, but I’m giving you a vacation and running away from the chaos you were trying to solve.”
“I offered you a way of turning this around and you didn’t—”
Wonwoo scoffs at her words, rolling his eyes. “You knew I was going to say no from the get-go.”
“Wonwoo, people are not hating on you because you’re half naked. You just pulled a Miley Cyrus. Destroyed the whole poised, serious, intelligent guy persona and changed it for the hot guy in the white boxers thing.” Sandara pulls a finger up in the air, pointing out what she thinks is obvious. Meanwhile, the breeze plays with her hair until it is standing on various spots. “…Calvin Klein offered to help us out. A few campaigns with the boxers on, and then, we finish it off with a good sex scene in one of your films. You’re a man. If it was me on that magazine and I was famous, I would have been destroyed.”
Wonwoo hates that it is a reality, but he didn’t really intend on posing. Sure, he is not an angel. His career doesn’t let him stay with someone as much as he’d like to, for he always has to travel, film something else, prepare for a script or a new series to take on, but he also hasn’t done much else past the expected. Stories can be told about Hollywood that are rather true of orgy parties and eccentric relationships, but he doesn’t do much past the normal. Perhaps, a risky picture if he is feeling…rather comfortable, but he’s private about the matters that take up on the heart.
He just happened to be a bit tipsy, looking out of the window and not noticing that a picture had been taken of him, and while he’s pleading the case of using the law against Courtney for breaking his privacy, he’s also taking a break. And needing to read a book.
“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea,” Wonw0o starts, pushing the doors of the only library he could find in this secluded spot he had found in France. Sandara passes under his arm, still walking backwards and somehow not falling. “But it’s not who I am. I just don’t do soft porn.”
“Wonwoo—”
“My ass was displayed on a magazine. I’m lucky it’s not my dick, but I’d rather just not…milk it.”
“Oh, wrong choice of wording.”
“Sandara.” He groans, throwing his head back. The place catches his attention in the matter of seconds. The walls are baby blue, like the revelation of a child’s bedroom, with sprinkles of brick walls here and there in a beige color as an addition of texture. The tables are smaller in comparison to the rows of books, lined up by genre and color. It’s a pleasure to a thoughtful mind, as he traces the outline of the romance plethora. His least favorite genre. “You’re sexualizing your client.”
“I swear I’m not. You’re the one talking about milk!” She jokes around, laughing at the flush that he’s certain appears on the apples of his cheeks, before she’s grabbing one of the smaller books in the row, standing at the tip of her toes to reach it. “The Duke’s Final Wish. Oh, so the duke dies in this book. What’s the point of reading something you know everything about just by the title alone?”
He doesn’t understand it either, so Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m more of a thriller guy myself, but I’m in France, I’ve just dumped someone entirely from my life and…” His nose scrunches up upon the sight of the naked, sun-bathed abs on the duke on the cover. “Maybe, I just need to read softcore love times to feel less miserable about…everything.”
Sandara’s brown eyes turn mellow, sighing deeply. “Wonwoo, this is just another turn in your career. I promise everything will get better.”
It will, he’s certain. Matters always go back to place.
However, he remembers his start as an actor. He was this shaky, flimsy sixteen-year-old teen who cried on the outsides of a casting because he was tired of receiving no’s. Who wiped his tears on a pillow when he got called from another casting to participate with just one line. He’d wake up every single day at five in the morning; giving up adulthood, growing up, having friends, dating, studying, just for the sake of getting in better movies. He hit it big when he was twenty, skyrocketed in a military film, and from then on, he never rested. Movie after movie. A show, then another one.
And just like that, it lost sense. With every critic that shadowed him with that one big film he did last year, whatever product that came to fruition was worthless. It was a race with himself—and he’s tired of running.
And—
Oh, wait.
It smells like insect repellent…
“Roach, go away, you!”
“Huh?” Wonwoo’s curiosity gets the best of him, peaking from behind the shelf to see a slender, tall man holding, indeed, an insect repellent and spraying it on a blonde gentleman. He recognizes the first one—the attacker in question—to be one of the workers because of the uniform. A cloud sweater inside white pants, according to the name of the library—Somewhere On The Clouds—, but he’s flimsy in comparison to the buffer, taller man that he’s trying to go after.
The cockroach character, per say.
He hears more shushing and spraying, along with a woman’s name that escapes the blonde’s lips. “I wasn’t talking to you, Wen Junhui, my wife is over there and you’re not letting me talk to her—”
“She’s not your wife anymore.”
“You can’t physically get over someone so quickly.”
Another spray and now, this Junhui guy with the long brown hair and septum piercing, has finally landed on the taller man’s eyes because he hears a groan that reverberates throughout the library. “If it’s you the someone we are talking about, oh, trust me, it’s easy. No woman could ever—”
“I’ll close your mouth up with a good old fist, Junhui. Stop! Stop spraying me!”
He hears another commotion, of closed doors and shushes that follow after someone physically more peaceful than the other men. And for once, Wonwoo loses interest in physical matters like the cameras that could flash around him and the book at hand. His heart hums, singing a melody when looking at her. Her hair is tied in two braids and closed in a bun behind her back, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, looking at the blonde man with the firing rage of a million wars that went unfought.
Even Sandara is listening closely when she speaks. She’s rain in its biggest form; when it pours down and becomes unstoppable.
“I thought he said you could go away, Pierre.” She outs to the world, only to have the blonde man shaking his head, twinkling green eyes staring back at her.
“Love,” He’s trying to grasp her hands, wishing to say something more, but when their hands interlock, she slaps his away. “Don’t you push me away.”
“By law, you pushed me away yourself.” She instructs, pushing at his arms when he’s trying to get closer. “Pierre, I’m being serious. Stop disrupting my library and just go away.”
“But—”
Wonwoo is not a hero, neither does he think this is the situation for him to try to be one. However, he does accidentally—or not so much so—happen to slide his hand across a shelve that wasn’t holding up tightly. The books fall one by one, like a domino effect that gain him the attention of the woman with the attitude of an owner and a dislike for her ex-husband and the man in question.
He smiles, tight-lipped and shy, with the Sun blessing his cheeks along the lines of red coloring. He expects her to launch at him, ask him to leave Somewhere On The Clouds, but instead a gentle smile takes over her face. Oh, of course, someone like her would just know what he’s doing…and why.
“Let me help you with that.” She says, moving closer to him and crouching down at the same time that he does. Wonwoo is spurting out a short laugh as he hears whom he thinks is called Junhui pull Pierre away from the library.
“I’m sorry. I’m a total mess.”
“Or really observative. Guess we’ll never know.” She shrugs, smiling at him when standing up with a pack of books pressed to her chest and the lingering scent of mints following after her.
“Witty.”
“I’m a woman. One has to be.” The answer that leaves her lips has him grinning like a fool, looking down only to be blinded by her sight when staring up again. “I’ll give you a discount just for that.”
“There’s no need—”
The pocket of his jeans is filled by her hand, sliding something quickly there before she’s fleeting away with a simple: “Just take it.”
Half of his mind thinks she has left her number there, and he’d be more than happy. However, Sandara is looking over his shoulder by the time he takes the paper out, viewing a small coupon with clouds drawn all over it that reads off ‘fifty percent off your next order’.
“Dang, I thought it was her number.” Sandara whispers, snapping her fingers. “I’m going to get it for you.”
“No!” Wonwoo shrieks, plastering his hand on top of her arm and dragging his manager closer. “We’re…we’re just going to take the coupon. This is supposed to be a vacation. No love involved.”
“No love involved…” Sandara repeats, laughing at his words. “We’re calling your autobiography that. That’s for sure.”
Huh, even he admits it wouldn’t be a bad name. Much more if it was a rom-com of sorts.
But that’s not going to happen.
The sky looked like a child’s portrait, painted outside the lines. The stars blurred in between the deep shade, though he knew it could be that he needed a new pair of glasses. He kind of forgot his new formula back in Hollywood, and the ones he got were bought on a whim. However, he walks through the empty, too-small streets of the villa, hands fisted in pockets, trying to understand the change of weather. It was windy, but it was a kind of humidity that made him scrunch up his nose every once in a while to sniff a bit of snot.
Allergies. It’s whatever.
Wonwoo rolls on the heels of his shoes, looking up at the sky and wondering why the world feels so unlit as of lately. He’s at peace, but running away from something. Empty. Lonely. And sure, he has gotten used to solitude, at least for now, but what was once something he chose is now the only option that he gets to fulfill. Cornered, in some place far away from home, where he can only wish for life to be different, for better or for worse.
What interests him is the shout he hears after, a commotion of a solid against iron that has him rushing his step the slightest. He doesn’t know if he’s prepared to run or go help, but what he sees at eleven at night—when he should be asleep and trying to conceal a good night of rest with a warm glass of milk, as Sandara said—is rather surprising. The owner of Somewhere In The Clouds, a library that he has visited often in this past week, stands in front of a house’s gate, forehead pressed to the iron, hitting her boot against the surface once again.
“Shit.”
She looks rather different than she does with the pastel colors she wears at her library. Wonwoo has seen her a bit, with faint glances and a few exchanged words of good books and prices, but he has never fully developed a conversation. One that matters. Right now, he wishes he was braver, for the expanse of her back is shown in jeans that are falling off her waist and he swears he sees the hairs on her arms stand up upon the breeze that he can’t understand but seems to cherish her in shivers.
“This is all Pierre’s fault!”
She screams at the world, the sky, the heavens that decided divorce was meant to be on her side. But, instead of leaving it at that, she grabs a rock from the ground, molds it on her fist before throwing it at something. Something being Wonwoo, who shrieks at the touch of the rock against his cheekbone. Gasps mingle with the weight of her steps against the pavement when she rushes to him, shouting:
“Goodness gracious! I am so sorry!”
Wonwoo feels the warmth of her skin against his own, palms connected to him in the least delicate of ways, thumb and index finger tracing the cheekbone that must flourish with the tone of roses. However, when he opens his eyes, he realizes that her own hold a weight that he can’t understand. As if every speckle of golden that brims the natural color of them anchors him to a dilemma that he should not want to solve.
“I…I totally didn’t see you there. It’s all the gate’s fault.” She says, only to have Wonwoo clasping her hands on his own, pulling them away from his face softly.
“Where’s your key?”
“My ex-husband took the spare key and now that I left my keys inside, I don’t know what to do.” Her digits wrap around the gate once again, moving it from the front to the back in a motion that causes it to noisily make its state known. Closed as ever. “This is what happens when I decide to have a great time. Jun just…he just wanted to share some mojitos and now, I’m out here, probably a step away from sleeping in the cold.”
Wonwoo chuckles to himself, pondering: “And you’re telling all this to a stranger?”
“You’re not completely a stranger. Judging by your book selection, I can tell a lot about you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, beautiful as ever in the way the wind blows at her hair and connects it with the skin of her face. And on top of it all, she remembers who he is. “You’re not a complete asshole, and that’s enough for me to tell you that this fucking night sucks.”
Tipsy, she is, and Wonwoo chuckles at her antics softly. He remembers, before stardom, how he used not to give a damn about the world, quite like she does. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” He crouches down, caging his hands together to make a socket for her to place her feet on. “You’ll step here and I’ll get you up the gate.”
He shouldn’t be thinking about doing this. For God’s sake, she’s not in her right mind considering there are, at least, three mojitos in her system, and she must think the same because she shakes her head.
“Wonwoo, I’ll crush you.”
“Or you’ll get home safe.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure I didn’t just decide to squat in the middle of the street.”
She rolls her eyes at his words, though a smile transcends to her features. She moves with carefulness, placing one boot on top of his hand and then, the other leg lifts up to follow after the trail of the gate. Wonwoo’s eyes go down her legs and he admits he does peek at the curves that form there, but soon after, he’s more worried about the way she’s clinging to the top of the gates to pass over it.
“Help.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Wonwoo mutters, hoisting her up in his shoulders before pushing her upwards by the back of her thighs. She clings to the metal with strength, only dropping herself when she feels safe, and though she lands directly on her ass, the thud is soft enough for him to ponder that maybe, it didn’t hurt her as much. “You okay?”
“In one piece, so…okay!” The smile that spreads across her features is worth a million dollars, and Wonwoo finds himself gravitating towards her, hands expanded on the gate, separated by the mere iron. He returns the grin, because a gift so beautiful can only be given back, right? “What are you doing out at this time of the night?”
Midnight, it strikes in the imaginary clock. He hasn’t checked his phone because he knows he’ll have missed calls from a sleep-dazed Sandara who wants him to return back to the place they rented for their time there. “Jet-lag has been killing me, and I just needed some time alone to think.”
“Jet-lag? Where are you visiting us from?” Leaning on the gate, her eyes close to slightest to rest, and Wonwoo knows soon will be time for him to leave.
“California.”
“Well, hope my villa traps you a bit longer.” She announces, yawning into her fist before smacking her lips together.
“You’re falling asleep.”
“Possibly, probably, maybe. All synonyms. All right.” Once again, that smile that could paralyze traffic if she dared is given to him, but she pushes herself off the gate. “Sorry for stepping on you.”
“No problem.”
“A free book will wait for you.”
“I can totally pay the next one I’ll buy, don’t worry.”
“Never deny a librarian the benefit of giving you a book.” She announces, pointing at him as she swings towards the door. “Wait, the front door is locked, too.”
She stops on her tracks and Wonwoo is ready to stay the night seated outside the gate, just in case someone causes trouble to her, for leaving a woman alone in the middle of the night is not precisely something he is thinking of doing, but when he opens his mouth, she’s already pushing the front window upwards.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting in through the window.”
“I’m not telling you, I’m showing you.” She announces and, for the first time in a while, Wonwoo full on laughs. He doesn’t remember feeling his chest so tightly put-together in a while. The more he sees her wiggle herself through the window, the more he cackles.
“Please, be careful.”
“I am!” And she is, waiving at him once she’s through the window, hair done a mess, shirt falling off one shoulder. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Hollywood.”
“Go to sleep, you.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
The nickname, strangely, doesn’t settle badly in his stomach. Much less when he gets to see her turn off the lights and doze off to God-knows-where.
Wonwoo has made common occurrence for him to start a new book every Monday. He was on a reading strike for years, only yearning to find the next story he could act in, but it’s much different now. Much more after he decided to accept the book that the librarian had, oh-so-sweetly, decided to gift him.
The story read in utmost perfection. A thriller that chilled him to the bone and cradled him in fear late at night. Something different; and hell, maybe, he’s a little bit insane for wanting to feel something other than anxiousness. All he does is read the pages that week, weakened by the figure at the end of the road, in between clouds of smoke that the book always talks about. Is it real? Is it not? And why does the book end in a way that caused him to drop all the things that were on his hands as he was reading, perched in a boat in the middle of the lake near the library?
He dropped the damned book. He needed to return it. The worst possible outcome happened, because the moment Wonwoo decided to pluck it out of the water, the pages were torn, ink shredded, heart racing within his chest.
He runs away for a while. Escapes the library in hopes of her thinking that he’s just taking a little bit more to finalize the capturing pages of a well-written text. However, life isn’t so great when the next Wednesday, he comes face to face with her. She’s not in her work clothes, hair pulled away by a hair-clip, eyes a little drowsy with sleep as remaining pieces of her mascara cling to her eyelashes. Her hands hold a bag of groceries weakly, a little bit lazily, and while Wonwoo is trying to grab a snack to continue his Wednesday movie marathon—You’ve Got Mail is paused on his screen because he just wanted something salty—, he comes face-to-face with her.
Alright, the anxiousness is back.
“Do I terrify you?”
Wonwoo fixes his glasses, crossing his arms over his chest. Magazines would have torn him apart from the plaid shirt he is wearing today, antique and brought out of a film from the early nineties. He stammers. Gosh, when was the last time someone made him stutter? “Uhm, no?”
“You haven’t gone back to the library, and I’m not certain if it was because I gave you a thriller book or if it was because you saw me drunk out of my ass.” She’s speaking rather quickly, scoffing out a laugh that dies down soon after, rubbing the back of her neck out of nervousness. “I’m sorry. Uh…I must’ve looked like a total serial killer giving you a thriller book.”
The book. What can he say about the book? “Not at all. It was one of the best books I’ve read in a while.” He admits. Too bad it is in the depths of the ocean by now.
“I’ll give it to you, then. The copy, I mean.” She shrugs her shoulders, biting on her bottom lip and staying silent for a brief second that he takes to study her face. Something about her is always rushing; as if she can’t stay still for too long in fear of being caught. By life or someone else, he doesn’t know. Or catching feelings, like he musters could happen if he doesn’t get away soon.
“I wish I could read it again.”
“Then, do it.”
“…I accidentally dropped it in the local lake.” Wonwoo whispers, expecting her to get mad, but she extends a hand on top of her chest and starts laughing. “I—I’m sorry. The ending surprised me that much. Stupid hands.”
“I imagine. I imagine.” She hums, mimicking his pose and crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you making it up to me, Mr. Hollywood?”
He’s knowledgeable in the art of flirting. Not because he has mastered it, but rather because Wonwoo is the one of the being-flirted-on end. He must be reading into it, but the twinkle in her eye incites him, bringing him closer as he shrugs his shoulders.
“Anything in mind, Mrs. Countryside?”
“Ew, I don’t know why I don’t like the sound of that.” She enunciates, only to have him laughing. He sees the portions of her that are fractured, from the way she covers her mouth when laughing, to the slow blink she gives after a minute of silence. As if she wants to be awakened by her thoughts. “Mhm, how about burgers?”
“Burgers?” Wonwoo asks. “That’s what would make you forgive me?”
“A great burger can make me consider forgiving you.” She answers, pressing a hand to his shoulder to balance her weight as she takes her phone out of her pocket. “Write your number down there.”
Wonwoo jots down the digits that he has learned just the past few days, smiling at her. “Alright, you’ve got a free coupon for limitless burgers until we find a book as good as that one.”
“You don’t know what you’re promising.”
“Possibly. But it’s an excuse. Either we find the greatest burger or another good read.”
“Huh, you’re right.” With that, she puts her phone back in her pocket, smiling at him with her full teeth. “I’ll text you for my price.”
“Anytime.”
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking after her step after she left. How someone so gorgeous hid in such a secluded villa? He would never understand.
The Headlock For Two Challenge.
When Wonwoo ventured into one of the best rated burger places in the villa, he didn’t expect it to be…so simple. Wooden walls and heated tables in bright red, with towers of meat and chicken stacked with perfectly-spiced veggies and sauces that would mingle into one’s tongue for an entire day. She seemed to be impressed when he linked her over to this place only three days after they started talking through text, but she was equally as interested when she read about the challenge in the menu that was presented to them in a small piece of wood, carved letter after letter, honoring the toughness of the place.
“We can totally down this one between the two of us.” She turns the menu around, showing it to a wide-eyed Wonwoo. When he sees the picture, he doubts they can for a little bit. His glasses push his hair away from his face when he takes them off to check it out a little closely. Three layers of bread. This is final—he might die if he takes up on this challenge.
“What’s the price?”
“The burger is a price on its own.” Claiming, she turns the menu around once again before clearing her throat. “We’d also get a picture of us hanging from these very own walls, and, if that’s not a lot on its own—a grand price of a month-worth of free French Fries.”
“You bought me with the fries. I’m not much of a picture guy.”
He has gotten pictures of him taken from every angle and while he adored to catch a sight of the world from another point of view, he hates the way he has been portrayed in such imagery. He’s always perfect. Never himself. And yet, never enough.
“Waiter!” She lifts a hand in the air, catching the attention of the short man with the buttons of his shirt almost popping out from how closely it clings to his belly, but the smile he gives through plump cheeks and a dense moustache would have anyone trusting him with their orders. “We’d like to take over the challenge.”
“Oh, really?” The waiter starts jotting down on his notepad. “A group of men tried to take it down a few days ago. Couldn’t make it without throwing up.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wonwoo asks and he sees her spread a hand on her stomach.
“I meant it when I said I was hungry.”
“Fine. And two glasses of cola with that, please.”
“On our merry way, sir.” The waiter gives a sharp touch of his pen against the pad before closing it and leaving to the kitchen. This is the moment he gets to see her again, closely as she lifts the sleeves of his yellow sweater up to her palms and leans her cheek against one of them, elbows well-prepped on the table.
She tried a little today. He has been under the limelight for long enough to know that there is a glimmer of pink on top of her cheeks, paired with sweet highlighter. She has a red lip on, eyelashes curled until they seem like her eyes are flirting with him just by sharing a glance.
“Why here, Wonwoo?” She asks. “You were in California. Everyone dreams about being there, around celebrities and all. Why here?”
The column of his throat contracts at her words. He almost fears that she has caught him for who he really is—a well-known actor.
“Take my word for it. There’s nothing special there.”
“You’re awfully negative, aren’t you? Here we are, in a villa that no one knows, where the lake could eat me alive one day and no one would remember me, but in a city so grand, where every step someone takes feel like part of a movie, you wish to run away.” She’s babbling, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Isn’t that exciting to you?”
He shakes his head. “No.” Wonwoo adds. “Because in a city so big, only a few people are remembered. We don’t choose what we are remembered for, either.”
“Oh, trust me,” She says. “You’d be remembered by good. Everyone in this city coos about the possibilities of you.”
“And that’s the thing. I don’t like expectation.”
“I understand.” She stops. “So, reason—?”
“I’m negative, but you’re good at prodding.”
“I was once a journalist in the making, but I ramble too much. I’d get in front of a camera and freeze, or say something really stupid. Probably both.” She conquers, sighing into her hand. “But you don’t have to answer, actually. I just want to get to know you. You could ask me something of your liking, too.”
He could ask about her library, but they have talked about that through text. He knows that it’s a family’s tree doing, where she loved literature and happened to continue down the road that was crafted for her. A place that was meant for her to walk on, but the wood on the floor was not precisely brought to life by her.
“Why didn’t it work out with your ex-husband?”
The reason why he left California is, perhaps, as personal as her divorce. She doesn’t swallow thickly, but she is left thinking for a moment, looking ahead and towards where he is, before the waiter returns with the burger in his hands and three glasses filled with a yellow, pink and white sauce.
“Thank you. This looks delicious.” Wonwoo compliments, only to have the waiter nodding.
“We start the timer now. Thirty minutes to finish all of this.” Just as he clicks the clock, she takes the half of the enormous burger and places it on her plate, and while he gives it a huge bite that fills his mouth and leaves his jaw hurting, she eats it bit by bit, plucking the food and swallowing it quickly.
“Probably my best kept secret.” She says, shrugging her shoulders. “I was promised until death, and then, I realized living one more day with him would be the cause of my death. It’s like…being pricked little by little, being married.”
“In general?”
“To him, precisely. Pierre has his own issues to figure out. He has…these experiences that he wants to go through in love. He wants to try with other people. And I wasn’t going to wait there, watching him mindlessly flirt with people, asking me if I’d ever been with more than one person, until I was finally hurt by something I expected.” She motions, sighing. “And now he’s trying to come back, so maybe, he already tried and thought returning home was the solution of the mess he made.”
“That’s pretty common. I happen to never last more than two months with somebody.” Wonwoo cackles at his own state in relationships, moving his head from side to side. “For a while I thought it was me.”
“How so?”
“Uncapable of being loved, if that makes sense.” Wonwoo announces. “I’ve never tried hard enough to make someone stay.”
“So, you’re the complete opposite of me. I have a hard time letting go.”
“I have a hard time making someone stay.” The mingle of tastes inside his mouth makes him wonder if she just wanted an excuse for them to try something good and new, not precisely break a challenge. Make herself memorable. Or maybe, that’s just her personality. Not everyone has to be trying all the time. “It probably is me.”
“Everyone has their little glimpses of red in their flag.” She jokes, tilting her head to the side when Wonwoo groans. “But hey, I’m a divorced woman, who am I to judge?”
“So, California…stinks a little bit, feels way more dense than this villa does, and it just…it reminds me of who I could’ve been. And who I am not, clearly.”
“Well, Wonwoo,” She picks up a portion of her burger, dipping it in what he thinks is corn sauce, before lifting it up in the air. “Cheers to that. We can be remembered for the picture we’ll have hanging here later this night.”
“Not at this pace.”
“Just say ‘yes’ for once. I promise, it doesn’t hurt.”
She could teach him that life is not filled with ‘no’ responses all the time.
Wonwoo thought the following times they’d see each other; they wouldn’t have any interruptions. However, much to his distaste, the moment he steps inside her house for what she called through the text ‘dinner and a movie’, there was another person invited.
The library’s worker, Wen Junhui, is not commonly known by him, but he has heard wonders about the man around town. As it goes, no one could ever tame him. Not from going around dating, but from being less eccentric. He sits in front of the TV they could have been using, holding fried chicken in between his digits after dipping it in barbeque, and he’s watching some Steve Harvey show that he is not quite sure he’d getting a glimpse of before. Too old for his liking, maybe.
“We have…companionship.” Wonwoo whispers to her, feeling the weight of her hands glide down his arms as she takes off his jacket. When he turns around, he sees her hanging the jacket, running her palms over it to keep it straight before humming.
“I didn’t know we had some either, but I totally promise Jun movie night every Friday. I can’t just kick him out. Or I can. But like, look at his face,” She points a hand towards Jun, who is still munching happily and laughing at whatever the host of the show had said. “One can’t just break a heart that easily. At least, his.”
Wonwoo can accept that Jun, while wearing a tank top and shorts, looks entirely different. A bit childish, with his bangs pushed back by a small clip, eating to his heart’s content. “I’m not saying you should kick him out.”
“But you had the hope it would be the two of us.”
“Awfully conceited, woman, don’t you think?” Wonwoo jokes around, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-grin. He’s normally not a sweet talker, but he’ll take the merit he can.
“Anyone would want to spend alone time with me.” One of her shoulders shrugs up, the structures of her face fighting their hardest to let out a smile. “Would you want some water, coffee, tea, juice, cocktail? I don’t know how to make cocktails, but I can fetch something up.”
“None.”
“Oh, maybe some energy drink, perhaps? Or, oh shit, you’re from Hollywood, maybe you’d like sparkly water, or bubbly water…”
“Trust me, we have normal water in Hollywood. I think.” He leans down to fix her hair over her shoulder, jotting his chin towards the TV. “Are we ordering something else or we’re sharing chicken with Jun?”
“He will notice there are only two pieces left in a few minutes and order some for everyone, so we just wait.” With that, she walks ahead of him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to snuggle to the density of her white sweater, or that he’s not a bit enamored of the way her thighs fill the ripped jeans around her hips. She’s unique—so homely in a way that he hates he can feel that a little more time with her could end up in him in love.
“Wonwoo!” Jun speaks through a mouthful and in the month that he’s been there, he has gotten to know him a bit. The man is as sweet as one can get, but he’s also a bit odd. “I didn’t know you were coming. Do you want some—?” He stops on his tracks when extending the takeout bag towards Wonwoo, looking down at…yes, two pieces of chicken left. “Let me grab my phone,” He speaks after plopping his thumb in his mouth to lick the remaining sauce off. “And order something else.”
“Told you so.” She mouths after sitting down next to Jun, who is in between them like a child would. “Would you mind ordering a pizza? I think that’d last us some more than the chicken.”
“Oh, totally. There’s a two-for-one coupon in my phone case.” Jun is mumbling to himself, tossing glances towards the TV screen every once in a while before returning to his phone.
“I’ll pay for it. Don’t worry.” Wonwoo announces, but Jun shakes his head.
“The whole coupon thing is true—”
“But I want to pay, let me.”
That’s how they end up watching old marathons of family shows, with one hand holding a slice of pepperoni-filled pizza and the other on the couch behind them as they sit on the couch. When he can, he looks over to where she is and he catches her looking back, with eyelashes fluttering against her under-eyes and lips mingling in a small smile. He’s a bit surprised, however, when Jun is rambling with him about nineties shows, because a hand lands on his behind her friend’s back.
The touch of gentle fingertips hold back when tracing the outline of his knuckles, hesitantly slipping in between his own. Wonwoo feels his heart hammer against his chest, a beat that almost leaves him with ringing in his eardrums, for the blood rushes through his entire body until he can’t mask a smile. And sure, Jun may think that he’s smiling towards him, immersed in a conversation that now is a stammer in his head, considering her thumb is drawing on the veins of his wrist, like the gentle kiss she is not promising, but is making him think about.
In the midst of a villa, Wonwoo starts thinking about possibilities, and percentages have never been his thing more than art does, but the interlude of this story starts to make him think about staying. When Jun leans to grab another slice of pizza, Wonwoo takes this moment to bring that hand closer to his mouth, slotting his lips against her knuckles and watching her widen her eyes while staring at the screen.
Their little secret, now even more engraved in his brain by the expression on her face.
The inhibition of love is a saddened matter. Wonwoo never thought he’d be on the end spectrum of not being able to fully open up. After all, acting takes up the imagery of shredding every portion of himself in order to make a character come alive. He needs to unalive his motions in order to be someone else in front of a camera. However, when laying on that bed of his, in his place in the villa, that had felt more like home than any mansion could ever do for him, he is awfully aware of the person next to him.
“Do you have…um…any idea why I call you Mr. Hollywood?”
The question is soft against the sheets. She’s laying on her side, knee angled until she is almost resting a thigh over his hip. Wonwoo shakes his head, turning his head to look at her from up close. She has forgone the makeup today, hair a bit dirty and laying on top of her head by a ponytail. When she opens her eyes, he’s staring back at her.
“You didn’t answer.”
“Oh, I thought I did.” Wonwoo mumbles, trailing a finger on the side of her face before shrugging. “I have no clue. Anything in particular I should be aware about?”
Wonwoo, when asking to spend time with her almost every day, is knowledgeable of the fact that she’s a very smart woman. However, as the night slips through his clear curtains, cascading along her features in the moonlit nature of a November midnight, his mind forgets the fact that he’s Jeon Wonwoo, and that maybe, his stigma as a person is harder to hide than he thought.
“…I saw you in a movie once.” The confession has his heart hammering against his chest, and he sits up immediately. Not angered, but terrified. Afraid of being used for what is always loved about him—his power, love for acting, his money. “I want you to listen to me, okay? You’ve been here for almost two months and I feel like…it’s time to tell you something. Nothing bad. Just something.”
“You talked to me because of me being an actor?”
“God, no. I didn’t want to talk to you for the same thing. You terrified the hell out of me.” She says, sitting up with him and pressing a hand to his thigh in order to keep him in place. Her eyes beg him to stay close and somehow, he does. Though the alarms in his mind tell him to fleet. “You still do, but for different reasons. I saw you in this movie…Stay With Me? The one where you played a secondary character. The main guy’s best friend. I didn’t recall enough about the movie, but I knew that face. I thought you were…good looking. That’s all. I’m not a fan.”
“That’s a very old film.” It was in the start of his career, when rom-coms would call him just to play the knowledgeable best friend. He has the face of a man who knows how to give advice, they told him. “So, you call me Mr. Hollywood because you know who I really am outside of these walls I’ve built to run away?”
“To remind me you’ll leave, I guess.” She sighs out, running her free hand through the locks of her ponytail. “Calling you Mr. Hollywood reminds me you’re…you know, somehow unreachable.”
“Gosh, I am not!”
“Come on, Wonwoo. I’m just a woman who happens to sell books for a living. Each day, I wake up to a bed on my own, wondering what kind of legacy I’ll leave in this world, but I am also timid enough to not want to be remembered. And it’s the paradigm of being…just somebody else. I won’t be listed as one of the most gorgeous women, neither one of the most talented, but I can reassure you…Wonwoo, anywhere you stand, as an actor or not, you’re special.”
He has seen love in scripts, written to be perfection, clouds of pink that cascade the fall of a person who would have never thought romance would be on their way. He has acted it out, softened eyes and sweet words that come with the clash of lips, but he doesn’t expect how love really feels like. Numbed out of every word that could make him feel insecure, trapped in the odyssey of wanting a kiss that has him leaning forward, capturing her face in his palms and looking into her eyes, not seeking softness, but the reassurance of something else. Of the feedback of warmth.
“And I am just a man who wants you to see him as he is. Hollywood or not.”
“I see you, Wonwoo.” She mumbles, and that’s enough for Wonwoo to lean forward. Fill her with a kiss that threatens to whimper in her mouth when her mouth parts and clashes against his.
Wonwoo feels complete, like a thread follows after him and whispers in his mouth everything he wants to hear without a noise at all. Her hands mingle on the back of his head, legs interlocking with his own. And he hates that even when he is kissing her with fervor; tracing the outline of lips that he wishes to remember to the day of his death, there is still a voice of insecurity.
He leans back on the bed, with her body trailing after his, settling a leg in between his own and pulling away to press a chaste kiss to his jaw, soon after pressing her mouth to his neck. Both of his hands expand on her back, under her shirt to feel the softness of her skin when he whispers:
“Could you please turn off your phone?”
“Excuse me?” She questions, only to have Wonwoo shaking his head.
“I…I got some pictures taken of me. I was intimate with a woman I used to date on-and-off and now…everyone has a picture I didn’t consent to of me in my boxers.” Confessing it has his cheeks blaring in heat, and he expects her to laugh. “And sure, you may think it’s stupid, but—”
She settles her hips on top of his, sitting and reaching for her phone in the bedside table, only to show the screen turning off to him. “It’s not stupid to me. Whatever makes you feel comfortable, I can consider.”
“Where were you my whole life?” Wonwoo asks, feeling her mouth return to his neck. And she laughs against his skin, drawing sparkling stars in his stomach and letting them tingle with…whatever feeling he’s starting to let cascade over him.
“Far, far away.”
“But I found you.”
“…You found me.” She interlocks their hands together, smiling at him. “Thank God, you found me.”
“What is this?”
Sandara positions three things on their coffee table in a specific order. A cup of coffee, with a savory smell of Bailey’s that he has been obsessed with every since he tried it on a café shop downtown. A croissant, with an extra layer of powdered sugar on top of it, and of course, what takes him off guard. A stack of papers, placed neatly like a script would. He picks up his coffee, giving it a taste even though he’s eyeing the paper, not touching it.
“Well, we’ve been here for almost three months…” Sandara sits down on the couch next to him. Her hair is shorter than how it had been when they got there, and she has dyed it back to a light brown. She moves it to a side on its entirety before pressing her knuckle to her cheek. “I think it’s time we start to think of a comeback. I was introduced to this idea where you’d star with Cillian Murphy, and I just couldn’t say no. You’re totally reading it.”
Acting is a prolongation of his anatomy. Wonwoo can’t exist without acting, but taking a break has never hurt anybody. He believes that most good actors take one in their lifetime. However, being pushed into stardom once again it’s not something he had thought about. Or he has, but he has always pushed it to the back of his head. That would mean going back to Hollywood, casting interviews where he’ll have to talk about the whole photo incident, perhaps take up on that Calvin Klein campaign that Sandara was so excited about…and that all sounds like a ton of work.
“You didn’t ask me about this.” Wonwoo announces, but Sandara is already placing the script right on top of his lap, pointing at it with a manicured nail. “Sandara—”
“I didn’t ask you, but you need to continue, Woo.” She says. “You’re one of the biggest talents of this generation and you’re throwing it all to Hell because of a picture? No. That’s the answer. We’re not letting that happen. We’re going to meet the team the following Monday and Cillian is going to be there. We can read over some—”
“What?” Wonwoo stands up, throwing the script on the table and shaking his head. “I didn’t consent on going back to Hollywood.”
“Wonwoo, it’s where you’ve grown to be the person you are today. You can’t escape it forever.”
“Yes, but I also don’t have to return just because you’re telling me to. It’s more complicated than that.” Hence, he has spent almost every day sharing kisses, touches, stories and whispers with a woman that he has promised is not temporary. It’s been almost a month since they shared their first kiss…and from then, they have fallen into the comfort of…
A relationship, maybe. That’s what he calls it inside his head, but he’s too afraid to voice it. For reasons as such, like this, when he will need to fly away to Hollywood just because reality is calling.
“They are offering millions of dollars for this, and Wonwoo, you’re going to miss acting eventually. I’m sure you do now, as you are standing here every morning just reading books and doing nothing.”
“Healing is not doing nothing.” Wonwoo corrects, and when he tosses a look at the script, he can admit he is a bit intrigued. How can a person be both here and there at the same time? How can the man he has grown to be in the villa meet the celebrity that he really is?
“Just read it. We both know you want to.”
“And then, what? I never come back here. I have a…someone, a girlfriend, maybe, and I don’t want to leave that behind.”
“I’m not—Just don’t get ahead of yourself. Think first about what you want to do and sure, if it’s staying here for a while more, I’ll accept it. But this is such a good film that is going to rise from the ashes and I want you to be part of it. You need to. It’d be iconic, Wonwoo, I swear.”
Does he want to be remembered by everyone as the actor who could do it all, battle against the tabloids and shine as one of the best performers of the generation? Or perhaps, does he want to be remembered by one person as the man who mended her heart after not wanting to believe in anyone because of a horrid break-up?
“I’ll think about it.” He feels bad about saying it and sitting down with that coffee and croissant to read the first page. “Just leave me alone for a while, will you?”
“Right.” Sandara presses a kiss to the crown of his head, patting the hair soon after. “I’m only doing it for you, I swear.”
“I know.”
That’s the only whisper he can muster to give her as he traces the outline of the title. The ink, the indents, the fresh paper…he misses this, but at the same time, he doesn’t feel ready to return to the emptiness that is felt when going through stardom. He’s enamored of reality, and that isn’t supposed to be a sin.
The more he reads the script, the more he likes it…and he starts to wonder if there are two men living inside of him, or if there is one that perseveres more than the other.
Molding against somebody’s body is a connection on its own. Wonwoo could get used to the dance of breathing that comes with laying next to somebody, when his chest connects to her back, arm weighting her waist down, chin squished to her shoulder. However, this morning is different. They don’t wake up to the sound of her alarm but to something else. His ears make out a noise that is familiar to him.
Flashes.
Clicking.
Shouts.
His name.
Her name.
Why do they know her name?
Wonwoo stands up, breathing quickly with the flaming hope of only being in a nightmare. However, the coldness of the floor seeps through his bare feet when he moves towards the window, moving the curtain to the side in order to see a herd of paparazzi standing outside of her home. Jun is in front of them, waving his hand like an idiot and posing for the camera. Quite like the characters in White Chicks would.
“Love, where are you going?” She’s mumbling against the pillow and for a moment, all Wonwoo sees is white. He feels let down by the woman waiting for him in the mattress. How could they have found him here, when he has gone months to no end completely unnoticed by the citizens? And Jun is enjoying the attention, that has to say something.
“Nowhere. I am unable to go anywhere because there are fucking paparazzi in your front yard.” Wonwoo lurks through the clothes left on the floor, running the fabric of a cotton t-shirt over his body and sighing in distaste. He’s walking from side to side in the bedroom. The paparazzi will only leave when he gets out of that door, after all.
“What?”
“Just tell me the truth. When did you call them? I was with you the entire night.” Wonwoo points out the obvious, placing his hands in his waist and frowning towards her. Her eyes widen and he swears he sees the little, fragile glass that she has within her chest playing as a heart breaking with one look alone. “You did exactly what everyone did before you—”
“Fuck, Wonwoo, what are you even saying? I would never do that to you!” She stands up and though he wants to believe her, he has heard that before. She’s walking towards him, sheets pressed to her chest, pleading at him with her vision alone. “Let me see.”
“No!” He shouts, taking her by the arm and keeping her away from the window. “If they take a picture of you, it’ll be everywhere in a second.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how t—these things work.” She stutters, pressing her hand on top of his and trying to rub at the skin there. “Wonwoo, you have to believe me. I would never betray your trust like this.”
“Your roomie is out there making a show out of this.”
“Jun would never, either! He’s probably just enjoying the attention.”
“My God.” Wonwoo takes another glimpse out of the window, feeling his eyes get filled with tears. “How…How am I supposed to believe you when it all ends like this? Another scandal. I don’t deserve to be in the highlights of a magazine once again!”
“I’m sorry…” She mumbles, trying to catch him in her arms but he’s moving. Walking out of the bedroom, he goes down the set of slim stairs as he prepares to go through the masses of paparazzi and perhaps, lose himself in the process of stardom once again. Vacant answers, eye-rolls, and the undignified tilt of his head looking down because of the flashes and the lack of sincerity towards his self. “I don’t want you to leave. I’m—I’ll go with you, just let me get dressed and I’ll talk to them with the truth. They just need to know who you really are.”
“You truly believe that being sincere is what helps me here?” Wonwoo turns around, looking down at her and scoffing. “Sunshine, I’ve tried to be sincere in a world where they only want to see my worse and I expected you to understand that.”
“…You know, I’m starting to feel offended that you don’t believe me. I understand you, but I would never do this to you.” Wonwoo sighs at her words, sparing one good look at her face. He will miss the shared laughter and even more so the love that she had gifted to him without nothing in return. Nothing more than loving her back.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience in your home.” Wonwoo says, putting on his jacket and his sunglasses before turning around and nodding at her. “And thank you for giving me the benefit of loving you.”
“Wonwoo—”
He opens the door in a hassle, eager for paparazzi not to see her in her pajamas and shred her to pieces. Jun greets him happily, offering him a cup of coffee that he ignores as he walks through the masses. The cameras go wilder for him, asking him questions:
“Where is your new love?!”
“When are you returning to Hollywood?!”
“Is she aware of your soft-porn pictures?!”
“Is this the end of your career?”
At this last question, he turns around, grabbing the microphone from the journalist’s hand and adding: “I don’t know, you’ll be the judge of that.” With that, he gets inside his car, hands trembling as he years to get out of there. They will follow after him, but the best he can do is reach Sandara and hope that she can take care of it.
With a broken heart and his wheels swirling, Wonwoo gets out of her life for good.
And he doesn’t look back.
For twenty-one days, she curses believing in love again. Even so, she starts to ponder if she should take out the entirety of the romance shelf off her library, but Jun is the one to stop her before she wiped out the best-selling row of their plethora of books. A fraction of her being understood where Wonwoo was coming from, and maybe, that’s the reason that upon hearing he’d be holding a press conference in a city nearby her own, she decided to go give it a glimpse. Perhaps, be another fan that just happened to get a little too close to the star.
“You’re losing your damn mind.” Jun says when following after her, entering the crowds of people that mingle to get a glimpse of Wonwoo as he’s expected to enter one of the most popular hotels in the city. “And I’m starting to like it. You’ve never acted like this before.”
“Jun!” She drags, a little mortified that she’s here. She has tried contacting Wonwoo, but the last thing she heard about him is that he had taken a plane back to Hollywood. She was even a bit surprised that he had come back. Everyone was trying to deduce who was the one that had captured him for three months in some secluded villa that no one had been able to find him in, but the masses of rumors were met by silence from his team as they announced his new film. “I shouldn’t even be here. He hates me, and for pictures that I wasn’t even in.”
“And I finally got the number of the girl in the supermarket because she saw me on TV. One of us is winning, so that makes two of us winning.” Sometimes, she wishes to pluck each hair of Jun’s head one by one only to see if he has a proper adult reaction. However, her best friend wraps an arm around her shoulder, grinning at her. “Are you sure you want to be around here? I looked up the best places to visit around here and we can totally go. It wouldn’t be on vain either.”
“I want to see him. One last time.” She ponders, humming at his words. Though, she has to scream a bit, considering the fans are going crazy, talking within themselves about the announcements he was supposed to be making today. “You know, maybe I can pluck him out of my heart that way.”
Though, that thought completely vanishes when looking at him. Wonwoo has decided to wear a long brown coat, sunglasses propped on the tip of his nose, getting out of a limousine as two guards help him get through the groups of people. A black shirt enters his black slacks, accentuating the waist she’d rest her cheek on when hugging him from the side as he poured coffee for her in the early mornings. She had lost that, along with the smile that characterized him when being with her. Though, she can say it had been taken away from both of them.
They are placed in a corner of the grand room in the hotel that is supposed to be taken up by Wonwoo and his team. He’s seated on a table, well perched and high on the stage, with Sandara on one side and another man whom she does not recognize on the other, but he’s making sure that the microphone is working well. The fans, such as them, are on the side to support him as the journalists take up most of the space.
Like parasites, she realizes, when the interview starts to enroll.
It’s supposed to be a press conference to announce the return of Wonwoo to acting and stardom, but they have made it all about the pictures that months ago had reached a magazine because of his ex…situationship, and also included glimpses of her. Of the mysterious woman whom he can’t find words, for he chooses other questions and gets shouts from the journalists who want more from him. He does admit to have signed a contract for a film, and she’s entranced in the way he speaks about the plot and what he wishes out of it.
A woman in her forties stands up, heels clicking when she plots her hip to the side, grabbing the microphone in between her hands with expertise before adding: “We have gathered information and found out, Mr. Jeon, that you have lived in the villa for almost four months by now. Reading books, having coffee, just living the life of a man in his fifties while also being in your twenties. What was the reason to stay out of stardom for so long and do you wish to go back to it any time soon?”
Wonwoo is uncomfortable; she can tell by the way he wrings his hands and turns them pale after taking off his sunglasses. He’s rotting in between the sense of lying or being truthful to himself. However, before Sandara could say to ask another question, Wonwoo leans over the microphone and sighs.
“Because I…happened to meet people who made me want to stay, and I sadly did not have the chance to stay for longer.”
“How so?” The journalist keeps prodding now that he has answered, and Sandara takes up over the microphone.
“I think it’s time we cut this round off—”
Though, Wonwoo gently pushes her away, rubbing at one eye before clearing his throat. “Because, as an actor, I have played enough roles for people to visualize me as such. I wanted to be someone normal for once, and reading books, like you said, made me unite with the citizens around the villa. I—I would have stayed if I could, but…reality wants me here. This is who I am.”
That could be the finalization of them, and it should have been, but damn her for being stubborn and knowing precisely when a good person is leaving her life, because she places a hand on top of Jun’s shoulder and whispers in his ear:
“Hoist me up. I’m going over the gate and getting to him.”
“What?”
“I can’t let him leave like that. Not without knowing I love him, at least.”
“Alright. If you’re going to jail, I’m going with you.”
What a paradox, it is, that the start of their story included him helping her get over her own gate and now she does as such, earning gasps and shouts from the masses of people as the guards rush towards her and catch her just in time for her mouth to let out:
“I just—Hey, I just wondered, Mr. Jeon, if you’d like to hear something from one of the citizens!” She’s battling against the strong hands of the guards trying to drag her away, feet kicking and asking to be given a second by Wonwoo.
She swears she sees a smile creep up his features when he leans over the microphone once again and says: “Let her go. I know her.”
The strong pair of arms unravels from around her waist and she sighs out in glee before she’s granted a microphone. She fixes her hair, stands up a little straighter and hates the fact that she didn’t try to look better after twenty-one days of missing him. “I was wondering, Mr. Jeon, if there was anyone who would have made you stay in that villa if it weren’t for your duty calling you. If…if it hurt you leaving the villa at all.”
She should expect the worst, judging by the ways cameras start flashing and people start whispering within themselves. However, Sandara is talking in Wonwoo’s ear, eager to get him to say the right thing, but as they look at each other, they are back to the nights in which she’d ask him to turn off the lights because she didn’t want him to see her without makeup or sick and he’d shrug his shoulders without a care in the world. They are back to the first time he was able to sleep next to her without turning off all the phones in the house.
It’s just the two of them. Their world. Their villa. Their three months.
“…You. You are the only one who could make me stay.”
That’s what makes everyone talk louder, after the bead of silence that leads up to the grandest reveal. The cameras turn towards her and she’s afraid of how she’ll look after, but that won’t matter if Wonwoo returns…one day, even after the movie, even for the weekends or when he’s free.
“That’s…that’s lovely.” She says, looking up as not to feel shy or embarrassed by what she’s about to admit. “Because I want you to stay, Wonwoo.”
“Um, I think we need to return to the questions—” Sandara is speaking, but Wonwoo has lifted his eyebrows, smiling softly and standing up from his spot and going over to where she is. Each step slows down the closer he gets, and the guards move to his place in order not to have journalists or fans jumping at him.
“Before you say anything,” She starts, interlocking her hands together in front of her body. “I…I love you. I just need you to know that. I don’t need anything else right now.”
Wonwoo quirks his head to the side, cheeks blushed and hands fisted in his pocket. “Well, I was about to offer three months in Los Angeles to film a movie and then, back to our villa indefinitely but—”
“You have to be joking.” She coos with a smile on her face, but Wonwoo shakes his head.
“Pretty honest. I am characterized for being such, aren’t I?”
Before she knows it, she’s launching herself at his arms, lips jotted to his own and even though everyone is looking, she couldn’t care less.
Indefinitely. That starts to sound a lot like forever, and with him, that doesn’t seem impossible.
“I love you, too.” He whispers as she hides her face from the cameras in his jacket, laughing at his words.
dedicated to @wisteria-woo
#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#wonwoo#seventeen#kpop scenarios#writing#actor!au#notting hill!au#and my return from writing after months be nice to it omg
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we could go there | a. anderson
tags: eighteen+, sexual innuendoes, mentions of sex, jealousy, ow*n, beware i'm an ow*n hater 'nd i display that hatred here, two gays in love, fem!reader, fluff city, get a snack bc this is the longest fic i've ever posted.
a/n. hi guys. it's ray, again. as i begin to roll out content slowly, i want to make it clear, i fully support palestine. anyone who consumes my content, i strongly encourage to do the same. i have no patience for ignorance. below are links to take a look at. educate yourself, donate where you can, and reblog if you can't. hopefully you guys like this one, it's been a labor of love and a bit different than what i normally post. anyways, with love as always ♡
DO NOT BUY TLOU, FUCK NEIL DRUCKMANN + EDUCATE YOURSELF + DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE + DONATE TO PALESTINE.
divider creds — @cafekitsune
Owen could not have been this fucking stupid. Practically trying to piss all over Abby as if she were something to own, some damn property to own, as if she wasn’t an actual person with feelings who could make her own decisions. The man only thought with his dick and the ugly green head growing endlessly. He only thought of what he wanted – never what she needs.
Meaning the only thought bouncing in your mind? Punching his crooked jaw.
To put it simply, Owen was not managing the breakup well by any means. It had been three months and still Owen continued to grab onto Abby like a leech. For this exact reason, you told Abby you wanted to keep whatever was happening between you away from prying eyes. Everything with Abby was still new, and you did not want to rush it. Ruin it even. Really, you wanted to stay in this small, secure bubble with her for the longest you could.
So, you kept it this way.
It was nice when it was just the two of you. Abby always likes to cook for you after a long week. Friday nights ending with her, a bottle of red on the dining room table, her cuddled up to your side. It surprised you how willing she was to be available for you each week, only missing one Friday due to a nasty cold. There were no prying eyes, no preconceived judgement – absolutely no expectations. Just you and those gorgeous blue eyes you couldn’t help but fall deeper for. With a soft familiar shine, every word she spoke dripped like pure honey all over your heart, making it brand new again.
You didn’t know what sweet was until her.
Never been more sure of it until now.
As if there was never an ache to be had, a heart broken – she seemed to seamlessly mend every broken piece of you.
You were so soft on her, and the Friday night dates only helped the cause. There wasn’t a damn thing you could do to help yourself from falling for her. Even when your knee jerk reaction is to run in the opposite direction, your feet stay glued to the ground. Kind words and services of affection gripped your heart with an iron fist and somehow, she managed not to break it.
You loved it. You were terrified. You want to run into her arms and never let go.
But of course, the man was the complication. The retched, jealous ex-boyfriend who could not imagine her being with a woman when he was right there. Owen always seemed to try and worm his way whenever he was around the two of you. Abby knew, just as well as you did, he wouldn’t be able to stomach you two together. So, she tried to keep it concealed for his sake and she wants to protect you. Owen is her loose end to tie; the last thing she wants is you in the middle of it.
Especially when things were going so well with you. Abby really had not expected to move on so fast, or at least find someone as amazing as you so soon, but you were right under her nose the whole time. She felt like an idiot for never recognizing it, but she thought better late than never, right? It’s overwhelming guilt consuming her, telling her it’s wrong to feel this happy so soon, but there’s no choice but to shove it down.
If she wants to be happy, pretend like the stress of Owen’s instigations aren’t getting to her, she needs to shove.
So, Abby shoves.
The stoic-blonde tries her best to hide what you two had from the rest of the group. Not until she dealt with her baby of an ex-boyfriend and his unresolved feelings. She just wanted to give him enough space to move on, but now it would be impossible.
She knew it and you did too. To Owen, it had been the most obvious. You were almost certain he was starting to put the two pieces together.
God was he being even more insufferable than ever.
It was nauseating you the way he was acting. He needed to be talking to Abby, sitting by Abby, touching Abby. Abby. Abby. Abby. The ignorant man’s mind focused on one thing, and it was his ex-girlfriend. Deep in his bones he believed there was still truly a shot and part of you thought there was. She did not like girls, or you, as much as she thought she did. She kept him around, never refusing what he wanted, and the two of you were not official.
You told yourself so many times, lies of assurance turned into fact in your mind, masking what the truth actually is.
Truly, there’s little to do.
Abby did not really owe you a damn thing.
Sure, she was available for you and those nights were everything to you. Most of them spent together ending with her fucking you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear before you fell asleep in each other’s arms.
You’re just a need for her to fill. A quick fuck, that’s all you are.
Persistent as ever, thoughts of doubt seemed to nag and linger throughout your head.
You’re not good enough for her.
She’ll run back to him.
Abby just wants your body, not you.
Everything had an expiration date and possibly, you need to start facing the harsh reality, she could not possibly be ready for all of this. Although, the possibility of her still hung up over Owen filled you up entirely with disdain.
What else were you supposed to think? Abby refused to cut ties; she wants to keep the two of you a secret. Even if she had been stuck to your side like glue all night, it did not stop the anxious feeling rumbling in the pit of your stomach.
You craved for more, but it could be possible you were just the building block until she found the next person to move onto. It’s not like Owen and her were some short-term fling. They had been together for years and clearly, he thought it would be for the long haul. He knew her in ways you couldn’t. The pair had been friends since they were kids. He gave her the support she needed when she lost her dad.
You could even understand how difficult it would be to give up someone like that, even if it was Owen. You would never blame her for not being able to let go of it. Never would you be able to forgive yourself if you held her to this crazy expectation, just like Owen did. So, you tried to hide for both of your sakes. It’s been easier in your relationship with Abby in the beginning. When it was new and fun, it went unnoticed.
But it clearly written all over the two of you tonight.
You were too drunk and even if Owen’s eyes were on the two of you, all you saw was her. Everyone was busy roasting marshmallows, still cool enough in beginning of spring, fire crackling as you watched it glow Abby’s features.
Her freckled cheeks and ivory skin sporting an orange hue and you were a little too obsessed with it.
She’s so beautiful. All you can think about is pressing your lips against hers, claiming her in front of everyone. It’s all you want.
But your own insecurity gets the best of you and somehow, it’s possible to dig down deep, suppressing the urge.
So, you try to place your focus elsewhere.
Even if being here with Abby, side by side, was a bad idea. She shoved her pussy in your face for consolation. You come with her, a party Owen would be at, and you finally get to eat her pussy out which you took full advantage of prior to arriving.
-
Ellie thought it would be important for the gang to get together before spring break rolled in and you had agreed along with Abby. Thankfully, Owen had shown up late and the only spot available to him was on singular chair across from where you were snuggled up with Abby on a two-seat bench.
Your hand on her thigh as you told her something dumb, silly even, but the smile on her burned so bright – you couldn’t help it. Any day of the week, it’s all you want. To see her happy, beaming. It just so happened to be your luck she did it often with you. She might’ve been cautious with Owen around, especially when it came to her proximity with you.
You’d eaten her out on your bed, before you rode in the passenger side of her jeep. Fuck, did you love how happy she looked, how relaxed she’d seemed. Abby didn’t tell you, but Owen had never even offered to do that before. The fact you had been begging for it unprompted had her heart pumping. Delicate hands running over her thick thighs as she let you spread them out wide before you made yourself comfortable between them.
She was replaying it over in her mind as she smiled wide at you. Abby could listen to you talk about whatever, forever. You made her feel good, didn’t ask her anything in return, but she would absolutely return the favor. Maybe by the end of the night, even.
It’s moments like these, making you believe this could be something special. Even convincing you Abby would want this with you, to be your girlfriend. For her to be yours seemed like a fever dream, but the more time you spent with her, you couldn’t deny it’s all you wanted. You were just terrified she couldn’t possibly want to be like this with you.
The uncertainty was a bitch and you felt like you were choking on it.
“Where’d you go, sweet girl?” Abby’s thumb smoothed over your chin. She wants to pull you in closer, claim you in front of everyone, but she doesn’t want to deal with the heat from Owen. Abby is fully capable of handling him, yet she can’t find it within herself to subject you to it.
It’s the last thing you deserve, not when you’ve been anything but perfect to her.
She tries to pretend the fear isn’t there as her throat bobs, attempting to swallow it down.
“Just thinking about…someone.” You drew out with a smirk on your face.
“Someone, hmm? Is a certain blonde the someone? Is she in the room with us?” Abby looks around in faux cluelessness. You have no choice but to laugh as she roasts two marshmallows for the two of you in one of her large hands.
“She might be, but she’s being silly right now. I’m not so sure anymore.” You teased, a smirk pulling at your lips. Abby likes how it feels to have your hand on her thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth. She’s thankful for the fuzzy, thick blanket placed over you both, concealing unwanted eyes from the affection.
The chilly, midnight air bites into your skin, it’s dropping more quickly than you anticipated but you’ll live.
Abby still feels the rapid beating of her heart, it’s deep in her soul. She wonders if you can feel it too. She takes a moment to look at you, really let her gaze fall on you and she knows how badly she’s fallen. It feels obvious, in the way her blue eyes are glossed over in love, the way she offered to roast your marshmallow for you, the way she insisted on sitting next to you whenever you were making your way over to the other bench with Jesse. She takes note of the black hoodie you’re wearing, the one you stole from her closet, her cheeks are crimson, but she’ll blame it on the cold if anyone asks.
Yeah, it’s the cold making her heart skip a beat.
“Are you sure you’re not cold?” Abby asks again, taking note of your body shivering before her.
“I-I’m fine, Abs. Promise?” But you weren’t. Your body was shivering, and you couldn’t speak without your teeth chattering.
“Oh yeah. You’re fine, right?” Abby taunts.
“Abby…please. Not right now.”
“What?”
“You know exactly what.”
“Maybe you should spell it out for me.”
“Now, you’re just being mean, Abs.” You begged, pleaded with her to let this go. You didn’t need another reason for him to judge either of you. The two of you already had been more affectionate than you wanted to be in front of Owen.
“Oh, I’m the mean one?” She tilted her head cockily, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. Dangerously leaning into you as her eyes took a quick glance at your lips. Forbidden fruit she could only have in the safety of your apartment or hers. Made her full warm, her mind wondering about how you made her feel. All the things you’d done to her, how you always picked up when she called, how you seemed to know what to say and at the right times.
It’s not fair.
“Tonight, you are.” You replied, trying to see if there was another conversation to escape into, but everyone was engaged in conversation, except for Owen. He was looking right at you, furrowed eyebrows and jaw clenching as he took Abby’s undivided attention directed towards you.
“He’s looking right at us, Abby. You guard dog looks like he wants to choke me out.” You turned towards her muscular frame, only to find she has leaned in even more. God, she was trying to torture you. Infinitely so.
“Well, he’ll have to get in line.” Abby teased, dropping a wink that made you feel hot in the bitter cold.
“Baby, you’re killing me.” You lightly pushed her, laying your head against her shoulder.
“Calling me baby in public? Are you trying to torture me…baby?” Abby whispered in your ear as she maneuvered her free hand underneath the blanket and interlocking with yours. She kept it against her thigh, but it was her turn to rub her thumb against your skin.
“No can even hear us.”
“Would you care even if they could?” You paused for a moment as you contemplated.
Would you truly? Owen’s reaction wouldn’t be the best, but it would take the relief off your shoulders. Honestly, you would have been nervous if Abby was truly serious about this.
About you, but she’s not.
“You’re holding my hand, Abby.” You sighed, content with her warm fingers heating up your freezing ones.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking doing more than just holding your hand.” Abby rested her head against yours, “But I’ll settle for this, at least for right now.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re pretty much all I think about these days, especially after you ate me out this afternoon.” You feel the heat even in the freezing cold, taking the sharp remark right off your tongue.
She was smirking wildly at her accomplishment, until she noticed the glare being sent her way.
Abby stares at Owen and she can tell how angry he looks, but she knows better than anyone he’s all bark and no bite. He won’t say anything to her right now, not until she’s alone. He doesn’t want you around when he says what he needs to.
Abby knows what he wishes to tell her. It’s been on the tip of Owen’s tongue after the breakup, but it’s a little too late. She doesn’t care to hear how sorry he is. It’s holding no weight. He only wants to fix things once he’s turned her into an afterthought. It makes her feel sick, unwanted even.
She feels none of those things when she’s with you. All the doubt, self-hatred, and regret piles in the back of her throat when she thinks about Owen. His presence no longer provides her with comfort and safety. All she sees is the blood on his hands and it fuels her with rage. She shouldn’t feel this way. Abby doesn’t want to, so she drowns herself in you.
Abby can’t feed into his delusion anymore; she knows she can’t. Not if she wants to keep you around and keep you happy.
Owen knows his limits. Abby will never talk to him if he interrupts her while she’s preoccupied with you, she’ll be out for his neck if he tries anything, the look she was giving told him that.
“Would you just stop being stubborn and take my jacket?” Abby speaks quietly. She removes the marshmallows from the pit of the fire, and you grab the graham crackers and the chocolate with your free hand.
Purposefully, you ignored her comment.
“You know, this would be easier if you let go of my hand.”
“Not going to happen, gorgeous.” Abby chuckled as she watched you struggling to remove the graham cracker from the plastic encasing. She takes in the way your eyebrow furrows in concentration, trying to get this god-awful plastic away from the treasure. Plump lips pouting, practically begging for assistance.
“Abbbyyyyyy.” You grunt, clearly frustrated with the damn crackers.
“Do you want my help, baby?” She asks innocently, but there’s nothing innocent about her voice. It makes you want to fuck her right in front of everyone. Especially with Owen watching. Yeah, fuck him. Why did you have to suffer for his shortcomings? Clearly, he wasn’t good enough for her, but you would be. You’d treat her like she fucking deserves. In your bones, deep in your very being, you would never make her feel like Owen did.
She’s perfect in your eyes. So precious and joyful, she made you feel good, and you hoped you did the same for her. Carefully, she set the marshmallows she’d be holding on the skewers and placed them carefully in your lap.
“Give it here, baby.” Abby’s delicious, big palm inviting you to place the bag in her hand and you did. It shouldn’t have been as sinful as it is, but she barred her teeth on the seam, creating a tear, placing the crackers on her lap. Immediately, Abby rested her head against yours once again. It made your heart skip a beat; how close she wants to be with you tonight.
Secretly, it’d been kind of an unspoken agreement when she was with Owen. Abby didn’t like public affection, never really had been into it. Made her feel nauseous at the thought. So, Owen stopped trying and because of it you’d make a point to never push more than she was ready for. But making her come on your tongue three times before you left the coziness of your apartment brought it out of her. Somehow, you had managed to subdue her into a needy, whining little girl who needed your touch, or she just might just die right then and there.
It's what you told yourself. You weren’t quite sure what else to believe.
Abby knew the truth; she’d been hiding tucking it away for safe keeping. She could let you know when she was ready, but right now, mindlessly she let herself lean into your body. With an open heart, Abby allows herself to feel the warmth and comfort only you could provide. The soft feeling in her heart she’d never felt with anyone else.
Silently, you brought your eyes to connect with Dina’s before she dropped a not-so-subtle wink.
Dina was the one who convinced you to even go for it in the first place with Abby. You really didn’t want to pick on the dead carcass of her fall out with Owen, but it was clear to everyone just how much Abby cared for you. Dina was sure the braided blonde didn’t even know it herself at the time, but anyone with eyes could see.
All of it had been so easy, being with her was the most natural thing in the world. This right here; she’s the blueprint for what it’s supposed to be like. It helps she’s sweet on you, more than anyone has ever been. You wish you could look at her right now. The beanie was so goddamn cute on her. She looked too good with her bomber jacket, the one she offered to you insistently. Repeatedly because she knew how damn cold you are. But you’d prefer her cuddled up into your side — her body heat felt better than any coat could.
“Do you have the chocolate?” Abby asks sweetly and you hand it to her, and she breaks up a handful of bars as she places on top of the the graham crackers she pulled out of the bag. “Can you?” She lets the end of her sentence drag off, but you know exactly what she needs.
You lift your head from her shoulder, and she pouts at the disconnect.
“Why’d you move?” She brings her hand closer to her inner thigh and it’s when you feel the bulge concealed beneath her trousers. You don’t say anything — you don’t want to spoil the fun she clearly has planned. Although, it makes you feel heated. The intention behind it sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps spreading all over your skin.
“You’re being stubborn, Abs.” You huffed trying to pull your hand away, but her grip tightens.
Got it. Better not poke the bear.
“Just place it right there. I’ll remove it from the skew.” You listen to her, picking up the first one and placing it delicately on top of the chocolate, and you slowly pull it away as Abby looks you dead in the eye. Making s’mores feels more sensual than it should be, but maybe just being around her makes you feel this way.
It’s just her making the tingling feeling between your thighs reignite.
Abby’s hands are sticky from the roasted pillow of sweet, white substance stuck around her fingers. Her heavy-lidded eyes, look down at her fingers before looking back at you. She seemed to be in a daze, thinking of something else. You could guess exactly what Abby was thinking of.
“I would ask you to clean it for me if we were alone, but this will have to do.” She slides her forefinger and middle in her mouth, and god, you’re imagining it. Your mouth wrapped around her thick fingers, tongue circling around it as if it was her cock fucking your mouth. It got her off just as much as you did.
She liked to have you like this, completely and utterly under her control.
Abby pulls off with a hardly subtle pop, her lips are moist and fuck, her fingers are incredibly wet. You can practically feel your cunt purring at her, the throbbing insatiable as you’re looking at your pretty girl like she’s a slab of meat to be butchered and slaughtered. Really, you can’t help it.
The sex isn’t just good. It’s fucking amazing. Stupidly obvious in the way it just makes sense with Abby. She’s reminding you of it, as she gestures for you to pick up the second skew. Sticky fingers getting caught on the marshmallow again, cleaning it off with her mouth again. Breathy, quiet, moan slips out before you can catch it and she’s smirking so loudly you want to kiss it off her deeply cocky face.
“Hm, guess I can’t blame you for getting all hot and bothered. I know how much you love my fingers. Especially when they’re inside you, huh? Just a little bit of déjà vu from last week.” Abby teased lightly.
“You’re going to pay for this.” Threatening the blonde beauty as you grabbed the finished s’more, and she grabbed the other one.
“Am I?” Abby’s voice dropping an octave lower than how she usually talks. Trying to do her best to bring out all the stops to do her best to effectively ruin you.
The answer to her question is left open in the air, the two of you silently finishing off your s’mores, her hand still in yours. Abby doesn’t want to let go. Even wants to hold your hand on top of the blanket, for everyone to see, but she doesn’t want anyone to ruin the moment. She’ll take for this now, but knowingly will push for more for later. When you’re ready for it. It’s still fresh, new and she needs to learn to be patient even if it’s the last thing she wants to do.
This time Abby is leaning her head on your shoulder. She takes in your sweet sent, pine mixed with vanilla, and it intoxicates her. Owen is finally engaged somewhere else besides her. It’s a relief. To not feel his accusatory eyes on her. Abby doesn’t want to feel guilty about her affection towards you. You’re too lovely for this to be seen as anything but beautiful.
She won’t let anyone take this away from either one of you.
You engage in conversation with Ellie and Dina, they’re to the left of you where you and Abby are sat. Dina’s, making you laugh about something stupid Ellie did earlier this week. Ellie claims it’s not nearly as stupid as Dina makes it out to be, which only sends you and Dina through a tailspin.
It obviously was just as idiotic as it sounds, but what Dina says next brings Abby to full attention.
“Hey, were you going to call Leah back? She sounds pretty interested in seeing you.” Dina questions you, a smirk playing at her lips, and it makes you want to scream.
Fuck.
Dirty fucking Dina.
She played it off as coy, maybe Abby wouldn’t question Dina’s intentions, but she sure as hell would give yours a second thought. Ellie let a small chuckle, earning a death glare from Abby. It was painfully obvious to the couple the feelings you felt towards one another, but neither of you took steps towards making it official.
“Leah?” Abby questions, her grip on your hand tightens, afraid if she eased up, you might slip.
“Y-Yeah, just a girl I met at the work event I told you about.” You let out, trying to land the blow gently but it already had made its impact with Abby. There was nothing gentle about the knife she felt in her heart.
Abby’s jaw clenches too many times for you to count, her grip is cruel, and she won’t meet your eyes. She suddenly finds the flames in front of her incredibly interesting. Ember reflects from Abby’s eyes, they’re still blue, but icy as you try to find them, but she refuses.
You want to tell her it’s innocent. It doesn’t mean anything, and it really doesn’t. You felt stupidly insecure that night. Pleading Abby to come with you, but it was Owen’s birthday dinner, and she couldn’t make it. Felt like a horrible slap in the face for her to pick him over you even after the breakup. One cocktail turned into five and before you knew it, you put your number into a pretty girl’s phone. She danced with you, she flirted, and it felt nice to be someone’s priority, their full attention seated with you.
The night ended with a sweet kiss on the lips, a promise she would text, and you would call her. Leah made good on her promise, and you found yourself falling incredibly short of yours. Abby came over around midnight, it felt a punch to the gut to make time for you now but not before. Yet, you let her in even after how miserable and alone her actions made you feel.
All you see is her. Her lips and the voice you love. She makes the anger melt away as if she wasn’t the one to instigate it in the first place.
She apologizes for not taking you up on the offer. Her puppy eyes pleading for forgiveness. She has a tote full of goods which allow her to breach past your door. Chocolate covered strawberries, a bottle of your favorite red wine, the ingredients for your favorite dinner, and tempting lips you’ll know will have their way with you by the end of the night. Abby knows just as well as you do, both of you are fucked.
It’s the first time she stays over at your place, and it feels solidified. This could all end up in flames, with both of you burned, but somehow it feels worth the risk. The light glistens through the bedroom window as it shines on her eyes, the blue standing out as she looks on your sleeping form. Black sheet concealing your body from her. Then it’s almost like you know she’s watching you and your eyes open meeting hers.
Smiling softly, it reaches your eyes, and your head nuzzles into her chest, sighing contently. Before, your brain could excuse how you felt, but after that night, it had changed. You realized just how much Abby had wormed her way into your heart, into your soul – you didn’t wish for her to leave.
But it still didn’t negate what you felt, the fear of losing her to someone she might still be in love with. Yeah, so she did feel remorseful for picking him over you, it didn’t mean she still didn’t care about him. It was Abby – of course she did. Everything was still so new, there wasn’t enough foundation to land on, for either of you to be sure. You had to hope it was strong enough to support the two of you.
You felt lonely, and Abby wasn’t there to give you the comfort you needed so this was your way of lashing out without speaking to her about it. It was small, but the thought echoed and occupied all the space in your brain.
She’ll leave you for a man, they always do. How could this be any different?
Past experiences drawing the conclusion for you, instead of actually speaking with her about how you felt, leaving Dina to air out your dirty laundry.
Dina kept talking, but she changed the subject. Still, didn’t stop how tense Abby is. She refused to notice anyone, her focus trained on the flames in front of her, anger brewing beneath the surface. You were holding onto the fact she hadn’t let go of your hand. Maybe you could settle your strong headed, burly bear.
You’d seen a couple times just how protective she could be over you. The fact you were possibly entertaining someone else, besides her, stung.
Everyone else had funneled inside, but Abby stayed by your side. She still wouldn’t look at you. She was as stoic as you’d ever seen her. She still wouldn’t keep her eyes off the fire, it was dying out and it felt like there wasn’t much you could do but watch it with her.
Owen would get exactly what he wanted. Maybe the two of you would never even become a thing because of your fatal case of loneliness. It made you nauseous. He didn’t deserve her, but it seems neither did you.
“So, who’s this Leah?” Abby broke the silence, her voice cracking in the process. “A-And why didn’t you tell me about her?”
You bite on your bottom lip, tugging it so carelessly you could taste the iron.
“It’s not important. She’s not important.” You reassure, but it doesn’t offer Abby much comfort.
“Obviously she’s important enough for Dina to know about her and not me.” Abby bites, her tone colder than it ever has been directed towards you.
“It’s not what you think, Abs.” You pause, not wanting to lie to her. You can see the self-doubt swimming in her eyes, and you need to do your best and reassure her, nothing is going on. “It was before, you know, that night.”
“So, you were seeing her? Both of us at the same time.” She thinks it’s not even a question. She states it as if there is nothing to be found but truth. It feels like there is a blade in Abby’s back, one you put there yourself, but now she’s only feeling the wound.
“No, baby, will you just let me explain?” Abby nods, allowing you to continue.
This won’t break everything will it? You should have told her. It really was stupid not to, silently cursing at yourself.
You’re going to kill Dina for exposing you like this. Fuck. Damn the red wine and her loose lips.
“The night we were fighting about you coming as my plus one or going to Owen’s dinner? Do you remember that?” She nodded her head, waiting for you to continue. “Well, I sort of, met someone the same night. She gave me her number and we kissed.”
“Huh.” It was more bitter than contempt. Rage? You weren’t sure.
“You’re mad.” Abby’s jaw clenched; her grip was tight again. “I’m sorry, okay? In my head, you had abandoned me for him. I was lonely and hurt. I just wanted you there with me, yet you went with him, and it felt nice to have someone’s attention. It was stupid. I only did it because I felt like I didn’t have yours.”
“Did, um, you ever see her after that?” Abby looked at you, finally. Her eyes begging for the answer she needed. Preparing for the worst but found herself hoping for the best.
“Abby?” You tilted your head to the side.
“What?”
“Do you really think I would?”
“I don’t know. I thought I was the only girl you were kissing.”
“Well…we do a little more than kiss.” You teased lightly, a smirk on your face.
“Stop being cute right now, it’s not fair.” The blonde pouts, upset she couldn’t stay upset. “I deserve to be angry right now.”
“Do you?” You leaned in closer, your breath kissing Abby’s face. “Last time I checked, I’m not your girlfriend.”
“Baby.” Abby whines, her frustration wasn’t holding. It never really did, but you did have a point. Neither of you had made this official, but Abby would argue it sure did feel like it.
“Look, I know we decided to keep things just been us, not really label it, because of your messy breakup with Owen. We were still trying to figure out what this was, and it was new and terrifying for you.” Your free hand found purchase on the end of her braid, tugging at the open strands, your thumb smoothing over it.
“I respected your decision and I’ve kept this between us. I mean, our friends do have eyes and it’s not like we’re exactly doing a good job of hiding it anymore.” You laughed softly and Abby was sporting a hint of a smile on her face.
“That night when I spent time with Leah, I let my insecurities get the best of me. All I could think about was you and Owen. I had convinced myself you were getting back together with him, and this is why you had ditched me. It’s not an excuse, I should have told you about it, but what else am I supposed to believe?”
You took a deep breath, trying to control your emotions. You didn’t want to break down in front of her, but someone had to start this conversation. Abby sure wouldn’t. If it made you the bad guy, so be it.
“Even now, he’s still a concern. He looked like his head was going to blow off from pure despite. We’re still hiding. I can’t just sit here and pretend I’m okay with this anymore. I deserve to be with someone who can hold me hand in front of our friends.” You sighed, pulling away from her entirely, stepping towards the flames. It was time for the two of you to come to an end. It’d be better for the two of you, before either of you gets too invested and someone ends up really hurt. Sick and wretched filling gnawing at your heart, telling you it is already a little too late for that.
You love her, but you love yourself a little more. It’s not her fault, but your past girlfriends always burned you because of the ex-boyfriend. Broken promises of a future together until they crawled their way back to where they put themselves, back in the closet. The shame of liking girls, you, too much for them to bear.
Ending the same, your heart beaten to a pulp before you stitch yourself together again.
Abby hasn’t disagreed with anything you’ve said, making you believe she still holds a torch for him. The single thought alone makes you feel nauseous. Just being a placeholder, whether it be for Owen or someone else.
She stayed fucking quiet, and it only pissed you off.
This is it, the final nail in the coffin.
“Abby, I think we should put a pin in this. I-I’m sorry. I know you’ve apologized since that night, but I can’t see past him. Not if this isn’t going to become more. I need more than this.” You confessed to her, continuing to walk away from a still silent Abby.
It wasn’t fair how much you cared for her, possibly even love. Finding yourself choking on it and she seemed to be doing just fine with the thought of never having it again.
Maybe she was still in love with him after all. How fucking pathetic does this make you?
-
Abby was stoic the rest of the night. Owen noticed the space between the two of you and tried to use it to the best of his abilities once everyone was sitting around the couch, watching a classic Christmas film. The rest of the group was adding commentary when considered necessary, stuffing their mouth full of chocolate goodies and kettle corn. Trying but failing, you couldn’t focus on the movie. Not one bit.
All you could think about is how quiet she became, hands stuffed in her pocket as she watched you end things and didn’t pipe in once. It was clear you overestimated your importance to her. A rebound. A steppingstone. An experiment. You hated all of it. You hated thinking about it. All your fears about her came true and now you’d have to pick up the pieces alone.
She would go back with Owen. She’d never consider you an actual option. You would give her the whole world if she asked, but that was just it, she hadn’t. She wouldn’t. Not in the entirety of the four months you spent together. Abby was always trying to protect his feelings, but never considering she was shattering yours into tiny little pieces.
Making yourself scarce to the kitchen, Owen’s cocky smile and Abby’s avoidance to meet you in the eyes was allowing yourself to drown in self-depreciation. You couldn’t stand it. So, you chose the most delicious vice you could think of – chocolate covered strawberries.
It would do for now, until your heartache subsides, allowing yourself to get a grip on it. You were halfway into your fourth one when she walked in, of course she would. Fucking hell.
Your eyes trained on the food in front of you as you took another bite.
Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her.
She let you stand there in the cold, like a pathetic, lonely loser practically begging her to say anything and she stuffed her big, lovely hands in her jacket pockets and stayed silent. Abby doesn’t care, her conscious won’t let her be the one who’s hurt you. All she wants is to make amends; she doesn’t want you.
The seasonal depression has its tight hold on you, and Abby unwillingness to catch you, fuck, it makes you want to punch her stupidly gorgeous face. Who gave her the right to make you feel this way? Painfully, you see in your peripherals her hands twitching by her sides, standing in front of the door, at least supplying a barrier from everyone but you can see the uneasiness in her.
But you do look at her.
You wish you hadn’t.
Abby isn’t moving besides her hands; she’s shed herself of the coat and she’s in a sweater you bought for her with a chain around her neck that you also had gifted her on her birthday. It’s not fair to you how cozy she looks, how much you want to escape into her arms and welcome the comfort she would offer in a heartbeat. Her body runs like a human furnace.
You crave for her to tell you everything is going to be alright; you want her to reassure you with her lips on your temple, you want to bury your face in the crook of her neck and focus on her heartbeat. You’re still so damn cold, even in this heated house. Your body craves her comfort more than you want to admit, it’s become second nature.
Her hair is falling past her shoulders, beanie has been abandoned. Abby combs her fingers through her hair, giving them something to do because she’s almost certain she’s going to faint from seeing your pretty eyes glossed over. You’re drowning in something sweet, no doubt due to the bitter taste Abby left in your mouth.
It makes you even more uneasy the two of you were supposed to share a bed tonight. After everything, you didn’t trust yourself around her. Not one bit. Even if you were hurt, the second she put her arm around you, all anger would be thrown at the window. You didn’t want her to drive this late, it wasn’t safe. The roads were beginning to ice over and Abby hates driving at night. The only other room big enough for two was Owen’s and the thought made you want to puke all over him.
She finally spoke up and you were strangely thankful for it. You weren’t sure where your thoughts would’ve gone, resentment growing with them.
“I know you probably won’t believe me but I’m sorry. I should have asked you how you were feeling about all of it.” Abby apologized, but she hadn’t moved an inch. “I just thought…” She left you hanging, basically prying your lips open for a response.
“What?”
“There hasn’t been anyone else for me, okay? I-I don’t want anyone else.” She looked around the room, trying to focus her attention on anything else but your undivided attention. Her palms were sweating as she wiped them on her sweatpants. “Can I tell you something without you totally making fun of me for it?”
“I would never make fun of you, Abby. Not like this.” You offer a gentle smile, encouraging her. She knows now what she should’ve done before – fight for you.
Abby thinks it’s why you’re avoiding looking at her. She can see the wanting in your eyes. If you’re not looking closely enough it drowns in disappointment, but it’s still there. Abby recognizes the look; it’s how she looks at you. Disappointment can’t be found, but her love for you can.
The most perfect girl for her. Fuck, she’d found a way to ruin it.
You’re really the only person who puts up with her day-to-day shit and you don’t complain. You’re you about it. Incredibly graceful, sort of hurts Abby’s cheeks because it makes her smile so damn much. She’s taken advantage of your kindness, and she needs to make sure she does everything in her power to make amends.
“It’s okay, Abby. Whatever happens, you always have a safe space with me.” Reassuring her while biting into another strawberry.
You’re still so sweet. Fuck, Abby wants to kiss you, hard.
“I really believed I was in love with Owen, I care about him. He was there for me when shit hit the fan. Sometimes, I feel like I owe him because of it.” Abby took a breather as she stepped forward, but you stayed sitting on countertop.
“It’s not fair to you and it is sort of my fault he hates you so much. I just want to protect you from it, but I haven’t done a very good job. It’s really embarrassing for me to admit this.” Abby sighed as she stood in front of you, her big frame standing between your spread legs, a snug spot for her to fit into.
You tilted your head at her curiously. “Just tell me. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”
“It is.”
“Abby?” You questioned her, but still chose to be tight lipped. “If you want to fix this, I need you to talk.” The cocky attitude had evaporated from earlier, leaving you with one you usually got. The girl who was too afraid to kiss you on the first night. Arguably, you like this version of her a little more.
“I, um, so, I sort of kind of used to think of you when Owen and I used to have sex.”
“Um, okay? Is there a reason I need to know this?”
“Well, the reason I think he hates you so much, on top of me kind of being all over you all the time is….”
“Abby, if you don’t tell me right now, I swear to god.”
“Okay, okay.” Abby took a deep breath before she let the confession tumble from her lips. “Whenever we would, you know, I would always kind of sort of, call out your name instead of his.” Abby mumbled, closing her eyes in shame.
“Baby….you’re kidding.” An itch to laugh bubbles, but you’re able to muffle your giggle enough.
“Would you, you know, not laugh at me.” Abby sighs. “See! This is why I didn’t want to tell you. It’s embarrassing.”
“I’m not laughing at you, it’s him. He couldn’t even fuck you good enough to get your poor, gay brain off of me, huh?” Abby let you tease her, your smile, an equal trade for her pride. Her hands glide along your thighs, igniting a fire beneath your skin.
Abby loses the hint of teasing when she responds, “Yes, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I never stop.” Abby took a step forward, your pelvis pressed and to her, legs latched around her toned waist.
“I’m supposed to be mad at you.” She leaned forward, peppering kisses along your neck, you're gripping onto the chain around her neck, your initial engraved on the pendant. Boy, does she make you want to forget about everything as her teeth latch lightly, giving you a playful bite before her tongue soothes over the ache.
“Abs, fuck um don’t you think we should talk first?” Your strong resolve from earlier fading into the tranquility of Abby’s comforting arms.
“Okay. Then, talk babygirl.” She continues to kiss your neck as your neck as you struggle to find your footing.
“I-I just, um, I need…” Subconsciously, your fingers dip into her blonde waves, tugging at the root slightly.
“C’mon, use your words. You did a pretty good job earlier you know, felt a little humiliated back there.”
“Really?”
“What?”
“Abby…It was Dina. I never would have brought Leah up like that. Truthfully? I wasn’t going to bring her up at all.” Abby frowned, lips pouting, clearly frustrated.
She was red, tense, and the jealousy in her gray hues burned bright. Carefully, her hands gripping on your thighs, giving them a light squeeze.
“I didn’t like hearing about another girl kissing you. Someone else who isn’t me…it pisses me off.” Abby sighed, look down at your sweats. “Not hearing it from you just made it so much worse for me.”
With the admission, you tugged her closer to you, resting your hands on her defined traps, caressing the nape of your neck.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have told you and I didn’t.” You tugged her closer, if it was even possible, letting the safety of her arms comfort you. “Dina just wants me to admit to you how I feel. It’s why she said it.”
Abby perked up at your confession, neatly placed in the palm of her hand.
“How do you feel?” She asked, cresting some distance between the two of you, pulling you out of the crook in her neck, a new home you’d taken residence.
“One condition…”
“Yeah?” You grasp her chin, tilting her head up slightly, grip tight.
“Next time we’re fighting, and I ask you to say something, you better speak next time or so help me god…” You trailed off but Abby couldn’t take it anymore. She had been dying to kiss you all night, since you’d done the service of your sweet, skilled mouth eating her out like you were personally starved.
“It’s cute, baby.”
“I was talking. Abby?” She silent as you wait for Abby to respond but she just cocks her head to the side, a smirk plastered on her face.
She leans in, whispering in your ear, “You can keep talking. Just let me return the favor from earlier.”
Abby doesn’t give you much time to respond before she’s removing your legs from around her waist, her pretty honey-blonde hair is thrown into a low bun in preparation as she offers her hand, and you take it as she helps you off the countertop.
Abby catches you, strong arm around your waist pulling your body against her.
“How does that sound? You, bossing me around and giving you a reminder of just why you put up with my bullshit. Yeah?” You come down to your natural height, Abby’s presence even more damning. It didn’t matter if she was taller or just a bit shorter than whoever she was around, the confidence she exhibited was fucking damning.
She’s so broad, big, and intimidating and she’s willing to sink to her knees for you. Abby licks her chapped lips until they become shiny and pink.
Fuck, she has to be doing it on purpose at this point.
You nod but she makes no movement to take this somewhere.
“First, tell me how you feel.” Abby rubs her thumb over your soft skin, caressing your cheek with a delicate touch. “C’mon, I mean I might know but I just need to hear it.”
“I just, I’ve been wanting for us to make it exclusive…just me and you. Tired of hiding, in front of our friends especially. I want you to be my girlfriend.” You admit sheepishly, eyes trained on the floor until Abby tilts your head vertically by gripping your chin.
“Baby, it’s all I want you. Jus’ you and I against the world. Yeah?” Abby’s lips mesh with yours, the fit is perfect as if your earlier problems hadn’t melted away.
They didn’t. They were still there, but you could work through them together. You and your girlfriend, against the world, together.
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#i'm back!#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson fluff#abby the last of us#abby x reader#abby anderson fan fiction
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SOMETHING IN THE WATER | 5 | SHOUTO x READER
SUMMARY: As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems.
TAGS/WARNINGS: mermaid au, interspecies relationships, mating rituals/courting behavior, (sort of) case fic, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns/afab reader
LENGTH: 3.5k of est. 21k, 5th of 8 chapters
It was pollution. No doubt about it.
Under the lens of one of Kamui’s microscopes, the evidence was incontrovertible. The piece of white coral Shouto had brought you sported distinct traces of industrial processing chemicals that had almost certainly contributed to its bleaching, the concentration high enough that it had also probably choked the life out of the nearby environment.
It was high enough, in fact, that you were absolutely floored your team hadn’t come across even a hint of anything similar before. Based on the levels, you should have been finding at least smaller traces close to the area it came from, but nothing you’d found so far had even hinted at anything like this.
Which begged the question, just where in the hell had Shouto gotten it from?
When you legged it back down to the beach, however, both the merman and your sandwich were missing. The only evidence of his presence were the slices of mozzarella that had clearly been picked out of the sandwich, laid out cleanly on the wrapper you’d left behind.
You’d sighed and cleaned your trash up, then slogged back to your room for a shower and a few hours of sleep, stowing the coral away safely to show to your team in the morning.
When you awoke, however, you realized you would have no way of explaining to them where you’d obtained it, and no way to point them any closer to the source of the issue. You resolved to find Shouto as soon as possible to figure out what was going on, hopefully before the scheduled tour of Sunfish.
You rocketed through your morning tasks, and hurriedly volunteered to take over trap checking duty, disappearing out the door before Yu could so much as get out a reply.
You boated north to the reef where you’d first met Shouto, and jumped into the water before you’d even gotten your snorkeling gear on properly, certain the merman would somehow find you. You’d nearly finished checking the trap, kicking off the seafloor to rise back to the surface when a hand seized your elbow, guiding you back up.
Shouto’s handsome face was staring back at you when you yanked off your goggles, his distinctive hair slicked back with ocean water, the scar around his eye a deep pink in the sunlight. Sunlight glittered off the droplets on his skin, making him look even more ethereal than he usually did, and your breath momentarily seized in your chest.
“Hi Shouto,” you said, your face going hot when it came out weirdly breathy. Embarrassing.
A tiny little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and his fingers flexed on your elbow. “Hello,” he said in his deep, even tone.
Even that simple greeting somehow made you flush. You quickly marshaled yourself, trying to remember you had come here with an agenda, not to float here stupidly in the water, staring at him.
“Shouto—that coral you gave me yesterday? One of them has the signs of the pollution I was looking for!”
Shouto blinked, a droplet of water sliding down the side of his straight, handsome nose. Your eyes seemed weirdly glued to it as it reached the edge of his mouth.
“Then you liked it? It had…microbes?” he asked.
You nodded distractedly. “Sort of. Signs of microbial unhealth and chemically-induced bleaching. And I did like it. I think you might have actually solved the whole case for me!”
Shouto’s mouth pulled into a fuller, happier smile, just enough to bare the tops of those sharp teeth. You blinked, momentarily stunned, looking back up into his eyes to find him watching you intently.
“You liked it. My gift,” he said, something strangely smug in his tone. A little thrill raced through you, a frission of pleasure, at having put that expression on his face, that tone in his voice. Your ears went hot, and you pointedly did not think about why his pleasure made you so pleased as well.
“Yeah, I loved it,” you nodded, startled when Shouto’s fingers slid from your elbow to your wrist, lifting it up to his face.
But then in the next instant his expression shifted, his brows furrowing and the edges of his smile dipping. Instantly, you mourned the loss of it.
“But…you are not wearing it,” he said. “Either of them.”
Your eyelashes fluttered themselves in another disconcerted blink. Had…that been a requirement? Had he said that to you, yesterday?
You didn’t think you’d had much conversation between him handing over the bits of coral and you rushing off to the lab with them, but maybe that had been his expectation of what you would do with them. Maybe that was a common merperson thing, and you were too ignorant to think of it.
In fact, you hadn’t even taken the time to ask him why he’d given the coral bits to you, too focused on getting them under Kamui’s microscope like a huge disrespectful idiot.
You flushed, suddenly feeling incredibly rude. Was this a merperson custom you had just flagrantly ignored?
“Am I—? Is that something your people, um, do?” you asked. “Wear coral?”
Shouto nodded, those mismatched eyes still glued to your bare wrist. His fingers carefully shifted to encircle it, like he was replacing the expected bits of coral with his own hold on you. Your face burned and you paddled a little bit harder in the water, expelling nervous energy.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t know. Of course I will wear them, I just need to find some kind of string—” A sudden thought seized you. “Except—-well, Shouto, I need that white coral to prove pollution. I need to show it to my team, and be able to explain where I got it from. They might need to send it off as evidence.”
Shouto’s fingers tightened on you, though you noted he was still mindful of his claws. A hissing noise exploded out of him, and that scraping feeling burned at the back of your throat again, the bioelectric signal of his distaste clear enough.
“It is yours, not theirs,” he hissed, his handsome face suddenly all twisted up.
You could quite literally feel how distressed he was, and your heart throbbed with the realization that you were the cause.
You immediately backtracked, horrified. You shifted in the merman’s grip, twisting your hand to grab his wrist too, and put your other hand to his shoulder, holding him firmly.
“I’m sorry—Shouto, yes of course it’s mine. Of course I won’t give it to them,” you said, trying to angle your face to look into his eyes. “I didn’t realize—of course I will keep it with me.”
To your surprise, Shouto calmed immediately. The snarl faded from his mouth, his lips resuming their normal soft, sweet shape, and his other hand came to rest at your waist, pulling you a fraction closer to him.
“You promise,” he asked, though it was phrased more like a statement than a question.
You had to fight back a shocked laugh at how easily he’d been rerouted, and how unbelievably fleeting and childish that little tantrum had been. A prince of his people and here he was, getting fussy with you!
There was nothing for your exasperated snort, your helpless smile. “Yes, yes, I promise. But you have to help me collect another piece of white coral from where you got it originally. I promise it’s important.”
Shouto’s hands tightened on you, and you found yourself being dragged closer, so that he was holding you up in the water, only inches from the hard planes of his chest. His tail brushed against the inside of your thigh, the scales rasping lightly over the skin there. You went still, a little thrill racing up your spine at his sudden, more immediate proximity.
“You want me to take you there,” he said, his voice suddenly a little deeper.
You blinked. “I—yes? Is that…okay?”
Shouto’s eyes narrowed in on you, and you shifted nervously in his hold as his pupils went a little more slitted, a little more inhumanly focused. “It is an area of some significance to my people, though it is now difficult to get to. Your kind has begun to touch it.”
Your interest piqued. Humans had begun to touch it, alright. Judging by the chemical processing agents left behind on the piece of coral Shouto had given you, you could guess exactly which humans had touched it, too.
“Is it Sunfish?” you couldn’t help but ask, perking up in his hold.
Shouto inclined his head, a movement that brought his mouth almost dangerously close to yours. Your breath choked off in your lungs.
“Yes,” Shouto replied. “The…microbes you are interested in, then…? They are to do with Sunfish?”
You nodded excitedly, eagerly sucking in another breath. “Yes, yes! God, I’m so stupid, I should have told you earlier—anything to do with where Sunfish is operating is of interest to me. We’ve been testing the—um, the microbes to put it simply—around the area but if Sunfish has somewhere we haven’t been yet, that’s what I’m looking to know.”
Shouto looked thoughtful, and a claw trailed absently down the skin of your arm. You jumped, startled.
“Then I will take you,” he said, eyes cutting back to yours. “On one condition.”
You felt your eyebrows raise. Well that was unexpected of him. Who knew mermen knew how to bargain?
“Name your price,” you told him.
Shouto’s mouth quirked then, a hint of a sharp incisor showing, but the rest of his expression was strangely sincere. “I want dinner and a movie,” he said, a claw trailing sweetly, absently down the skin of your arm again. “Like you said humans do.”
You could feel your eyebrows escaping towards your hairline, your mouth going slack. “You want to watch a movie and have dinner,” you repeated, floored.
Shouto inclined his head, the damp strands of red and white mingling with the movement. “You said I would like a movie.”
Damn. You had said that, hadn’t you? But you couldn’t think how in the hell you were going to get Shouto to a movie. It wasn’t like there was a movie theater on this island, and besides that it wasn’t like you could just piggyback a real life merman into one.
You supposed if pressed, you could preload something on the shitty island wifi and then bring your laptop down to the beach and watch things that way. But what if someone spotted the light and came looking? Shouto could disappear quick enough, you had no doubt, but how to explain the laptop?
And then it occurred to you: the inn had a maintenance shed, just off the main office. A sudden image came to you of wheeling Shouto uphill in a wheelbarrow, getting him into the tub in your room, and setting up a few pillows for yourself, and some kind of dinner spread on the floor.
It was unconventional. But then—so was the idea of dinner and a movie with a merman at all.
You stuck out your hand, making a mental note to swing by the maintenance shed on your way back in tonight. “It’s a deal.”
Shouto stared at your fingers, seeming not to know what to do with the gesture, until you took one of his hands in your own, pumping it up and down. He held on for too long after that, those crimson-tipped fingers closing in over your own, warm and wet and strong.
“Then I will take you now, if you like,” Shouto said. “If you are ready.”
You nodded, paddling your feet a little uselessly in his hold, in eager anticipation. Confirmation of Sunfish’s activity, and the chance to see a place meaningful to Shouto and his people. It was a dream come true for any marine biologist.
Shouto let you go, following you slowly as you paddled back to the boat, swimming leisurely, looping circles around you. He helped boost you back into the boat, and then hauled himself up after you on the strength of his arms alone. The back of your neck went very warm, as you watched his muscle coil and flex as he pulled himself in, then looked at you imploringly.
“I will point the way and you will take us,” he said, slithering across the floor of the boat to slide in next to you behind the wheel. He peered at all the meters and dials interestedly, pressing a crimson claw to one.
You had to laugh at the ridiculousness of a merman sitting behind the wheel of a boat, and another wild idea occurred to you.
“Wanna learn how to drive?” you asked.
Shouto’s eyes slid over to you, turquoise and grey pinning you to your seat. “To operate the boat?”
You nodded. Another hot flush crept across your cheeks as a slow smile spread over Shouto’s mouth, those mismatched eyes glittering.
“Yes,” he said. “I should like that very much.”
You gestured him over to your seat, rising out of it as Shouto slid all that heavy muscle your way, the scales of his tail bright and fiery in the sun. He was warm and smelled like salt up close, and you tried not to take note of the way his bicep flexed as he moved to grip the wheel in taloned fingers.
You gave him a brief run through of all the meters and gauges, the fuel level meter, speedometer, the ammeter and engine hours. He seemed disinterested in all but the speed—a typical man, even if only his upper half looked it.
Then you showed him the throttle and how to turn the key to start and what degrees of movement of the wheel at a higher speed wouldn’t send both of you flying out of the boat. And then you sank down next to him, gripping the seat for safety as he started the boat, looking thrilled.
He guided the boat off the reef more carefully than you would have expected, but he grew bolder as you made it out into deeper waters, applying a ton of throttle instantly and sending you falling backwards in your seat. You zoomed across the gentle waves, horrifyingly fast, but unexpectedly smoothly for someone who had just learned. Shouto seemed intimately familiar with the island’s layout, navigating smoothly through some of the shallow channels that gave you an almost-regular heart attack, gliding easily across the waves and not seeming to catch a single one the wrong way.
A thrilled laugh bit out of you, getting lost in the wind as you sped across the sea. Shouto’s mouth pulled into a wider smile, looking pleased with himself, those sharp teeth white in the sun. You found yourself smiling, at the ludicrousness of being driven around by a merprince, and at how much Shouto looked like he was enjoying himself.
In almost no time Shouto was steering you into a shallow cove on the eastern side of the island a couple hundred meters away from where you’d laid out an observation station. As you slowed to a stop you helped anchor the boat, feeling your brows furrowing back down in confusion, the smile slipping off your face.
If there was any level of pollution in this cove then you would have known about it from the nearby observation station. You weren’t sure if Shouto had the right spot.
But as you turned back to him he pointed a claw towards the jut of the land, aiming with certainty. “There used to be a cave through which we could access the lagoon,” he said. “But it is blocked off to us now.”
You stared at him, befuddled. “Blocked off? By what?”
Shouto’s mouth thinned into an irritated line. “By some human invention—I do not know what it is.”
Your eyebrows raised. “Then—how did you get the coral out of this, uh, lagoon if you can’t access it?”
Shouto’s eyes dipped, following your words as your mouth shaped them, looking strangely intent. Your ears went hot.
“I climbed,” he said simply.
You whipped around to stare back at the strip of land rising into the jungle. You could just make out a clearing in the trees where you thought a lagoon might lay. And it was no small distance. Your jaw dropped, imagining Shouto having to drag himself over meters and meters of land to get there.
Your stomach fluttered, the white coral suddenly taking on a new significance if Shouto had gone to such trouble for it. It had to be more than just an area of interest to his people—-it more likely had to be extremely significant if this was the length merpeople had to go for this coral. No wonder he hadn’t liked the idea of you testing it, of you surrendering it and mailing it out and away, if he’d had to pull himself over land like that to get it.
And with this realization, a new, wildly disconcerting thought crept over you, an insane flight of fancy.
Was it possible that Shouto had given you… not just a friendly gift, but something even more meaningful than you had initially realized? If this was a site of cultural significance, and he’d suffered to get the coral for you—did it mean something a little bit more intimate than an exchange between new friends?
Your gaze darted back over to Shouto, sitting pertly in his seat. He struck such a handsome profile, all sleek muscle and delicately carved features, his face carefully-noted and almost supernaturally angelic. His coloring, too, was magnificent, the rose of his scar, the deep scarlet of his scales and his claws. And he was so sweet, and funny, and so very interesting. He was unlike anything—anyone—you had ever seen, and the thought of him fetching you a gift of special significance made an even more blistering wave of heat flare up in your belly.
You rose from your seat, determined to see this lagoon for yourself.
“Alright, you wait here,” you told Shouto, “I’m going to go check it out.”
He nodded, watching you closely as you went to the bag of supplies, fishing out a camera, the log book, your shoes, and a couple pieces of sampling equipment. You stuffed them all in a dry bag, rolling the top down tight and buckling securely.
“You will be careful,” Shouto intone in his deep voice, more an order than a question.
You smiled up at him, nodding your head. “Yes. I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes.”
He looked satisfied with that, and helped lower you down into the water to swim for land. He slithered off the edge beside you, sinking smoothly into the water like a dropped stone, and swam along underneath you, following you all the way until you clambered onto the sand. You hurriedly dug around in your bag for your shoes, stuffing your feet into them still sandy and damp as Shouto looked on.
Once properly outfitted, you followed the beach as it trailed off into scrub and bushes, and then into towering palms, making your way into the jungle. The sun shone brightly through the leaves, painting everything around you in shades of sunlit green, the air under the canopy thicker than on the beach. Your feet slid over the damp sand in your sneakers, a sensation you did not particularly enjoy, but you walked briskly, your curiosity leading you onwards.
In only a few minutes, the trees once again gave way to a small strip of sand, and you spilled out onto the beach of the lagoon.
It was instantly clear to you exactly what Shouto had meant. A large metallic wall dammed off one side of the lagoon, most probably blocking off the underwater channel Shouto had told you about. It had been bolted into the jutting coral and rock around it, sealing off any water flow. Around it, the ancient coral walls of the lagoon were bone white wherever the water lapped at them, disturbingly bleached of color, and you thought the scrub and the trees that had built up over the surface overtime looked a little bit unhealthy too.
Shouto had most definitely gotten his coral from here.
As you looked around your certainty grew, until you spotted the most damning evidence. Only a scant few meters away from where you had come out of the forest, there was a pipe dug into the earth, sitting about a meter above the water level of the lagoon. It was still shiny, clearly new, and it was also dribbling the occasional bit of liquid into the lagoon, as if someone were piping certain substances out and away from the rest of their facilities.
Your heart rate doubled at the sight, and you knew even as you unloaded your equipment to take samples that you had found exactly what you had been looking for.
There was no doubt in your mind that this pipe led back to Sunfish. And Shouto had indeed just solved this entire case.
#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki x reader#shouto x reader#shoto x reader#todoroki x you#character: todoroki shouto
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I COULD KISS YOU — GREG HOUSE
masterlist
pairing: greg house x reader
description: when an offhand comment to praise house for helping you diagnose a patient leads to the silent treatment, you’re both forced to confront the feelings that had been lingering unspoken for too long.
warnings: swearing, angst to a teeny bit of fluff, may be a lil ooc as i’m still iffy on fleshing out how i write the house characters but i’m trying <3
author’s note: had this idea and got excited so bashed it out quite quickly while i was motivated af — hopefully you enjoy !!! let me know what you think
“Gregory House, you bloody genius,” you exclaimed, clenching your fists in excitement, unable to stop the words that came flying out next, “I could kiss you!”
You’d been trying to diagnose your patient for nigh on a week now, and with the young boy’s symptoms rapidly progressing and his condition rapidly worsening, House’s diagnostic expertise provided exactly the breakthrough you needed.
You were ecstatic — mentally piecing together just how he had to be correct — and so without another word you practically skipped out of his office to run some tests and reach the certainty needed to treat the boy as soon as possible.
What House had suggested made perfect sense, accounting for every symptom and every adverse reaction to the treatments you had tried so far, and though you usually mocked his tendency to always smugly assume he was right, at present you were immeasurably grateful for his input.
You were disappointed, then, when you rushed to tell him that the young boy was responding incredibly well to the treatment he suggested and he simply gave you his smug “I-told-you-so” smile and rushed away from you.
He didn’t speak to you again for the rest of the day, choosing instead to actually take time to visit his patients rather than deal with encountering you again.
“What did I do to piss House off?” you asked Cameron, Foreman and Chase shyly as you stood near the nurse’s station with them.
They all just eyed you like the answer was obvious, but Chase shrugged, “When has anyone ever needed to actually do something to piss him off?”
“No, he won’t even talk to me right now,” you frowned, brows furrowed, “It’s weird. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong since this morning.”
The group all looked between eachother, as though deciding who would be the one to have to tell you the honest truth.
“Probably something to do with your little ‘I could kiss you’,” Chase replied, doing a terrible impersonation of you and batting his eyelids flirtatiously as he quoted you, “He didn’t seem to like that very much.”
Your mouth was parted in confusion, “Firstly, I do not sound like that. But secondly, why would he give me the silent treatment for that? Is the idea of kissing me that repulsive?”
Cameron scoffed, rolling her eyes, “You’re both as oblivious as each other, Y/N… He’s ignoring you for literally the opposite reason.”
You shook your head in disbelief.
Was she seriously trying to tell you that House was ignoring you because he didn’t like you joking about kissing him?
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“It’s literally painfully obvious, Y/N,” Foreman groaned, “You’ve had this weird sexual tension going on forever and given that he’s usually bad at giving a damn about people, he gets weird about you. And he obviously has feelings for you, so it rubbed him up the wrong way.”
Chase chuckled, “They’re right. He’s only mad at you because you’re the only person he’s never mad at but you hurt the feelings he apparently has.”
You pondered what he was saying for a moment, trying to piece together whether there was any semblance of truth behind their explanation for House’s weird behaviour.
Truth be told, it was the exact kind of petty and ill-fitting behaviour you’d expect from House.
For such a brilliant man, he could be utterly childish at times, especially if he wasn’t getting his way.
Your relationship had always teetered on the edge of professionalism — he was always making flirtatious comments, he always took your suggestions on board more than the others, always sung your praises to your peers and superiors.
Whilst everyone else was certain it was proof of his feelings for you, you had just thought he appreciated that you never pried into his life unless he offered to divulge information himself, and you were excellent at your job.
Of course, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed your ambiguous relationship, given the crush you had harboured since very early on in your acquaintance. That’s why you always flirted back, always made sure your input was carefully though out, and why you were always singing his praises too.
But it was Greg House — a man who so famously behaved as though he didn’t care about anyone. So of course you didn’t think that things would ever progress past your unprofessional professional relationship.
“Where is he?”
“In his office,” Cameron smiled, “He told me to make sure nobody bothered him, and I think he meant you because he’s still throwing his toys out of the pram.”
You rolled your eyes with a laugh, “God, he’s ridiculous. I’m going to go and talk to him. Or try, anyway. Wish me luck.”
“Is this House we’re talking about?” Dr. James Wilson made an appearance at your side now, his brow quirked in curiosity as he butted into the conversation.
You nodded, “He’s being a baby instead of actually talking to me about why he’s mad.”
You hoped he’d have some kind of more concrete explanation, given that he was the only person House was even remotely honest around.
“He’s hardly an expert at talking about his feelings, is he? Or having them, actually,” Wilson chuckled, “But he’s been grumbling all day. Please do go and speak to him. For my sanity’s sake, if not your relationship’s.”
“Slow down, Wilson,” you scoffed, but though you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at any sort of reference to you and House’s potential relationship, “I’m going!”
You entered the room without even knocking, folding your arms over your chest with a stern expression on your features as you strode towards his desk and stood firmly in front of him.
“I’m busy.”
“Busy being petty and ignoring me?”
He looked up now, narrowing his eyes as he realised you were not going to meekly scuttle away like you had done every other time he’d dismissed you today.
“What makes you think that?” sarcasm dripped from his words, “I just so enjoy spending time getting to know my patients and doing paperwork!”
You huffed out a sigh, frustrated by him already trying to dodge the subject, “Greg.”
“Y/N.”
“Greg!”
“Y/N!” he matched your tone just to challenge you, and you scoffed, “Are you really going to be like this?”
“Like what?”
“So deliberately evasive?”
His lips drew together in a thin line as he eyed you carefully, “How’s your little boy from this morning?”
“You are so fucking frustrating, Greg,” you scowled, “Can we have an adult conversation here?”
He appeared to ponder over another joke to make, but apparently for the first time in his life thought better, as he remained silent and waited for you to continue.
“I’ve been so stressed out about that kid, and you helped me to help him massively — he’s likely to be discharged by tomorrow. I was so happy, so relieved, and I said I could kiss you,” you began, avoiding his gaze at first until your final sentence, “And it was a silly offhanded comment about how grateful I was, but at the same time I honestly could’ve kissed you because I quite honestly want to a lot of the time.”
Oh my God — you’d stunned the Greg House into silence?
Your breathing was jagged, “I don’t know if you’re just being an ass because you don’t like being on the other end of jokes, or if the team actually aren’t just blind hopeless romantics and you actually care about me. But I just wish you’d talk to me instead of doing all this and making me feel like you don’t care at all.”
He pulled himself up onto his feet, grabbing his cane to lean on as he inched closer to you.
“It’s a bit of both,” his voice was low, and you were sure that if you didn’t know him better you might believe him to be shy about telling you the truth, “I’m not good at caring, and I don’t usually like caring, but I guess I do. Sue me!”
You took another step forward, so that you were so close you were breathing right in each other’s faces.
You were trying to be brave and command the conversation, but your stomach was doing backflips as it dawned on you that what he meant was that he really did feel the same about you.
“Why would you go silent on me then instead of talking to me about it?” you bit your lip as you spoke, and caught notice of how his eyes trailed to your lips as you did so.
He swallowed thickly, “Didn’t feel right to. Hardly professional, is it?”
“Oh, because you’re the picture of professionalism usually aren’t you?” you laughed dryly.
“Point taken,” he shrugged, “Maybe I was little scared. And we’ve got a good thing going, it’s a risk pushing things any further.”
You weren’t happy with that, not when this was Greg House — king of taking risks and breaking rules — and you were certain that it was a risk worth taking anyway.
“When has risk ever stopped you?” you asked, whispering now as your eyes darted between his and his lips whilst he mirrored your behaviour.
“Point also taken,” he mumbled, before finally taking the plunge and bringing his lips to yours in a heated kiss that you leaned into immediately.
He quickly leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you to stand between his parted legs.
You pulled back, suddenly aware that anyone could come in at this moment and see you — and whilst the biggest risk here really was endless teasing from the team or a scolding from Cuddy, you did still have some things to discuss too.
You didn’t want to ruin the moment, overcome with giddiness at what had just happened, but you wanted to make your feelings clear; Even if it was to a man who would probably make a jokey remark and underplay his own feelings.
“I don’t know your relationship history, and I don’t care to,” you shrugged, moving your hands to your hips but hardly moving away from him, “Well, I’m not rushing to. I can assume it’s not great, but I just want to take every day as it comes and see where things go because mine isn’t great either. I’m not gonna hurt you, Greg.”
The sincerity in his eyes as he gazed up at you made your heart melt, and you could tell that somehow, some way, you had gotten through to him.
“Don’t make promises you can’t be certain that you’ll keep, Y/N,” he mumbled, before shaking off his own words and standing back up to stare into your eyes intently, “But fine. Because it’s you, I’m willing to try. Provided there’s more of this,” he kissed you again before continuing, “And less of them ogling and concocting their little romantic stories about the lovely doctor Y/N and her damaged old fool.”
You turned around to see the entire team peering through the window, all smiles and whispered chatter at the sight before them.
You raised your middle finger to them, turning back to look at House and stepping back a little from him.
“Unfortunately, those nosey fuckers are not going anywhere,” you rolled your eyes, “If you’re willing to try then we’re going for dinner. Tonight. And we’re going to have a good time, and not talk about this place or about anything you don’t want to.”
He nodded, “I’ll pretend I’m not furious you’ve robbed me of making the grand romantic gesture of being the one to ask,” he cocked his head as he joked, truthfully very much pleased you were the one to ask and confirm that your interest in him was genuine, “But sounds good to me. I’ll wear my nicest tux, eh.”
“Yeah, yeah, ha ha,” you hummed, “Now I’ve got a living patient to go and visit thanks to you. Enjoy your afternoon with that lot,” you gestured to your friends, who were all still stood there watching you, “Good luck. Oh, and pick somewhere to book for us to eat. That can be your grand romantic gesture, hm.”
“Gee, thanks,” he laughed, shaking his head, “I’ll see you later.”
“See you later,” you grinned, swanning out of his office with the biggest smile possible painting your features.
You nudged past your friends as they watched you walk down the corridor, happier than they had probably ever seen you in the time that you’d known them.
They immediately filed into House’s office when you were out of sight, and his head fell back in irritation for a moment despite the smile still gracing his lips.
“Things went well, then?”
“Go away,” he replied, “I’m in a good mood for once, and you idiots aren’t going to ruin that, alright?”
“Woah, okay,” Foreman laughed, “Who are you and what has Y/N done with Greg House?”
———
thanks for reading !!! i hope enjoyed and this wasn’t too ooc lol. let me know what you though pleaaase & if you’d like — feel free to request!
in the meantime, here is my masterlist!
#greg house#greg house x reader#gregory house x reader#gregory house#house md#house md imagine#house md imagines#house md one shot#greg house x you#greg house x y/n#dr greg house
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lasting childhood dream/sweetly shared future
summary: ever since you were little, alhaitham knew what he wanted.
contents: childhood friends!au, fluff, ambiguous relationship at the end (although implied romantic), gn!reader (they/them pronouns used), soft soft alhaitham
cw: food
wc: 1k
a/n: so so sorry for the slow updates :') things will (hopefully !) be picking up momentum again 🤞
“Hey, Haitham.”
Your high-pitched voice calls out to him. He chooses to ignore it.
“Hey! Haitham! Are you purposely ignoring me cause you wanna read? Again?”
A crease forms at his eyebrows–an action that a nine-year-old should never have gotten used to as often as he did–and his hands tighten around the pages of his book. You always did this. Nearly every day, you would choose to sit next to him. He can’t even remember when it started, but soon enough, you had proclaimed him your ‘best friend for life’.
For a child prodigy like Alhaitham, it’s extraordinary how he has no idea why you’ve chosen him to be your designated play partner. You don’t even play like the other kids. He just sits there, reading his book, and you sit there with him, chatting incessantly about whatever it is you want–not like he cares, anyway. (It was food on Monday, an interesting flower you found on Tuesday, and food again on Wednesday.)
He’s never asked you why, and you’ve stuck with him long enough for him to be satisfied with not knowing. It’s not like he’s not curious; he just finds his books more interesting.
“Well, since you’re not answering, I guess I’ll just find someone else to play with!”
You harrumph, turning your head away. However, since you don’t make any move to physically get up, Alhaitham doesn’t look up from the slightly-yellowed pages that he hasn't noticed he's crinkling.
But then, the unthinkable happens. Legs that were previously lounging beside him begin to unfold and rise, a shadow forming over his head. It takes him the time for you to fully stand up for him to comprehend what was happening. His crease deepens further.
“Wait.”
On instinct, one of his hands that was holding onto his book clasps onto yours, his head bowed down. His fringe hides his face, which, for once–however annoying it may be–he’s grateful for, as it means you can’t see the blush readily spreading across his cheeks. Pretending to be more interested in dragon fights and swordsmanship, he all but whispers.
“Stay. I like it better when you’re here.”
Your eyes lighten up, and a large smile breaks out across your face.
“I like it when you’re with me too! And I wasn’t actually gonna leave you. I just wanted to get us some sweets!”
“Oh.”
If he wasn’t already thankful for his fringe, he definitely is now, what with the embarrassment he’s being forced to endure. You can still probably see his ears, which he can feel burning up. Not replying, he lets go of your hand–almost abruptly–and lets you skip away to the local sweets vendor that always exudes a sugary smell.
He watches you all the way. The sun’s shining brightly on your skin, making it glow. Your toothy grin still pervades his mind, and he can feel the blush on his cheeks that never seems to go away whenever you’re around. Or maybe that’s the heat. But then why is his heart doing backflips? And why do those backflips increase in speed when he looks down at the hand that was held in yours? He thinks that they fit perfectly, like two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, and (as much as he doesn’t want to admit it) that he wants you to be around him.
“Stupid thoughts. I only tolerate them because they’re my only friend.”
He chooses to ignore the other thought that his heart seems to tell.
“They’re my only friend. But I don’t mind, because I really only care about them.”
After a few minutes, you come back with that same toothy grin, carrying an assortment of sweet treats for the both of you to devour in only a few seconds. They all blend together into a saccharine scent.
“Look, try this one, Haitham! The person said it was a new flavour!”
He accepts it immediately, taking it gently from your hand and putting it into his mouth. It explodes with flavour–nutty and aromatic, nothing like the sugary syrup of the others. A small and satisfied smile creeps onto his face, his eyes failing to hide his delight. It does get stuck, however, as he tries to get parts of it dislodged from the gaps in his teeth. A giggle interrupts him.
“Haitham, you look really funny! Y’know, I want to have a sweet shop when we’re grown up so that I can make all the sweets you want! Then we can have fun together even when we have to do grown-up, boring stuff.”
You remember to be considerate, and turn to him.
“What about you, Haitham? What do you wanna be when you’re grown up?”
–
Alhaitham doesn’t remember exactly what he said after. Probably a scholar. All he can remember is younger him staring blatantly, mouth gaping open at your questioning eyes, and his heart pounding at your mention of ‘we’. The realisation that you felt the same way as him left him astounded. In that moment, he felt something bloom in his chest, something that he’s carried all these years.
Although he’s not sure whether you ever fully understood how much of a soft spot he had for you. You never even noticed how his headphones were always on the ground, rather than on his head, whenever you were around.
Now, reading his book peacefully, he looks down at his lap and allows himself to smile. You’re going to wake up with a sore neck if he keeps you in this position for much longer, but just for a moment, he wants to admire you.
Alhaitham strokes your hair tenderly, moving it out of your face, nimble fingers caressing your jawline. His eyes soften. How much you’ve meant to him. The years that he’s known you for don’t compare to the amount of gazes he’s thrown your way, so full of youthful longing and yearning. Because ever since you said ‘we’, he’s been able to answer your question. Maybe not in the exact same way he did all those years ago, but an answer that’s been stewing for every year after.
“When I grow up, I want to be by your side.”
a/n: he’s grown on me i can’t lie 😔 enemies to lovers though 😍😍 likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated !! 🩷🩷 (pink heart for iOS finally!)
#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x you#alhaitham fluff#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#genshin fluff#genshin impact fluff#genshin drabbles#alhaitham drabble#this one’s over 1k words so proud of myself#self love ❤️#and PLS ALHAITHAM HOW HAVE YOU DONE THIS#ily 😘
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Would love to see a TR Drabble or one shot about Draken having a little sister, and Mitsuya falling head over heels for his twin dragons sister. Just imagine how annoyed Draken would be at first until it’s brought up he’s dating Mikey’s little sister ☠️
Touché {Mitsuya Takashi}
A/n: that was such a cute idea ngl. Hopefully what I wrote is to your liking! Thank you for your request 🥰
Pairing: Miysuya x fem!reader
Tw: none just pure fluff
Draken should have known. All those random visits at the brothel with the excuse of 'being here to see my best friend', Mitsuya always carrying an extra cardigan whenever you were out with them... Not to mention all the clothes he would give you 'just because he made them to see how his design would look like'.
The signs had always been there, so why on earth was Draken so surprised when Mitsuya told him that he liked you? Maybe it was an attempt to protect you, his sister. But why was he angry?
"You're acting like a child!" It was the first time you had seen Mitsuya argue. And after a few glances between you, Yuzuha and Hakkai you were sure that outside of the battlefield they hadn't either.
"Surely they'll resolve this like two calm twenty year olds." Yuzuha sighed and continued walking.
"I sure hope so because once we meet with Takemitchi, Chifuyu and Emma whatever those two are fighting over will be on the news." You laughed, reaching out to take a handful of chips from Hakkai.
"I think this is the first time I've seen Taka so... confused." Hakkai turned to face you and Yuzuha.
Noticing that your attention was on them, the two boys lowered their voices almost immediately. For the next ten minutes, none of you could even eavesdrop on what they were saying.
"They're been at it for like a day now." Yuzuha and Hakkai's eyes widened at the new piece of information.
But you weren't lying. Yesterday morning, Mitsuya had texted Draken. Your brother had been exercising nonstop to let off some steam after that. It was strange. Really strange. Mitsuya and Draken were the twin dragons of a once glorious Toman. They had never fought with each other.
"Oh I get it!" Mitsuya's voice rose once again out of frustration. Neither you nor the Shiba siblings turned around. "It's fine when you date Mikey’s sister but I can't even ask out yours!"
Was it possible for someone's eyeballs to fall down just like that? You weren't sure but by the looks of it you were going to find put pretty soon because Yuzuha's, Hakkai's and your eyes were as wide as they could get.
But it wasn't Mitsuya's sudden confession that made you turn around. No. It was the fact that Draken hadn't actually come up with a comeback.
"Touché." The three of you muttered along with Draken. "And a good one at that." Your brother sighed.
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#mitsuya takashi#takashi mitsuya#mitsuya#takashi mitsuya x reader#mitsuya takashi x reader#mitsuya tokyo revengers#mitsuya x reader#tokyo revengers mitsuya#writing#anime and manga#anime#tokyo revengers fluff#mitsuya fluff
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YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND—
— co-parenting with alonso has been smooth sailing, until he starts dropping hints that he wants to be with you again
P5 ★ LATE NIGHT DATE DISASTER
amgf almost 3k words i think? i'm back! honestly this was a fun write. mention of lewis and his story enjoy the condom ig? iykyk, also see you for the second half of this story we're almost ending guys 🫡 special chapter tomorrow or maybe later tonight :p
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You don't try to hide the nervous feeling inside your chest, granted it was your first time out on a date with anyone for that matter. And even more so with Alonso, the last time you went on a date with him Ales wasn't in the picture, and even after then— things went downhill for your relationship.
"Lance! You know what to do right?" You call your cousin from your bedroom. He arrived two hours early after Ales' afternoon nap and looked after him while you "prepare for your date." It was unnecessary but grateful nonetheless, Lance gave you a few dating tips in the modern times.
The thought made your eyes roll, it wasn't like dating then and now had any difference, granted the only person you dated was Alonso but it wasn’t that long ago since you went out on a date right?
“You better not use Ales as an excuse to skip out on a date, especially this one because it’s with your baby daddy, co-parent partner Fernando Alonso.” You cringe inwardly hearing your cousin talking about Alonso, knowing they also race for the same team.
“Okay, first off all what the fuck are you talking about. Second, do you actually talk to him like that?” Lance enters the room with Ales in tow, dressed up in matching pajamas with a mischievous look on his face, a telling sign of Lance possibly corrupting his young mind, or you finding another excuse to ditch a date.
“Well… there’s not much of a difference, but I do speak more freely to you than to him. So I’m just saying all this as your baby cousin Lance and as Nando’s teammate Lance. Anyways, we’re helping you outside and watching you from the driveway, are you driving?”
You walk, Lance following you closely behind to the front door, “I offered to meet there but he’s picking me up. A proper date he said.”
Lance nods to himself, “I get it… I mean thinking back of the previous dates you’ve ditched, picking you up would be a sure fire way to have you on the actual date itself. Points for Nando today, soon he’ll get closer to the pole position.” Lance winks before raising his eyebrows suggestively, making you shudder at his stupid innuendos.
“Lance! That’s your teammate for God’s sake, and I’m your older cousin, respect us at least. Pole position? Ugh, you’re such a child. The more words that come out of your mouth, the more you’re convincing me not to leave you alone with my child. You’ll be the one going out the door with Alonso after all this.”
“Hey,” Lance holds his hands up in surrender, “I was joking, I swear no more. I will shut up, look Nando is at the gate already. Would you look at that, it’s time to go.”
Leaving you no time to respond, Lance pushes you out the door handing a purse in your hands, the contents inside are your phone, lip gloss, a small perfume bottle, and a piece of condom. You turn around glaring at your cousin, watching through the glass window, a smirk full of mischief behind them.
You shake your head disappointed, pulling your phone you frantically type a message before meeting Alonso waiting patiently leaning at the passenger door. “How long have you been waiting?”
It was only then that Alonso looked up, “Not too long ago… Wow— Hello. Uhm… you look absolutely stunning, breath-taking.”
A smile grows on your face, “You don’t look bad yourself, it’s been a while huh? This…”
Alonso nods his head, opening the door for you. You sit in the car, as you catch him taking a deep breath then fixing up his suit before entering the car with what seems to be a nervous smile on his face.
Hopefully he’s as nervous as you— sitting up straight, hands building sweat as your breaths shorten the close proximity making you feel as if there’s a limited amount of air for you to breathe. It was new and jarring. You’ve been inside a car with Alonso before, but usually you have Ales or a surgery case in mind, now it’s just you two— not as Ales’ parents but as Alonso and YN.
“I’m nervous… truth be told, I haven’t thought this far ahead, I was stuck between asking you on a date and the ways to convince you. I’ve been scrambling around like a headless chicken on what to do, but I thought about your schedule and wanted to do something more chill and laid-back night out. No stress, fingers crossed.” Alonso laughs, taking small glances in your direction and focusing on the road ahead of him.
Your heart warms at Alonso’s train of thought, his attention to detail of your schedule leaves you in awe. You feel transported back in your 20s as Alonso picks you up from work during your anniversary and opting to stay in instead of celebrating out making sure you’re well rested.
Greeted by the familiar gates of his house, Alonso pulls his car in the driveway, opening your side of the door. “I thought we could eat dinner and talk in the safety of my house, is that okay? I forgot to tell you, maybe we could’ve worn something more casual but what’s wrong with dressing up for the occasion right?”
Taking Alonso’s hands you laugh at his words, “It’s all good, I think the outfits help bring the vibe. I mean where else will I get the chance to dress up outside charity events in the hospital? Thank you for bringing us here, I prefer the comfort of your home as well, and if you’re cooking it might beat whatever food I’m craving at the moment.”
Alonso opens the door, and you are greeted with a candle-lit kitchen, the lights in the living room set to dim with the soft sound of a piano playing somewhere completing the atmosphere of the house. “For some who’s been scrambling like a headless chicken this seems well thought out.” Shrugging your coat off, revealing the back of your dress— Alonso’s breath hitches, taking the coat from your arms. He couldn’t help but stare, especially when you’re looking this good, it would be illegal, the thoughts and words wanting to spill out of his mouth.
“You take my breath away as ever. I don’t think I’ll get used to this.” You laugh at Alonso playfully rolling your eyes, slapping his hands— you try not to get his words the best of you. Despite your heart going over 300 kilometers as blood rushes through your cheeks, you shake your head knowing how well Alonso is with words. “What are you not getting used to?”
“I don’t think I’ll get used to you being the mother of my child.” A small gasp escapes your lips, his words catching you off guard. You tilt your head, unsure of what Alonso meant by his words. “I think I got lucky, despite all that happened, you’re here and I’m spending time with Ales. I’m glad we’re doing this.”
A small smile escapes your lips, nodding to yourself, “I’m glad we worked things out, I think I can confidently say I’m happy of how far we’ve come, not just as Ales’ parents but our relationship has gotten better.”
Alonso laughs in agreement, before ushering you to one of the seats in the kitchen island watching him cook him your meal, catching up on things and what not. It was comfortable, and relieving, as time passes by you grow confident at how things are with you and Alonso. Sipping wine, laughing at jokes, and taking jibes at your situation— two years ago this would’ve never happened, you wouldn’t have let yourself feel vulnerable in front of him.
Two years ago you only saw him as Ales’ father, but now he was your friend, Alonso. You take a sip of the wine as Alonso recalls a story from the past causing an outburst from you ending up in a debate on what actually happened.
“That wasn’t it, Lewis told me what happened between him and Nico.” Alonso glanced in your direction, brows raised at the revelation. “How come you know? I didn’t hear about this.”
You were taken aback, “Lewis called me the night after. and I may have helped him from Nico…”
This time it was Alonso who gasped, leaning on the table waiting for you to tell more about the story, “I saw them fight, and Nico’s sister was there, watching it unfold with me, I couldn’t just stand and watch, I helped Lewis and left. Frankly it was none of my business and neither should you ask me about it.”
Squinting his eyes, Alonso pieces out the timeline before staring right through your eyes, “You were there when she gave birth right?”
You press your lips into a thin line, “I can neither confirm nor deny— patient confidentiality.” Shaking your head, you avoid the conversation all together, thinking back of Lewis and Nico just opened a whole new can of worms you’re not ready to discuss, especially not to Alonso.
Despite your poor excuse, Alonso shrugs, letting you off and dropping the conversation completely. The night was slowly coming to an end, you helped Alonso with cleaning up not before another argument on cleaning up which you won in the end, leaving him no choice and instructing you to wipe the dishes after he cleans them.
You fall into the rhythm of habit that has once been for the two of you, nursing another glass of red as you sit on the couch with him as the night grows deeper. “I’m glad I got to do this with you, especially before the season starts. Maybe we can do this once a week with Ales next time.”
Before the season starts.
Who would’ve thought that it would only take those two words before you escape the illusion of domesticity in front of you like a fish out of water. How long have you been talking without ever mentioning racing, ever? It was only then you realized that you never discussed racing with Alonso since.
You were feeling comfortable because of winter break, in your head he was just Ales’ father— but at the end of the day you’re forced to come back to reality, and he was still racing. And the season was about to begin.
“The season is starting?” You repeat the words out of your own lips, you couldn’t believe it. The small bubble of you and Alonso actually working it out fades into thin air. And you find yourself falling into the same loop, facing the reality that things will never work out for you and Alonso.
It didn’t happen then, and it wouldn’t happen now— especially not now, not until he chooses to race, and as far as you’d like to hold on, patiently waiting for him, you lose confidence in yourself to hold on any longer. With a man like Fernando— he wouldn’t end the blaze his firing up in his career, and as the season starts and holds promise, you doubt he would want to put a stop and end things.
Everything is hard, Alonso is a hard man to keep up with, he’s a beast on and off the track— as much as you’d prefer to have him all to yourself and Ales, you should’ve learned that by now. It’s selfish of you to demand of him, but whenever you see him with Ales, it’s tugging on your heart strings at his best efforts to form a relationship with him— not just Ales, but it’s slowly working on you. But you won’t let yourself forget.
In love there will always be choices, and for you, you’d rather not have Alonso at all if you’ll be sharing your time with him and his damn races. And this time, you’ll choose yourself and Ales all over again. “Shit, did I say something wrong?” You blink, staring at Alonso who was mumbling to himself.
Do you blame yourself for his worries?
At one point you did, but you know Alonso of all people will understand why you choose this, and as much as you want to try, it would be too much of a risk. “It’s about the start of the season right?”
Your silence only confirms Alonso’s worries, “I’m sorry YN, do you want to go home? I can take you-” you shake your head, placing the glass of wine on the coffee table, you up and leave not before grabbing your coat and purse from the kitchen island.
Alonso was much quicker, grabbing your arms, pulling you back in, resting his foot on the door stopping you from leaving. Opening your purse he holds his breath, after catching a glimpse of the condom in your purse, presumably ignoring it, he picks up your phone to message Lance.
“You’re not leaving at this time of night. I know you don’t want to stay any longer, but please wait for a few minutes. I messaged Lance and he’s on his way, please wait.”
Your lips twitch, your emotions and intuition conflicted at Alonso. Only he could set your heart into flames and you’d gladly walk through it if it’s him at the end waiting for you. Like a ticking time bomb, a test for your strength as your eyes wander all over his face.
“You know you can do whatever you want here, and after all of it you’re free to leave.” You suck in your teeth, this is the Fernando you knew— calculative. Proud. You knew he was playing mind games, but you couldn’t just get up and leave, not when Alonso racing causes a big effect on you, you’re on the losing side here.
You step forward, walking towards the door, leaving Alonso no place to go, back flushed at the door, Alonso keeps his eyes on you, daring you to make a move. Inching closer, and closer, you press your body against him, hot breath fanning on his cheeks, keeping your eyes right through his. Knowing well that you can leave and make him want more, you keep your body tight against his, softly grazing your cheeks on the stubble of his beard.
His hands snake behind your back, back arching at the warmth of his hands, contradicting your cool back, lighting you ablaze as Alonso pulls you closer, for a kiss. Wet and hungry, you feel him smile as you smirk at him. Your fingers tingle, throwing them on top of Alonso’s hair, tugging and pulling them as he moves down your neck peppering them with kisses as your head lolls back giving him free range, like a painter presented with a blank canvas.
Your eyes roll, hips flushed against his, you’d gladly let yourself get lost in this moment, you’d gladly surrender yourself in his arms— but as much as you want to stay, the lights of Lance’s car pulling up outside the gate evokes a wake up call from you.
Pushing him away, you hand him the coat before turning around, it seems Alonso isn’t finished as he pulls you in closer for another kiss, whilst helping you put the coat on, pinning your ass flat against his before pressing sloppy kisses all over your neck. It was hot and heavy— head tilted to the side, as your hands ghost over his cheeks before yanking him away from you.
You stand in front of him, eyes staring over his brown ones as you watch a reflection of yourself, you wipe the smudged lipstick with your thumb before smearing it all over Alonso’s lips. You could barely ignore the sound of his heavy breaths leaving you intoxicated. “I guess this is goodbye, Alonso.”
You pat his cheeks softly with a small smile on your face, grabbing your purse and pushing him to the side leaving him frozen as he watches you walk past him, making your beeline to the gate and onto Lance’s car.
“Is everything okay?” Lance asks you as you enter the car.
You nod, not trusting your own words. “Yeah… things— they happen.”
Lance nods, dropping the conversation before driving you back home.
You’ll never catch yourself slipping, not again.
★ YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND — @namgification @nebarious @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @lxclerc @booksandflowrs @c-losur3 @lichterfee @moonyzsworld @e-nonsense @vicurious28 @dannyriccsupremacy @thearchieves @welovediaaxx @vogueprincess @mael1pastry @khaylin27 @whydowesleepeachnight @iridescent-sol
#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#fernando alonso fluff#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso imagine
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A little hope (Part 2) (Lando Norris)
In which Lando realises he learnt a few things in school, and yet the only way to learn about you is hoping you'll have him by your side
Note: english is not my first language. This is part two of A little hope, which got a lot of love, so thank you for that 😊 hopefully you enjoy this ending! Thank you so much for the love on that piece ✨️
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!
my masterlist
Tw: mentions a couple's fight, self deprecation moments, body image insecurity, signs and symptoms of anxiety, online hate comments, sickness, curse words, allusions to smut
Tag list: @myloverjk-blog
Somatic or not, your stomach was not handling any food. The minute you ate something, you were sure to bring if up a few moments later since you had arrived home, "for fuck's sake", you groaned, resting your head on your forearm on the edge of the toilet, taking a deep breath.
When you felt strong enough, you walked back to your bed, noticing the clock was reading six in the morning already. Rolling to the other side, you hoped you'd be able to sleep it off, but when your alarm rung, you felt even worse than before.
Getting your phone again along with your glasses, you opened the Team's group chat, writing a quick text to let them know that you didn't feel well and you wouldn't be able to join them today and that you would try your best to get ahead on the projects you could work on remotely. A few minutes later, Tara and Max texted back.
Tara TQ
I'm sorry to hear that, Y/N, I hope you feel better soon! Don't worry about anything else other than getting better! 💚
Max
Feel better soon, Y/N! Don't worry about work, we've got it!
A good while later you woke up again, feeling slightly better, you had enough energy to eat some plain crackers and drink some tea, feeling that it was actually settling in your stomach for the first time in the last couple of hours.
Taking in the stride, you went to the bathroom, hoping a shower would clean the night sweats away and give you a little boost. Just in case, you supported yourself on the wall, keeping close to it just in case your legs faltered while you let the water cascade down your hair to your back and legs, washing your hair quickly and rinsing your body wash from your skin. You wrapped your fluffy robe around your body and a towell for your hair, laying in bed to rest a little.
Skipping your usual routine, you dressed in some comfy clothes, a hoodie you had stolen from Lando and some plaid pyjama pants, inhaling the comforting scent. That was something you should think about, it wasn't fair to leave Lando waiting for you, and you needed to sort it out.
As if on cue, your doorbell rang, leaving you to think it was the mailman with a package for your neighbours as you would often take it for them whenever they weren't home.
"Hi! Are you Y/N Y/L/N?", a guy that looked a few years older than you checked, "yes, that's me", you squinted, "I have this, it was ordered for you. Enjoy it!", he said as he handed you a takeout bag.
Thanking him, you closed the door, seeing a little note attached to the bag.
This is a little something to help you get better soon. There's some chicken soup, pasta when you feel up to it, something sweet and some tea bags.
Love you, Lando 🤍
Smiling at the little note, your heart squeezed as you realised that the subject shouldn't go past this week.
While you heated up the soup, you grabbed your phone, opening your conversation with Lando so you could thank him.
I just got the takeout bag, thank you. I'm slowly coming back to feeling better, it's probably some forty-eight hour bug and my body telling me to slow down.
I think we should talk soon, whenever you have the time, tough. There's no rush!
I love you ✨️
"So, today we're taking over the stream!", Lando announced to the camera, smiling and waving as the chat went wild.
"We are just going to game, I think, as there has been a change of plans and we don't really know how to follow up to what we had planned to do", Max referred to the planned stream for Quadrant. The original idea came from the fans as they wanted to get to know the behind the scenes of the team, and just for luck, this week was for Graphic Design.
"We're making do with what we have, and as soon as we're able, we'll do the behind the scenes for all the graphic designing things that go on at Quadrant!", Lando smiled sympathetically, the memory of you fond as your message sparked his hope, and the chat didn't seem to mind it too much.
I was hoping to see Y/N and Lando call me single in eighteen different languages, but I really do miss her
I take it she didn't even bother to show up, she's learnt her lesson I guess
Wasn't Y/N supposed to join them?
You can tell by Lando's face that he misses her, they're so cute together
It looks better like this, honestly
Imagine having to call your boyfriend to tell him that you can't show up to work
She probably doesn't even work, Lando has someone doing the job while she sits still and looks pretty
What do you mean? She doesn't even look pretty ??
Maybe she's ill or had something else to do? Can't you people be a little bit more empathetic and kind for once?
Max noticed how his bestfriend's attention was on the chat, looking at the same flood of comments he did before clearing his throat, "so, do we feel like racing or are we leaning towards another game?", he interjected, pulling Lando away from the screen slightly, "you choose, I'm not fancying anything particular. Only that I know that I'll beat you at anything", he chuckled.
Once they ended the stream, Lando tidied the room a little bit as Max switched the equipment off, "is that what you were talking about the other day? About Y/N?", he questioned.
"Yes. We have been talking to the platform managers, but they haven't restricted everything apparently", Max said, knowing better than to not tell him the truth.
"Who do they think they are to say things like that about someone they don't know? I get that I receive such things because I'm out there, but Y/N is barely a public person! She doesn't deserve that!", Lando huffed.
"Have you guys talked about it yet?", he questioned, having noticed that Lando hadn't texted you in the group chat but that he had a spring up in his step that afternoon.
"She texted me today, actually. We've been keeping to ourselves, we weren't in the right mind to discuss what needs to be discussed until now", he smiled, "I'm still unsure of going to see her today or tomorrow, since she's sick I don't want to bother her too much, and I could use someone else's perspective because I have a funny way with words and I don't want to get it wrong because I'm not a book worm and seem almost illiterate on any good day", he admitted.
"That's good, mate! Start going then, we're thinking out loud", Max encouraged, happy to see friend in high spirits. Because he had known him for so long, Max knew how different this relationship was from his past ones. They weren't bad or wrong, and they helped shape Lando into who he is and how he behaves. The way he cared about Y/N was different and Max couldn't find it in him and lie about the fact that he thought the young woman was it.
"Like you said, it's the fact that she's lost her name because of who she dates. All of a sudden, none of her achievements are valuable, worthy or even acknowledged because she's my girlfriend. Our relationship had nothing to do with her employment - hell, I only met her because she applied, otherwise Goodness knows where I would've met the love of my life - and, and I've been doing this thing where I just call her my girlfriend and I now understand that can be discrediting of her, like I just see her as my girlfriend. But the more I think about it, the more I realise I do it out of genuine pride of her. Look at me! I'm a muppet and I drive around in circles in the weekends, and she! That woman, this woman!", he showed him his lockscreen, a picture of the two of you, "she is the most talented person I've met and I'm so proud that I'm hers and she's mine!".
"I think you're underestimating yourself a little, but you've also played above your game", he chuckled, "and about the comments?", he wondered. Even though it wasn't your biggest concern, he knew one person could only muster up so much before letting it get to them.
"Like you said, we'll work with the platforms, if we have her permission we can also put out a statement about it. With her or anyone on the team, we don't tolerate offense", Lando said, "I want to make this as safe as possible, and the fact that it took her for us to notice it is a learning curve".
"Now you just need to be concise about it", Max tapped his back, "I'm sure she loves that babble situation of yours, thinks it's cute and all, but explain well enough", he smirked.
Like he thought, when he texted you to know how you were feeling, he got your reply awhile later saying that you were feeling better and the nap you had was helpful, and then another one saying he could swing by the next day if he wanted to.
Hoping the night made you feel better, Lando texted you the time he was planning to join you, scheduling his training session for the late morning so he could have a good lunch after his shower and get his plans started. You weren't swooned by big dates or big gestures, but rather small meaningful heartfelt things, so he stopped by the pharmacy to pick up some medication to restock your stash and your favourite chocolate.
"Hey, love", you smiled as you opened the door, seeing an equally smiling Lando, "come in, come in", you nudged as he stepped forward, eyes meeting a silently giving consent for a kiss on the cheek.
Silently, Lando left his trainers by the door, walking hand in hand with you to the living room, "are you feeling back to 100%?", he questioned as you sat down on the sofa, on your sides so you could face eachother while his hand played with yours still.
"Yes. I'm glad it's Saturday and I don't have to take any more days, and I can rest up without feeling guilty. And you, how have you been?", you wondered back, not knowing if he wanted to jump straight in the topic.
"I've been well. I was a little worried when you said you were sick, but now I'm better knowing that you're doing well... and that you're ready to tall about us", he blushed, eyes looking into yours.
"I want to thank you for waiting and understanding, and I want to apologise if in this mean time something I did hurt you or made you feel like you weren't welcomed in my life", you gulped, "I'm not used to feeling so little - fuck, I've never been called that - and I spiralled out to the point where I could only think that, through no fault of your own or my own, I'd lose my identity. I'd be Lando's girlfriend, and not Y/N, and I freaked out a little", you explained.
"You had your reasons, love. I'm just glad and thankful that you feel comfortable to tell me how you feel", Lando comforted, bringing your hand up to his lips as he kissed the soft skin.
"I didn't know you felt that way. Maybe I didn't see it or didn't want to see it, the way people were talking about you - and that is something we are going to figure out once for all - but I missed it. Whenever I say you're my girlfriend, it's not because that's just who you are. It's the fact that I'm incredibly proud of you, than I can't believe your my girlfriend and I just say it because I like to show you off, too!
"I learned so much stuff in school despite what I may appear to know, subtracting and multiplying with decimals, all of the capital cities, even though I'm still shit at them, yet, no one taught me how to prepare for this, for you, for how I feel about you. And I'm so proud of you that I tell it to everyone that you're my girlfriend, not because you're just that, but because I love you and you're so amazing", he exhaled out. Even though he had his usually silly tone, there was deep seriousness in his words still.
"You're confident, I love that about you, and to know that indirectly I was the person to put a dent in that makes me wonder if you should stick around me, because I don't want to ever hurt you. And maybe this is selfish, but I don't want to live without you. Now that I've known what it is like to have you in my life, to be yours, I don't want anyone else", he gulped at his own admission. Throughout the years, he learnt about vulnerability and came to terms with his own. Right now, it was bare for anyone to see.
"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't your own person, and I'm sorry if I did anything to hurt you or disrespect you", he sighed, seeing your watery eyes, "no tears, baby, I can't stand to see you cry", he whispered, cleaning the stray tear that made it's way down your cheek.
"I love you, Lando. I'm the luckiest girl to be able to see you for you, no titles or sponsorships, just you, around your friends and family, see your vulnerability, and I'm the luckiest because I get to be loved by you. So many people around you love you, and I get to be one of those you love back", you scooted closer to him, hands cupping his cheek before you kissed his lips.
"I always want you to be honest with me, baby. Anything you need to tell me, we will fix it, I know we will. I love how you always cry when Boo and Sulley hug for the last time in Monsters Inc. no matter how much times you've seen it, because you always let me know how you feel, and I want that for us. I'll show you how I feel too, and you can nag me when I don't. You're it, Y/N, no one else", he stated, "things people are saying about you are not okay, but Max and I, and the media team, too, are working on something".
"I don't care about who you've dated before, genuinely. But the fact that I'm bombarded everyday with comments regarding my body or my job from people who don't have any knowledge and only want to hurt, it's hard", you admitted, keeping your promise of showing him how you felt.
"You shouldn't because I don't either. I'm with you, and I plan to be with you for as long as you'll have me. I love you, I love your body, I love your personality and everything that you are", he said, getting up as he pulled you with him.
"Up", Lando said as he tapped your hip, helping you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, "where are you taking me?", you giggled, your hands coming to the nape of his neck and fiddling with his curls, "I'm taking you to the bed, and I'm going to love on you for the next couple of hours. We are going to have slow and soft sex, love making if you will, just to show you how much I love you and how much you mean to me".
#lando norris imagine#lando norris fluff#lando norris x reader#lando norris fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic
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I dunnu if I'm asking right but Spencer with injured knee who feels bad that his gf is taking care of him so much but he's horny and he's also kinda feeling shy asking her to take care of his lil problem but she ofc delivers.
On a side note: cane spencer drives me insane ok thank you <3
yes yes, you asked right!! what a wonderful first request THANK YOU I LOVE YOU hopefully this inspires more people to request pls pls PLS im actually begging atp. anyway, im so loving this request and tell me why i was thirsting over spence w/ a cane literally last night we’re on the same wavelength rn anon ilysm. i hope this piece satisfies you! i actually strayed a lil bit from the prompt, in this spencer doesnt outright ask. i hope that okay eeee but if you want me to do another where he DOES actually verbally ask, i would love to do that, too. fair warning idk if this is still a "drabble" LMAO its 2.6k words i couldnt stop myself, but here you go, my love :] i hope you enjoy
SMUT, afab!reader, description of female anatomy, oral (male receiving)
It’s some odd hour of the night, the sounds of a black-and-white film Spencer’s not quite paying attention to playing on your laptop intermittently gets interrupted by the hoot of an owl perched on a tree somewhere in the distance. You pay it no mind, engrossed by the inviting images flashing before you as you absent-midedly trace figurines onto Spencer’s clothed leg. The two of you were nestled on the couch in his living room, your head resting in his lap after triple-checking you would be far enough from his injury and that he was comfortable. Although he tried his best to repeatedly reassure you, his current shifting began raising your doubts again. Your fingers abandoned their dancing right above his knee as you pushed your body up, leaning your weight on your hands placed firmly on the cushion to crane your head and look at your boyfriend
“Spencer, honey, what’s wrong?” Your voice was warm and full of worry, the timbre washing a feeling of love and desire over the doctor's body, sending a shiver down his spine.
“N-Nothing’s wrong,” he started with a stutter, clearing his throat before continuing, “why’d you move?” you were vaguely aware of his eyes darting down before meeting yours again, but you waved it off, figuring he was just caught off guard. In actuality, Spencer was trying his best not to stare at your mouth-watering cleavage pouring over the neckline of your lounging shirt, deliciously pushed up by the position of your arms.
“I moved because you keep moving, silly. Is your knee hurting again?” Your hand reached out to resume their traces, this time ghosting the top of the ailed joint, your gaze moving along with it. “Maybe it’s time to put some heat on it, hmm?” you mumbled to yourself and before Spencer could even object, you were moving off the sofa and toward the kitchen.
As soon as you were out of the vicinity, Spencer’s head fell back against the couch with a soft thud, a groan of frustration rolling out of his throat. You had been taking such good care of him since his knee got shot last week, refusing to let him do anything by himself. He tried to stop you at first, but you explained to him how rewarding it was to you.
“I enjoy taking care of the people I love, Spencer,” you said with a serious look in your eyes, his face cupped gently between your palms, “I enjoy taking care of you. Please let me?” your words became quieter as your face inched closer to his. Spencer sighed at the feeling of your hands starting to card through his hair
“Okay, if you insist.” he sighed against your lips, finally giving in. The giggle his response drew from you drowned Spencer’s heart in ecstasy, and he decided he would simply return the favor some way, some time in the future.
That’s not what was frustrating him, though. It was how incredibly turned on he had been feeling the last couple days. The guilt of you having to take care of him, even if it’s something you wanted to do, prevented Spencer from touching you and he hated that. When it came to you, his lovely, kind, caring, thoughtful partner, all he wanted was to put his hands on you- sexually or not. Peppering your jaw with kisses, nuzzling his head into your neck, caressing your back as you rested on him, pressing his nose into your clit as his tongue delved into your folds; he lived for all of it. Even as you laid your head in his lap, he held back from massaging his fingertips against your scalp out of guilt and fear. He didn’t want you to feel like he was taking advantage of you, or pressure you into servicing him, if you will; even though he wanted it so bad and you were so close to his crotch it was making him crazy. Like a madman, he craved to touch you, to feel you. Your bare body pressed against his, nails scratching down his shoulders, your lips sucking his balls into your hot mouth, wet cunt spasming around his twitching cock. He knew none of that would happen, you reminded him as much after a check-up at the doctor’s office
“The doctor said no physical activity, remember? I can’t have you moving around, honey.” you said to him with a pointed look after the two of you had returned home where one kiss led to two, becoming deeper and more passionate. You pulled away before it could go any further and dutifully reminded him.
Since then, you mellowed down. Of course you gave Spencer massages wherever you felt he could use one, but you kept your kisses to pecks and made sure to stay on your side of the bed at night. Safe to say, Spencer was feening.
He shut his eyes tight and ran his hands through his hair, trying to compose himself before you came back into the living room. “Come on, get a hold of yourself.” he grumbled quietly, slapping his fingers against his cheeks in an attempt to drill it into his head. The sound of your light padding drew him back to the moment and you emerged into his eyesight with a tray.
“What’s all this?” Spencer let out a breathy chuckle, shifting to sit forward a bit more, as much as he could with his injured leg propped up on the table (on top of two pillows, as per your directions).
“Well,” you started after setting the tray down next to the laptop, standing straight to admire your handiwork and huff stray strands of hair out of your face, “I was in the kitchen getting the hot pack ready, so I put some snacks together. And then I thought maybe you could use some tea! It’s just an herbal tea I put together earlier- it’s mainly willow bark, but I also used some ginger and cinnamon. It’ll help with the taste while helping you heal, too!” you clapped your hands together in excitement, holding them against your chest like a giddy toddler. Spencer couldn’t help but laugh lightly, pride swelling in his heart, joy stretching a smile from ear to ear.
“I love you.” Was all he could say as he stared up at you.
You laughed at his dumbfounded reaction, lightly pushing his shoulder. “And I love you, too.” you smiled back at him before leaning over to hand the cup of tea to him, “I want you to get better fast.” you said matter-of-factly, this time duly noticing Spencer’s eyes fixated on your breasts. As you bounded over to the other side of the couch, you bit your lip as dirty thoughts of Spencer flooded your mind. Even though you’ve been doing your best in controlling yourself, you still missed him. A pout couldn't help but mold your lips every time you gave him a short and simple peck or you restrained your hands from traveling over sensitive parts of his body when massaging his shoulders.
You leaned back, body facing Spencer as you watched him sip on his tea. “How’s it taste, hon?” your voice had an unplaceable hint, causing Spencer to look over at you.
If he had taken a larger sip, the tea would have surely been spat out of his mouth as Spencer’s eyes met your figure. You were draped over the arm of the couch like a centerpiece, head tilted curiously to the side as your fingers played with the buttons of your thin satin shirt, a couple more popped open than before. He could see the edging of lace peeking out, beckoning to him, the shape of your pearled nipples begging to be free from their restraints. Spencer’s dick twitched in his pants.
“U-um,” he stuttered, shakingly putting the cup back on the table and averting his gaze from you. Spencer wiped his hands on his thighs, “G-good. It-” an audible gulp pierces his sentence, “Yeah, it’s nice.” He tries to lean back and focus on the movie still playing in front of him, but your movement from the corner of his eye has a grip on his attention.
You basically crawl over to him, the leather couch creaking as you settle as close to his body as you can. Side pushed against the back cushion, your legs tucked under you, knees pressing against Spencer’s thigh. He begins to squirm, trying to ignore the tent growing in his pants- but you don’t.
“Oh, baby,” you rasped seductively, one hand reaching out to press against his thigh, the other tucking his long hair behind his ear, “do you need me to take care of you?”
Spencer let out a shaky breath, the feeling of your hand so close to his crotch immediately caused his eyelids to drop close. The beginnings of a whimper bubbled up in the back of his throat, but he contained it. He didn’t trust himself to speak, residing to vigorously shaking his head.
“No?” you demurred with a quirk of a brow, fingers waltzing over to graze his hardening cock, “It doesn’t seem like that’s true.” you lean closer to him, breasts pressing against his arm as you whisper against the shell of his ear. “It’s okay, baby, you can tell me.”
Against his wishes, the whimper broke free from Spencer’s throat, sauntering like music into your ears. You hummed in delight at the reaction you’re eliciting from Spencer as his head rolled to bump into yours; his hands shoved under his hands, veins in his arms bulging as he tried his hardest to hold himself back. His bottom lip is trapped in between his teeth, chest rising and falling at a quickened pace to keep up with his ragged breathing as your fingers fully grip him, palm slowly grinding into his base.
“No!” he blurted out, “It’s okay, you don’t have to. You- oh! You already do s-so much for me. Besides, we can’t, you said…you said so yourself- mm-mhm!” a piteous moan cuts his sentence off and you can’t help but revel in it.
You think back to the conversation he references, shaking your head when you find a loophole, “I said you couldn’t move…That doesn’t mean I can’t still take care of you.” with a smirk you shift slightly, moving your hands to push at the waistband of Spencer’s plaid pajama pants. Before you could get it down even an inch, Spencer’s hands fly up to grab your wrists.
The way he crooned out your name had your eyes whipping to meet his, confusion welding your features, “You r-really don’t have to,” Spencer swallowed hard once again, but his voice was steadier than before, more firm, “I feel so bad, you’ve done so much for me. I…” a second passes as he tries to find the right words, “I feel so guilty for making you do this. I shouldn’t even be so turned on it’s wrong-”
You cut him off before he can go on, your hands moving to gently grasp both of his as you attempt to reassure him, “Spencer, you’re not ‘making’ me do anything. It’s not wrong at all. I want to- I want you. I miss making you feel good, baby. It’s okay to be turned on, won’t you let me help you?” One of your hands caresses his cheek, thumb shifting to trace under his bottom lip. “I’ll be careful, I know exactly how to make you feel good without you having to move a muscle.” Your once reassuring voice is back to dripping with desire as you whisper against the corner of his mouth, reeling Spencer in with ease.
He moans at your words, nuzzling into your palm and he digests your words. After a couple seconds go by, eyes flitting between each of yours to confirm your feelings, he caves in, “Please…”
His breathy plea spurs you onward and you make quick work of pulling down his pants just enough to let his cock spring free. The sight of his unbelievably hard, thick length hitting his abdomen was drool-worthy. Spencer sighed at the feeling of the cool air slicing the leaky head of his dick. He rested his head back against the sofa, watching you through heavy lids. You adjusted your position to get more comfortable before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his tip, looking up at Spencer to watch his face. “Remember,” you started with a wicked smile, a single finger drawing up the underside of his length, “don’t move, honey.” And with that you descended onto his cock.
Ideally, you would have taken your time, but you were a starved woman. As soon as the head of Spencer’s cock passed your lips, you were moaning. You couldn’t even look up at him as you usually loved to do, losing yourself in the feeling of his fat cock stretching your lips. You sucked him in, first working the top half to warm yourself up, swirling your tongue around the tip, pressing into his sensitive spot, before swallowing down the rest. Obscene sounds filled the fervent air of the apartment, the salacious music emanating from Spencer’s throat proved to be the icing on the cake.
His hands were balled up, one desperately trying to hold onto the leather of the couch while the other fisted the fabric of your shirt, knuckles pressed against your back. Spencer felt like he was ascending to heaven, each suck of your lips, lap of your tongue, moan around his cock, had whimpers and unintelligent pleas mumbling from his mouth. “Yes, yes, yes!” was the only coherent sentence he could form. He didn’t hold back, either, paying no mind to whether or not his neighbors would be awoken.
His head thrashed against the back couch cushion as the desire to buck up his hips heightened. Your palms pressing into the top of his thighs, nails digging into his skin, prevented him. Still, you deftly bobbed up and down his long cock.
“A-ah, please! More, more, pleasee!” he whined out, his entire body shuddering from the pleasure. You moaned in response, not waiting any longer to burrow down on him, his length reaching even further down the back of your throat until your nose hit the dense plat of curly hair covering his base. “Oh my fucking God” Spencer groaned, his hands flying to rest on your head, fingers tangling into your hair, but not pushing you down. You stayed there for a few seconds, nails grounded further into the flesh of his thighs, allowing Spencer to feel the way your throat contracted around his cock. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” he breathed out, pushing your hair out of your face to look down at you properly. The view of you completely consuming him, eyes rolled back into your head, tears pricking the corners, brows furrowed in concentration as you fought your gag reflex and moaned around him almost had Spencer cumming down your throat right then and there. He would’ve, too, if you hadn’t released him from your mouth with a squelch, moving up closer to his line of sight, panting to catch your breath.
Spencer tried to thrust his hips up, but you held your weight down on him. “Oh, baby,” he whined out, cupping your face with both his big hands. You stared at him with a fucked out smile, chin covered in a mixture of your drool and his precum which you then wiped at with the back of your hand. “Please,” he whined, his splayed fingers pressing into the side of your hairline and your neck, “I’m so close. Wanna cum so bad…” he pulled your face to his and dove into to engulf your lips with his. He moaned into the deep kiss, tasting himself on you. Much to his dismay, you pulled away just a couple seconds later, leaving your lips against his to whisper:
“You wanna come in my mouth or in my pussy, baby?”
A/N: and, scene!! thank you again, anon, for being my first request, this was so fun and i actually finished this in one sitting just for you! anyone want a pt.2 where reader rides spencer??? wink wink :D also why do i have this scenario in my head when reader is absent-mindedly like...stroking spencer's cane LOL but it just turns him tf on cuz hes like omg i need you to do that to my dick pls HAHAHA
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a life eluded | l.mh, h.js
wc: 6.5k
genre: soulmate au; reincarnation au; fluff; angst; poly!minsung x reader
cw: pov hopping; anxiety/panic attack mentions; food/eating mentions; Bee (I still feel like they need a warning); all soulmates are gn (they/them pronouns) for sake of future storytelling; past life memories in italics; please please let me know if I missed anything🫶
if you’re new here, start from the beginning: a life forgotten
Soulmates can be a painful thing. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop yourself from running away.
Riley had left you with a hug, two phone numbers hastily written on a paper towel, and a promise to meet up soon. You and Lia counted off ten minutes before leaving as well, hopefully giving you enough time for Riley and any possible companions to be long gone.
You thought the idea of reaching out to them would scare you, but the more you looked at the numbers, the more you wanted to talk to them. You assumed Bee was the one that had yelled at your soulmates, drawing their attention off you long enough to make a break for it.
They’ve been looking for you for a long time.
Riley’s words found themselves on repeat in your head, not letting up even slightly. How could they have been looking for you if they’d never met you? They couldn’t possibly have known you. But they still noticed your absence. Enough that it weighed on them, caused them to seek you out even without knowing who you were.
They’ve been searching for their ‘missing piece’ about as long as I’ve known them.
Their missing piece. Not a burden, not a hitch in all of their plans, not some unforeseen unfortunate circumstance. You were included in their future long before you even knew of your past, they’d been attempting to seek you out for far longer than you’ve been avoiding ever finding them. In their minds you were the final piece of an extensive puzzle. Their final piece.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were typing both numbers into your phone and creating a group chat.
Y/n: you didn’t tell me which number belonged to who so i just made a gc, I hope that’s alright.
Unknown Number: Who are you and how’d you get these numbers?
Unknown Number: shut up Bee, I already warned you about this. sorry Y/n, I was rushing a bit, this is Riley and the other number is Bee’s :)
Bee (Changbin’s soulmate): WAIT!!! YOU’RE MINSUNGS THIRD?! THE ONE THAT RAN AWAY EARLIER?!
Riley (Bang Chan’s soulmate): Bee istg
Y/n: uhhhh yeah, I suppose that’s me
Bee (Changbin’s soulmate): I would’ve run away too, those idiots are so loud
Riley (Bang Chan’s soulmate): you are actually not allowed to talk, I think the only person in existence that can rival Bin’s loud ass is you. the both of you together are my eternal migraine
Bee (Changbin’s soulmate): SHUT UP WE AREN’T THAT BAD
You couldn’t help the laugh that wells up in you at their banter, after that you fall into an easy rhythm talking with them. They understand you in a way you’re not sure any of your friends ever have.
It didn’t take even two days messaging back and forth for the three of you to make plans to meet for coffee, Bee going on about how unfair it is that you met Riley already. You thought you’d be nervous, you spent the whole morning getting ready waiting for the nerves to hit. These were the soulmates of not just two international idols, but close friends to your soulmates who were in the same group. Everything about the situation should be sending you into a spiral of anxious thoughts, but instead you felt more at ease than you do going to dinner with Lia.
“You look hot, where are you off to?” Your neighbor asked as you were locking the door.
“Coffee with some friends.” It felt too natural, the way friends rolled off your tongue. You hadn’t even met Bee yet.
“Be safe babes.” Your neighbor smiled, entering her own apartment. You weren’t close with your neighbor, but you always looked out for one another. Living alone wasn’t always safe, so having someone who would notice your absence was always a comfort thing for you.
The coffee shop decided on was a twenty minute walk from your apartment, you spent the whole time thinking over everything. When you had found out about your soulmates, one of your biggest concerns was the fact that there were others like you, soulmates of idols who knew who they were supposed to be with and couldn’t get to them. Or worse, that there were friends of yours, people who were the soulmates of the people you knew you had some cosmic bond with, people important to you that you’d never get the chance to remember.
Due to Stray Kids popularity, you got to have your memories with your soulmates members, the memories of how close you were to each of them as well in every lifetime, but knowing they had soulmates, that you likely were very close to their soulmates, that you couldn’t remember them, devastated you.
And now you were meeting two of them for coffee. The memories with Riley had already started to slowly trickle in after the short time you spent with them in the bathroom, you knew more would start engraving within your deepest memories after more time spent together. The two of you were close in every lifetime, it gave you hope that everything would work out in this one as well.
“Y/n!! Run!!’” Riley laughed, hand holding tightly on yours as the two of you sprinted away from the lady chasing the two of you with a broom.
“Get out of here, street rats!” The lady called after you.
After several twists and turns to make certain you were securely away from any possible danger, you both sat against a wall to catch your breath. You started giggling, causing Riley to look at you as if you’d grown two heads.
“What are you-?” Riley trailed off as you produced two small pieces of bread you’d managed to snake while Riley distracted the mean lady. Riley’s eyes lit up before laughter filled the space coming from the both of you.
You each enjoyed your pieces of bread, savoring the taste and the feeling of something on your stomachs, just sitting in comfortable silence with one another.
You’d shared your whole lives running the streets, keeping each other alive and moving, and you always thought it’d just be the two of you, until Riley found Chan and your lives got thrown upside down.
You stared at the sign of the tiny rustic looking cafe. It was the type of place you’d go to every day if you knew it existed. Now that you did, you couldn’t imagine not regularly spending time there. You knew deep down, if all went well today, you’d be spending a lot of time there with Bee and Riley.
A bell jingled above the door as you pushed it open.The whole place radiated comfort and you felt at ease instantly.
“Welcome in, I’ll be right with you!” A cheery voice called from what you assumed to be the kitchen.
“Y/n! We’re over here.” You found a table in a small nook surrounded by books where Riley and Bee were sitting, drinks already ordered. “We didn’t know what you might like and Sage already knows our usuals, but we were waiting for you to get food.”
Before you could take one of the open seats between the two, a short person with a bright smile, freckles, and long hair brushed to a shine seemed to dance toward you, hands wiping at their apron, they reached one out for you to shake.
“I’m Sage, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their grip was firm despite the dainty tinkle of their voice.
“Y/n.” You smiled in return.
“What can I get ya, Y/n?”
You order your drink, you, Riley, and Bee also putting in your orders for food, and just as fast as Sage had appeared, they’d disappeared back into the kitchen. Taking your seat at the little table, you took a deep breath before looking up, only to find Bee and Riley already staring at you.
“So like, when are you gonna finally meet your boys? OW! Fuck Riles, what was that for?!”
Riley pinned Bee with a pointed glare.
“Are you avoiding your soulmates?” Sage asks, gently placing your cup in front of you and taking the last seat at the table.
You turn beat red at the accusation. “Not exactly.” You mumble.
“Totally is. They found each other young so they’ve had five years together already and now this one seems to think they’re going to ruin everything, even though Min and Ji already know about them and have been looking for them.” Bee stated, sipping out of their own cup. “OW! Fuck, why are you guys always attacking me!?” This time, Bee glared at Sage instead of Riley.
“Because you make yourself an easy target. Listen, Y/n, if there’s one thing I’ve learned while owning this shop and spending way too much time people watching, it’s that no matter how hard you try to fight it, you’re meant to be with who you’re meant to be with. That's just the reality. If you were going to ruin their lives just by them finding you, you wouldn’t be their soulmate. Simple as that. Min and Ji have been in here a few times with Chris and Bin, they’re good ones, I guarantee you could never regret letting them in.”
“Your parents made a good choice with your name.”
Sage grinned, gently lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s a fun name to live up to.”
With that, Sage disappeared into the kitchen once again.
“They’re right though. I don’t think you could ever regret letting them in.” Riley smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand.
“Sage doesn’t know the boys are idols, do they?”
The way they called all of them by names Riley or Bee would refer to them as instead of any full name or stage name struck you as odd. Either they didn’t know or they were the bands inner circle, that thought making a strange sense of insecurity rise up your throat.
“Nah, Sage doesn’t really do technology and only really listens to the radio their grandfather had is his restaurant. They know next to nothing about the idol world, which is why the boys like coming here so much, it’s peaceful and off the beaten path.”
You nodded, sipping your drink. You could understand that, especially with the boys being idols with soulmates, a quiet coffee shop with next to no attention on it is the perfect place to be able to have uninterrupted time together.
Shifting in your seat to look around the small shop more, you found yourself wondering what your soulmates thought of the cozy shop and its somewhat eccentric owner. What were their regular orders here? Did they like having a regular order or did they change it up? You found yourself wanting to know how they decorate their rooms, if they like to read, what they like to watch. You wanted to get to know your soulmates personally in this lifetime, not just what you know of them from every life passed.
A few weeks ago, a few days even perhaps, that would’ve terrified you. You would have found yourself thinking of Jisung and Minho, and these thoughts plenty, but you always shut it down knowing it was fruitless, you wouldn’t get the answers anyways. But now that was different, now they knew you, now they wanted to get to know you just like you wanted to get to know them. Now everything was different, and the two men you love of your memories have a chance to become the men of your present if you so chose.
While losing yourself in the thoughts, zoning out the conversation happening between the shop owner and your fellow Stray Kids soulmates, your eyes landed on a gorgeous trellis made of wood and covered entirely of vines and flora, reminding you painfully of the arch and altar at your wedding to the two men in one of the very first lives you had a memory of.
“Do not fret, Y/n. No one is going to show up to ruin your marriage tonight, and even if one were to try I am almost positive Changbin and Bee would stop them before you even knew about it.” Sage smiled at you over your shoulder in the mirror, helping you lace up the back of your outfit.
“My father disowned me because of this wedding, it isn’t entirely implausible for him to not try and put a stop to it.” You sighed, worrying your fingers.
Sage pulled the straps a notch tighter than they needed to go, causing you to yelp and stare at your friend incredulously. “None of that.” Was all that was muttered before you were released and spun around, Sage’s hands finding their way to your shoulders. “Now, you are going to get out there, you are going to marry both of your incredible soulmates, and you are going to let your very oafishly protective elders stop anyone who threatens a bond as beautiful as the one you share with Minho and Jisung. Do you understand me?”
All you could do was nod, tears already welling in your eyes, as you pulled Sage into a tight hug. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Oh goodness, have the waterworks started already?” Bee teased, leaning casually on the doorframe. “You look great, Y/n. And if you’re ready, so is literally everyone else.”
Squeezing Sage one last time, you smoothed out the non-existent ruffles in your clothes before exiting the building, finding Chan holding a bouquet and waiting patiently leaning against the outside of the tiny cottage. When he looked at you, the emotions welling in his eyes were all you’d ever wanted to see from your father, and while a part of you wished he would have accepted your soulmates, you're more than grateful for Chan stepping up to such an important role.
“Are you ready?”
“More ready than I have ever been for anything.”
And with that, you were led out into the field, to the altar put together with wildflowers and plants, to your soulmates eagerly awaiting you to join them, to the life you’d never regret despite what your father anticipated.
Because standing there under the floral arch, Jisung’s hand in one of yours and Minho’s in the other, you knew you could never regret them in anything for even a moment.
Minho watched as his lover paced incessantly back and forth in the cutie dorms living room.
Bee and Riley had informed them that they were in touch with Y/n, their third soulmate, and that they were going out with you for lunch today. Riley refused to tell either boy where they were going, knowing Jisung would show up without hesitation and that Minho would just to avoid leaving Jisung alone in any way.
“What if they decide they don’t want us?” Jisung finally spoke the words that had been weighing on both boys since you disappeared a few nights prior, and even more so since finding out you’d been in touch with Changbin’s and Chan’s soulmates.
If you were in touch with the other soulmates, you could have found Minho and Jisung easily at any point. If you were in touch, one of them found you that night, which means you were likely mere feet from Jisung, as he had been with Riley. There were questions flying through Minho’s head at the same rate as he could see them in Jisungs eyes, but he had to remain calm for his lover, if they were to both spiral, no one would be able to calm Jisung.
“They’re not going to decide that, Sungie. They just found out they have two soulmates, you can’t tell me it didn’t take us a while to process that one too. They’ll find their way to us when they’re ready.” Minho pulled the smaller boy into his arms, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of his head.
“What if they’re never ready, Min?” The youngers voice was soft and shaky, Minho felt his heart break at the sound.
“We can’t think like that, Ji. Y/n is having lunch with two of our family at this very moment, if they were never going to be ready they wouldn’t have agreed to that.” Minho tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine at saying your name aloud for the first time in this lifetime, he tried to ignore the peace brought to him just by your name alone. His hold on Jisung tightening, his head burying in the youngers neck. “We’re going to be okay.” He promised, ignoring the persistent what ifs echoing in the back of his head.
What if Jisung was right? What if you were never ready? What if you never chose them because of who they are in this life? As much as Minho wanted to negate those thoughts, memories of lives that turned out exactly like that made him question if this would be one of them.
His hand tightened around their wrist, trying to pull them back to him. “Why do you keep running away?!”
“Because I have to!” You cried, finally turning to Minho, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I have to.” Your voice breaking on every word.
“You don’t have to. You can stay with me, we can figure it out.”
“Figure what out? Minho, soulmates are not the end all be all. As much as I would love to just run to you, run away from everything but you, I have responsibilities. I can’t just do what I want, not in this lifetime. We’ve found each other, awesome, great, we’re still in two completely different worlds. You’d be better off trying to find the one missing from our memories, you’d have a chance to have a life with them, to be happy with them. Do that Minho. Find our third soulmate, forget about me, and be happy. Because I can never be, that’s just not how this life played out for me.”
“You’re telling me that despite everything, you’re not choosing me?”
“God why do you have such selective hearing?! I don’t get a choice Minho. I never did! I was born into the fucking mafia, people don’t get to just walk away from that simply because they found their soulmate.
“Soulmates are a weakness just waiting to be exploited, you’ll live your whole life constantly looking over your shoulder, constantly in danger, because of me. Is that really what you want for yourself? For whoever we’re missing? Is that the life you’d choose for someone else? Because I wouldn’t choose this life for anyone and I am begging you to leave Minho. Get out while no one knows, get out while there’s no chance for them to know.”
“But I’ll know.” He hated how broken his voice sounded even to his own ears. “And you’ll know.”
Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he would listen to you, that he’d walk away and never look back. But all you found was a horrifying sense of finality.
Minho wanted to take it away, let you be free of this world you were forced into. He wanted to take your hand in his and never let go, no matter the danger that came with it.
He watched as your face morphed from the helpless near tears girl into a cold and emotionless woman, and it terrified him that you had been forced to learn to shed all resemblance of emotion within a blink.
“I will not ever choose you over my family in this lifetime, Lee Minho. Your life isn’t of importance to me and if you’re so keen to get yourself murdered trying to talk me into leaving with you, then so be it. I won’t come to your rescue.” Saying the words felt like driving a knife right into your own heart and twisting, the look on his face as his grip loosened on your wrist only adding to the immense guilt.
Ripping your arm away from his grasp, you turned on your heel, head held high, tears threatening your lashes, and left him standing there.
Jisung felt like he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was pace around like a lunatic, and every now and again stop to stare at his hands. The hands that held you, the hands that let you go.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the way your eyes lit up, the way your smile outshines every star and sunrise he’d ever witnessed. He could hear the perfect harmony of you and Minho singing together, the way you didn’t miss a single syllable in any of his rap parts.
Jisung thought finding you would bring him peace, completeness, the sense of warmth he already knew with Minho, and for those few minutes he had you, you did.
Now, Jisung figured just knowing you were nearby, knowing you were close enough that maybe he would run into you again would ease the pain in his chest at the memories flashing through his mind, but when Riley informed him that they were on their way to get lunch with Bee, and you, and refusing to tell him where they were going, he felt his heart shatter all over again. His breathing growing uneven at the idea of you being close enough to enjoy lunch with two of his closest friends, and yet nowhere near him.
So Jisung paced. He walked back and forth and back again until he was dizzy, trying to rid his body of a pent up energy he had no idea what to do with. If he stopped, he assumed he’d collapse into a full blown panic attack, if that were to happen Minho would have to calm him down, and if Minho has to focus on keeping Jisung level headed, he won’t be able to grieve your absence too.
Jisung knew he was spiraling, knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself out of it this time, but he had to pretend he was okay, he had to let Minho spiral if he needed to, which means he can’t.
He tried to distract himself. He thought of Minho, of the way he curls into him in his sleep. How Minho nudges his hand, silently begging him to keep scratching his scalp when Jisung gets distracted and stops for any longer than five seconds. The memories of how the late afternoon light filters across Minho’s features, making him look like one of those beautiful paintings Hyunjin talks their ears off about.
But within these thoughts of his incredible soulmate, flitters in you. The way you had a habit of playing with Jisungs hands, he wondered if you’d still do that in this lifetime. He fell into thinking of the way you would stick your tongue out and furrow your brows when you focused too hard on anything, from washing dishes to sewing up a stab wound. He wondered why he had memories of you sewing up stab wounds, and which lives those were from, what you were like in those lifetimes outside the flits of memories he was gifted from the short amount of time he got to be by your side in this one.
No matter how hard he tried, everything kept coming back to you. Trying to distract himself by thinking of his other soulmate would lead to memories of him coming home to find both of you curled up together, fragments of time stilled in his mind of the two of you, smiling at each other, at him. He knew he would lose his mind if he were to be forced to remember you in every single way and never get to experience any of it outside of those few minutes he had on the street.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
Your voice was like a melody to his ears, despite the harsh words echoing from it.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be here.” He countered.
Despite the racing of his heart, the familiarity of you, he had a job. One that required getting through you at any cost.
“Whatever it is you were sent here for, think very hard, is it worth the cost of your life?”
Jisung didn’t really put a cost on his life. He was raised and trained for one thing only, to carry out orders by any means necessary. And, as if you could sense that in him, you shifted your relaxed stance just slightly, preparing for an attack, but softened your features.
“There is more to life than what you know, little one.”
At the nickname, he lunged, but it was as if you knew exactly what to expect, perrying and gently placing your hand on his arm, sending the both of you headlong into forgotten memories and lives.
Coming to, Jisungs guard flew up. He didn’t move, didn’t attempt to attack you, but he shut down every possible emotion you could try to gather from him.
“I can show you a better world. One where you’d be in control of your own life, where you’d have an answer to what is and isn’t worth the cost of it.”
Your words were gentle, everything about you seemed to be gentle. You softened your stance, returning to the relaxed position, no longer planning to attack him or counter any attacks from him.
“If you give me a chance, I could give you the world.”
“I think I want to meet them.”
Riley shot up from their position sprawled across your couch, Bee’s mouth dropping open in shock.
“Are you serious?” Riley asked, searching your face for any sense of unease or dishonesty.
You’d been spending endless hours with the two, they’d quickly become your closest friends, aside from Lia. You’d also come to spend a lot of time at Sage’s cafe, quickly learning they are very much a piece of your many lives as well. You were still unsure of how exactly Sage fit into the grand puzzle of lifetimes spent with the same friend group, but you knew they did. Your suspicions only confirmed with Riley and Bee’s agreeance of having Sage within their past lives memories as well.
“Y/n/n, I need you to be so for fucking real right now, do you actually want to meet them?”
You’d seen Bee get serious about stuff before, they weren’t all jokes all the time, but the way they were staring at you at that moment, you knew you had to give the complete honest truth. Bee was protective, and while that insane protective streak has since expanded to you as well, you knew without a shadow of a doubt they’d evescrate you before you had a chance to even think about hurting Minho or Jisung.
“I’m terrified of it, that hasn’t changed. But maybe you’re right, maybe it will work out.” You smile at your friends. “I think I’m ready to risk finding out.”
It didn’t take even twenty whole minutes to get a meeting set up, Riley and Bee dragging you to your room to get you dressed and ready.
“Is it really a good idea to do this now? I mean, it’s really fast, don’t they want time to like, I don’t know, prepare or something?” You’d been rambling the whole time Bee sat on your lap to hold you in place while fixing your hair.
“No. Because ‘giving them time’ only gives you time to back out and the last thing we need right now is Ji going into another spiral because he thinks you don’t want them.” You could practically hear the roll of Bee’s eyes as they finally got off you, surveying their handiwork.
Huffing, you accept your fate as Riley forces an outfit into your arms and shoves you into your bathroom, pulling the door shut.
After getting changed and taking in your appearance, you had to admit, Bee and Riley were good. You’d looked hot, almost to the point of it feeling like it was too much. Taking a deep breath and hyping yourself up in the mirror, you open the door to find Bee and Riley lounging in the hallway, both looking up upon hearing the door open, Riley grinning and Bee letting out a piercing whistle as they take you in, high fiving.
“You’re gonna knock 'em dead, babe.” Bee winked.
You blushed, but couldn’t help the smile stretching across your lips.
“Alright then, let’s do this.”
Not every life went smoothly, not every meeting was practically gold and rainbows. But this one was. Childhood friends and also soulmates is nearly unheard of, most people couldn’t fathom growing up with the memories of every life before the current. But you had met Minho and Jisung at the ripe age of five, Jisung was the baker's son, your mom was looking for work, and you and Jisung were forced to spend hours upon hours every day together.
At first neither of you really understood the full depth of your shared connection, but when you both met Minho, and shared all the same memories with him as well, your young minds didn’t have it in them to care.
Growing up, the three of you would learn the full extent of what happened, but you never had the disconnect from the memories, having your past lives almost completely integrated with your current.
“I wish we could find each other young in every lifetime. It made everything so much easier.” Jisung muttered into your hair. You hummed in contented agreement, fingers massaging Minho’s scalp.
“Unfortunately, that’s not gonna be the case Sungie. Some lives will be easier, some will be harder, there may even be some we never meet at all. But at least in this one, we’ll get to love each other for far longer than we went without.” Despite his words, Minho’s voice was a purr and you knew without a doubt that all three of you, whilst scared of what future lives may entail, were perfectly at peace in that one.
Riley and Bee had never spent so much time away from the boys.
From the very moment Changbin found Bee, they were a permanent fixture within the group. Bee helped 3Racha write and produce, they were in the studio almost as much as the group, and if they weren’t there, they weren’t far.
Riley, from the moment of finally accepting Chan at least, was never far either. They would always be around, making sure all of the boys were eating, weren’t overworking themselves, taking in enough fluids.
To put it lightly, the gap of their absences was almost painfully noticeable in the weeks they seemed to all but vanish. Ever since their lunch with Y/n, it’s been as if the two were ghosts in the skz household.
Jisung knew they were still around, the lack of moping from either of his fellow producers was proof enough, but he hadn’t seen a glimpse of them for days, maybe even weeks.
He felt as if his world was fracturing. Minho was working tirelessly on new choreography, Bee wasn’t around to help him with songs, Riley wasn’t around to make sure he was drinking water, all of his members were enjoying their break before the next comeback, and he was exhausted. Jisung didn’t know how to get out of his head, and he wasn’t sure who to ask for help from.
He knew if he kept the pace he was at, he’d inevitably spiral, and that wouldn’t be any good for anyone. Jisung had decided to hide away in his room and sleep, it was the best answer he could come up with, but just as sleep was threatening to finally overtake him, his door burst open, a downright giddy Changbin standing in the threshold.
“I’m about to take a nap, tell me about it later.” Jisung groaned, turning his back to his friend before his friend could say anything.
Changbin, not having any of it, stomped over and ripped the blankets away from the smaller boy, lifting him out of bed, carrying Jisung to the bathroom, despite his protests, and threw him in the shower.
Before Jisung could complain, yell, or even get a thought in, Changbin turned the water on, drenching him in seconds.
“Y/n wants to meet, get cleaned up and ready to go in ten.” The older boy said before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and leaving an absolutely dumbfounded Jisung to slowly register the words, excitement growing with his understanding.
````
Weeks. Minho had been trying to get the choreography for the next comebacks title track down for weeks. Everything he came up with didn’t feel right, and when it did he didn’t think it looked right.
Hyunjin and Yongbok had offered to help, they’d even stayed with him, learning new dances, so Minho could see how it looked with multiple people, for a fresh perspective. But nothing was right. No matter how much Yongbok would swear he thought it flowed well, no matter how easy Hyunjin picked it up, nothing was right.
Minho knew, deep down, it wasn’t the dances that were off, it wasn’t his choreography at all. He knew it was nothing to do with anything related to music that was wrong, but the only thing he could translate the misconstrued emotions to was dance.
He created new dances every day to give his body and mind something to do, something to take away the wandering thoughts and memories. He’d rather tire himself to exhaustion than remember how it felt to have you by his side.
Minho had come to the conclusion that you were not going to choose them, and he couldn’t blame you for it at all. His hopes were up after he’d seen his only hyung work things out with his soulmate, but not everyone could find it in themselves to be with an idol. Being an idol was hard enough, dating one was a whole other demon of its own.
Despite knowing he has Jisung, despite being overwhelmingly worried about his lover, Minho simply needed to mourn the lover they never had a chance with. He needed his time to accept the fates cruelty upon their lives this time around, and then he’d help Jisung accept it as well.
So he kept dancing. For weeks.
Minho had always found solitude in an empty dance studio. The way the mirrors would be completely empty save for his figure, the silence filling a typically boisterous room, there was just something peaceful about a place meant to be filled being empty.
He was stretching, preparing for hours of working out kinks in his newest routine completely unbothered. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. They were on break, all of the boys were off doing who knows what, and they were supposed to be relaxing leading up to their busy season. Yet Minho was in the empty dance studio, all by himself.
He was lost in thoughts, already hacking away at the parts he wanted to rework, mentally trying to decipher how to fix them, when the door to the studio was nudged open. His eyes shifted to the door in the mirror, finding his only hyung standing in the doorway, a small smile gracing his features.
“You might want to put your plans for the day on hold.” Chan said without even greeting him.
“Why’s that?” Minho asked, being unable to stop the quirk of his brow.
“Because we have lunch plans. Are you sweaty?”
Minho shook his head, “Just got here, I was stretching.”
“Great, put on street shoes and let’s get out of here, we’ve gotta meet Bin and Ji at the dorms.” Chan smiled, moving to grab Minho’s bag for him.
“What’s the rush?” Jisung hadn’t mentioned any lunch plans with the other producers, but to be fair he and Jisung had been somewhat distant from one another lately.
“It’s a soulmate lunch. Me and Riles, Bin and Beebee, you and your soulmates.”
Minho nodded his agreement, very used to soulmate lunches, working on lacing his street shoes when he froze in realization.
Him and his soulmates.
````
To say you were nervous would be a gross understatement. You were downright jittery.
Bee and Riley were positioned on either side of you, both steadfast pillars of comfort bringing an almost overwhelming sense of security. You would be okay, because how could you not be with them by your side?
You’d agreed to meet at Sage's cafe for lunch, it was mutual ground and low foot traffic. Perfect for essentially a first meeting with your two idol soulmates and, from your understanding, Bee and Riley’s idol soulmates as well.
You were ready to bolt. Ready to full on leg it home and lock your door, never to come out again. Despite the peace of knowing three of your closest friends would be there, meeting them was still an absolutely terrifying concept.
The what ifs a plague playing on repeat. What if they don’t like you? What if you ruin everything for them? What if their fans find out? What if, what if, what if.
But with every bad what if, there was also a good one. What if you fit in seamlessly? What if they don’t care about their fans finding out? What if they are as scared and excited to finally meet you as you are to meet them? What if, what if, what if.
You knew you could bolt. You knew that Bee and Riley talked big, but if push came to shove and you needed an out, they’d have your back and get you out. You knew you could turn on your heel and walk the opposite way and they’d text their soulmates an update, and that yours would more than likely be devastated.
It was the fact that you could that kept you from doing so. The idea of Jisung and Minho waiting for you, the mental image of them deflating after hearing you’d change your mind, the thought of them being upset due to your actions, pushed you forward, kept you walking, and you knew no matter what you walked in on, you wouldn’t be able to back out now. You wouldn’t be the one to break the loves of your every lifetime.
Seeing the familiar shop, your heart was in your throat. There would be no turning back, no changing your mind. In choosing to meet them, you chose to give them the ball, everything would be up to them, and the closer you got to the cozy shop, the more you realized you were truly okay with that.
You were never actually nervous about meeting your soulmates, you were giddy about it.
As you pushed the door open, letting the familiar sound of its little bell notify Sage of your arrival, your eyes found your soulmates in record time, both sat at the table under the trellis covered in flora and vines. Your breath caught at the smiles gracing both of their faces, and you knew.
Even though soulmates can be a painful thing, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to run away from yours again.
a/n: ahhhhh it’s almost overrrr😭🥺🥺 this was gonna be a lot angstier and then it just, wasn’t. and idk what that’s all about but I like how it turned out lol. I dragged my feet on writing this part for actual weeks and then wrote like, 5k of it in two days, so I hope it was good haha! thank you so so much for reading, please let me know your thoughts!!🫶🫶🫶
taglist: @starlostastronaut @mariteez @tired-of-life-86 @skizmee @elisiexoxo @cutiespaghetti @httpswilloww @sundownimup-1 @lolareadsimagines @rockstrhanji @quokkampi @kayleefriedchicken @vivirantshere @ciellebys
#stray kids x reader#stray kids#stray kids fics#stray kids x y/n#skz fanfic#han jisung#han jisung x reader#han jisung fanfic#han jisung x y/n#han x reader#han x y/n#lee know#lee minho#lee know x reader#lee know fanfic#lee know x y/n#lee minho x reader#lee minho x y/n#minsung#minsung x reader#poly!minsung x reader#minsung x y/n#soulmate au#reincarnation au#skz soulmate au#skz x y/n#skz fic#skz x reader
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Don’t Fall In Love With Me (Yet) Pt. 2
Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader
Content: mentions of fights/canon typical violence and weapons, sooo much pining, can be read as a stand alone or as part of the mini series, allies to friends to lovers (soon!?), etc!
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: hmmm where do i start? i changed the pov from third to second person, (the first part was third person) the writing style of this is a little different from what i usually do but i still like it so hopefully you do to! pls enjoy and ty for reading <333
edited 1/8/24
Part 1 | Part 3
Law finds y/n leaning on the starboard railing of the Thousand Sunny.
You feel Law’s steps on the wooden planks and look over your shoulder to see him approaching. you swear you can hear your own heartbeat, and only hope that he won’t be able to hear it, too. Your thoughts are interrupted by his presence to your left. Law leans over the railing, mug of coffee in hand. A moment of silence passes while he watches you watch the sea from the corner of his eye.
“Can you even see anything?” he questions, his words coming off much harsher than intended,
A bit caught off guard, you simply respond, “Mhm, everything.” you have good vision, so you’re sort of the natural choice for keeping watch if Zoro doesn’t feel like staying up.
You can feel Law’s gaze on your profile. You can also feel your cheeks heating up, but those two things are completely independent… It doesn’t even matter though, because the darkness of the night should be enough to hide that from him.
“Are you having a good time on board the Thousand Sunny?”
“It’s alright. You guys are really loud.” He says in a near scoff.
“Oh… Sorry about that.” Did you really bother him so much?
Law mentally kicks himself and is quick to wave a hand in front of his face apologetically, “No, I just mean… you’re all very energetic. Not you specifically, either. You’re actually really, uh…”
You wait patiently, now peering up at him through your lashes. He meets your eyes with his own, much more frantic gaze.
“You’re… nice.” He finally averts his eyes with a turn of cheek.
“Oh… thank you.” You smile to yourself. “I think you’re really nice, too.”
Law releases another scoff, though it comes off as more surprised than mean. He struggles with accurately portraying his feelings for you, who remains equally oblivious to his feelings as he does to yours. “You must be thinking of someone else.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m not known for being nice.”
“People must not really know you, then.”
“And you do?”
“Not as much as I’d like to, but well enough.”
“… What?” He finds that you make him feel dumb sometimes, be it through quick rebuttals or patient stares.
“I just mean, we could be friends. But I understand if you don’t-“
“I do.”
“… Ok.” You grin once more.
The pair stare out to sea, and Law takes another sip of his coffee.
“How come I never see you in fights with your crew?”
“I try to stay out of the way. Plus, I don’t really like fighting in the first place- that’s not why I joined my crew. It’s more of a last resort.”
“Interesting.”
“You think so?”
“That you would rather play support than have to get into a fight? Definitely. It’s not very pirate-like.” He nearly sneers- he has certain beliefs on what a pirate should be in order to be of use to their crew.
But, ever the optimist, you simply laugh, “So I’ve been told,” you start. “I guess I’m a little… strict about my morals. Just never really want to hurt someone, you know? Even if it makes people think I’m weak, because I know I’m not.”
“At least you’re self aware.” Law begins, but for some unknown reason feels compelled to continue. To give you some little piece of himself in return for what you’ve told him. However, after he tells you, “I don’t enjoy fighting much either, I just do it to protect my crew.” he feels like he’s talking too much.
You listen intently, “And do you have a family? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He shakes his head no, “Gone.”
You nod solemnly. “Well, I’m sure they’d be proud of you.”
“Have you… lost someone?” Law immediately regrets asking such a personal question.
But, you aren't offended. “No, I’ve been lucky in that way. Though we aren’t really… We don’t… Well, we’re not close.”
“Why’s that?” he mimics your earlier question, which you pick up on and smirk at.
So you sigh; “I guess the whole running-away-with-a-pirate crew thing kind of soiled their opinion of me.”
Your eyes meet again after your confession, and after a moment of silence, you both break out in laughter. Except, Law’s is more of just the shake of his shoulders, while you actually laugh.
“It’s not funny-” Law says through broken exhales.
“No, it’s really not!” you shake your head, still caught in a fit of giggles.
Eventually you both still yourselves, and Law concentrates on his half empty mug while you look up at the stars above head. Then you look at him from the corner of their eye, just for a split second, but find his eyes are already trained on you. So you offer a smile, like always, and go back to star gazing. Another moment passes, and your enjoyment of conversation gets the best of you.
“What’s it like living in a submarine?” Law raises a brow and gives a sidelong glance at your question. “Don’t you miss land and the sky when you’re down there?”
“Yeah. I miss land sometimes, I guess.”
You explore the answer to your question further by standing up on the ledge before you, and leaning over the railing to look down into the waves being split by the Thousand Sunny. It’s not a particularly dangerous stunt at all- there’s the floor, a 3 inch raised ledge, and the railing on top of it. When you stand on it, your height is barely altered; that’s how non perilous what you are doing is, for context. You simply want to lean over to see the waves.
But Law’s hand shoots out to grasp your shoulder, acting as a tether. You look at him with a concerned expression, which turns into a smirk. You could stay up there, maybe even turn and lift yourself slightly to sit on the railing itself, but you decide to come back down to the floor on your heels instead of giving the surgeon something else to stress over. Law then pulls his hand back rigidly and scratches the back of his neck with near painful awkwardness due to his sudden display of concern for your safety.
“I don’t think I could trip all the way over the railing unless I tried.” You tease.
“No, I- I know.” he coughs. Did he really just stutter?
“See? You are nice. You care.” you punctuate your statement with a smirk and the side to side tilt of their head. An occasional habit that, if someone were around you often enough to witness, they would know signified a feeling of triumph.
Law is at a loss for words at the moment, thoughts clouded by the growing warmth in his chest that seems to fluctuate up and down his neck and face, but never disappears completely when he’s around you.
“Sure.” he takes to mumbling again.
“You know, I really like having you here with us.”
“…You do?”
“Yeah. I love the other Straw Hats of course, but… I don’t know, you’re different.”
“You’re different from my crew, too.”
“Oh yeah? In a good way, I hope.”
Law shrugs, “Yeah.” He pauses, then mutters something under his breath. “In a good way.”
You’d blurt out your feelings here and now, if it were anyone else. But this is Law, and you kind of like him a lot, so you want to do things right. Besides, that would probably only scare him away- he seems like the kind of man who carefully works his way up to a relationship. With a friendly smile, you accept his statement. Because now that you know he considers you a friend at the very least, and more than likely shares your affections… you’re in no rush.
The night goes by quickly in his company, and soon enough you spot the golden rays of the sun peaking over the horizon.
“We should do this again sometime,” you tell him as the sun starts to climb higher into the sky (quicker than you’d like), “I had fun talking to you.”
Law nods, “Just let me know when you’re keeping watch,” he waves over his shoulder as he walks away, “I’ll be there.”
And when he makes it back to the privacy of his room, Law replays the night in his head. Over and over and over again, until he comes to a not-so-shocking conclusion. “Shit:”
“I’m falling for y/n.”
#one piece x reader#one piece x you#fanfic#one piece#x reader#law x reader#law fluff#law x you#trafalgar law#law x y/n#pining#late night conversations#straw hat reader#straw hat pirates#fluff#one piece x y/n
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