#But now I have to figure some other things out
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
I really should write a fic about it. I have so many headcanons and fan dungeons; Icelandic Atlantis dungeon, The Oubliette, Labyrinth dungeon where the demon acts like David Bowie, and (always sunny theme) "Mithrun takes the gang cave diving." which includes Otta getting cockblocked from the hot halfling scuba instructor and the consequences of everyone forgetting to keep reminding Mithrun to equalize his ears when they hurt.
I'm of the opinion that Flamela was Mithrun's second for his first dungeon back, but the party nearly wiped during the dungeon lord fight (half the party died including flamela, Mithrun collapsed from mana depletion, and the last one standing smartly gave him a rapid mana transfer before resurrecting anyone else. That was when the Canaries learned they had to make sure to check his mana reserves before a big fight), and afterwards she was made deputy with her own squad and only sent to baby dungeons and ancient magic investigations.
She has NEVER forgiven Mithrun for that, she got ONE TASTE of everything she wanted and now her job is mostly fucking paperwork!
elf drama i just made up
#god and dont even get me started on halfpast-contrast and i's Dungeon Lord Kabru AU#it's Kabru and Mithrunâs dynamic plus the two of them playing death note style mind games with each other#Kabru shows up the second the squad shows up in his dungeon to keep an eye on them#and Mithrun agrees to hire him as a mountain guide because Kabru is acting immediately Suspicious#the dungeon is called Talung Peak and has high altitude mountain climbing as most of its environmental hazards#the demon is an emotionally manipulative mother figure posing as a local monkey god#and gives Kabru a town like Utaya as a secret first floor#which of course REAL adventurers and merchants then flock to and populate#Mithrun makes Kabru instantly obsessed with him#because when Kabru shows him one of the shrines with a little statue of a small monkey and says its the local mountain god#and people leave small offerings like beads or coins and pray for what they want the mountain to provide#MITHRUN PULLS OUT HIS GLASS EYE PUTS IT IN THE DISH AND WHISPERS âYou already know what I wantâ in the statue's ear#cause he fucking knows the demon's game#its maybe one of the best pieces of mithrun character writing I've ever done#he forgot to put his glove back on afterwards and walked off to go investigate the town with his fingers at risk of frostbite#kabru had to tell him to but it back on while still reeling from fishing Mithrun's EYE out of the offering dish#the only thing that would make it better is if we had a good Laios rper#so when the demon fucking Chimerafies Mithrun to âgive himâ to Kabru#Laios can O.O while Kabruâs fucking horrified#(Mithrunâs fine the Canaries reverse engineer shifter tattoos and manage to make them mostly work#since Mithrunâs chimera is more human than white dragon and giant canary#cause of course Kabru wouldn't want him if he was Mostly Monster and the demon knows that#the only problem is he now has some Dragon Desires especially in chimera form#so while yes now he does have the desire to eat#hes only hungry for raw meat so its still a big problem)#ALSO go check out halfpast-contrast's awesome dungeon meshi emoji packs!!!#its the pinned post on their blog!!!#the animated one of Mithrun giving a thumbs up and then fading away is my favorite thing of a time
882 notes
·
View notes
Text
cross the line (lhs)
pairing: heeseung x afab!reader
synopsis: âHow do you know if someone is flirting with you?â It was Heeseungâs question to you, and you were left with no option other than to show how you do it.
my's note: this is from an old prompt i had. nothing much, just some fluff and highkey desperate (and long) smut... and bestfriends to lovers đ€i feel like i lost the plot while i was writing it, but yeah! hope y'all enjoy it
warnings: childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, kinda miscomunication?, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, unprotected sex (donât do it!!!), desperate hee (in many ways lol), hee is sensitive and edges himself, very slooooow and unnecessarily detailed smut, reader is not a virgin but it's her second time!! / lmk if i missed something!
wc:Â 14,5k
NOT PROOFREAD.
taglist đ: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers, @ikeuverse, @tinycatharsis
âHow do you know if someone is flirting with you?â
The question lingered in the air longer than Heeseung expected, but he wouldnât blame you at all.
It was a quiet, calm Saturday afternoon. None of you had work to do or studies to draw your energy. While your back lazily rested on your couchâs armrest with your legs propped up in a triangle, Heeseung was laid on the ground after blaming the couchâs fabric for being too heated for his skin, his head opposite to yours.Â
Far enough to miss your instant confused expression.Â
âHuh?â You murmured with a frown, trying to figure out if you heard it correctly before diverting your attention from your phone to catch a glimpse of Heeseungâs plain eyes looking up at the ceiling.Â
He had shifted his position to a relaxed one with a hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, the quiet motion of up and down following his gentle breathing. It could easily soothe your nerves to watch him serenely exist like that in the world, an opposite to his normally chaotic and teasing demeanor.Â
âHow do you know if someone is flirting with you?â Heeseung repeated his question once again, and you were sure now you had heard it right. It didnât make you less puzzled though. âLike, I think I struggle to recognize whatâs just a normal interaction and whatâs a flirt.â
Your eyebrows were sky high as you skeptically eyed Heeseung, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth as your body stiffed a little.Â
Growing up together as friends was just a quarter of your story with Heeseung.
Your moms were the typical best friends that surprisingly gave birth around the same time, resulting in you and Heeseung becoming as close as siblings due to your families proximity, although the thought of being Heeseungâs sister haunted the depths of your mind terribly nowadays.
Of course you wouldnât mind being considered in that position when you were younger; Heeseung annoying ass bothering you all the time with the subtle hair pulls under the excuse of trying to grab your attention, or poking your sides to start a little fight that he always won, or the times he simply feigned to go for a whisper as in telling you a secret just to blow air in your ear and elicit a scream from you, were a huge behaviors proof he had somewhat sibling energy.
Your constant smacks on his shoulders and chest, along with your not-so-gentle bites on his arms, and your giggles whenever you pranked him by tossing flour at his direction when cooking together worked well to establish a strong base to that idea.
However, as you both started to grow up, things changed accordingly to your ages.
You were expectedly very comfortable around each other, and the touches once aiming to bother, switched to casual, caring ones, still having a faint of that light-hearted taunt.
Heeseung would often be seen removing an eyelash from your cheek, his fingertips brushing against your skin softly as you kept talking normally.
Or intertwining your hands when going back from school, so you wouldnât fall whenever you tripped â and you did quite regularly.
Or, when you sat together, Heeseung would make sure to have your thighs resting on his lap so he could settle his warm hands on top of it, casually caressing your skin while watching whatever you choose to.Â
It was great and heartwarming to have him like that, taking care of you even with the slightest teasing alongside genuine intentions â Heeseung struggled to demonstrate his feelings openly, so giving you princess-like treatment with a hint of his usual playful banter was his way to show how much he loved you.
Eventually, puberty hit him, and hit undoubtedly hard.Â
The little kid who used to follow you around just to annoy had become the taller, handsome, and effortlessly cool teenager, surrounded by friends and making girls squeal over even the slightest interaction with him, leaving you to wonder when everything had changed that much.
You didnât expect Heeseung to keep being friends with you the way he was before as time passed, but surprisingly he would often be choosing you over the others, such as hanging out during lunch time with you, doing his schoolworks only with you, spending a part of his pocket money with sweets for you and taking you home everyday â you lived near to each other, nonetheless he would always guide you to your doorâs porch before kissing your forehead and saying his farewell.Â
At some point you realized your body was reacting similarly to how girls who had a crush on Heeseung would describe when he was around; an urge to scream and giggle just because he smiled, heart pounding hard in your chest after watching him slicking back his sweaty hair while playing basketball with the boys, hands trembling with the thought of being alone for too long with him in your room.
You were starting to act awkward, your hormones messing with your head enough to leave you scared as shit, questioning what you and Heeseung were, because the definition of friendship wasnât making any sense, seemed lacking, insufficient for what you truly, wholeheartedly wanted from Heeseung.
So your most sane decision at the time was to push him towards other girls randomly, sharing how much in love a friend of yours was with him and how worthy, pretty and intelligent she was. Or how the cheerleaderâs leader would fit him perfectly and they would become the schoolâs model couple.
The sting in your heart was tough to deal with when he started to pick up some of your ideas and openly flirt with the said girls, sharing each step with you how friends constantly did, but you would one hundred percent rather to handle the pain of never having Heeseung as your boyfriend than the hurtful thought of losing him for good.
Then Heeseung started dating, and the girl was extremely jealous of your friendship.Â
Though you swore she had nothing to worry about, Heeseung, once again, chose you, dumping the girl just a few weeks after because she said bad things about you, added to the fact that she had a list of reasons why he should end the friendship, something Heeseung would never, ever think about doing.
Despite your mind playing tricks after hearing that people could misinterpret the way Heeseung behaved with you â apparently he would be playing with your hair and giving you headpats quite too oftenly, barely keeping his hands away from you â, you tried to maintain things safely where they should be, focusing on getting over your foolish crush on Heeseung and moving on.
Eventually, little by little the so cherished friendship started to teeter the edge that crossed the line of just friends, and the casual moments started to hold a special place inside your chest.
Heeseung made no effort to help you as well, offering big and gorgeous smiles whenever he saw you as if you were everything he wanted. Laughing graciously when you hugged him so you could hear and feel his chest vibrating with it. Doing his silly little dances to cheer you up in the middle of your living room and, mostly, singing songs with his angelical voice for you to sleep during late phone calls.Â
You were so terrified of reading beyond reality.
Was it really that deep?, you would question yourself when your head rested on your pillow at night, the phantom of Heeseungâs presence permeating your room after a game day together, the shared chuckles and teasing prolonging your fast heartbeats as a sweet reminder of your feelings, feelings that you never really managed to bury somewhere else other than on the tip of your tongue, craving for the release you never gave.
The friendship continued the same through the years, or, at least, you both tried to. The emotional bond that tied you two together worked almost perfectly, if you got to keep your voice silenced, if you got to keep the real feelings inside your chest, away from the possible reality.
Heeseung would be eager to share his adventures with you, from the everyday moments, like when he made a shot with his back turned to the hoop and scored, to the more secretive and sexual escapades, the ones you would rather not hear about but had to in order to support your friend spot.
It felt like a punch to the gut when Heeseung talked about his first kiss and the others that followed, each revelation stirring a mix of emotions you couldn't quite shake off, not when you wanted him to be your first kiss as well.
When you both entered college last year, once more things shifted a little.
Heeseung and you began to frequent very different places. While you gravitate towards the quiet spots, such as the library, the coffee shop, or the shade of a tree on campus to read a book in your silent, mellow atmosphere, Heeseung was willing to attend every single party he got to know about, having girls constantly kissing him in front of everyone, caring little to nothing about the talks or if the night would end up in his room.
But he never really committed to anyone.
You wondered what was the reason that held him back, considering the amount of good opportunities he had; the offers were abundant, and the line of admires long to make a curve down the square. Surely he would find the love of his life among that many options, and you had convinced yourself you were far faded from the running.
So, the question felt out of place.
âAre you really gonna try to make me believe that you donât know when a girl is flirting with you?â You propped yourself on the couch to full face Heeseung, arching an eyebrow. âYou? Of all people?â
Heeseung rolled his eyes with a sigh and a smirk, pushing himself up to sit with crossed his legs, fully aware of what you were referring to. âDonât even start with this shit.â
You chuckled dryly, struggling to contain the bitter taste dissolving in the depths of your throat, the knot was extremely hard to swallow, to know he had fucked who knows how many girls through his life and you, on the other hand, barely had a boyfriend.
It might sound like envy, but you were just frustrated for not being any of those girls.
âWhat shit? The âlast weekend I slept with three girlsâ shit?â You faked a deep voice to mimic Heeseung, together with his usual cocky smile before deadpanning into a feigned teasing expression.
The episode happened a few days ago, right when you accidentally eavesdropped on him and his friends chatting while playing video games in your shared living room.
It was the typical boysâ talk that you had no intention of listening to, but unfortunately you had just reached the doorâs knot to open it, then each word that came out of Heeseungâs mouth traveled straight into your ears, making your stomach drop in an unexpected pain.Â
You rushed to your room, cheeks heating and tears stinging your eyes, on the verge of breaking down after hearing what he had said.
Of course you knew Heeseung was sexually active. His room was right next to yours, and though he tried to keep it quiet, the girl he once led in after mistakenly thinking you werenât home hadnât bothered to be discreet.
You were fully aware of his private life, the quarter that had you screaming, crying, nearly pulling out your hair and breaking some of your belongings in jealousy because it wasnât you.Â
âY/N,â Heeseung called out seriously, accidentally bringing you back from your spiral thoughts. âYou, more than anyone, know I was joking,â he averted his eyes from you, the prominent area of his cheeks heating as he added. âI literally lost my virginity not even six months ago.â
Now it was your time to roll your eyes, because yes, Heeseung did in fact lose his virginity on that said date, but he never stopped having sex ever since and it annoyed you so fucking much. While you struggled to even kiss a boy, Heeseung was out there living the best of life. Without you.
For years, you thought you hated his behavior because you couldnât be like him, nonchalant about your crushes as if they were nothing much. You had to literally force your body not to shake when kissing someone, had to hide your sweaty palms and how all your instincts yelled for you to run away when sharing intimacy with someone.
But the actual reality was simpler. You werenât envious of him. You didnât want to be like Heeseung.
You wanted Heeseung.
âWhatever you say,â you muttered with a dry chuckle and dropped back on the couch, grabbing your phone to keep scrolling on tiktok, ignoring how hot your face felt after.
Heeseung grunted, his eyes darting towards your face as you absentmindedly watched videos. The boy was oblivious to the real whirlwind happening inside your chest, especially because on his side of the story, he was fighting so fucking hard to contain himself.
Every. Single. Second.Â
You were the prettiest girl he ever had the chance to lay his eyes on, with the bestest personality that complemented his own just right, with the most melodic voice and laughter that made his whole world slow down in order to make his breathing ability harder. And he really wished it actually slowed down, to allow him to enjoy and appreciate every passing moment with you even deeper.
Fuck, Heeseung was unable to tell when the butterflies in his stomach started to dance along the beat of your constant presence, but the day you asked if your lipgloss was cute definitely played a big role on it.
Heeseung had a vivid memory of how gorgeous you looked wearing your brand new dress for your fifteenth birthday party, styling your strands with a hair bow and prepping your face with makeup that only accentuated your already beautiful features.
And then you turned on your heels, cheeks painted with a faint blush, big, wide, innocent eyes colored with a soft shade of brown, and your lips, oh, your fucking plump lips with a shade of a light pink gloss adorning it, screaming for his own mouth to be pressed there.
âDo I look cute? Does my gloss look cute?â
The question was simple and very common. Heeseung always answered yes to them, because he would always think you were pretty, even when waking up with your puffy face and half-lidded open eyes squinting because of daylight.
But there you were, making Heeseung focus intentionally more on your, now, kissable lips, on your sweet, tempting, fucking gorgeous lips.
Ever since that day Heeseung had to keep you closer to drift his nasty thoughts away.
It was controversial and maybe hypocritical. He should have done the opposite, to avoid you, to keep you as far as possible, but he simply couldnât, because in that very moment he found himself addicted to you, addicted to the idea of tasting what he had come to crave as his main life goal.Â
Having you near meant not dealing with the thought of other guys that had experienced what he longed the most, because with you, everything that filled Heeseungâs mind was the present; your presence, your cheeky smiles, your clingy hugs, your scent, you, as a whole.
It was so fucking tough and hurtful to hear about your little crushes, it fumed his chest with angry flames that spread rapidly, with no sign to have a firefighter strong enough to put the fire out.
You werenât like him, or at least the part you allowed him to have access didnât compare to even one percent of what he lived, but Heeseung strongly envied those who had the chance to be the reason behind your shy giggles and blushed cheeks.
Along the chat about flattering boys that stole your heart, you would also ask him why he didnât date anyone, your curious gaze making him stutter in place. To internally scream and squirm to prevent the words from escaping his mouth â words that would form the sentence that, without a doubt, would change the trajectory of your relationship â was the only suitable option.
Itâs your fault, idiot. Itâs because none of them are you.
Heeseung always opted to laugh away and give an open answer; âdidnât find the right oneâ was his favorite.
In fact, watching you grow up was harder than dealing with some of the questions you threw at him. One moment, you were just the little girl he loved to tease, someone he considered his best friend, and even like the little sister he never had
Heeseung would watch you laugh at his jokes, chase you around scaring you, and protect you from the world when necessary. But then, out of nowhere, you started to change.
You were suddenly a full-grown woman, carrying yourself in a way that left him speechless, not knowing how to react, with boobs and shit.
Ok, that was not exactly what made his life around you harder, nonetheless, it was inevitable the way you physically evolved began to hold a distinct place in Heeseung's mind, blurring his cohesive thoughts with a frightening ease.
Being a teenager while having a hot friend was difficult, no one ever taught him about it.
He felt nasty every time he dared to touch himself while thinking about your body; how your mildly exposed chest, when wearing tight shirts, hinted at what was beneath it. How the soft curves of your belly and hips drew his attention in a way that got his fingertips tingling in craving to hug it, to have it under his touch.
Whenever he achieved his climax, your cute name falling from his lips in a quiet whisper, the following regret flooded his chest within a wave of remorse that he couldnât control at all. For good minutes he even considered saying sorry to you within a text, without giving a proper explanation, but he would always choose to keep that hidden truth away from your acknowledgment in every instance possible.
Besides his strong, flaming desire, Heeseung loved you with all he had.
You were his best friend, the one and only, the girl who knew his deepest secrets and welcomed them without judgment, that laughed at his stupid jokes and held him closer when he needed comfort.
You knew that when he was a child, he would wet the bed because he had nightmares about clowns. You knew he would eat ramen in the middle of the night, hiding it from his parents and blaming his older brother. You knew that, despite him bragging about his skills, he was terrible at candy crush â and you loved to tease him about it, because who the hell is bad at candy crush?
You didnât seem to care about his flaws, like the aggressive way he treated things around him when the accumulated stress snapped â never at you, though. Or the fact that he would procrastinate as much as possible to clean his room, to do laundry or wash the dishes. Or that he would always eat while watching TV at maximum volume, and scream loudly while playing league of legends even when late at night.
Heeseung loved you, yet, it wasnât enough to keep him safely quiet, relentlessly making his body ache for you. What started as the warmth of a deep connection slowly blossomed into something more â more intense, more real, and yet, somehow, delicate, like a fragile flower that could easily be shattered.
Heeseung would treat you like a queen because he thought you deserved to be one, and in the valleys of his heart, he wished for you to let his presence be part of your happiness, to share all the intimate moments, to become a part of your world in a way that was more than just a friend.
So that was the reason Heeseung started this whole thing of asking you about flirting. He was patient, however the urge to be yours and have you completely was swelling not-so-slowly, and he found an unexpected way to maybe drift you both through that invisible boundary line he wished to cross for so long.
There was no actual curiosity behind his question, it was pure and genuine longing and quiet hope for you to, perhaps, reciprocate those confused feelings that only led his heart to decide that he loved you.
And he loved you with his whole soul.Â
âCome on,â Heeseung groaned after zoning out, now pushing his body to stand up before taking the seat next to you by scooching your legs away.Â
You looked at him over your phone, frowning, your heart still pounding hard in your chest after going thoughtfully over the topic he just brought, pretending to spend your time on the screen when, actually, your head was filled with anxious and fearful thoughts.
Even so, you kept a straight face.Â
âWhat?â
Heeseung sighed, shoulders dropping in something close to defeat and you took your time to move and sit on one of your legs, the other on the ground, casually hanging as you bounced it in order to expel your nervousness.
You didnât notice your friend had tracked the motion for a quiet second, immediately understanding you had shifted your demeanor in a way he couldn't pinpoint yet, but he had a hunch about it. A suspicion that got his heartbeats notably increasing.
But you saw the exact moment he switched as he gathered the best of his decency to lock eyes with you, guiding the plan forward with excellency.
âCould you, please, for everything we have been through, for our beautiful friendship, and because you love me so, so much, answer my question?â
The drama in Heeseungâs voice was blatant and got you fighting back a grin that threatened to break free. His big-doe eyes flashing you an innocence you wittily figured out as coaxing, added to how he slowly batted his eyelashes, tilting his head only enough to look extra adorable, even curving his bottom lip to pull into a slight pout that had your attention lingering longer than you wanted.Â
Once Heeseung learned that his charming eyes were one of your greatest weaknesses, he wasted no time to take advantage of it, oftenly catching you off guard by using his secret weapon to achieve certain goals, offering a soft, yet penetrating gaze that got your knees faltering in place.
He didnât know with precision what made you so easy to pursue whenever he used that trick, nonetheless it was a big benefit either for simpler favors or big other things, like using your credit card to buy a collector figurine he didnât have the money to buy during that time.
In that moment, however, Heeseung just wished for you not to catch the flicker of apprehension in his eyes, or the barely contained excitement that danced behind the facade of calmness and fake purity, because he didnât aim to get something expensive or use your bathroom just to explore your good amount of skincare.Â
His only objective was to cross that friendship line, to ruin it, and, if he was lucky enough, have you enjoying it as you both do so.
You pursed your eyelids and then cocked your head to the side, incredulous. âSeriously?â A chuckle echoed from your parted lips, softening your expression to endearing amusement since it pretty much worked all the time, even after you became fully aware of his tactic. âUsing bambi-eyes and shit?â
Heeseung nodded with admirable speed, his entire behavior was almost infantile, resembling a shameless child about to get a pricey toy after playing the good kid for his parents, although he definitely did no good. He had a smirk on the very corner of his mouth, and his eyes glossed with complete feigned innocence.Â
You damned yourself for being such a sucker for that boy, for allowing him to have that much power over your whole existence.Â
And with that, you accepted your fate, your defiance. You had no idea of what was going to happen, let alone what the hell Heeseung wanted to know exactly. Yeah, girls flirting, but in which way? And why?
âFine,â you rolled your eyes, placing your phone away on the side table. Heeseung smiled brightly and shifted on his seat, his whole body now facing you, expectantly. You flashed a hesitant look, cheeks already flaming hot in a strange anticipation, not even bothering to chase for his gaze properly. âWhat do you wanna know?â
âOk!â Heeseung nearly buzzed, his body jolting slightly as if electricity ran through it, revealing his excitement. âIâll repeat the question so it wonât get weird, alright?âÂ
You allowed your throat to let out a small hum, nodding and eventually daring to glance up for a little, meeting the view of Heeseung's eyes beaming with something close to thrilling and mischievous.
A cold, yet silent shiver ran through your torso and you had to control yourself not to tremble when he glazed his gaze with yours, in a magnetic manner that left you with nothing but the necessity to oblige.
Though you had heard them quite a lot from the past few minutes, the following words didnât ease your heart to weigh less; the amount of times wasnât enough to get used to how they sounded to you.
âHow do I know a girl is flirting with me?â
The air felt extremely thick, rarefied even, as if you were up on the clouds, out from any equipment of protection as you body travelled near to get out from the atmosphere, heavy in your lungs.Â
Heeseung struggled to read your reaction at first. Silence. Pure lack of sounds, only a blank and slightly confused expression facing him.
It wasnât like he was fully expecting you to partake in his idea, even though he planned to account for every possible outcome variant to achieve at least a fraction of his goal.
And yet, he didnât have a clear objective. Perhaps he simply wanted to plant a seed of hope, mixed with a âwhat if?â, hoping you would realize his feelings ran far deeper than just friendship. And, if luck was on his side, that you might reciprocate â or at least begin to entertain the possibility.
He wanted to ruin that friendship, because he believed you could â no, should â be lovers instead.
You gulped down the lump forming in your neck, praying for some god to help you to release your nerves as soon as possible, otherwise the possibility of having a heart attack wouldnât just be a fantasy; it would be a reality.
Although every cell in your body seemed to resonate with joy to step onto that untraveled road of your friendship, you couldnât help the urge to run, to escape, to get away from that topic and move on with your life.Â
For sure you both had conversations about similar concepts, but nothing close to personal-sexual subjects. Nothing similar to Heeseung asking you directly how flirting happens.Â
âI thinkâŠâ You sighed, fidgeting with the rings in your fingers. âIt depends on the personâŠâ
That reply was more open than Heeseung wanted, however, he didnât press.Â
Your tone was thoughtful, your gaze drifting to a random spot on the wall behind Heeseung and then you frowned, trying to recall how your other girl friends behaved whenever their crushes were nearby to give him a proper answer.
Heeseung studied your beautiful features intently, momentarily losing sight of his original purpose; his focus hovered longer on your lips, the same ones that taunted his self-control every single day, the same ones he dreamed about having attached to his own, the same ones he nearly said âfuck itâ and kissed.
Instead, keeping the natural and respectful approach and also using your words, he rephrased his question, bold and curious to explore furthermore.
âHow do you flirt, then?â
You blinked your blurred, distant eyes back to Heeseung, widening them once you noticed not a single hint of hesitation within his speech, not even a drop of wavering as he held eye contact. Your furrowed eyebrows showed deep uncertainty, and Heeseung added, struggling a bit to sound firm, gesticulating with his nervous hands.
âLike, could you demonstrate?â
It hadnât clarified anything. In fact, it only made everything more doubtable and chaotic, eliciting a tilt of your head and an even deeper frown.
What on earth was he talking about? Out of nowhere? With no precise context whatsoever? You hadnât bought into his questioning from the start, especially because of how charming that guy in front of you could easily be, no shame at all. And now this â completely sudden and utterly unsubtle.
Heeseung hadnât laid the groundwork before dropping this delicate bombshell in your lap.
âHow do I flirt?â You retorted, emphasizing and pointing to yourself, dumbfounded.
âYeah, like,â he shrugged, as if it was just a normal question to make to your best friend. âHow do you normally flirt with your crushes?âÂ
You shook your head, your hands freezing in the air, your spinning head barely catching the mocking tone when Heeseung said crushes. âNo, like, I got that part,â you clutched your fists, narrowing your eyes, lips suddenly drying. âButâŠâ
The tension clung in the silence and you could feel your heart ringing in your ears, almost ripping out from your rib cage. Your hands slowly dropped to your lap, resting there as you tried to find a recompose path out of that situation.
âButâŠ?â Heeseung prodded, leaning ever so slightly closer, his curiosity palpable as much as his boldness.
âDo you want me to flirt with you?â You blurted out, struggling to understand the whole picture, a blend of dread and excitement swirling in your stomach that you failed to contain.
Heeseungâs breath rigged, apprehension heavy in his voice, afterall, that simple interaction had the strength, the weight of changing things between you two for good â and he was painfully aware of it.Â
âItâs not like, flirt flirt,â he attempted to clarify himself, though it was clear he was growing increasingly nervous with each passing second. âI just wanna see how girls do it. And youâre a girl, as far as I know.âÂ
Heeseung was trying to sound nonchalant, to ease the tense air with his remarkable teasing smirk, as casual as ever, but the atmosphere had noticeably shifted and you werenât sure about your thought process during that moment.Â
You grabbed one of the couchâs pillows behind you and threw over him, both of you sharing a laugh that seemed a bit too forced to be real.
A rush of heat crept up your neck as you silently fumbled for the right words when the playful banter settled, leaving room for the reality of Heeseung requesting you to purposely flirt with him.
You also grasped with caution the way Heeseungâs gaze lingered on your figure, how it followed the movement of your teeth pressing on your bottom lip, how he mirrored your decision to wet the area with the tip of your tongue as well, drawing your attention towards his own attractive lips, planting, in your mind, a dangerous seed that had you considering a deeper, promiscuous touch.Â
The whole moment felt like walking a tightrope in high heels and you were terrified of what might happen if you stumbled. Your friendship was too precious for you to lose it over a stupid mistake. But, God, why did it feel so tempting to surrender to it?
Heeseung looked at you with adoration and eagerness, his body surprisingly relaxed, or at least you read it like that, as if the scenery was as simple as one plus one, as though he had everything under control.
Little did you know he was extremely, ridiculously, intensely anxious of what cost he would have to be paying in order to not destroy everything. If you paid close attention, you would probably see his gray shirt moving to the strong beats of his heart, loud enough to make him wonder if he was going to survive the outcome.
Another sigh trailed off your mouth as you scratched the back of your neck, clearly torn between the open choices in front of you. You could easily opt to ignore that and shove Heeseung away with some joke, or perhaps answer his question without thinking too intensely about it; you could fake it, hiding your real feelings in a dialogue made up from your head.Â
Or you could let your friendship fade into the depths of your lustful desire of having Heeseung for yourself as a whole man, shameless flirting with him the way you always wanted to.Â
And then, it clicked. He was offering you the perfect opportunity, the perfect project to subtly guide your decisions, all while pushing you towards the inevitable conclusion: you were about to ruin that friendship.
âFuck it,â you muttered under your breath to yourself, and right after your sharp, determined gaze met his, leaving no chance for any possible retort. âI think we need to fantasize a scenario, then.â
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the shift in tone but too intrigued to ask questions. âWhy?â he smirked, leaning in slightly. âDoes the scenario where you flirt with your best friend in your living room not quite match the vibe?â
You forced an exaggerated look of disgust, but it was more for show than anything else. Neither of you was fooled by your performance. âNo, it doesnât.â
Heeseung chuckled, the tension slowly melting between you two. But even as the laughter filled the air, the uncertainty of what was coming next buzzed in the back of your mind, tempting you to run. Yet, your heart, much to a surprise, was urging you to stay, to follow this dangerous path wherever it might lead.
âOk. So let's just picture we're in a clubââ Heeseung started, straightening his posture.Â
âI don't go to clubs.â You quickly deadpanned, eliciting a small âohâ from him.
âRight.â He agreed, frowning while trying to think of another situation. âSoâŠâ
You sighed in defeat, biting your lip briefly before saying.Â
âI'm your classmate and I have a huge crush on youâŠ?â You blurted out in one breath, yet hesitant, feeling your entire face heat up with embarrassment.
Especially because the said scenario had already played out before, making it easier to go along with â or worse, making it feel way too realistic.
âNice! That's a good one.â Heeseung replied, his voice carrying a cheerful tone that had you scrunching your nose at his obliviousness, though it wasnât entirely his fault that you were harboring bottled-up feelings for him. âSo what would you do?â
You toyed with your bottom lip, grazing it lightly with your teeth as you tried to quell your nerves, all while struggling to ignore the way your friend sounded urgent, excited, and unmistakably eager. It was as if the entire script had been meticulously crafted long ago. As if he genuinely and wholeheartedly wanted you to flirt with him and walk past the friends line.
Dangerously close.
Before you voiced out, you cleared your throat not to waver on your words. âSo, since we're classmates, we'd probably see each other everyday...â
Heeseung nodded, his bambi-eyes following your every movement as you shifted on your seat slightly. âYeah.â
âAs a girl with a crush on you, I'd try my best to stand out somehow and grab your attention first. And the most common way isâŠâ You paused, casting a wary glance towards Heeseung, as though your next words carried a weight too immense to risk uttering lightly. âEye contact?â
After some time, locking eyes with Heeseung became an increasingly challenging task because it meant having the opportunity to take in every detail of his impossibly attractive face.
The faint mole on his forehead and the ones near his nose were like tiny stars adorning a beautiful sky; that very nose that made you want to squeal from how adorable and rounded its tip was, all while provoking thoughts far too indecent to entertain.
His constant parted lips carried an unique charm, naturally inviting with their slightly reddish hue. At times, they took on a deeper tone, whether from the way Heeseung pressed them together whenever he entered the deep concentration state or nibbled at them to suppress a laugh after teasing you.
If you dared let your gaze wander further, you would notice the sharp point of his chin and, just below it, his prominent Adamâs apple â a mesmerizing detail you never imagined could have such an effect on you. The subtle movement of it bobbing up and down held your focus captive as though it had the power to dictate your every subsequent action.
A sigh slipped from your lips before you even realized the silence that had overtaken you, nor the way Heeseung, with his warm brown eyes, oozed affection and attentiveness your way.
âYouâre not making eye contactâŠâ Despite his observation, there wasnât a trace of reprimand in his tone. It was soft, like a summer breeze brushing against your skin, gentle yet impactful enough to make your eyes widen as you leaned back in surprise.
You hadnât even noticed how close you had unconsciously leaned towards him.
âSorry,â you muttered after clearing your throat, redirecting your gaze to a random spot in Heeseungâs lap. Yet, contrary to what you expected, he shifted forward, closing the distance further, his knees nearly brushing against yours.
You looked up at him, confusion and apprehension flickering in your expression, ready to ask why he was coming so close, but he left no room for your question.
âDoes the proximity of the girl interfere with flirting?â
His tone was low, soft even, each word drawn out with deliberate care. It carried a designed tenderness that nudged the borders of unexplored intimacy between the two of you, crafted perfectly to unbalance your soul.
Breathing became difficult as your heart raced, your body begging you to flee.
âNânormally, itâs not this close.â You cursed yourself for stuttering, but how could you not? How could you remain composed when Heeseungâs voice carried an intimacy you had never heard before? You had never seen this side of him, never had him like this.
Your gaze latched onto the way his long eyelashes fluttered with each deliberate blink, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the way his breath mingled with yours as he leaned impossibly closer.
âYeah?â He murmured, his eyes dipping briefly to your lips in a silent, daring plea to let actions replace words. âThen why are you this close?â
You desperately tried to come up with a coherent response, perhaps to point out that it was he who had closed the gap. But your mind had abandoned rationality, leaving you to stumble over a weak, âBâBecause you sat there, you idiot.â
You broke eye contact abruptly, reality crashing over you like a tidal wave. The sheer weight of the moment urged you to shift away, to reclaim your space and calm the chaos in your chest.
But Heeseung wasnât ready to let you go.
With surprising swiftness, he shifted his body upright and gently pulled your arm so you could get onto his lap, his hands holding you firmly yet carefully in place.
âNo,â he murmured, shaking his head softly as his voice dropped an octave, steady and soothing, eliciting an immediate gasp from you. âI want to know how girls flirt when theyâre this close.â
You found yourself awkwardly sitting sideways on his lap, blinking in confusion, hesitation etched into every line of your expression. All you could manage was a whispered âWhat?â that answered or replied nothing at all, it simply materialized into words something that reflected your genuine state.
Your breath hitched as Heeseung leaned in even closer, the heat of his body melding with yours like he was a powerful devil coming from the gates of Hell. His gaze, now tinged with something more potent that torn in between desire, yearning and an unspoken question, stirred something wild within you.
And for a fleeting moment he hesitated, the weight of the uncharted territory between friendship and something deeper making him pause and analyze his possibilities, the small shift on his gaze betraying him. But as his fingers tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, his resolve solidified.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he whispered, his words as soft as the pad of his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. He gently tugged at your bottom lip, leaving you breathless, lips parted, and trembling. âIâm sorry for the way I went about this,â he added, his voice feather-light, his warm breath caressing your skin. âBut I couldnât think of another way to put us in this exact moment.â
Your body froze, your mind unable to fully process what was happening. One moment, Heeseung was your charming best friend who eventually became your lifelong crush, the next you were on his lap, in a compromising position and with your faces inches apart.
You were suffocating in the heavy atmosphere, unsure of how to respond to the rush of emotions crashing over you; it left you in a state of emotional overload, in shock, utterly overwhelmed.
And then, with a softness that cracked the air between you, that broke your tensed nerves and fluttered your chest, you saw his eyes falter, waiting for a sign, a proper answer for his following question.
âCan I kiss you?â
Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining space yourself, your lips meeting in a collision of longing, and, so far, unspoken feelings that were buried deep in both of your souls, now lingering in the atmosphere as a quiet, yet delectable high voltage cursing over your body that you struggled deliciously to drift through.Â
Torn in a conflict of decisions and a mutual desire, you had finally tasted what had been tempting you for so long. The softness, the warmth, the way Heeseungâs lips fit so perfectly against yours, tailored to match you as if they were meant to be.
Crossed everything you had imagined, now buzzing like a soft echo of reminiscences from when kissing Heeseung equated to a fever dream, to impossible, unattainable.Â
Your body seemed to float in contact to soft clouds that gently embraced you; and then you realized that it was Heeseung holding you tenderly, kindly tracing the curves of your waist in a position that, now, was anything but comfortable.
Even so, the world outside felt like it didn't exist anymore. There was only the two of you, kissing with your breaths mingling intimately, with quiet sounds of contentment slipping out between that touch, one you had longed for far too long to waste the seconds that followed.
You deepened it, seeking Heeseung's tongue with yours almost desperately. The shock of the encounter of the two warm muscles was intoxicating, leaving you completely weak, and had you not been sitting, you would have easily fallen to the ground.
Kissing Heeseung at that moment felt like a relief. Relief in knowing that you were both on the same page when it came to the shared connection. Relief in realizing that his mouth desired you as much as yours craved his.
It was comforting to acknowledge how your body fit into his, in every possible way.
And it was then that you became aware of how your hands had automatically found their way into the soft strands of Heeseung's hair, pulling him just enough to draw the small grunts he released each time you did.
Your heart skipped a beat when Heeseung pulled away, tugging your lower lip with a soft bite. You opened your eyes slightly to search for an answer, fearing that regret had hit him like a powerful, striking bolt, but the truth was: he just needed to breathe in order to stay grounded and aware of what had just happened.
Shit. He was completely fucked, because now he knew how incredible it was to hear your breath hitch, to feel your fingers glide across his goosebumped skin with a tender, tempting touch, almost filthy, as your mouths melded together in an unprecedented rhythm.
He knew what it was like to have you intimately, and losing that feeling started to be his most intense fear.
Heeseung hadn't noticed, but there was a faint frown on his forehead that stirred conflicting emotions in you. He breathed heavily, almost panting while searching for air in his lungs. His eyes lowered, hypnotized by your parted lips, which willingly offered themselves to him.
It felt like a sweet indulgence, completely exposed, like someone on a strict diet, almost forbidden from indulging in the delicious taste of your mouth.
One simple kiss and he was completely undone, in the most delightful way possible. And beyond that, he began to crave you even harder. Dangerously harder. âWhatâs wrong?â You asked, a mild frighten cursing through your veins, your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers continued to caress Heeseung's neck.
Your hooded eyes tried to pull an explanation for why he had stopped so suddenly.
He let out a low chuckle, a sound deep enough to make you shiver inside, sending a strange energy straight to between your thighs that made you unconsciously clench your legs, as your panties started to damp.
Heeseungâs hand, resting there, immediately noticed, making him smirk and lift his gaze. âYou,â he sealed his lips with yours, âare unreal,â followed by another small kiss and, once again, a pause to admire you.
Heeseung looked at you with passion and tenderness, but mostly with desire. He wanted you.
No.Â
He needed you.
You swallowed hard as you met his piercing gaze before he stood up, making you rise with him. Standing, he grabbed you by the waist and, still smiling, kissed the corner of your lips without any proper explanation.Â
Your hands felt awkwardly frozen in mid-air, near Heeseungâs chest, as if you forgot how to function as a human being. To ease your visible tension and also taking some advantage of the moment, Heeseung lowered his mouth and planted a sweet trail of small, wet kisses down to your neck.
Your head immediately tilted to the side, almost as if he had typed the right password to gain free access to explore your body, his large hands cupping your ass with just the right balance of respect and desire. While you allowed him this closeness, he was careful not to overstep, not when you both had only just begun to unravel that delicate part of your... friendship?
Gradually, you let yourself go, questioning less and following the flow deliberately; your hands now resting on Heeseungâs broad shoulders while he continued his project of driving you insane with his kisses.
âHeeâŠâ You sighed softly when his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot near your ear, too sensitive to keep you quiet, weak enough to make your knees nearly give way involuntarily.
âDonât call me like that, babyâŠâ Heeseung murmured softly against your skin, the vibration of his voice aligning with the tremor in your core, the endearment compelling you to clutch your eyes closed. Before you could even think of apologizing, he continued. âOr else Iâll get harder. And this fucking boner is already annoying me.â
For a brief, considerable second, you couldnât comprehend his statement, your eyes opening in pure confusion as you stared at him, silently asking for an explanation. But Heeseung remained hidden in your neck, and you could even feel the ghost of his mischievous smile tracing your skin, rendering your mind incapable of thinking about anything other than his inebriating presence.
Then, he thrusted forward, just enough to press his hips against your body while gripping your waist to prevent you from stumbling back, and you felt it.
The layers of fabric between you two did nothing to mask the clarity of his intentions, not when he subtly, but unmistakably, demonstrated what he was referring to â a bulge sufficiently big to elicit a jolt of a quiver through your being, firm and clearly starting to grow painfully hard as Heeseung began to repeat that move.
So you had that effect on him? You turned him on? That was an unexpected delight. The warmth of it made you squirm in sudden discomfort, wishing you could feel it in a different way â one with fewer clothes.
Heeseungâs lascivious kisses on your neck switched to sloppy-messy ones, merging with the subtle grind of his hips against yours as he seeked for the smallest release to his thirst. The sensation made you let out a soft, almost teasing moan, provoking his restraint to the brim.
âFuckâŠâ he groaned, faltering by the way you were letting him grind shamelessly like a dog in heat, still fully clothed. âTell me to stop, please..." His voice was ragged, like an aching, shaky plea that made his movements halt, since his focus turned inward in order to find some self-control.
But didnât give such a command. Instead, you opened the door, not-so-silently inviting Heeseung deeper into the moment, into you. You couldnât care less about your friendship, not when you craved to have your said best friend touching you intimately, to have his length twitching inside you while fucking your senses out of you as if his life depended on it.
You shook your head, a sly smile curving your lips when you whispered right in his ear.Â
âTake me to my room, Hee.â
His desperation thickened as he surrendered to the overwhelming warmth between you two, a vocal groan cursing through his throat when he maneuvered easily your body by grabbing your thighs, inciting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he busied his mouth in yours, messily guiding both of you to the your room.Â
You found support on his shoulders and giggled in between the sloppy kiss, but you couldnât quite enjoy the feeling of his strong grip surrounding your body with precision for too long, as your back quickly reached the soft mattress of your bed.
Heeseung's big figure towered over you, scooching up as a way to help you both find a comfortable position until your head was touching one of your pillows, lips still attached to each other in pure hunger.
You wondered if putting your feelings into words would add to the moment, but nothing truly needed to be said. The unspoken tension you shared with Heeseung had carried your relationship this far â this wasnât the time to disrupt it with confessions of the obvious. Not when you had him kissing you so intensely, so voraciously, as though he were utterly parched and you were his only source of relief.
It felt exhilarating to have Heeseung this needy, his body reacting to every subtle motion of yours. You rolled your hips gently against his, seeking mutual friction in a desperate bid for release.
Your fingers wandered through his disheveled hair, occasionally trailing down his subtly muscular arms â the very arms that had always been your weakness.
Heeseung wasnât bulky or overly built, but he had a lean, breathtaking frame, with just the right amount of definition in certain places. Supporting his weight on the bed, you could feel the tension in his arms under your touch, muscles tightening even more each time your hands dared to drift lower, grazing his back, your nails lightly scratching.
The slight scrape drew delicious sighs from him, each one lost in the fervor of your kiss.
Heeseungâs free hand explored wherever it could reach, teasingly brushing beneath the hem of your shirt, as though waiting for your silent permission to go further. And you took your cue right away.
âHeeâŠâ you broke the intense, breath-stealing kiss to murmur his name, your voice soft, your eyes barely open as the world around you seemed heavier, hotter.
He reacted instantly to the familiar nickname, though now it carried a filthy weight that would linger with him forever. His hips pressed against yours in a motion that sent a shockwave through your core, the direct contact of his pelvis with yours setting you alight.
Lifting his gaze to meet yours, he found pure, unrestrained lust staring back at him. The words that followed made him falter, disbelief flashing across his features at the reality of what he had craved for so long finally coming true.
âI want you,â you whispered, eyes tenderly, yet oozing with desire looking at his brown orbs.
Heeseungâs jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, his expression shifting to something taut, focused. He studied you with care, searching for hesitation, for any trace of doubt in your plea. But he found none, only mutual desire, raw and unfiltered.
A breath of laughter escaped him, quiet and disbelieving, as his lips, swollen and glistening with your shared kisses, curved into a cheeky, yet content and relieved, smile.
âDonât laughâŠâ You whined, squirming beneath him in a feeble attempt to escape his teasing gaze.
âIâm sorry,â he said with his voice low, gravelly, making you shiver. âItâs just⊠This feels like a dream.â
Heat rushed to your cheeks and you failed to hold back a smile. âSo, youâve dreamed about me?â
âEvery single day, Y/N,â Heeseung admitted, his eyes dropping to your lips once again, heavy with yearning, with need.Â
He looked intoxicated, or maybe hypnotized. Whatever it was, he felt as though his body had transcended reality itself. Because even in his dreams, he never imagined having you like this â so real, so wholly his.
âTell me that againâŠâ A delicate plea. âPlease,â a desperate beg.
âWhat?â You whispered back in confusion, your eyelids feeling heavy with the proximity of the moment, making it difficult to keep admiring the tempting view of Heeseung slowly falling apart.
âThat you want me.â
Heeseungâs perfume had taken over you, invading your senses completely like a flood, and you were the one feeling drunk right now, as a deep goosebump ran through your spine hearing â understanding â his request.
âI want you,â you repeated, your voice trembling with the weight of confessing something so intrinsic.Â
Heeseung's breath mingled with yours, shaky, weak; the warmth of it ghosting over your lips as he hovered above you was making you dizzy. His gaze burned into yours, holding a quarter of darkness and contrastingly tenderness that matched his impossibly gentle touch on your waist.Â
He moved deliberately, savoring the anticipation building up quite fast, stirring an ache that got your stomach bubbling with expectation and a weird anxiety. You tightened your grip on his hair when the tip of his cute nose brushed against yours and his reddened lips grazed over your mouth.
âAgain, please,â he murmured in a husky whisper; due to the closeness, the movement tickled the skin of your lips and spurred you to lick the area, your tongue caressing both your swollen lips.
You sighed, closing your eyes.
You could feel your core pulsing in need, your skin prickling due to the insufferable tension that grew stronger, ticker, teetering the unbearable within each second, making you wonder how longer you would be able to hold yourself back.Â
The magnetic tension surrounding you two made every breath feel like a desperate beg, igniting a hunger within you so fierce it consumed you.
Felt like the last thing you would ever crave in your life was right before you. But apparently, Heeseung longed to hear you speak a little more before taking any action.
âI want you, Hee,â you said again, quieter this time, though your tone was no less intense â it was even more raw.
Heeseungâs lashes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing the confession like it was his lifeline. He repeated the motion of rubbing his nose on yours, now tilting his head to the side and groaning. That couldn't be real. You couldnât be real.
He needed one more. Just. One. More.
âOne more, pleaseâŠâ he pleaded, the words slipping out between deep, controlled breaths that did nothing to mask the tremor of desperation in his tone.
âI need you, Heeseung.â
His forehead pressed lightly against yours as he exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging with the weight of restraint. The charged air between you seemed to thicken, wrapping you both in an intoxicating haze.
Despite the tenderness of the moment, the desire simmering beneath the surface was undeniable â present in the way his hands traced delicate patterns along your waist, in the way his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of yours, in the way his lips hovered, so close yet so agonizingly distant.
âI need you right now, Hee. Please.â
And with your last wish, Heeseung obeyed your command.
Followed by a passionate kiss, one he tried to take his time to appreciate your taste, he also held the waistband of your shorts and, after your silent nod amidst the clash of your mouths when he hesitated, he began to move it down to your thighs, revealing the softness of your bare skin to his curious hands.Â
Thick fingers brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, the thin barrier of your panties doing little to dull the sensation. The whimper that followed barely met the real world, swallowed whole by Heeseungâs eager mouth as he drank in your expressive, delicate reactions, savoring every trembling note like a melody meant only for him.
âSo wet.â Heeseung stated the obvious after feeling your arousal sticking across the fabric, playfully tapping just to tease and feel its viscosity.
If the room was quiet enough, he would be able to hear the wet sound of his pats.Â
He dived into your neck since he couldnât keep up with the pace of the shared kiss, not when you were letting out such beautiful noises as he pressed his fingers on your entrance over your clothing piece, taunting that release that seemed far to reach.
âHeeââ You whined in frustration, swinging your hips towards Heeseungâs fleeting touches as well as tightening your grasp on his locks.
âI know, I know,â he chuckled, deep and low. You pouted when he flashed you a charming smirk, matching perfectly with his amused, yet playful eyes. âLet me take care of you, mhm?â
And with that, Heeseung made quick work of removing the rest of your clothing, still caught around your thighs, panties included. He bit his lip, a soft sigh escaping alongside a subtle furrow of his brow in delight as he took in the full view of your pussy, glistening with your wetness â all caused by him.Â
You wanted to close your legs and hide, but he held you open and exposed to his sight. Heeseung could feel his stomach fluttering, tightening with sparkling expectation.Â
Beneath the teasing slowness of his movements, there was a Heeseung teetering dangerously close to the edge of insanity, warring to find some self-control. And it was entirely your fault.
The effect you had on Heeseung was nothing short of surreal. Even the simple act of your consent, given with every piece of fabric he slid away from your body, only served to fuel the fire within his desire, leaving his body, mind, soul, everything he had drunk on the sheer anticipation of what was to come.
âFucking beautiful, baby.â
The compliment was common â Heeseung always praised your good looks. But the endearment slipped past his lips with extra ease, as if calling you baby â his baby â was as natural as a heartbeat, as expected as blossoming flowers during spring.Â
By the way your cheeks warmed, you could tell your entire face was betraying your shyness, especially when Heeseung offered you a genuine, content smile, as if he were expressly happy that you had allowed him to see you in this form.
He still hadnât unclasped your bra and had only removed his own shirt, dragging out painfully the moment of leaving you both naked.
You, on the other hand, couldnât help the small flicker of worry, a strong fear of disappointing Heeseung.
You had only had sex once in your life, with an ex-boyfriend you had trusted enough to take that step, believing that being in a relationship would make it less hurtful and more enjoyable. You were wrong.
Not only had you suffered physically from his lack of care, but you hadnât even come close to reaching your own orgasm.
Heeseung knew the rough outline of that story. He was aware that you werenât a virgin anymore but hadnât asked for too many details. Partly because he hated the thought of someone else being the one to take that from you.
A pang of jealousy lingered, even though, at the time â just a few months ago â he hadnât seriously considered taking such a step with you.
It was only after your breakup, and the frustration that radiated off you, that Heeseung decided to act. He couldnât stand the idea of you putting yourself down, settling for men who gave you less than the bare minimum, when he was right there, longing to give you the world.
âLet me see you too, Hee.â
Your soft request came accompanied by a gentle caress over Heeseungâs slightly flustered cheeks, his lovingly expression hiding the inner battle he was fighting to keep himself composed.
He gave a small nod, standing up from the bed to remove the last of his clothes, granting you the sinful sight of his body, a thin sheen of sweat accentuating the bronzed tone of his skin. Your gaze dropped slowly towards his erection, standing stiff, flushed, with the tip in a darker shade, glistening with leaking precum.Â
âHot,â you murmured quietly, the word barely leaving your lips. But in the stillness of the room, Heeseung heard it.
A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, shy and uncharacteristic â a glimpse of the awkward, reserved side of your friend that you loved teasing, the side that wasnât used to receiving compliments and always got adorably flustered when they came.
You giggled, beckoning him with a curl of your finger. âCome here, hmm?â
And who was Heeseung to deny you?
In an instant, he reclaimed his place over your body, his mouth finding its way to the smoothness of your chest, lips grazing and tasting your skin. His hands slid behind your back, intent on finally removing the last piece of fabric that kept you hidden from him, and it took less than seconds for you to whimper, slamming your eyes shut as you felt Heeseung gently nip at your nipple.
âHurry up,â you muttered within a squirm. âPlease, Hee. I need you inside me."
You were quick and precise in expressing your desire, your contorted expression of pleasure blended with frustration making it clear that you didnât want any more delays, especially since he had already dragged things out too much, and you were about to crawl the walls around you to feel him properly.
âCondom?â He murmured against your skin, smiling slightly at your desperation, though he was just as bad, if not worse.
âI donât have it,â you moaned as he bit your stomach while lowering his hot, wet kisses. Your hands tried to find support in anything â the sheets, his hair, his shoulders â in order to ground yourself, while Heeseung seemed too calm for his own good. âBut we donât need it.â
Immediately, Heeseung froze. He stopped and lifted his gaze, scanning your face for any trace of teasing or hesitation in your words, half-expecting you to be joking or playing around, but instead, all he found was the raw, unfiltered desire of your soul exposed before him.
âI trust you,â you whispered in between your heavy breaths, a soft smile tugging at your lips that countered any remnant doubt resting inside Heeseung. You gently caressed his cheek, pulling him back to you, your eyes locking in a quiet promise that only you two knew the meaning. âI trust you, Hee.â
That was the tipping point. You, who had been wondering how Heeseung maintained such control, watched as his tender nearly relaxed gaze vanished entirely, swallowed by a wave of desire, as if pure lust had consumed his state completely.
âDonât say that, love,â a murmur. His voice trembled, just as his arms struggled to hold himself still. He then kissed you intensely, shutting down any possibility of you retorting the pet name, barely giving you time to recognize how your heart skipped a beat.
Heeseungâs hips shifted in the precise motion to bring you closer, to claim you. You shivered.
âIâm going insane, you have no fucking idea.â
Though the choice of words said behind gritted teeth, it was clear Heeseung gravitated towards vulnerability rather than anything harsh; he sounded unsteady, but not in a worrying way. It seemed as if he had surrendered completely to your existence, almost like a personal devotion.
His soft, now familiar lips found home on yours again, pulling you into a singular kiss filled with unspoken emotions, while one of Heeseung's hands gently caressed your waist to keep you still, beginning to position his hardness against your aching hole.
Feeling the distinct pressure in that area generated an unconscious and uncontrollable tension in you, your shoulders stiffening, your hands gripping Heeseung's arms immediately and your mouth stopping properly working as the fear of the pain that would follow from that simple action started to creep up your spine.
âWhat's wrong, love?â Heeseung asked kindly, pausing his movements as he noticed the sudden rigidity in your body; he had only inserted the tip, and you had become completely tense.
âNâNothingâŠâ You shook your head, your eyes clenched closed as you tried to regulate your heartbeat and breaths. So far, there was no burning sensation where Heeseung had placed himself, but still, you were afraid.
By any means he was big, you had gotten a beautiful view of him just a few minutes ago, and although your mouth watered to have him fully inside you, there was a lingering feeling that held your soothness back.
âBabyâŠâ Heeseung murmured softly, his voice carrying a subtle insistence as he sensed the clear discomfort and the blatant lie in your response, his concerned eyes searching for any hint of truth in your contorted expression.
âIâm sorry.â You pouted, refusing to open your eyes, the weight of vulnerability overwhelming you.
âFor what?â He asked, a small trace of confusion in his voice, but he didnât press further. Instead, he offered you the choice to end it without guilt or hesitation. âDo you want me to stop?â
âNo!â You blurted, snapping your eyes open, your pupils wide and searching his face. Your head shook vehemently, your hands gripping his shoulders in a reflexive act of urgency as well as your legs, wrapping around his waist to keep him in place.
âThen what is it, baby?â
Heeseung adjusted his body slightly, his movements deliberate and tender, ensuring he wouldnât press into you too forcefully. He kept his tip brushing against your folds, the sensation teasingly close but never quite crossing the threshold. He silently made the decision not to push you further unless you signaled otherwise.
âItâs justâŠâ You exhaled shakily, your eyes downcast, unable to meet his unwavering gaze. âIâve neverâ I mean, I did have sex once, but it was so painful, and it hurt so much, and I didnât even⊠YâknowâŠâ
You spoke in a flurry, your words tumbling out in a nervous rush, and through it, Heeseung caught the part of the story you had kept hidden and he never dared to ask about. His heart clenched, it became clear that this was a truth that now needed care.
âHe wasnât even that big, but it hurt because he didnât care about me, andââ
âMy love.â Heeseung interrupted, his voice breaking through with a soft, comforting tone. You stopped speaking instantly, blinking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes that held so much unspoken trust. He smiled warmly, a reassuring tenderness in his touch. âIâd never hurt you,â he whispered, his voice firm with sincerity. âAnd Iâd never, ever force you to do anything you donât want.â
âI want you,â you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, needy, desperate even. âIâm just⊠afraid.â
âWe can take it slow, love,â he said, his words a mutual understanding between you both, the promise of patience in his voice.
He slowly began to press his tip into you again, the sensation soft but insistent, giving you time to adjust. You swallowed thickly, your breath hitching as you tried to calm the anxiety racing through you.
There were sounds threatening to escape your throat that you couldn't properly control, so you just let them out.
âRelax, alright? Itâs me. Iâm your best friend. Iâm not going to hurt you. We can stop whenever you want.â
Through reassuring phrases and tender kisses planted over your face â and mainly on your parted lips â, Heeseung deliberately entered you whole, until his dick was being hugged by your clenching walls and his pelvis fully met your body.
You took a deep breath several times. The sensation was uncomfortable, strange; there was an intruder inside you, and you couldn't quite enjoy the so-called pleasure during sex due to it, but as the long seconds passed and your body relaxed, you began to adjust to the weight of Heeseung's length inside you.
And finally you noticed that Heeseung himself had buried his face at the crook of your neck, breathing as heavy as you, completely frozen in place.
âHee?â You called and gave a soft stroke to his hair.Â
âGive me a minute,â the words came rapidly and slurred, like an incomprehensible mumble.
You quirked an eyebrow, trying to find his face to read whatever was happening.
âAre you okay?â
Heeseung groaned. âYes. Itâs justâŠâ He gulped, clutching his eyes closed and grunting a curse, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. âFuckâYou feel amazing, baby.â His breath hitched as his body tensed, muscles flexing under the strain of trying to hold back. âI need a minute.â
âAlrightâŠâÂ
Although you couldnât understand why, you just⊠Waited. But he made sure to add.
âSo fucking tightââ Something about how desperate and lost he sounded close to your ear had your walls clenching even more. âI canâtâ I donât wanna cum right now.â
There was no plausible explanation for the flutter in your chest, let alone the heat that spread across every inch of your skin, hitting your core in a way that was almost overwhelming after hearing his confession.
Knowing that Heeseung was physically unable to move, simply because his release was so close â practically edging himself â made you feel more thrilled than you would ever admit out loud.
As the best of friends â after all, you hadnât defined your relationship yet â, you chose the path of teasing, letting out a light giggle and giving a playful tap on his back as you said, âTake your time, big boy. I'm not going anywhere.â
Heeseung chuckled, though the sound was tinged with frustration and craving, the weight of his restraint still palpable.
Throughout the heated makeout moment, he was already far too affected â though he wouldnât admit it now, having your lips against his had been more than enough to leave him ridiculously hard. The shameless grinding had teased his sensitivity with just the right intensity, pushing him dangerously close to the edge.
Now, finally experiencing the tightness of your pussy enveloping around his cock, it was a unique kind of downfall that made his control slip past his fingers, his entire body shivering as trying to contain himself.Â
âI wannaâ I wanna last longer for you,â a breathy, shaky moan escaped when he tried to move, pulling back just a little to shove back again. âFuck babyâŠâ
Heeseung was on the verge of insanity.
He couldnât find the right explanation to how good your wet, warm interior welcomed him in an addictive sensation of fulfillment, as if he had found the exact place he needed and wanted to be.
However, as he began to set a slow, tantalizing rhythm, not only to himself but for you not to feel any pain, your soft, breathy noises became the driving force behind his every move.
Each sound you made was like music to his ears, embedding itself deeply in his mind and shaping his every decision; they spurred him on, a motivator to remain as steady and deliberate as possible, even as his own restraint threatened to crumble.
Heeseung was vividly avoiding to fall into the depths of his true needs of egoisticaly fucking you hard and fast.
And then, you begged.
âCan you go faster? Please?â
A guttural groan was Heeseungâs immediate response, primal and unrestrained, as if your request alone had sent him reeling like a starving hunter finally closing in on its prey.
He paused for a beat, letting the weight of your words settle between the thick air and then shifted the pace, growing more intense, aiming for a sharper, purposeful motion.
Heeseung straightened slightly, lifting his torso enough to pull his face from the haven of your neck and give himself a clear view of your beautiful pleasured face. His gaze met yours briefly before going downward, to the mesmerizing connection of your bodies moving together â your hips chasing his pounds like your life depended on it.Â
Your hazed sight saw his brows furrowing as well as his pursed lips that reflected his immense concentration. Sweat clung to his skin, a few damp strands of hair got stuck to his forehead while the rest, equally damp, fell forward and lightly brushed your face with every thrust.
That sight was a sinful privilege; watching him completely undone yet intensely focused was enough to leave you breathless. And still, your slightly high-pitched whimpers harmonized with each precise thrust.
You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, and instinctively, you mirrored that grip in your hands, clutching Heeseungâs hair as you pulled him into a messy kiss. Tongues moved sloppily, chasing each other and swallowing his deep groans along with your incoherent pleas for him not to stop.
A mutual desire began to creep, one that neither of you wanted to escape, a longing as deep as two bodies yearning, painfully, to occupy the same space and merge together. It became evident in the way you clung to him, your arms wrapping around Heeseung's warm, sweaty body, pressing him down, not even caring about the slight pain in your sensitive boobs as you did so.
âI think Iâm close,â you managed to announce amidst the intoxicating chaos of your senses.
There was a thick veil of lust enveloping you both, leaving you utterly dazed; the sensation was surreal, overwhelmingly good, and for the first time you truly understood what people meant when they talked about sex.
Heeseung had heard your voice distant and muffled, since his mind had drifted away, lost in the overwhelming mix of pleasure and the aching pain of edging his orgasm; his leaking precum started to blend with your sticky arousal as both of you reached over the edge.
Your eyes rolled when Heeseung started to pound into a specific spot in you, stirring your mouth to fall open with soft cries slipping past your throat, while your nails dug into the flesh of his back, scratching strong enough to leave marks.Â
Heeseung barely registered it at first, though he would wear those marks proudly once he did. Still, it stung, a faint burn that somehow awakened his primal need to let go. Added to it, your pussy started to pulse and clench tightly against his painfully sensitive shaft. And so, he begged.
âPlease, cum for me,â a small pause to breathe. âPlease, I need you toâ PleaseâŠâÂ
Your eyes fluttered shut and you trembled. Listening to Heeseungâs broken voice asking you for something you couldnât quite control bordered the inexplicable and finally it snapped.Â
You arched your back and went silent immediately, as if the entire world around you disappeared. You could hear and feel the weight of your heartbeats echoing through you, feel the vibrations of your body, hear the faint, distant noises of Heeseungâs moans and curses and the sound of your bodies colliding.
The intensity of your climax had you gasping for air right after you managed to regain a small portion of your consciousness, your legs squirming as the pleasure took over.Â
Meanwhile, Heeseung barely pulled out in time, ensuring he had guided you through your high enough to leave you satisfied.
He would blame himself later for not giving you his absolute best. For now, his focus was on relieving the unbearable, painful tightness in his balls and dick. And so he did, releasing a guttural groan that seemed to resonate from the depths of his soul before spilling out into a delicious sound.
The wave that coursed through his body was devastatingly intense, leaving him trembling and unsteady to the point where his arms briefly faltered in holding him up.
You parted your tired eyes just enough to watch as he came all over your stomach â so much of it that it trickled down onto the sheets beneath you, leaving you completely sticky.
Both of you fought for air, desperately panting as your bodies surrendered, sinking into an overwhelming state of relaxation. A genuine urge to drift into sleep washed over you, your arms falling limply at your sides as your heavy-lidded eyes fought a losing battle to stay open.
You gave up to the exhaustion, watching through half-closed eyes as Heeseung collapsed into the space beside you.Â
âIâm so sorry,â he murmured softly, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.
You tried to blink away your fatigue, but only managed to respond in a low, drowsy whisper, âFor what?â
âI lost control. I didnât do as well as I wanted to. I ruined your sheets. And⊠youâre all sticky. I know you hate being sticky.â
A quiet giggle escaped your lips at his string of concerns, your body vibrating with a warm, joyous satisfaction at the depth of the bond you shared. It was the expected contrast: Heeseung, overthinking every detail of his performance, and you, utterly smitten, finding his anxieties endearing.
âI loved it, Hee.â
Your praise was genuine, carrying a soft hint of reassurance to ease his insecurity. There wasnât a single part of you that could ever truly mind the things he listed â not even his so-called mistakes.
âYou were gentle and loving,â you continued, brushing a hand against the arm that sweetly wrapped around you, avoiding the result of the earlier moment.Â
Heeseungâs face pressed against yours with his breath tickling your skin â an intimacy you could easily grow used to, but for now, had your heart fluttering.Â
âAnd even when you âlost control,â you stayed here. With me.â
Heeseung hummed with a hint of contentment, a faint smile creeping through his tensed barriers after your comforting words. He shifted like a puppy snuggling into a cozy corner, a gesture he did with you a few times before, but never when you were both so intimately bare in that way.
You both remained silent for a while, absorbing the reality of what had just unfolded.
No openly affectionate words were exchanged. Instead, actions took the lead, allowing you to share an intimate, deeply personal moment guided by mutual pleasure. There was no need for a romantic confession â it felt unnecessary.
Every small gesture during the earlier moment â from Heeseung's steady calmness as he talked you through it, easing your anxiety, to the way you reassured him after the end about how well he did â spoke volumes. It was more than enough to prove that the love between you burned far beyond the bounds of friendship.
Heeseung was lost in thought, exhilarated by having been able to share such a profound connection with you. The mutual desire for each other was undeniable, and no words could ever compare to the overwhelming sensation of, now, not simply having the facility to say he loved you â as he had so often as a friend â but to show it.
To demonstrate to you how every fiber of his being, his soul, his existence, was drawn to you, yearning for you, consumed by you.
âHm, this sticky thing on my stomach is really bothering me,â you broke the silence as the haze cleared and the awareness of your body set in. You pushed his arm aside, preparing to leave the bed and clean yourself up.
âShit,â Heeseungâs eyes widened, and he got on his feet before you could.
As he had mentioned earlier, you hated feeling sticky. He realized might had fucked it up by neglecting to help you clean up, by not providing the aftercare you deserved.
Yet, he couldnât blame himself too harshly; everything about the moment had left him utterly dizzy in the best way possible. It felt like he had lived out a dream once thought unattainable, and the surrealness of it all still lingered.
Your soft, familiar voice snapped him back to reality, reminding him there were consequences to address, and he wanted nothing more than to face each one with you, in every detail, if it meant staying by your side.
âLet me help, okay?â He eagerly offered, reaching out to steady you as you sat up. He barely suppressed a laugh at the grimace that overtook your face as the sticky fluid slid from your stomach to your thighs.
âDonât get me wrong,â you teased as you walked to the bathroom together. âYouâre hot, and all of this was ridiculously amazing, but I really donât like all this cumââ
You didnât get to finish your sentence. Heeseung interrupted, gently but insistently pushing you to sit on the toilet.Â
âPee,â he instructed firmly, yet calm.
You blinked up at him in confusion, one eyebrow raised.
âIt helps prevent infections,â he clarified.
âI know,â you rolled your eyes, staring at him for a moment. He stared back. The scene was unexpectedly comical â both of you naked, exchanging deadpan looks.
âGet out of the bathroom, silly.â
âI donât think thatâs really necesââ
âI canât pee with you here,â you cut him off.
He narrowed his eyes at you but eventually let out a quiet, âFine, fine,â leaving the bathroom with an exaggerated huff, though he didnât bother closing the door.
You giggled at his childish behavior, marveling at the man who had once been your friend. Friend.
It wasnât the right word anymore. Something more significant had blossomed between you, unspoken yet undeniably present.
Once you finished, Heeseung returned to the bathroom and began to bathe you. It was endearing to feel his gentle, careful touch as he cleaned your back, giving you the space to take care of yourself properly.
You helped him wash his hair in return, complaining when he tried to use your expensive shampoo. But you relented when he deployed his infallible tactics: wide, pleading eyes and an exaggerated pout, softly begging, âPlease,â in a tone so whiny it was impossible not to laugh.
Your heart ached with love for this man. The one who had once been your friend and, now, the one with whom you had crossed the line.
When you returned to the bedroom, Heeseung had already changed the sheets, leaving the bed fresh and inviting, ready to welcome you back into its warmth.
âLie down here with me?â You murmured softly.
The sun was already below the horizon, and the air was pleasantly cool. A gentle breeze slipped through the slight gap in the window, rustling the curtains and brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps
The warmth of your recent shower made you extra sensitive to the chill, and noticing this, Heeseung moved to close the window before settling into the empty space beside you.
It didnât take long for you to naturally nestle into one another, as though this kind of closeness was second nature. And it was.
You had always been comfortable with affectionate touches â warm hugs and innocent caresses were a constant part of your daily routine, alongside the playful teasing that defined your relationship. But now, something new lingered in the air: a tension, subtle and undeniable, that neither of you seemed brave enough to confront.
It felt as though acknowledging the shift, putting words to the new dynamic between you, might unravel it entirely â like opening Pandoraâs box and being swallowed by its consequences. Neither of you knew what âdatingâ the other would look like, nor could you say for certain that this was even the stage you had reached. The unspoken remained deafeningly loud.
Your heart raced as you melted into the comforting warmth of Heeseungâs embrace. The familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach now mingled with a bittersweet sense of uncertainty about what lay ahead.
Despite that, you were usually the one to take control in slightly uncomfortable situations â like when Heeseung started bringing certain acquaintances into the apartment you shared, one of whom had wandered into your room uninvited, sparking a minor conflict that Heeseung quickly accepted responsibility for.
âIf you promise to stop ignoring the elephant in the room, I promise to do the same,â you said softly, breaking the silence.
Heeseung had been waiting for you to speak first. You always did. And that thought made a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. Even after everything, you were still... you.
Always you.
He was afraid, of course, that things might change drastically. There was a gnawing fear that the friendship you shared could crumble in the worst possible way. But in moments like this, when you unconsciously reminded him that no matter what, it was still the two of you, he felt a sense of calm.
âGo on a date with me tomorrow,â he murmured suddenly.
You blinked, caught off guard by his directness. His voice was quiet, a little tentative, but firm enough to make you pause. Even with a slight tremor of apprehension at the thought of stepping into the unknown with him, you nodded.
âOnly if itâs not a movie date,â you replied with a light tone.
Heeseung laughed, his chest rising and falling as the sound escaped him, and the sensation of your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his abdomen made him shiver.
âDonât worry,â he reassured you.
You tilted your head to meet his gaze. The way he looked at you, dripping with unfiltered affection was almost overwhelming in the best way. And you knew, just as he did, that the feelings you held for him were reciprocated in full.
You had crossed the line, yes. But now, together, you were venturing into new territory, ready to claim and navigate this uncharted space in your relationship. And somehow, it didnât feel so terrifying when you remembered that, no matter what, it was still the two of you against the world.
#heeseung x reader#enhypen x reader#heeseung smut#enhypen smut#heeseung fanfic#heeseung fluff#heegyukeluv works
735 notes
·
View notes
Text
Between Doubt and Secrets
Emperor Geta x Reader
Summary: When Geta and Caracalla left to attend to their duties as Emperors, you stayed behind due to sickness. Geta returns he notices just how distant you are, a week passed and he thinks he knows the reason behind your coldness.Â
The sound of his boots on the stone floor echoes in the quiet of the palace, each step bringing him closer to you.Â
After what feels like an eternity, Geta is done with his daily duties.Â
Normally, that would be a relief, a reason to smile.
But tonight, the air between you feels different. Itâs heavy with a secret youâve carried alone for far too long.
You stay by the window, watching the fading light of the setting sun. You were nervous.Â
The day is ending.
The news of your child you have known for over three weeks now. The doctor confirmed your suspicion and your heart sank.Â
A child wasnât part of your plan. At least not now.
In truth, itâs thrown everything into chaos.Â
But now Geta is back, and the tension in the room is thick.
When he steps into the room, his presence fills the space.Â
His eyes immediately find you, but thereâs something different about his look tonight.Â
Itâs not the warmth youâve grown to know, not the loving look he only gives to you.Â
No, tonight his eyes are sharp, suspicious. His brow furrows just slightly as he approaches.
âWhere have you been today?â he asks, his voice even, too calm for the question. He was angry.
In the morning he did ask to see you, but you failed to.
For a moment, you stop.Â
You werenât expecting interrogation, werenât prepared for it. His eyes are searching, like he already knows something.
âI was... outside. Just needed some air.â
He doesnât immediately respond, but you can see the suspicion in his eyes.
It doesnât take much for him to read you, to notice when somethingâs off. To know when you lie.
And for the last week he has been home, something has been off.
âYouïżœïżœve been distant,â he says after a long pause. âToo distant. Iâve been gone for weeks, and it feels like youâve shut me out.â
His words cut deep, though you know he doesnât mean to hurt you.Â
He doesnât understand.Â
He hasnât seen the turmoil youâve been living with, the fear thatâs kept you awake at night.
âIâm not... Iâm not shutting you out,â you say, your voice barely above a whisper. âItâs just... a lot has happened while you were gone.â
He steps closer, his eyes narrowing.Â
âWhat kind of âa lot,â exactly? Have you been seeing someone else while Iâve been gone?â
The accusation hits you like cold water.Â
Itâs not anger that fills his voice but hurt.Â
The kind of hurt that makes your stomach swirl.Â
You want to tell him that itâs not like that, that thereâs no one else. But the truth is so much more complicated. And far more frightening.
âGeta, no,â you say, your voice trembling. âThereâs no one else. Iâve been alone while you were gone. Itâs just... Iâve been trying to figure things out.â
He watches you for a long moment, and you see the doubt still in his eyes.Â
You know heâs not convinced.Â
But you donât know how to explain the truth.Â
How could you tell him that youâre carrying his child when you havenât even come to terms with it yourself?
How could you tell him that you have been inside all day trying to figure out how to finally tell him?
Especially when he specifically told you he is not ready for a child. Only the senators demand such a thing. And he doesn't want to give into their needs.
He had enough to care for already, the Empires, his brother and now this.
For a long moment, the room is silent. You tried to collect your thoughts as you played with the hem of your dress.
You and Geta loved each other. Your love was known far and wide for its fire.
Then, finally, you collect yourself. You took a deep breath and realized, you needed to say it.
âGeta... thereâs something I must tell you.â
His eyes shoot up to yours, but he doesnât interrupt, doesnât say a word. He just waits, watching you closely, as if bracing himself for whatever youâre about to say. He prepared for the worst, he is scared you are about to break his heart.
âIâm pregnant,â you finally say. The weight now lifting from your shoulders but it fills the room instead.
The silence that follows is thicker than the air. Almost makes in impossible to breathe.
His expression shifts from one of anger to one of pure confusion.Â
He was a smart man, he probably connected the events already.
âPregnant?â he repeats, voice low. âBut... how? Why didnât you tell me sooner?â
âI didnât know how to tell you,â you whisper, your hands trembling as you spoke. âI wasnât sure what to think, and... I didnât want to disappoint you.â
âDisappoint me?â he shakes his head. âI... I donât understand. I thought you were... I thought you were pulling away from me, that you found someone.â
âHow can I find anyone Geta? I love you so much. I just didnât know how to tell you. I didnât expect this. I didnât plan for it. And what you said about the senators... I was scared.â
He falls silent, staring at you for a long time, as if frozen in time. He realised it was all his fault. That day, he spoke out of anger, he didn't realise just how much pressure that put on you.
In reality, he always wanted a child with you, just on your own terms.
After a moment, he steps closer, his hands trembling as they reach out to you.
âAre you truly pregnant?â
You nod, and a single tear slips down your cheek. The weight thatâs been crushing you lifts just a little.
Then, without warning, Geta pulls you into his arms.Â
Itâs a sudden and tight hug as if heâs afraid to let go of you.Â
His embrace is tight, warm, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that everything will be okay.
âI thought Iâd lost you,â he murmurs against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. âI thought... you didnât want me anymore.â
You pull back slightly to look at him, searching his eyes, you offer him a warm smile.Â
âI do want you. I just... I was scared. This wasnât how I imagined it would happen.â
He brushes a hand over your stomach gently.Â
âYouâre carrying our child, the future of Rome.â he says softly, the disbelief still evident in his voice.
âI am,â you reply, your voice catching in your throat.
His hand rests on your stomach, his fingers warm and protective. "I'm not leaving your side again. And what I said about the senators... I don't care for them. I care for you, I love you. I will protect you and our child. I promise."
For the first time in weeks, you allow yourself to breathe.Â
âWeâll be okay,â you whisper, more to yourself than to him, but he hears it.
Geta presses a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you close again. His voice and heart beat fill you with hope.Â
âI promise.â he whispered again.Â
And you knew Geta always kept his promise.
Suddenly, your baby felt like a blessing. The future of Rome and you.
Gladiator II Collection
Taglist:Â
@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou
@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief Â
@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24
@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69
~Masterlist~
ËAO3Ë
/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
#x reader#fanfiction#x female reader#geta x reader#geta x you#geta imagine#geta gladiator#emperor geta#gladiator ii#gladiator movie#emperor geta x reader#emperor geta fanfic#emperor geta x you#emperor geta gladiator 2#emperor geta x female reader#geta#gladiator ll#emperor geta x y/n#emperor geta imagine#emperor geta imagines#gladiator emperor geta x reader#gladiator emperor geta imagine#gladiator 2#gladiator imagine#gladiator imagines#gladiator II imagine#gladiator fanfiction
474 notes
·
View notes
Text
1,434 words. mature, explicit content ahead. reader is afab, no gendered pronouns used. first time body worship. nipple play. lots of groping because sylus is captivated seeing his beloved naked for the first time. | much thanks to @tbaluver @d4wnbreaker @ivohex for beta reading <3
âDonât look.ââyou huff, puffing your cheeks as you hesitate, hands clenched around your shirt bunched up around your midsectionââNot yet, at least.â
Your lover emits a playful chuckle, âAnything for you, sweetie.â
A few feet across from you was Sylus, happily relaxed as he sat on the edge of his lavish bed. Both of his hands were clasped over his eyes, as per your request. While you two were no stranger to more fleeting, intimate exchanges, your apprehension towards taking anything further was what held you both back from going full circle.
The miraculous part of it was that Sylus had no problem being patient. He didnât bat an eye, nor did his jaw clench. He accepted it like it was something as simple as acknowledging the sky was blue.
Thatâs also the part that scared you the most.
It was a strange, foreign thing. Men were greedy, voracious animals, and with your career, youâve dealt with plenty of them who were⊠interesting caricatures. Some worse than others, of course. And even though you covered yourself shoulder to toe on a day-to-day basis, you still hated being ogled at. Hated the gnawing anxiety that you were being mentally undressed and you didnât even know it.
But Sylus helped you combat a lot of things. There was no pressure from his end to be as prudish as he was, flaunting his figure comfortably. It was his nature (his own words). He was used to it, and when it comes to you, he has no problem being his most comfortable self.
Finally, your shirt hits the ground. You bristle at the cold air pinching your bare back, shivering. You donât want to delay this anymore than you have to.
Quickly, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your waffle-knit shorts, tugging it down. The only thing clinging to your body now was a simple pair of cotton panties. A pair that descends from a cheap pack you bought some months ago. It was a slightly darker shade of maroon, a little brighter than the muted shades accented all over Sylusâ main base.
Dwindling anxiety courses through your veins, almost like a replacement of your blood. You lift your arms to cover your breasts, gritting your teeth before letting out a deep breath to ease yourself.
â...Okay,â you finally say. âYou can look now.â
Sylus lowers his hands.
Unbeknownst to you, his eyes widen slightly in fascination, taking in the sight of your back. He observes the slight curve of it, then the way your hips naturally fill out, and the downward expanse of your thighs to your legs. A light smirk curls at the corner of his mouth, leaning forward a little to rest his forearms on his thighs.
âA breathtaking sight before my own eyes,â he muses. âYouâre stunning, baby.â
You let out a stifled noise, unintelligible of any comprehensible emotion. You were getting flustered. More than you ever have before.
âYouâreâonly staring at my backside.â
âAnd Iâm not complaining if this is all youâll show me.â
His tone shifts from his teasing drawl to something smoother, comforting, âIf this is as far as you want to go, then itâs alright with me. Donât feel pressured to keep going just to please me.â
You stiffen a little, sighing, âI want to. Believe me, I⊠want this. I want to please you. Itâs only fair.â
The shakiness in your voice begs to differ. Sylus raises a brow, lifting a hand to tap his bottom lip contemplatively. He knows you wellâand one of your standout traits is that youâre stubborn as all hell.
He fixates on the shaky foundation for which you plead with him. Despite it all, he knows youâre being sincere. He just doesnât want to scare you.
Sylus sighs, relenting, âAlright then. But I want to remind you that itâs your call. Always.â
â...Thank you.â
With an easing state of mind, you finally turn. Itâs deliberately slow, but you feel comfortable as your eyes meet your partnerâs. His gaze is ever captivating. The very same one used to intimidate and bend others at willâbut itâs those eyes that welcome the sight of you like home. You can make out the subtle tenderness that extends to his adoration for you.
You allow him to take in the sight of you, now face-to-face. Itâs not long before a blush slowly warms your complexion, standing out in the dim aura of the room. The moment Sylus smiles, you feel yourself tensing again.
He chuckles, his voice returning to a low drawl, âAre you getting shy?â
âNo. Absolutely not.â
âReally?â
âReally.â
The former stands, moving over to you in one stride considering the short distance and his stature. Resting his hands on his hips, he carefully circles your figure, observing you againâslower. Once he settles into a spot standing right behind you, you feel the curve of his palm sliding along your shoulder, up around your throat.
Sylus leans forward, lips barely grazing your ear, âDo you want this?â
A nod.
â...Yes,â you moan out softly, the sound a mere whisper. You gasp as his strong torso presses to your back, continuing your permission, âYesâIâfuck⊠I want you, Sylus. I need you.â
This time, he lifts his arms to embrace you from behind. Tufts of white hair tickle your skin as he lowers his head to mouth the side of your neck. His lips latch on, beginning to leave feather-light kisses, descending a trail. Itâs enough to invigorate you, making you more pliant in his arms.
His hands find yours, still covering your breasts. He massages the back of them, gentle in his grasp.
âDo youââ
You canât take this anymore. Youâre desperate, near the verge of tears as you whimper, âYesâyes, yes. Gods, Sylus. Fuck. Please, you donâtâhave to ask anymore.â
His deep laugh reverberates against the juncture between your neck and shoulder, sending chills down your spine.
âIâd be cruel to not ask,â he punctuates with a kiss. âItâs only fair.
âAnd⊠I want to be fair to you, always. Which means asking for your permission, before I may do as I please. Before I fully relish in you the way I dream of.â
A kiss to the area beneath your ear, then a soft tug of your lobe between his teeth. He soothes it with another kiss, whispering, âI intend to relish in you in the best way, as you deserve. As long as youâll have me.â
Youâre at more peace than you can ever imagine. No longer does the cold of his bedroom perplex you, as his words are carried by what feels like an undertone of a trance.
You let down your armsâand instantly, Sylusâ hands occupy the space they once did. His palms, calloused yet smooth with neverending warmth, cup your breasts. Your back arches, and as his fingers pinch and flick your nipples, it elicits boundless moans from you.
To him, itâs probably the most beautiful sound heâs heard, and Sylus groans in anticipation of the symphony he could create.
You whine as he suddenly shifts his grip, lifting you into his arms with ease to drop you onto the bed. He resumes the position you were both once in, turning you to lay on your side as his torso presses to your backside again. You intake a sharp breath, goosebumps dancing along your flesh as it prepares to embrace your loverâs warmth again.
His palms once more resume their squeeze on your breasts, as his lips work to leave a mark on the back of your neck. He takes his time, ensuring the sensuality and its intimate burn is the same as his lips trail down your skin. All you can do in turn is writhe and grind back into him, delivering a delicious mantra of sounds that only tightens the growing bulge behind his trousers.
âSylusâŠâ
âMmh⊠just stay still for me.â
You roll over to lay flat on your stomach, grabbing one of the strewn pillows and hugging it tight. Sylus beams at this, slipping a noise that tethers between a groan and a growl. His palms leave your breasts, keeping a firm pressure as they slither down your stomach, anchoring into the shape of your hips. He kneads the flesh, bolder in his movements as he tongues the dip of your spine, occasionally moving back up, sideways, then downward again.
Itâs an honor, he thinks. To be able to devour you like this.
The only one who will sink his teeth into your skin.
#â¶â¶â¶ âđčđđ»đ°đđœđČđ°đżđČ.#â¶â¶â¶ âđčđđ»đź đ° đđđčđđ.#sylus#sylus x you#sylus x reader#sylus x y/n#love and deepspace#love & deepspace#lnds#l&ds#lads#lads x you#lads x reader#lads x y/n#sylus smut#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace smut#sylus love and deepspace#lads smut
425 notes
·
View notes
Text
âౚà§ËâĄË àŁȘ out of touch â± soccer player! gojo x alt! reader pt.1
summary : gojo is the university's most popular boy and soccer player. he can get any girl he wanted to warm up his bed, so why did he catch feelings for the girl who looks like she just woke up out of a coffin?
warnings â ïžïž this will contain smut throughout the story. reader is implied to have a smaller chest! gojo is an asshole :( so angst, profanity, insecurities, p in v, creampie, comfort, fluff, slight breeding kink, light choking, jealousy, ill prob add to the list as the story progresses!
word count : 1.03k
let me know if you want to be added to the tag list !!
you knew gojo. hell, everyone knew gojo. annoying, loud, obnoxious, ah should I go on? that's how you described the so called star player on the soccer team. his ego reached all the way towards the clouds by how much he was admired in the community. you on the other hand, not so much. sure you were known by many but not in such a positive way. you were intelligent sure, but the way you dressed wasn't entirely accepted. you were always getting bothered by other students, one of them being no other than satoru gojo. although, it seems that you two have grown into a friendship lately.
"hey pretty" you heard an awfully familiar voice come up behind you. the white haired boy was still in his blue and white soccer jersey covered in grass stains and some of his sweat from his practice that he just came from. you gave him one of your small sweet smiles."hi gojo" you mumbled back.
he looked down at your figure. the pretty black blouse fit you so perfect as well as those mini grey jean shorts that cupped your ass so deliciously. gojo took notice of you wearing your earbuds which he took one of them and placed it in his ear. "whatcha listening to?" you faced him slightly annoyed as you looked at how his face scrunched up in disgust.
"seriously? how can your ears support all that screaming?" he grimaced as he heard the loud singing.
he let out a chuckle at that before his eyes lit up as he realized something. reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper handing it to you. you blamed the shot of arousal that traveled towards you as you took notice of how veiny his arms were. you glanced down to see it was a ticket. a ticket to his upcoming soccer game, to be exact.
your eyebrows picked up as you turned to him. "you want me to go to your game?" the question made the blue eyed boy nod. "want you there on the stands baby, if you can, then I promise to play even better than I usually do." you were shocked to say the least. the satoru gojo inviting you to his game personally even after countless months of relentless bullying was not something you could see coming.
but you couldn't help yourself from nodding. "yeah sure ill be there!" the feeling of your heart beating against your chest brought a scary but not unwelcome feeling. You stared at him for a moment, unsure if you were hearing things correctly. The blue-eyed boy, a walking angel blessed by God himself, smirked down at you with a flicker of something you couldnât quite place. It wasn't the usual cocky smirk. It was differentâsomething warmer, maybe? Or maybe you were just imagining it.
"I'd like that."
"great, ill see you tomorrow after school then?" he asked in which you let out an mhm in return. "okay pretty, try and get some sleep. you need some just by judging off your eye bags" he teased. "shut up!"
you watched the taller boy walk off. his use of the sweet and loving names made you feel a little awkward, but you shoved it down. You had a feeling that this was just another one of his ways of throwing you off. It wasnât like he was being sweet. Not Gojo. He never was.
As you walked off to the other side of where the dormitories where taking note on how the night was now awakening due to time change. as you reached for your AirPods case to put back your earbuds your fingers stopped on your left ear. your earbud was missing.
gojo didn't take notice of the music cutting off. he was in a completely different world thinking about none other than you. he didn't understand how he caught feelings. no matter how many times he reminded himself it was you and how he could do some much better that that. he only gave you to ticket to his game only to be nice, is what he told himself. a friendly gesture friends do all the time!
"yo Satoru!" one of his friends called out to him. gojo turned to look at the boy with long black hair and big ass gauges walking up to him along with some other boys from the team. a smile crept up on his face dabbing them all up. "hey you all did well at practice today"
"yeah man that's what we came to say as well but we saw you talking to that emo freak uh whats her name, y/n?" this made gojo slightly embarrassed on how they caught him. "don't tell me you hitting on that emo pussy, it can't be that good" one of the other teammates chuckled making the white haired boy slightly uncomfortable.
"nah man, too busy with uraume" Geto patted his back "good good, lets keep it that way. she's got a better body anyways. let me burrow her sometime yeah?" the blacked hair boy received a nudge at that making him chuckle.
you looked around you trying to find the taller boy to retrieve your airpod. sighing in relief as you saw him. "gojo!" you called out making the boys turn around.
"ah she came back for round two?"
you walked up to him. "hey uhm you still have my AirPods." you said pointing to his ear. "give back your friend her AirPods satoru" his friend teased.
"we're barely friends. acquaintance is a better term" he mumbled out. as you received back your airpod, you stopped. eyes widening as you heard what he said. "acquaintance? thought we were-"
"friends?" he cut you off. "cmon I pay attention to you two or three times and now suddenly we're friends?" he scoffed. why was he acting like this? that's right, because he's satoru gojo. you were nowhere as close as him. you never will be. your face turned serious before you reached into you pocket handing him the ticket he gave you. "here, you dropped this" you mumbled.
gojos eyes fell down to the ticket in his hands. his heart broke a bit. "wait.. y/n-"
"forget it" with that you retrieved back to the direction to your dorm fighting back tears as you left the boy stunned.
"looks like you hurt her feelings, gonna go apologize?"
"nah."
© 2025 windixie. All work belongs to windixie . please do not copy, repost, plagiarize, any of my works as your own.
#gojo satoru#jjk#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#gojo x reader#gojo smut#geto suguru#fanfic#smut#jjk x reader#angst#anime#nanami kento#choso kamo#toji fushiguro#yuji itadori#alternate universe#college#college au#soccer#romance#fluff#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#series premiere
330 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Trade
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader
Summary: When Feyd asked for your hand, your father refused and took you away from him. Now heâll do anything to get you back, and heâs not above kidnapping your sister to offer a trade.
Notes/Warnings: kidnapping and threats of death. I think thatâs it. Feydâs soft for reader.
Words: 4000
Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list
He sits quietly, his chair facing another of its matching set, and leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees. His hands clasp, fingers squeezing and releasing and squeezing and releasing in an effort to suppress the rage he hasnât been able to let go of for weeks.
With eyes scanning over the figure sitting his opposite, Feydâs teeth grind, wearing down the grit of his molars. Itâs hard not to scrutinize. As he takes in every feature of her face, his lips and eyebrows involuntarily quirk in distaste. Itâs not that her features arenât nicely proportionate or well-placed on the structure of her face; theyâre justâŠwrong. Familiar, but incorrect.Â
âYou donât look like her,â he says.Â
Her stare is just as intense as the one he knows so well. And though she may not look quite right, the aura she exudes does not stray from what he expects of someone with her blood.Â
She jerks on the binds that are keeping her wrists locked behind her back and huffs when they donât give way to her strength. âWell, we arenât twins,â she states.Â
Thereâs a bite there, but no soft edge to cushion the blow. She doesnât know the proper way to deal with him. She doesnât know how to ease the tension in his bones with her words. He supposes that is one of many things that makes the difference. Itâs why he loves you and would not love a woman like her.Â
Again she tugs on the ropes confining her.Â
âDonât bother,â he says.
She lets out a groan before finally surrendering. âYou know, she told me all about you. About what became of the two of you. How it happened,â she says. âAnd I understand. I do. But do you honestly believe having your men abduct me was the best idea?âÂ
Feyd leans back in his chair. His arms cross over his chest. You are the only one who questions him, the only one allowed to question him, and his jaw ticks as he pulls back on the desire to slide a blade across your sisterâs cheek.
âI do,â he says.Â
Your sister shakes her head. âYou know theyâre giving her to Kenric. Father is with her on their planet in the process of signing a formal agreement.â
Feyd shoots up, hungry acid eating his insides. Heâd heard news of the pending engagement, but he does not care to listen to those words strung together for a second time, especially not in a voice that so closely resembles yours. It makes him want to hurt something, damage something, but when the nearest target flinches at the sharpness of his movement, he pauses. You would want him to pause. He takes a breath and runs his hand down his face before circling to the back of the chair and gripping the edge of the seat. His knuckles whiten.Â
âShe is not marrying Kenric,â Feyd says. âYour House will give her back to me if I offer them you in return.â
She hums, unconvinced, and a crease forms at the center of his brow. Heâs far from appreciative of how unsure she seems, considering this plan was the only one well-formed enough for execution. As the second born, she may not be as important as you are, but sheâs a daughter of a Great House nonetheless, and no elite would allow the death of one of their own, certainly not their child, without some attempt at preservation first. They'll have to agree to his terms.
But if they donâtâŠ
Feyd stares into the blank space by your sisterâs head, his vision hazy, shapes blurring with each image of you that travels around his mind. Things had been so well. Content, yet passionate. Fulfilling. Theyâd been as close to perfect as Feyd could recognize from othersâ descriptions of the feeling.Â
You were a gift unto him without anyone realizing it. Your parents sent you for education, for experimentation, for practice in learning how to infiltrate other Houses so when the day comes for you to lead beside another, you would have the knowledge and skillset to manipulate any Great line from the inside out.
It wasnât presented that way to his uncle, of course. You were introduced with the suggestion that the Baron see a curious girl, an innocent flower wanting to expose herself to foreign practices. But the act did not fool Feyd. He instantly saw the spots where the roseâs thorns had been clipped. What stood before him was a weapon briefly tamed for the sake of disguise who would grow back her barbs once planted within his walls. And he found much amusement in your deception.
It took mere weeks for you to fall with Feyd into deep affection. You were always around, always peering where you should not have been peering, listening to what did not belong to your ears, and when he got fed up with your lack of covertness, he confronted you. Confrontation which led to lessons in stealth that tucked the both of you into dark corners hidden from prying eyes. Dark corners that only shadowed your bodies if you were pressed against one another. Bodies that were so close breaths couldnât help but intertwine. Breaths that brushed heat over faces and ceased only when lips met.
And then with one mistake, one request, you were gone. Kidnapped by your familyâs guards. Taken from behind his turned back. Sand through his fingers.
âI believed her when she told me you loved her,â your sister says, snapping Feyd back to attention. Her mouth is parted, and as her eyes scan his face, theyâre alight with something akin to wonder but with a few tainting specks of disgust. A reasonable reaction; one he anticipated. Her sister in bed with a Harkonnenâhow horrible. âNevertheless, it's fascinating to witness for myself.â
Feydâs eyes narrow. His spine straightens. He squares his shoulders. âI asked for her hand first. She should be mine.â
A scoff bursts from your sisterâs throat. âThat is not what I have heard,â she tells him. âYou did not ask; you demanded. And you were both naive,â she says. âShe was not sent here to fall in love. Not to mention, your family has a reputation you should not forget.â
âShe does not fear me,â he snaps.Â
âShe does not have to.â
âI am a Lord, an heir, as much as any other son of the Great Houses. My title makes me worthy. They had no valid reason to reject me and take her.â
âDo you think there isnât more to it than any title put upon you?â she asks before she says, âItâs the wars your House involves yourselves in. The greed. The possessiveness. The pale hands in everyone elseâs pots. The children you would produce.â
His jaw clenches. âAnd what would be wrong with our children?â
âWhat would be right with them? Everyone would fear the deplorable monsters they might grow to be with your blood coursing through their veins.â
Feydâs heart prickles.Â
He hadnât thought much of children; heâd simply thought of you and what it would take to keep you by his side. Anything else heâd deemed the concerns of a much later time, but now, with it forced into his mind, he finds himself unexpectedly devastated. Normally he wouldnât care about opinions, but to understand what ideas others might conjure up at the possibility of your union sickens him. The children you would create would be nothing less than flawless. Warriors. Survivors. Leaders. A pristine blending of you both. He knows it.Â
Your sisterâs chest caves with a heavy sigh. âLook, I do not say these things to hurt you in retaliation for dragging me here against my will. They are fact.â
In his silence, Feyd can feel her studying him from the inside out, not wasting a single passing second. Her positionâthe ties around her wrists that keep her bound to the chairâwhich would cause great concern to others, seems to fade in importance against her consistent, concentrated observing. It does not last long before he grows tired of it.Â
âWhat?â he spits.
Pity bleeds into her irises. âShe did try to convince them,â she says. âShe claimed youâre different than you appear. Not as harsh. Not as impulsive as everyone believes.â
His gaze falls to his feet. âShe was lying.â
âClearly,â your sister agrees. Then her voice tips; softens. âBut she was desperate. She wouldâve said anything, though it wouldnât have mattered. They refused to listen.â
Feydâs eyelids pinch. He can picture you as desperate as he is. Begging. Begging as a Lady such as yourself would beg: with wit and strategy, utilizing every trick in the book short of falling on your knees. Youâre like him. He begs as you do, but in his own way, with his own tricks.
âWhat do you believe will come of this? Really.â
Feyd looks up at her. âI told you, she will be mine again,â he doesnât hesitate to say. âThat is what will come of this.âÂ
âAnd if it doesnât?â she asks. âWill you stop?â
âWhat do you think?â
As if he had cracked open her skull to reveal her brain, Feyd has an unobstructed view of each one of her thoughts nestling deeply into her mind. She said so herself what she and her Houseâwhat all Housesâthink of him. War, greed, possessiveness. And he is but a fraction of the Harkonnenâs totality of power. What heâs done by taking her brushes the cusp of his capabilities, and his uncle would not restrain him from conquering another planet and snuffing out an elite lineage to obtain what he desires.
As your sister runs through the many repercussions of his planâs potential failure, he decides he has wasted enough of his time on her. He can no longer stand to look at the face that lacks the features he prefers.
âWhere are you going?â she says when he turns on his heel.Â
âWeâre done for now. Youâll be escorted to the guest quarters.â
âNot a cell?â
Feyd halts.Â
âYouâre her sister,â he says over his shoulder. And then he leaves her behind.Â
â
âTheyâll come today.â
Your sister looks up from the plate of food in front of her, her eyes landing on Feyd as he stops just in front of the dining table where she sits.
Heâs reminded again how different she is from you. How when you sat in that same seatâa seat he is struggling not to scold your sister for occupyingâyou were the lone bright object in the room. Nothing about this soul-sucking black hole was capable of dimming you, and yet your contrast fit perfectly. You slotted into his fortress as if you were meant to one day rule over its every occupant, himself included. But Giedi Primeâs design does not blend well with your sister. Sheâs a royal-purple-velvet, gold-embroidered splotch in a sea of onyx black, and he wants nothing more than to remove her.
Soon. You will be back with him soon. Soon, you will be eating in that seat. You will be wearing his clothes. You will be existing in this space as you should be.
âHow do you know?â your sister asks.Â
Feyd blinks. âItâs been three days. Enough time to have been informed of your absence and return home to confirm it,â he says. âAnd sheâll know where you are.â
âYouâre so sure?â
He gives a single nod. âShe knows me,â he replies. âShe knows taking you is not out of the realm of what I would do for her.â
---
Reader POV
You know where she is. From the moment your parents were informed of her disappearance and the three of you rushed to your home planet, not a single of your seconds was wasted on juggling alternative possibilities. How it is not blatantly obvious to everyone else is a shock, but perhaps your sisterâs missing presence from the palace has turned frantic minds to mush. Youâre the only one who isnât running about, searching through closets and under beds as if a grown woman is playing a childâs game.Â
You have to tell them. Recovering your sister cannot be a solo mission, despite how much easier that would be. Not to mention, to leave for Giedi Prime without notifying your parents would rightfully increase their panic, and no good would come of that.
So you speak his name.
They call him a demon. A monster. They curse and condemn him. How dare he demand one daughter and, after being denied, so quickly move on to stealing another. The implication that heâs taken your sister to replace you makes you ill, but to defend the love you share with him would further stir their tempers.Â
âYouâre certain?â Your mother asks through the trembling hand covering her horrified mouth.Â
You meet your fatherâs blazing stare and try to ignore the hateful bile gathering at the corners of his lips. You nod. âI should go alone,â you tell them.Â
âAbsolutely not.â
âHeâll listen to me. He will not be cooperative with you.â
âThat creature will listen to no one!â
âI know him. His thoughts, his tactics,â you argue. âIâm the one person who can get through to him.â
To his credit, your father takes a calming breath. It can not be denied that his emotions often guide him over logic, but heâs not a man known for idiocy. He sent you to the Harkonnens, and heâs not forgotten how well youâve been trained to learn from your environment.
âFine,â he eventually agrees. But he does not accommodate you beyond that.Â
All efforts to ease his disgust for your lover fall on deaf ears. He wonât hear that Feyd hasnât hurt your sister. He wonât believe that he hasnât peeled her skin from her bones or starved her out of her perfectly tailored dresses. And though his eyes threaten you to surrender your conviction, to confirm his ideas and stoke the flame of his fury, you donât give in.
Arriving at the doors of Giedi Primeâs fortress is done without guards flanking your sides. They stay on the ship. âHe doesn't respond to intimidation strategies,â you tell your father. âItâs best not to storm his home with forces in tow and demand things of him.â Not lies, but you canât say youâre honest for the sake of striking a deal without inflicting wounds on each otherâs guards. True that itâs best to avoid an all-out battle, but itâs more true that your motivations are guided by seeing him again.Â
When you do finally see him, you see no one else. The world falls apart and you cannot tear your eyes from his face. Neither can he keep his off of you. Youâre yards apart, a rooms-span away, and yet you can already feel him from the anticipation of being in his arms. Youâve been living off of the memories of his touch, and now here he is, almost within reach.
Your father is shouting, but your heartbeat thumping in your ears shields you from the full power of his voice. âYou dare steal my daughter!â you think he says. âWhere is she!â
Feyd ignores him. He stares still. His mouth parts. And then, with determination in his steps, he walks to you.Â
Before you can bask in the warmth of his looming closeness, his arm is reaching toward you, and in what seems like the blink of an eye, his palm slides across your cheek, his fingers weave with the strands of your hair, and he pulls you into a kiss.
Instantly, the long-awaited sensation threatens to kick your legs out from under you. Your bones warn of their weakening strength. Your heart briefly stops, but then beats return with a ferocity that could shame a beast in battle.
The *shing* of your fatherâs metal blade unsheathing is met with its sister sound from the multiple swords of Feydâs guards. It buys you a few more seconds of holding each other, and you use those seconds to give all that you can.
Feyd knows how to kiss you. You know how to kiss each other. Though relatively tame in front of your current audience, he kisses with the promise of what his mouth would do to yours were you alone; echoes of what you shared before you were taken.
When you sense your time is about to run out, you plant your hands on Feydâs chest, and as he cups your cheeks, you break the kiss. Your eyes find home in his.Â
âIâve missed you,â you whisper.Â
He grins ever so slightly. âThey can have her,â he says. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones and he rests his forehead against yours. âBut Iâm keeping you.â
Iâm yours is on your lips, but his body is partially jerked out of your arms before you can speak. All gentleness in your lover switches off like a light.Â
âGet off of my daughââÂ
Your father chokes, his nails clawing at the hand around his neck.Â
âYou donât tell me not to touch her!â Feyd shouts with a squeeze, slowly pulling your father closer. Being inches shorter, your father must stand on his toes to keep Feydâs grip as loose as possible, and as much as you find yourself enjoying the sight, you cannot allow it to continue.
âFeyd,â you start. As you caress his flexed bicep, you keep your tone velvety. âFeyd, let him go.â But he does not hear you. Or he does not listen. His fingers tighten. Your fatherâs face swells red. âListen to me. I love you. No one is going to take me away from you. I wonât let that happen. You wonât let that happen. We will be married. We will be here, together, just you and me as we planned,â you tell him, âbut I want you to let him go.â
A beat passes. Two beats. Three. Then Feyd expels the breath heâd been holding. His chest deflates, and one by one, his fingers unpeel from your fatherâs skin.Â
Your father heaves. âY-YouâŠâ he says through his attempts to recover. His hand rubs his rapidly bruising flesh. âYou are promisedâŠto Kenric. The agreement was all butââ he coughs ââbut signed.â
A growl emerges, and from your left, Feyd lunges. Your father gasps. His eyes widen as he stumbles a step backward.Â
âNo!â You rush in front of Feyd to grab his face. Shaking your head, your thumbs stroke his cheeks. âNo,â you repeat softly.Â
The heat in his irises soothes as he keeps his eyes on you. His arm curls around your waist, and his gaze drops to your mouth. You want to kiss him again. You almost do, but then you remember why youâre here.
You look to the nearest Harkonnen guard, one of many youâre familiar with after your time on Giedi Prime. âBring my sister. Please.â
He glances at his Lord, who nods in response to the silent question. Then Feydâs attention returns to you, his eyes go to your lips, and he leans in.Â
You struggle to care about anything other than his taste. After you were taken, you were lost to the devastation of believing your mouth and tongue and teeth would never have him again. And youâre lost now. Lost in the pleasure of those fears extinguishing. So lost that not even the echo of approaching footsteps is enough to cleave your bodies apart.Â
âA relief to see that clothes are still on,â your sisterâs voice greets. Reluctantly, you unseal your mouth from Feydâs to look past his shoulder at your sister. Thereâs an unreadable expression on her face as she watches him bury his face in your neck. Acceptance, or revulsion.
Thankfully, your father seems to have missed her comment, so focused on seeing her well and unharmed. He takes an unsteady step in her direction. âDaughterââ
The Harkonnen releases your sister from his hold and she meets your father the rest of the way. âIâm fine, father.â
âThat monsterââ
âDidnât do a thing.â Her eyes flick to the hand covering his throat. One brow arches as her head turns your way. âTo me.â
Your father draws her into a hug, his hand going to the back of her head. âGood. Good,â he says. âThen let us take you both home.â
A chill runs throughout your limbs. Feydâs arms cinch around your waist. He lifts his head, his vision glazed over as his eyes prod yours. âYouâre not leaving,â he mutters.
You shake your head. âIâm not leaving.â
âYou are leaving,â your father intrudes, his voice dropping an octave. âYou are leaving this place. You are leaving that beast.â
Your sister sighs. âFatherâŠâ
âYou are returning home, and you will marry Kenric.â
A muffled noise rumbles in Feydâs throat. Like thunder on the horizon. A threat of a storm. You press your palm against his heart to feel the beats harder, faster.Â
âWe departed before anything was signed,â you say.Â
Your father stomps his foot like a petulant child. âYou made a commitment!â
Your head jerks back, and suddenly, red infects your sight. Intent on approaching your father, you untangle yourself from Feydâs arms, but fingers latch onto your wrist, keeping you from gaining significant distance. You let him hold you back.Â
âYou made a commitment!â you snap.
âAnd I will keep it!â
Nails dig into your pulse point, and you know Feyd is straining against his urges as much as you are. âNo,â you push. âYou will walk free with one of your daughters, and the other will remain where she belongs!â
âYou do not belong here!â
âYes, Iââ
âFather,â your sister repeats.Â
He whips around. âWhat!â
âLet them be,â she says.Â
Silence falls over the room. Feydâs grip eases but does not disappear.
âHe is selfish and stubborn and feels no guilt in how he loves her,â she continues. âI canât say Iâm interested in seeing what else heâd be willing to do to get her back should she be ripped away from him again, but I have no doubt it would be devastating. And Iâm sure you would not survive twice.âÂ
Your fatherâs brows dip in the center. His fist clenches. âDo not disrespect me.â
âIt's not disrespect,â she says. âI would fear for you, for our people, our home. Leave her, and I will marry Kenric.âÂ
You suck in a sharp breath.
âI have no attachments to any man. It causes me no harm to step into my sisterâs place.â
âNo.â Your father shakes his head. âI wonât allow it.â
âYou will if youâre smart,â she replies. Tension radiates from your father, his body practically shaking where he stands. âAnd surely you aim to be a smart man. Surely you donât intend to take unnecessary risks that could hurt everything our House is meant to protect.â
He opens his mouth, but the threat of humiliation is enough to shut him up. It has always been an area where he falters. Inadequacy and the fear of being looked down upon. Itâs why you were marrying the son of Lord Kenric. Your House is not a weak one by many standards, but your father could not let go of the whispers among other Houses that they are stronger. He sought a match effective in showing your equals the value of his House and offspring. And blinded by his decision, there was no room for him to consider the consequences.
You watch in awe as he stands down, shrinking in the shadow of your sisterâs wisdom. A smart man indeed.Â
When your sister nears you, she reaches out to take your hand in hers. Feyd releases you as, for the moment, his nemesis has been subdued.
âYou donât have to do this,â you tell her. âIâm prepared to fight him tooth and nail.â
She lightly chuckles. âYour brute would burn down the world. This is whatâs best. Safest.â
âYouâre sure?â
âI'd decided on this path before you arrived,â she says.
You look for hesitation, any regret, but sheâs a stone wallâsturdy in her decisionâand you recognize that arguing would implant a tone of dismissiveness of her wishes.Â
âThank you,â you mouth.
Your sister squeezes your fingers. She tips her head to you before she glances at Feyd. You peek over your shoulder, but his face is blank. Whatever passes between them is indecipherableâsome unspoken understanding.Â
âKeep him in line,â she says. Then she steps away from you.
Your father glares the entire way out of the fortress, and you know youâve severed your ties today. Youâve made a choice, picked a side, and neither he nor your mother will ever understand. Whether or not theyâve become an enemy you will learn in time, but at the very least, it is unlikely you will be welcomed into the home where you grew up. A sacrifice you accept.Â
As the doors close, Feyd comes up behind you. His arms circle your waist. Your back meets his chest. His lips plant on your neck. âCome to bed,â he says.Â
You grin.
---
A/N: thanks for reading! If you liked it, let me know :)
282 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eventually, the scrapbook ended. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon hours ago, and some nagging part of Stan's brain was telling him kids shouldn't be up this late. Unless they're breaking into a mini golf course. He jerked his head back, furrowing his brow. That was...oddly specific.
"Grunkle Stan?" a little voice - Mabel - questioned. He looked down at his knee to see where his great-niece was sitting, eyeing him with no small degree of concern. "Are you okay?"
He ruffled her hair. "'Course, Pumpkin. Just trying to shake some of those memories back in the right place, huh?" He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, smacking the side like he was trying to get water out his ears. "Got a straggler! Hup! There we go," he grinned, lowering his hand. "Good as new!"
Whatever he said must have been the right thing, because Mabel's eyes had lit up like he'd told her he was turning the Mystery Shack into a cotton candy emporium and Dipper had a sudden death grip on his other leg.
"Geez kid, you're clawing through my pants here," he grumbled, making no move to take away his nephew's hand. "Haven't you chewed your nails off by now? How're they so sharp?"
"You called me Pumpkin," Mabel whispered.
"You remembered I chew my nails," Dipper said in awe. Then he frowned. "Hey, how come Mabel gets a nice one and I get a gross one."
Stan shrugged. "'Cause she's nice, and you're gross."
"Ha! Zoom!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air before collapsing back into Stan's lap in a fit of giggles. Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he settled back against Stan's other side. Ford stayed perched on the arm of the chair, smiling fondly, but eyebrows still drawn together.
"What's the matter, Sixer?" Stan frowned as Ford grimaced at the nickname. "What?"
Ford waved off Stan's concern. "It's nothing. It's..." Ford sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not nothing. I just don't want to..." He pursed his lips.
"Don't leave us hanging." There was a shake in Stan's voice, and Mabel shifted closer to her Grunkle.
"I'm glad this has been helpful to you," Ford muttered. "But...you don't remember everything. Not really."
"Whaddya mean?" Stan asked. "I remember you, the kids, Soos. The freeloading jerk who steals my sandwiches." Stan glared at Waddles who simply oinked and started trying to eat his shoelace. Whatever. Free pass for jump starting his memories. He better not get used to it.
Dipper sat up. "Yeah, what do you mean, Great Uncle Ford?"
Ford frowned. "I just... Hm." He seemed to be weighing something in his mind before turning to Stan with some resolve.
"Stanley," he began slowly. "I hope you appreciate what I'm about to do for you."
"That's not terrifyingly ominous," Stan muttered, glancing around at the available exits.
"Do you remember my - " Ford cleared his throat. "My first kiss?"
Stan froze. "What?"
"My first kiss, do you remember it?"
"I was there?"
"Yes. Unfortunately a lot of people were."
Mabel squealed beside Stan. "Ooo! Romance memories! How old were you? Was it high school? Was it a high school romance? Was it star-crossed love between the nerd and the cheerleader?"
"Mabel, I think Grunkle Stan is supposed to figure that stuff out."
Mabel sat up and stared at Stan expectantly. "Come on Grunkle Stan! I need details!"
Stan shook his head, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled something rotting. "How should I know? Who asks their brother that sort of thing?"
"Precisely." Ford spoke with the same air of professionalism he adopted when explaining his theories, despite the alarming shade of red his face was becoming. "So far it seems that your memories are returning based on external stimuli, whether that be Mabel's scrapbook or our own prompting."
"So, wait, you're saying I won't get all my memories back?"
"No! No that's not what I'm saying," Ford held up his hands. "What I'm saying is we can't expect them all to come back at once. And at the risk of turning the Shack into the set of the Johnny Carson show, we'll keep asking you questions."
Stan frowned. "What if I don't wanna remember my brother smooching some babe?"
Ford turned redder. "You do."
"I do? Geez, I was a perv."
"In the meantime," Ford pressed. "It's important to take note of any stimulus you experience that makes you remember something. Even if it doesn't paint the whole picture for you, we can fill in the blanks. Or prompt you to remember more details."
Dipper grinned. "And then we get to learn more about the secrets you've been hiding, old man."
Stan lifted his hand to give Dipper a well-earned noogie, but paused before he could make contact. "Old man...did you...did you tell me to shut up one time and then punched me?"
Dipper balked. "What? No I - "
"YEAH no WAY that'd be CRAZY!" Mabel interjected a bit too loudly. "Anyway let's get back to that kissing story, huh?"
"Actually Mabel, I don't know if I want to hear about Great Uncle Ford kissing anybody either."
"Oh come on, Dipper. Are you jealous that The Author got someone to kiss him and you didn't?"
"What? No!"
"Some girls like nerds."
"Mabel I don't want to think about anybody in this room kissing anybody."
"You could learn from him Dipper! Figure out how to wield your nerdish charms. Soon you'll be like a kissing machine!"
"MABEL -"
The twins were silenced by a sudden gasp from Stan. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his jaw hanging open as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.
"Holy - " he choked out softly.
"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper sat up fully. "Are you okay?"
Stan didn't acknowledge him, eyes darting around minutely.
"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked softly. "Did you remember something?" Moisture had begun to gather in the corners of Stan's eyes, one of his hands covering his mouth as he began to shake.
"Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper turned to Ford, worry stitching his brows together. But Ford didn't look worried. If anything, he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor. His face was an alarming shade of red, nearly identical to his sweater. Stan let out another choked sound.
"Are you..." Mabel trailed off. "Grunkle Stan are you laughing?" He was quaking now, his hand falling from his mouth to reveal a wide, open-mouthed smile. He began slapping the arm rest with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down his cheeks. Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Sure, they'd seen Stan laugh before, but it was usually a loud guffawing thing. They'd never seen him like this. They shared a tentative smile. Either this was the hardest they'd seen him laugh, or he had really snapped.
Ford seemed to pick up on their worry. "He's fine," Ford offered. "He's just...remembering my first kiss." At Ford's words, Stan let out a loud cackle, burying his face in his hands.
Mabel cocked her head. "But what's so funny about -"
"You children must be exhausted," Ford blurted out, standing abruptly. "Come now, go wash up then head to bed!"
"Oh no you don't!" Stan shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes, still smiling. "You're not getting out of this one, pal!"
"Stanley, this conversation is hardly appropriate for children -"
"You brought it up!"
"And now I'm putting a stop to it."
Stan grabbed his head. "Ooooo ow," he gave an exaggerated groan. "My poor head. The mean man won't let me share my memories so they're all going away!"
"Stanley, please don't joke about that."
"I'm fading away - "
"Stanley."
Stan crossed his arms. "You know, you really know how to take the fun out of amnesia."
"Yeah! Come on Grunkle Ford," Mabel pouted. "You can't just leave us hanging!"
"Yeah!" Dipper joined in. "If it's a funny story I want to hear it."
Ford spluttered, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater and looking around for an exit.
"Come on, Sixer," Stan chimed in. His eyes had gone soft around the edges. "I think the kids deserve a funny story."
After today went unspoken. Ford met Stanley's gaze, already feeling his resolve melting before he even turned to his grand-niece and nephew's inquisitive smiles.
"Alright," Ford conceded. "But to maintain the integrity of the exercise, Stanley will be the one to tell it. Whatever he doesn't remember, I can fill in."
Stan rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy, this'll be good."
"I regret this already."
"It's alright Great Uncle Ford," Dipper patted his shoulder. "We have a whole summer's worth of stuff we get to make fun of Grunkle Stan for. This just gives us stuff to use against you now. Levels the playing field."
Ford frowned. "Is that meant to be comforting?"
Dipper shrugged.
"Alright you two, enough yapping." Stan grinned, leaning forward in his seat and spreading his hands out in front of him. It was the same way he started his campfire tales. Mabel and Dipper met each other's eyes and smiled.
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Kiss-Bot..."
#gravity falls#if you dont know about kiss bot#its from the dvd commentary#go look it up#absolute menace#this got really off track#it was supposed to be like a fic of all different memories stan got back#but then the spirit of kiss bot possessed me#anyway this may become a series now whoops#stanuary#sort of fits the mindscape theme#sorry its so LATE#stanley pines#stanford pines#dipper pines#mabel pines#grunkle stan#grunkle ford#great uncle ford#i never know how to tag him#schedule the following#i probably didn't proofread this well lmk if you see any#glaring errors#gravity falls fic
352 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE LEANOVER â OP81
Part 2 of 2. Read Part 1 here.
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader
Summary: You come home on uni break to find your brotherâs best friend, Oscar, is visiting. You both fall back into old habits, but some things are not the same.
Tags: brotherâs best friend, friends to lovers, slow burn, SMUT (18+), masturbation, Jack Doohan is from Melbourne in this one for logistical reasons, not proofread at all hah
A/N: finally!!! The end of The Leanover!!!! Sorry for the extended deadline, this one turned out chunkier than I expected and honestly I donât know if Iâm quite satisfied with it but it is what it is. Anyway, enjoy!
Oscar is a handsome boy. This is a fact you find to be so uncontroversial it may as well be accepted as a universal truth. There has never been a time where girls did not whisper amongst themselves when he would enter a room, where the mothers of his friends would not rave with great emphasis to his about how strong and handsome heâd become, where his presence at a function did not brighten up the place, because not only is he handsome, he is beautiful. Beautiful people are magnetic, you think; their beauty lies in their nature, their fundamental quality of supernatural grace, a gift bestowed by the forces that be towards the lucky few.
You recall his last year of high school. You were sixteen, still growing into your body and learning how to use a felt-tip eyeliner pen. Teenagers are fascistic about social hierarchy; they are greatly cognisant of their standings in the high school pecking order, intensely anal about preserving the rigidity of the structure, and thus you had long accepted your status as the forgotten sibling. Oscar and your brother were athletes, students with clout attached to their names; you were awkward, unaware of your own intensity, intimidating to a fault, but more than happy to lay low. Two individuals of such different standings in the social order should never interactâbut for the first (and only) time you were now going to the same house parties and birthday bashes, and here was the greatest display of Oscarâs beauty. You can never forget that image: the figure of him standing on the other side of the room, so broad-shouldered and trim, freckles of sun damage littered over his skin all the way down his neck like constellations, his head turned away from you to reveal his chiselled jaw as he speaks to someone while holding a can of Reschs. And suddenly his eyes would meet yours, catching you in the act, and heâd give you a gentle smile.
You were always so grateful for this. So grateful he would look your way and beam so brightly, a glimpse of his inner calmness, his quiet gentle bliss. You were never under the impression you were the only one to be so blessed by his grace; you were just happy to be around him. Sometimes when he would come over, sprawl himself over your couch or lay on the floor, pissing himself laughing at your brotherâs antics into the late hours of the night, youâd ask yourself whether you should feel guilty for being the only witness to this part of his life. This secret of his: that Oscar is so much more beautiful than most people will ever know. Not his fans, not his colleagues, not the majority of the world. This is between you and him.
And now you have him all to yourself. A bit greedy, isnât it? The past week youâve spent together has been nothing short of lovely. You find out that heâs strangely disciplined. Oscarâs a dutiful housemate, doing the chores you even forget about without the need to be prompted, unlike most guys his age. He likes to hum to himself when heâs got the vacuum going and he thinks you canât hear him butcher the tune of âUptown Girlâ by Billy Joel. Heâs a good cook who prefers careful measurement over eyeballing. He doesnât read books like you do, but heâs happy to lie on the couch all day and watch a show with you on the telly. And heâs surprisingly touchyâhe seems most pleased when youâre both on the couch, your legs crossed and stretched out, resting on top of his, his hand on your foot, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. You donât speak during these moments. Nothing needs to be said; things just sort themselves out.
At some point in the afternoon you get tired, yawning to yourself, and without even needing to look at you Oscar reaches over, tugs at your arm to tell you wordlessly to turn around. You oblige; your head against his chest, his fingers trail up your forearm to your shoulders and, eventually, the back of your neck, smoothing over the soft, fine hairs that reside there. Youâre too tired to mind the goosebumps the feeling of his fingertips on your skin gives you, or the increasing thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat underneath you. You shift in his arms, folding your legs up in a way that makes the hem of your shorts ride up, exposing the curve of your thighs all the way up towards the swell of yourâwell⊠It would be so uncouth for him to look there.
It never occurs to either of you that the hardest part of the process is done. The feeling returns: the feeling that arises in you when he looked at you from across the room at those parties all those years ago. The feeling of knowing that person so incredibly well. Of sharing a secret together, and letting that secret grow bigger and bigger until it takes on a life of its own. Of sharing that life together. These things do just sort themselves out, but you would never know until you speak of it.
You are growing increasingly needy. Thereâs no other way to put it. Youâre fucking dying. The heat of the dry, punishing Australian summer is starting to get to you, even with how skimpy your attire has gotten, and having him around twenty-four seven is starting to feel more like divine punishment than intervention. You were wrong all along: Oscar is not an angel, but a demon sent to terrorise you all your life until you give in and the Devil can steal your soul for all of eternity.
He works out every other day. Thatâs at least three days where heâll disappear into another room in the afternoon for hours, slips right out just to slip into the bathroom, and then waltz back into the living room as if nothing has happened. But something has happened.
Oscar has a very basic wardrobe at home. He likes his soft, mild coloursâdark greys and soft whites, beige tones, navy and olives⊠Itâs very on brand for him, yes. And here he is again, today, emerging from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him out the door as he runs a hand through his slightly damp hair. Heâs wearing a crisp heather grey t-shirt, fresh from the pile of laundry youâd folded yesterday. The sleeves can barely withstand the size of his biceps; heâs just gotten new dumbbells in. And god, the smell of his skin, the musk of him mixed with the soft clean scent of soap still radiating off of him. Itâs like crisp hot white bedsheets, fresh out the dryer, already crumpling under the weight of two lovers, bodies sticky from tangling into each other; like soft detergent left out in the garden, where the grass is freshly cut, and the warm sun hits your skin.
This is as close to a primal urge as it will ever get for you. The first few times you could just tell yourself to look away, but now the smell of him is unavoidable, overwhelms your senses, and lights your entire body on fire. You stick your nose into your book the entire time and pray he goes away. Oscar retreats into the kitchen and wonders if your book is really so good that youâd be that engrossed by it. Heâll have to start reading again soon.
âThe worst thing a woman can do,â you say, hand in the air with great feeling, âis be cut down in her prime by a man.â
Three beers in and youâre starting up your great tirade already. Oscar watches with an amused smile as he sits on the grass, green Peroni bottle in hand. âI know it sounds so pathetic and untrue, but it is true,â you continue, pacing back and forth with a giggle. âItâs true! Iâm so much better off now. No offence, Osc, youâre one of the good ones.â
âIâm very flattered.â
âYou should be,â you nod.
He reaches over and grabs a fresh beer from the esky, flicks the cap off with the belt heâs taken off, and hands it to you. You thank him; âjust trying to stay in your good graces, missy,â he chuckles.
You sigh, taking a swig of it as you look up to the sky. âFrankly, Iâm glad that part of my life is over already,â you say. âIâm not happy to admit it, but for a long time, I had just thought of myself as undesirable. Invisible.â
Oscar furrows his eyebrows with great concern, an ocean tide of emotion threatening to wash over him. âImpossible.â
âPossible,â you nod, with a bitter smile thatâs less regretful than accepting of your past. âYou know. Surely you remember.â
Of course he does. He remembers every little thing, because theyâre not little to him. He remembers it all, how heâd scare off sleazy, drunken boys from approaching you at parties. Even after he graduated, the threat remained: you mess with her, you mess with Oscar Piastri, the F1 big shot. Boys never looked your way because of that; he used to hold you by the end of the party, sitting on the porch of whatever house youâre at, you latching onto him in your drunken half-slumber, both of you silently wallowing in your desires. Drowning, suffocating in each otherâs warmth. Then heâd stay over at your house and wait until your brother fell asleep to press his ear against the wall, listening to your muffled sobbing. You were always too eager to suffer alone, to make a martyr of yourself and accept the cards you had been dealt.
But you stand tall now, a soft smile on your face suggesting a great deal of growth. Itâs what heâs always found so beautiful in you. Beauty, he thinks, lies in the spirit, an ability to have infinite love and bliss in the face of the frustrations of oneâs life. You are a complete soul, whole in ways he may never be, capable of learning to love over and over again and of light-heartedness in the face of turmoil. He knows he cannot truly achieve this because you are his Achillesâ heal. He cannot bear to think of you off on your own without him, doing things with other slimy ratty boys, going places he may never know of. Having a life without him in it. Oscar frowns; had he been too selfish in denying you all your opportunities? You had graduated high school without losing your virginity, without ever being in a relationship, and he wasnât sure your first kiss would even count as a kiss. He canât imagine how much that mustâve crushed youâand he was away, far away on his stupid little racing circuits instead of being at home, comforting you, as he shouldâve been.
You wave it all off, as if you could hear his thoughts. âWell, Iâve done all of it now anyway, and Iâm happy to report that itâs not for me.â
He cocks up an eyebrow. âAnd what exactly is âit,â Tiny?â
âThe hookup thing,â you shrug.
Oscarâs chest feels like it could explode; cold flashes wash all over him. âOh?â
You playfully shush him. âDonât tell my family, okay?â you chuckle. âBut, yes. I tried it. It was good, until it wasnât. Very quickly I realised Iâm kinda, like, spiritually forty. I need to stretch in the mornings and tuck in by eleven.â
âAnd kick-ons arenât until at least one,â he tuts. âYouâre always been a sleepy girl.â
âThat is true,â you nod, taking another sip of your Peroni. âAnyway, it was worth it, at the very least just to get it all out of my system. Iâm very comfortably single now.â
The sky is darker than it should be. The sun has already tucked itself away, and itâs not even evening time yet. âYou know, itâs so clichĂ©,â you continue. âThat Sally Rooney quote, itâs just like that. I went to uni and got pretty. And all of a sudden men saw meâI mean, I was pretty much invisible before. Before in school, when you and my brother were still around, guys used to do this stupid, horrible thing where they wouldnât speak to me, theyâd just speak to you instead. Even when the topic was about me. Well, no one knows I grew up with Oscar Piastri when Iâm at ANU. Iâm just me, and Iâve got a nice haircut and a decent rack of tits. And they see me, they see me now and I realise now that theyâre all just sort of stupid. Iâm very sorry, Oscar, but boys are stupid.â
âNo need to apologise,â he snickers softly. It makes you smile a little wider. âBut surely they were not all so bad?â
âNo, I really donât know how to pick âem. They really were all that bad,â you chuckle, eyes creasing as your cheeks push up in laughter. âThink the best one mightâve been the guy I lost my virginity to.â
Oscarâs eyes widen. He hums, pretends to be normal about it. âTell me more,â he says.
You nod and oblige. âIt was early in the school year. I went on four dates with him,â you start. âHe seemed right on paper. Double major, worked for a diplomat, spoke two languages and was well-travelled. Maybe a bit pedestrian in his taste in music and films, but it didnât bother me so much. We talked okay. He knew what to do, how to be courteous, held doors open and shitâI didnât know what the whole dating thing was meant to be like, and I was easily impressed. He took me back to his after the fourth date and we listened to his vinyls: corny 70s Greatest Hit compilations and his favourite Kanye albums.â
You take a break, pulling out a thing of lip balm and unscrewing the cap before squeezing it out. âHe told me he used to take ballroom lessons for some weird high school thing he did, and he twirled me in his arms, and it made me feel so light and small and girlish that I felt like I was floating.â Your finger spreads the balm over your lips, the feeling cool and tingly on your skin. âHe told me I was funny. He kissed me, and his stubble was so sharp and gritty against my skin that it gave me traction acne the day after. He held my hand the whole time. He was an awful kisser. Just kept jamming his tongue in. But it was sweet enough. No oneâs first time is good, anyway.â
Oscar tries to swallows down the lump stuck in his throat. His fingers and toes are tingling, chest tight and contracting still. You take another swig. âIâve had too many of these,â you say.
âYouâve had three, Tiny.â
âThatâs more than enough for me,â you shrug, yawning as you set the bottle down on the wooden table outside in your garden. âI think Iâd better fuck off to bed now. Sleep tight, Osc.â
He doesnât sleep in your brotherâs bed that night. No, he takes out the spare mattress again and drapes the spare velvet blanket over himself, because he could never forgive himself if he jerked off in his best friendâs bed to the thought of his best friendâs sister. No, there would be no good excuse for that, but tonight is one of those nights where a man simply cannot hold himself back anymore. The alcohol is still burning in his stomach; when Oscar shuts his eyes, all he can see is these elaborate images crafted by his mindâs eye of you, placed in all the scenarios youâd described to him, only replacing that dirty fucker was him, being so gentle and delicate and loving, just how you deserve it. It should have been him there instead to do it all right; it is true that losing oneâs virginity is often an awkward affair, his own experience was no less lousy, but if anyone were to have a perfect instance of it it should be you. Oscar can see it all now, how heâd go about it. Holding onto your soft curves as he pushes himself in slowly, the little gasps that would escape your honey-sweet mouth, so warm and wet on his lips. He would die happy, he thinks to himself, as his hand roughly palms his length, hair dampening from sweat in the blistering summer night heat. Cicadas sing outside his window; he heaves wildly, chest rising and falling dramatically as his hand gets slicker with each stroke. He had no idea he could even leak that much.
Thank god youâre sound asleep. He grips tightly onto the soft blanket, balling it in his fist as his eyes shut again tightly, the guttural noise he lets out much louder than he intended. Then Oscar collapses; his limbs go slack, heart beating out of his chest still as he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh, hand now sticky with his spent. The mattress is damp with his sweat. If he wasnât before, heâs royally fucked now.
Your parents called; theyâll be home on Christmas Eve, but only in the afternoon, and theyâre picking your brother up as well. Which means the two of you have some shopping to do; the house should be looking festive in time for their arrival. Oscar pushes the shopping cart, following you deep into the maze that is Kmart. He helps you haul the Christmas tree box in and out of his car. And he watches as you pull its branches down, giving it shape before littering it with baubles and tinsel. And when it comes time to finish the tree, you look him with bright eyes. He smiled at you, takes the Angel Gabriel out of your hands and places it on top of the tree carefully. You put on your silly little Santa hats and poorly bake gingerbread men.
You never end up throwing the rager Oscar jokingly suggested, but you do hold a small get-together after running into some old schoolmates at the shops. So it turns out that a few girls you used to do drama class with are in town, and of course anyone Oscar invites is going to show upâheâs Oscar fucking Piastriâso here you are, with a decent turnout of people currently congregated in the back garden and the living room. Youâre thankful enough of them showed up on such short notice, with Christmas Eve only a few days away, and youâre thankful everyone seems to have gotten more civil and mature since youâve left school.
The doorbell rings more than once, and you peel yourself off of the couch to go answer it, Balter tinnie in hand now that youâre all out of Peronis. Your eyes widen once you fling the door open, revealing a familiar face, standing with a smile on his face and a couple guys behind him.
âSurprise,â Jack chuckles.
âDoohan in the flesh,â you quip with a smile. âYou cheeky boy. Since when were you in town?â
âSince yesterday,â he shrugs, and the guys behind him file past you into the house at the sight of some of their mates. âHeard you were throwing a thing with Big Shot Oscar. Hope you donât mind that Iâm crashingâI come bearing gifts.â
You shake your head. âOf course not, no, Iâm glad to see you,â you say, though you sigh at the sight of the twelve-pack heâs got in his hands. âMate, Strong Zero? Itâs not that kind of party.â
âSome of us can handle our liquor,â Jack laughs, putting the pack in your arms before smoothing his hair back. âDonât spoil the fun for the rest of us.â
You roll your eyes, turning your back to him as you walk down the hallway back to the kitchen. âCongratulations, by the way,â I say. âIâm glad to see two of our finest graduates succeeding.â
âI can tell. Youâre beaming, clearly,â he jokes, following you in. âIt was never in doubt for Oscar, anyway, so I think I deserve a bigger congratulations for making it, no?â
You peel apart the drink packaging, the tins of drink coming loose on the kitchen counter. âLet me get this straight: you want me to be more proud of you for being a worse driver than Oscar?â
âThatâs not what I said.â
âIâm just repeating your words, Jack-Jack.â
âNever said I was a worse driver,â he snickers, shaking his head as he folds his arms over his chest. âYou snuck that in yourself. But I always knew you were biased, so I wonât take offence to that, Tiny.â
You turn over your shoulder, glaring at him. Dramatically, he throws his hands up in a display of surrender, but your conversation is cut short.
âWell, well, well,â Oscar grins, strolling into the kitchen and approaching Jack with wide arms. âFancy seeing you here, F1 driver.â
âFancy seeing you here, F1 driver,â Doohan beams, dapping Oscar up before pulling him into a hug. âHow you been, mate, good?â
âNah, yeah,â Oscar chuckles, glancing back to you with a smile. âItâs been a splendid break for me. You been good? Didnât realise you were back.â
âYeah, just landed yesterday,â Jack nods, a hand on the back of his neck. âHeard you two were doing a thing, thought Iâd be jet lagged out of my mind but nah. Wouldnât miss this.â
You notice Jackâs a little taller than Oscar, whoâs having to tilt his head up a little. âAppreciate you showing up, mate,â the older one says. âIâm gonna go catch up with some of your mates, but stick around, yeah?â
âAbsolutely, man,â the younger one says with a smile. âGood seeing you again.â
Then Oscar leaves, fingers gliding over the skin of your cheek in passing, a gentle action of tenderness, as if to say goodbye wordlessly. Doohan wiggles his eyebrows. âWhat the fuck was that?â
âWhat was what?â you exclaim, eyes avoiding his gaze as you snatch a Strong Zero for yourself.
âThat,â he presses on, finger extended now to point to where Oscar had put his hand on your cheek. âThe little hand-cheek-look thing. The fuck? Do you have something to tell me, pal?â
You sigh, shaking your head. âPlease mate, just be normalââ
âDonât gaslight me,â Jack says, as stern as he can be.
âHeâs been living in my home!â you gasp. âOf course weâre a little close!â
âLiving in your homeââ
âNot by choice,â you roll your eyes. âJustâmy familyâs all out of town right now. Heâs kind of all I have at the moment.â
âAgh!â Jack groans, smacking himself on the forehead. âGenius move. Fuck, I shouldâve locked you two in a room myself years agoââ
You put the tin back onto the counter and slowly turn to face him. âExcuse me?â
He frowns. âOh, man,â he pouts. âYou donât mean to tell me you two are still doing the thing?â
âWhat thing?â you furrow your eyebrows.
âYou know, the thing,â he says, eyes innocent and wide as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. âThe weird game you two play. I thought you guys would have gotten over it already.â
Your breath hitches in your chest, making you stammer and go red in the face as your confusion worsens. Jack notices this. âWhat, you really donât know?â
âNo, Jack, I do not,â you manage to breathe out. âPlease, enlighten me.â
He shakes his head, lets out a strange chuckle as he leans back against the wall, having taken a tinnie off the counter. âThis would be funny if it werenât so tragic,â he starts, grimacing. âOscar used to push guys on the soccer team around for talking about you. Heâd go silent whenever you were around and get clammy in the hands. He got weird whenever heâd even hear your name. And Iâm sure I donât have to list out your incriminating actions.â
Needless to say youâre taken aback by this. Eyes wide and blank, you look at him with shock as your mind oscillates between delight and horror, hand resting on your chest as if your heart needs the help. Jack sighs, and after a moment of tense silence he speaks again. âI take it thatâs enough proof for you.â
âWhy didnât you say?â
âWe thought you knew,â he shrugs. âAnd it wouldnât have been my place to meddle, and also, it was kind of amusing to watch.â
You scoff bitterly. âAmusing.â
âWell, not so much now,â Doohan nods.
Silence fills the kitchen again, the chatter outside quiet against the deafening quietness inside. âYou do like him, donât you?â he asks earnestly.
You donât answer, but all he has to do is look at your solemn face and see the emotions threatening to spill out of you. He comes closer, puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. âHey. Just take your time, mate.â
You nod, but you hear Oscarâs distinct timbre in the distance, speaking rapidly to someone. You turn your head and see him standing in the living room near the couch, and thenâlike magnetsâhe seems to feel your eyes raking over his figure, and meets your gaze as his head turns a little. Suddenly youâre sixteen again. Heâs smiling at you like he used to, so fondly and sweetly, all the way from another room. Everything has changed but this feeling is the same. Oscar nods his head gently, as if to tell you âIâm doing okay over here, and I hope you are too,â and you realise heâs dropped out of his conversation now just to look at you. He has always done this.
The hard part is over, but you didnât know until it was spoken of.
You sweep the crushed cans off the table and into the garbage bag, back starting to hurt from all the cleanup youâve had to do. Thank the lord they all left early; you havenât been able to enjoy yourself fully since that talk with Doohan. Since then his words have just been eating away at you the whole night, but you can speak to Oscar just fine, you think. Youâre trying your best, at least.
âJesus, have the lights always been this bright?â he says, and by the way heâs stumbling onto the couch and slurring his words a little, heâs probably more tipsy than heâd like to admit.
You shake your head, turning around to face him. The cans inside the bag youâre holding clank against one another. âFun night?â
âNot particularly,â he says, eyes shutting as he throws an arm over his face, lying down flat on the couch. âJust, those fucking Strong Zeroes, man.â
âI told Doohan he shouldnât have!â
âHe really shouldnât have.â Oscar groans, eyes shutting tighter as he tries to push his face into the couch, and you chuckle before going back to cleaning up, moving towards the pile of cans on the kitchen island.
âDonât leave,â you hear him say behind you.
You turn around, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. âWhat?â you say. âIâm not. Iâm just going into the kitchââ
âNo,â he whines quietly, muffled by the fabric of the couch. âThatâs too far. Stay.â
You stand still, still holding the bag in your hand, visibly confused.
âWe should always be in the same room,â he continues. âI donât want to be away from you.â
You flush at his words. Youâre not sure if he quite grasps the implications of what heâs saying, but you chalk it all up to his current stateâsurely heâs just a clingy drunk. You put the garbage bag down against the wall, approaching the couch as he pulls his legs back to make room for you.
You sit down. âAre you feeling alright, Osc?â
âNo,â he replies, too quickly for your liking. Oscar shuffles back onto his back, eyes still shut as his tone is reduced to grumbling. âI had this really awful thought the other day that weâre so far apart. Iâm off doing my races and now youâre off at uni doing whatever.â
You cock your head to the side, clearly about to protest, but he starts up again. âI just want to know what youâre doing all the time,â he admits. âAnd how youâre feeling. I miss you all the time, and I wanna know youâre okay.â
âOscar,â you frown, putting a hand on his arm tenderly. âIf you want to stay in touch more, of course we canââ
âNo,â he shakes his head. âI donât want to stay in touch. I wanna be with you.â
You pull your arm back. He winces, missing your touch. âTiny, this must sound so crazy.â
âNo,â you assure him, though youâre struggling to comprehend his words. âI just donât know what you meââ
âI think Iâm in love with you.â
Your blood runs cold even as your stomach shatters and explodes into a million butterflies that feel hot like lava inside of your body. âI know it must sound so crazy,â Oscar chuckles bitterly. âI know it must be so crazyâŠâ
âNo,â you shake your head. âI donât think itâs crazy. I just, I wonder how youâll feel in the morning.â
âItâs not the alcohol.â
He opens his eyes only to look at you, pupils darting around slowly to find you, the only soothing sight when the lights are still killing him. Oscar smiles a little at your familiar face. âI spoke to Doohan,â he explains.
âAh,â you mumble, flushing. Of course he did.
He pauses a bit, tries to find the courage to speak again. He finds it in how your eyes seem to shine a little brighter where youâre sitting, mesmerised by how beautiful you are tonight. âHeâs right, you know. I feel a bit silly, or stupid rather, like I donât know how to explain myself.â
âWell,â you chuckle timidly, looking down at your hands. âI would have some explaining to do myself, too.â
Oscar smiles to himself. He takes a moment to catch his breath; he didnât even realise heâd been holding it in this whole time. âYou donât know how happy it makes me to hear that.â
At his words, you look up to meet his eyes again, to see how heâs smiling now, and it makes your chest expand with warmth, heart pumping fast. âIâll feel the same in the morning,â he says, sitting up clumsily now just to look at your face better. He doesnât want to look away ever again. âI promise you that. Iâve felt this way since foreverâI just didnât know the word for it yet.â
Your eyes widen just a little more at his words; you donât recognise the inexplicable feeling thatâs captured your body, but you think this is what he means. The thing he didnât know the word for. But you know the word for it now.
âI think I love you too,â you say.
Oscar lets out a quiet noise of relief. He finds your hand in your lap, takes it in his, and just holds it. You look at each other for a long while, taking in the details of one anotherâs faces. âYou donât look a day over seven,â you chuckle, and it makes him grin softly.
âThatâs alright. Did you feel then how you feel about me now?â he asks.
âI think you sealed the deal when you helped me get up on my feet after falling off the slide,â you quip with a smile, and he squeezes your hand a little approvingly.
âYou remember that.â
âThe little things arenât little to me, either,â you say, and his heart soars at your words. Oscar canât resist it anymore; he tugs on your hand a little and pulls you into his arms, hands latching onto your waist as he holds you tightly. You fall into each other like magnets. It just feels right, like itâs the most natural thing in the world, but nothing in this world is truly given this way. You had been working for it your entire life, but youâre only knowing this now.
His lips hover over your cheek, and it makes you shiver, but it shouldnât be like this. âI donât want our first kiss to be when youâre drunk,â you tell him, pulling away from his flushed face. âItâs⊠You donât know how long Iâve wanted this. It just has to be right.â
Oscar swallows dryly, but he nods. âYouâre right,â he says, with a gentle smile that tells you heâs being sincere. âYouâre right. Not like this.â
He pulls you in again, holding you even tighter this time. You feel his heart beating out of his chest against yours, his warm breath against your skin, the warm his arms keep contracting as if heâs afraid to let you go. A warm waft of air filters through the window, left ajar, and swirls around the two of you, bodies now entangled. Neither of you can find a reason to leave, so you donât. You never end up cleaning the kitchen that night.
The sunâs starting to filter through your blinds now, and you know you have no excuse to stay in bed anymore, but you donât have the heart to wake him up. Your brotherâs bedroom is probably collecting dust already; ever since that night, Oscarâs been sleeping in your bed now, and you both sleep so much better with a cuddle buddy by your side. He likes to be big spoon, but heâs happy to hold you face to face as well, duh! Why would he upset with getting to see your face, eyes shut so peacefully in slumber? He likes to wake up before you because of this, just so he can catch a glimpse of you so soft and pliable in his arms, comfortably happily asleep, but today youâre the one who wakes up first, stirred awake by the birds chirping outside your window.
You try to slip out of his grasp, but he just tightens his arms around you, furrowing his eyebrows in his sleep. You try again and he does it again, this time with a grumbling noise that makes you chuckle.
âOscar,â you smile, press a gentle kiss onto his forehead. âThey come home today.â
âSo?â he grumbles back, eyes still shut as he pulls you in, tucking your head under his chin. âWhatâs it got to do with us?â
âWeâve got to make them brekky, babe,â you chuckle. You press a kiss to his neck now, before deciding you canât really resist littering them all over his skin. âTheyâll be starving by the time they get here.â
Oscar makes a strange, hushed noise. âWell, doing that certainly wonât get me out of bed.â
Youâre confused, but then you realise somethingâs been pressing up against your thigh, worsened by how he keeps pulling you back into his arms. âOh my god, Osc,â you yelp. âJust from a few kisses?â
âAnd maybe a very good dream,â he mumbles back. If he were awake, heâd surely be laughing, pleased with himself.
âYou dirty, dirty pervert,â you snicker, but youâre tutting at him in a way that sends a tingle down his spine, and your fingers inching down the trail on his stomach is making him shiver. âYouâre shameless.â
âYeah, but something tells me you like it,â he says, but he can barely finish the sentence before you tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, shimmying them down. His length springs free; your eyes beam a little too brightly at the sight of it, making him laugh.
âSomeoneâs eager.â
âYeah, well, Iâve been dreaming about riding you into the bed for actual years,â you chuckle, long fingers wrapping around him. âYou look delicious in the morning, you know that? All sleepy and dishevelled. Itâs very sexy, Osc.â
âAh?â he says, a moan disguised as a word. Your hand starts to move and he can barely hold himself back. âIâll keep that in mind.â
Your mouth is hovering over his cock now, warm breath making him shiver before your tongue makes contact with his tip, swirling all around the head in a way that makes his eyes roll back. âHoly shit,â you hear him mutter to himself, and you smile as you drag your tongue all over the length of him.
âBabe, I love the teasing,â he breathes out. âBut I donât think I can quite take it this morning.â
You hum to yourself, biting back a cheeky smile as a thought pops up in your head. âYou know, youâre right,â you say. âWeâre running on a tight schedule. And we could use something that saves time, so⊠if youâre getting head, you could give it too, no?â
Oscarâs face lights up at your words. âYou wanna sit on my face? Is that what youâre saying?â
âI mean, if youâre offering.â
âFuckinâ hell, any day of the week, missy.â
With that, he puts his hands on your head and pulls you up for a kiss that deepens into a little more. His lips are soft, mouth hot and wet; you feel yourself dampen a little against the cotton of your panties, something he feels too as his hands travel all the way down to your ass, fingers reaching past the fabric of your shorts inside to find the wet patch growing at your cunt. Your fingers hook into the waistband of both layers, tugging them off eagerly as he steadies his hands on your hips again. You turn around, and now Oscarâs got your pussy hovering right over his face. He think heâs salivating at the sight of it. Is that too crude? Jesus christ, itâs just so much fucking better than he could have ever imagined, waking up with you by his side, having the girl of all of his dreams with him now, eating your pussy first thing in the morning.
âYouâre not so tiny anymore, hey? Youâre a big girl now.â
You flush at his words. âJust get to it, Piastri.â
He needs no further encouragement, hands on your hips pulling you down to his face, tongue flicking a long stripe all the way down your cunt. You cry out at the sudden contact, and you realise very soon that he is very good at what he is doing, soft wet tongue sliding between your folds carefully, lips wrapping gently around your sensitive clit, hands gripping onto the meat of your ass, an action that signifies a clinginess youâd never know from how soft-spoken he is. He eats you out like a hungry man, lapping up the wetness that soaked your panties before eagerly. When you wrap your lips around his cock, taking all of him in until he hits the back of your throat, it makes him groan against your pussy, and it feels so strangely good that you keep throating him just like that every once in a while, just to feel him shift underneath you and thrust into your mouth a little. He wants to be gentle with you so badly, and he is, but he just canât resist it when youâre doing that.
âFuck, babe,â Oscar gasps out, pulling away as his fingers continue to rub at your clit. âIf you keep doing that thing, I wonât last very long.â
You can tell by his tone heâs slightly embarrassed about taking such little time to get there. âWeâll get there together, I promise,â you say. âJustâah!âkeep using your fingers.â
He smiles, happy to oblige. This time he dips a finger inside you, tongue now swirling around your clit as his finger curls, finding that cushiony spot inside you that makes your back arch a little. There it is. He slips another finger in, tongue flicking fast against you, fingers pumping at a steady pace as you suck his cock sloppily, drool pooling at the base, fingers still wrapped around his length, lazily moving up and down. Itâs all too much for the both of you, both moaning and whimpering against one another as your bodies start to get more and more sensitive, responding to each motion with a little more volume. Your back arches, his hips thrust; you know youâre both getting to that climax.
âBabe, fuckââ
âI know,â you gasp, a long mewl drawing out of you as his fingers, soaked in your slick now, keep thrusting in and out of you. âIâmâhahâalmost there, too.â
He nods his head eagerly and latches his wet mouth back onto you, eating you out desperately as his hips start to move on their own, filling your mouth and muffling your increasing cries of pleasure as your eyes shut and roll back.
âI canât take it,â he moans loudly. âBabe, Iâoh my god!â
Just as Oscar starts to flood your mouth, you collapse onto him as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless, body slack and limp. âJesus,â you heave out, flipping onto your back off of him, swallowing all of his load down your throat. The sight of it makes him whimper. You take a good look at him; heâs got your slick all over his face, glistening from his lips down to his chin.
âChrist, I made a mess of you,â you chuckle, embarrassed, but he seems proud of himself.
âA souvenir, yeah?â He jokes, and you push his chest, rolling your eyes, but he pulls you into his arms. âGod, that was fuckinâ amazing. Youâre fuckinâ amazing.â
You pull the duvet back up over the both of you as you lie down once again, resting your head on his chest now as you look up at him with a smile. You wipe at his mouth with your hand. âThere.â
âAw,â he frowns playfully. âI quite liked it.â
âYou fuckinâ pervert,â you say, going to push his chest again but he catches your arm with his hand.
âDonât get feisty,â Oscar chuckles, shaking his head before pecking you on the forehead. âLetâs just lay here for a bit. And you know, Iâve been thinking.â
Your finger traces shapes on the freckled skin of his bare chest. âAbout what?â
âAbout you, coming to see me,â he says. âYou know⊠I was thinking, maybe you could schedule your classes with me in my mind? You know, moneyâs not an issue. Transport, accommodation, passes, I can take care of all of that. I just need to know you can see me. Not for every race, obviously. But some of them. Itâd mean so much to me, Tiny.â
You look up at him now, smiling. âOf course I can,â you nod gently. âItâd mean everything to me too, Osc.â
His face blooms into a smile, eyes raking over the details of your face, savouring it as if he hasnât a million times before. âThen itâs done,â he says, bringing your hand up to kiss it. âYou canât escape me now.â
âLike Iâd ever want to,â you roll your eyes.
Before Oscar can counter with a snarky remark, the door flies open.
âPiastriâseriously? My fucking sister?â
Thatâs the end! Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Leave em all in my askbox, and again, thank you so much for reading!
#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1 fanfic
193 notes
·
View notes
Note
hiii
so this might me dirty but hear me out
It has gotten to me that mans come can meddle w the womanâs dna
so with this as an inspiration, and I know itâs kinda cliche but
stark!reader suddenly having spider senses or smh (not pregnancy)
oh and itâs for Tom Holland spider man
have an amazing dayy
a parker thing
ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist
w/c: ?
warnings: smut (p in v unprotected, lowkey dom!peter and reader), swearing
a/n: jump scare if you didn't see my post lmao i'm back y'all! i missed u guys and missed writing lots so iâll be here from time to time again :) i had so much fun with this req thank you for the idea! much love to u all <3
you catch yourself dozing off and jerk your head up instinctively. one short, loud snore passes your lips as you do so, eyes opening wide. you blink your tired eyes a few times as you readjust to the harsh lighting.
ugh, you fell asleep in the lab, something you always chastise peter and your dad for doing. they're notorious for their long hours spent messing around with stark tech. you've lost count of how many times you've woken up to an empty spot in bed where your boyfriend should be, instead finding him fast asleep surrounded by cups of coffee and a delirious tony still on the grind.
tonight, you're the stark who's in the lab past their bedtime. you had the day to yourself and decided to use your free time to upgrade your suit. it had had a few hiccups during the team's last mission, so you wanted to work on it before the next one. what was supposed to be a few minor tweaks turned into a whole day of tweaking.
you scoff at yourself and wipe some drool that crusted onto your chin. oddly enough, you almost instantly refocus on the screen in front of you. it's been like this for most of the day. you're way more concentrated than usual for some reason, more aware. you figure it's because peter has been out on patrol and couldn't distract you.
"are you finished for the night, boss? you aren't usually here this late."
"i know, but iâm gonna stay a little longer. iâll be done soon...i think."
friday dims the lights directly overhead so they aren't as harsh. you smile.
"thanks, fri."
you sit up in your seat, scooting in closer to the screen displaying your suit. you carefully look over the prototype and pick up a pen to write yourself some notes. when you go to put down the pen, it sticks to your palm. you shake your hand to try to get it off. it stays stuck.
"huh."
you use your other hand to pry the pen off of you.
"weird."
first you have heightened senses, now you're sticky. if you didn't have ordinary stark dna, you'd think you were part arachnid like peter.
you're not sure why, but you suddenly stand up and turn towards the main doors to the lab. they slide open a few seconds later. peter walks inside, spider suit on and mask off. he pads over to you with a soft smile.
"there you are. friday said i could find you down here."
peter pecks your lips and envelopes you in a hug. you sign contentedly, face nuzzled into his neck and arms winding around him.
"yeah, she's probably sick of me. i've been down here all day."
"you're really locked in, huh? how's the suit coming along?"
peter's fingers rub up and down your back ever so lightly. just the small touch practically sends shivers down your spine.
"good. fixed everything and double checked, then triple checked. started adding some new stuff, too."
"new features? like what?"
"you know the one i was telling you about..."
you trail off as peter's hands slide down to your ass. he pulls you in closer to himself, letting his hands rest there. you peek up at him, heart speeding up.
"go on, iâm listening."
peter gives your ass a gentle squeeze. it's an innocent gesture, really, but your senses are going crazy right now and you can't help but to get turned on. you always tease peter about how easily he's turned on. if this is what it feels like for him, now you understand.
"hm, i'm bored of talking about the suit. tell me about patrol."
"it was good! got a lot of action today. i mean, i guess that's not good 'cause that means there's more crime and stuff, but y'know. anyway..."
you stare at peter's lips, but don't listen to a word he's saying. it's the first time today you can't focus. he's pressed right up against you in his damned tight spider suit, and his hands are still on your ass, and you're so hypersensitive and hyper aware. all you can think about is how bad you need him.
"y/n? you okay?"
peter must have noticed you spacing out.
your gaze flicks between his eyes and lips before your own lips wordlessly capture his in a searing kiss. peter lets out a breathy chuckle, caught a bit off guard by your abruptness. he deepens the kiss for a moment, then pulls back with a look of amusement. you bite back a cheeky smile.
"horny."
peter's features form a smirk.
"i got you, baby."
he kisses you again. his tongue tangles with yours, a sigh passing your lips. peter lifts you up, grip becoming firmer on your ass. you wrap your legs around his waist. he kisses down your neck until he finds a spot he wants to mark. you tilt your head to the side so he has more access. peter's lips suck roughly on your skin, teeth nipping at it playfully. you let out a shaky breath.
peter presses one last kiss to what's sure to become a hickey to soothe it. you tilt his chin up towards you again, lips smashing into his, holding him in place by the back of his head. he carries you to the nearest table while your intertwined lips move desperately against each other's. you sneak a hand down to the bulge in his suit, earning a groan.
"one sec, lemme get this off."
peter sets you down on the table and quickly strips off his spider suit. you take your own clothes off and toss them aside, left only in your bra and panties. peter comes to stand between your legs. he slips your panties to the side, middle finger collecting your wetness as he kisses you again. his finger slides into you with ease and begins to pump. you moan into the kiss, tugging at his hair.
"already so wet, baby. don't even have to get you warmed up."
peter's finger curls inside you, cockiness evident in his tone and on his features. you tug on some hair at the nape of his neck.
"stop teasing, parker."
"can't take it when the roles are reversed, stark?"
something takes over you in that moment, the same something that's been coursing through your veins all day. you grab both of peter's hands and hold them in place above his head. your grip is tight around his wrists, too tight for him to break free of it. a noise almost like a growl escapes you.
"shut up and fuck me, or iâll fuck you."
peter meets your wild eyes, his pupils equally as dilated.
"do it."
you promptly pull peter up to the table with you. you push him back so he lies down, pinning his arms down at his sides. his chest rises and falls, breathless.
"woah, what's gotten into you today? not that iâm complaining, but, woah."
"i know, right? i thought you were supposed to have super strength."
peter grabs you by your hips and sits up, seating you in his lap. you wiggle your hips in his grasp, but he digs his fingers into your sides so you can't move. peter's voice drops low.
"what was that?"
you breathe out a low laugh.
"nothing."
you dip your head down to press your forehead to peter's. he smiles, satisfied with your answer. you wrap your hand around his hard cock and stroke him. peter's lips ghost over yours, his breathing heavy.
"wanna feel you, y/n/n."
peter slides his hands up to your waist so you can move again. you smile knowingly. you slip off your panties before you reposition yourself, your legs on either side of him. you line up peter's cock with your entrance.
"wanna feel you too, pete."
you lower yourself down onto peter. you both let out little sighs and moans as he fills you up.
he always feels so good inside you, but this time is even better, even more intense.
you arch your back to find the right angle, shifting backwards a bit. once you're both comfortable, you begin to roll your hips. peter exhales a breath he was holding, lifting his hips up to help you out. your movements are slow, fluid. peter supports you by the small of your back, eyes hooded and lips parted for air.
"fuck, i'm not gonna last long."
"me neither."
he kisses you, softly but with so much passion. you let your eyes flutter closed and kiss back. you place your feet flat on the table for more stability and straighten your back, starting to bounce on his cock.
"y/n..."
peter's voice comes out almost like a whine. you chuckle at that.
"i know."
you grab onto peter's shoulders for more support as you move, up and down, back and forth. peter leaves sloppy kisses along the side of your neck. the once quiet lab is now filled with both of your moans and the sounds of your wetness every time his cock thrusts into you. you're both so close, and you can hardly hold out any longer.
peter grabs your hips to stop your movements. he takes over, thrusting up into you at the same delicious pace, only he's the one in control. you let out a series of short, high pitched moans, head thrown back as peter's cock hits the right spot in you over and over again.
"that's it, y/n/n. sound so pretty, baby."
peter half speaks and half groans. you reply with your own noise of content, squeezing yourself around his cock as you reach your high. peter is close to his.
"god, fuck."
he's panting. his thrusts speed up a bit until his hips stop moving altogether. he pushes deeper into you with one final moan, his cum filling you up, making you feel warm inside. you both recently agreed he could finish in you; it's a new level of intimacy.
"fuck, baby. woah."
you bury your face in peter's neck in response. you try to catch your breath, falling forward into his arms.
"oh my god, pete. that was..."
"yeah."
peter hugs your waist. he slowly pulls out of you, making you wince at the new emptiness.
"sorry."
he peppers tender kisses to the side of your head. you remove your face from his neck.
"it's okay."
you ruffle peter's hair with a tired smile. he kisses your cheek, smiling back. you give him another peck on his lips. you yawn, today's and tonight's activities catching up with you once again.
"aw, you tired?"
"mhm. you must be, too, spidey."
"exhausted. let's get cleaned up, then we'll go to bed?"
"sounds perfect."
peter helps you down from the table. you quickly step into your panties in case any cum leaks out of you. he picks his suit up off the floor.
"okay, that was insanely good. i mean, it always is, but something was different. i wonder what it was."
peter shimmies into his suit so his lower half is covered. you're putting on the rest of your clothes.
"i don't know, iâve just been super on my shit today. really focused and stuff."
"explains why you were so locked in on your suit."
"that might just be a stark thing. actually, it's a parker thing too."
you poke peter's chest playfully. you collect some of your things from your work area, some miscellaneous supplies sticking to your palms as you do.
"why does this keep happening?"
peter watches curiously as you huff and shake paper clips off your palms.
"funny, that reminds me of when i first got my powers. took me a while to figure out how to control it, being sticky."
"uh huh. did you spill web fluid last time you were down here or something?"
"i don't think so, but it would have dissolved by now if i did. i haven't been in the lab for a couple days."
"oh. maybe it was someone else."
peter quirks a brow.
"i don't see any web fluid over there, y/n/n."
you turn to face peter.
"so why am i sticky?"
between this, your strength, and your heightened senses, peter puts it together. you have powers.
his spider powers.
"that might also be a parker thing. more specifically, a spider-man thing."
"you don't mean... no."
if peter is saying what you think he's saying, that confirms what you had thought earlier.
"uh, yeah."
peter crosses over to you. your eyebrows knit together.
"we must share some dna."
"but how? that wouldn't be possible unless we were, like, related... ew! please don't tell me we're fucking related!"
"baby, baby." peter laughs softly, taking one of your hands in his. "stop freaking out."
"you should be freaking out too! you were just inside me, peter, fucking me raw! you came in me!"
"exactly."
peter's voice is way too calm for your liking.
"exactly? what do you mean 'exactly'?"
"think about it. sperm is made up of dna."
"so what?"
"well, i wasn't born with this dna. it got mutated by the spider bite. so no, we're definitely not related."
you tentatively soften your gaze, allowing peter to lace his fingers through yours.
"since i got my powers from the mutation, i guess you got them too when i started finishing in you."
you gasp, a playful smile pulling at your lips.
"you mean you mutated my dna? you have radioactive cum?"
"something like that. you're not mad?"
you toy with peter's fingers, looping an arm around his neck.
"nah, it's kind of cool now that i know what it is. you're gonna have to teach me how to use the powers, though."
"of course." peter returns your smile. "now that you've got new powers, you gotta rebrand. maybe you could call yourself spider-woman."
"you'd like that, wouldn't you? come up with something more original."
peter's arms wrap around your middle, smile growing into a toothy grin.
"you could also use mrs. parker. it's gonna be your name someday, anyways."
you put your other arm around peter's neck with a laugh.
"mrs. parker, i like that."
(too lazy to use tags lmao)
#peter parker#peter parker fluff#peter parker smut#peter parker x reader#peter parker x stark!reader#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fic#peter parker imagine#mcu peter parker#tom holland fluff#tom holland smut#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fic#tom holland au
239 notes
·
View notes
Text
summer's golden haze - chapter five
pairing: lando norris x reader
summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and maxâwho can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)
a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writerâs block is such a bitch but iâm happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3
previous chapter | masterlist
Everything people say about time flying when youâre having fun has never been truer. Youâve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself.Â
Youâd say you were surprised at how fast youâve fallen for him, but youâd be lying. Sure, you havenât known him long at all, but it wasnât hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would.Â
Youâve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because itâs just nicer. Today is no different.Â
Landoâs chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesnât annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.
Heâs warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer.Â
He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quicklyâmore often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee.Â
Right now, heâs decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.
Normally, you mightâve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you canât bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, youâre just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it.Â
âWhatâre you lot up to tomorrow?â He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm.Â
âMm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.â You shrug. âYou?âÂ
âFlying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martinâs doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured weâd go support a friend.âÂ
You pout up at him, cooing. âYou guys are so sweet.âÂ
âYeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.â He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. âWould you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martinâs gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.â
âItâs a boysâ day trip, we wouldnât want to crash it,â You insist, shaking your head. âWeâll see each other when you get back.âÂ
âBut Iâll miss you.â He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist.Â
âI think youâll be fine.âÂ
He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. âNo, I think I might die.â
Itâs kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.
You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. Youâre not even sure what it is.Â
Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, âOi! Weâre all going to Ibiza tomorrow, itâs been settled already. Weâll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.âÂ
He gets no objections from anyone, which you didnât think he would, and it makes him beam.Â
You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.
So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will?Â
-------
It seems like youâve just blinked and suddenly itâs the next morning and youâre heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.
The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, youâre still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Landoâs shoulder, whoâs got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in.Â
You havenât packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder.Â
You arenât sure what you were expecting when heâd brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet.Â
A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair youâve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and thereâs a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines.Â
This is the kind of thing youâve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.
Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it.Â
Itâs one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you donât belong here. You donât ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but youâre able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier.Â
Lando holds your hand, makes sure youâre comfortable the whole time, and thatâs that. Thereâs no need to worry him about whatâs running rampant through your mind.Â
Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you donât wake up until youâre on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. Youâre put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where.Â
Lando wonât tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think youâre at your destination, youâre squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina.Â
A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. âTa-da! Look what we got for the day!âÂ
Youâre at a loss for words. When heâd agreed to a joint beach day, you thought youâd actually be going toâŠwell, a beach.Â
âHow the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?â Maren asks, clearly disbelieving.Â
Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. âWhat, like itâs hard?âÂ
âDonât do Elle Woods. You canât pull it off,â Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement.Â
âEveryoneâs a critic nowadays,â Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. âJust get on the boat, dream killers!âÂ
Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on.Â
âSo? What do you think?â He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet.Â
âItâs gorgeous,â You admit, chuckling nervously. âI didnât know you were planning on getting a yacht.âÂ
âYeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.â
It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you.Â
Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so youâd feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyoneâs ever done for you.Â
You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but heâs quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin.Â
âThat was one hell of a thank you,â He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. âReady to have some fun?âÂ
Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat.Â
Youâre not sure how long you lay there, but youâre about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open.Â
Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.
âHi. Waterâs nice,â He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily.Â
You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. âYeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.â
âYou should come in.âÂ
âMaybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.âÂ
âI think itâs plenty dry.âÂ
You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. Heâs got something in that mind of his, and youâre starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. âStop it. Lando, no. Donât even think about it!â
He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. âLovely place to have a lay, innit?â He says innocently, squinting down at you.Â
âIt was,â You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. âNow Iâm being crushed.âÂ
âAre you calling me fat?âÂ
âNo, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?âÂ
âTwice, but I wouldnât mind hearing it again.âÂ
âCareful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,â You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you mightâve just discovered something about your boyfriend. âOh! YouâI didnât mean it likeââ
His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. Youâve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thingâhim.Â
âGet a room, you two!â Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. âHappy for you and all, but Iâm trying to sleep over here.âÂ
Right.Â
Youâd forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment.Â
âSorry,â You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him.Â
He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. âCome swim?âÂ
âIs the water nice?âÂ
âItâd be nicer if you were in it.âÂ
âIâm serious, Lando! Is it cold?â
âGuess youâll just have to jump in and see.â He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.
You canât help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like youâre playing connect the dots.Â
Youâre expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat.Â
âNow what exactly do you think youâre doing?â You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes.Â
âJumping off the roof!âÂ
âAre you serious?âÂ
âItâs totally safe! Iâve done it before,â Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesnât make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. âWanna give it a go?âÂ
The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but heâs grinning so big, and youâd be lying to yourself if you said you werenât at least a little bit intrigued.
Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isnât something youâve ever thought youâd do, but then again, youâve been doing a lot of things you never thought youâd do on this trip.Â
âIf I die, Iâm haunting your ass forever,â You warn. Once youâre up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours.Â
âThereâs no one Iâd rather be haunted by.âÂ
He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Landoâs hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than youâd thought.Â
You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Landoâs hand leaves yours, but you donât panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.
The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you.Â
âWhatâd you think?â He asks earnestly once heâs pulled you out of the water to sit next to him.Â
âThat wasâŠexhilarating.âÂ
âSee, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, Iâll show you the world.âÂ
Somehow, you donât doubt that. If youâre an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face.Â
-------
The day flies by, and before you know it, itâs time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so youâre able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.
Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot.Â
âDamn, youâre hot, girl!â He grins, winking at you.Â
âStop it,â You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel.Â
âWhat? Itâs true! Canât I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?â He argues, looking absolutely giddy. âCâmon, give me a spin.â You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. âMy god, Iâm a lucky guy.âÂ
âYouâre so ridiculous,â You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends. Â
âIf ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.âÂ
The place is only a stoneâs throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. Youâre expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box.Â
Marenâs hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. âThatâs Martin fucking Garrix!â She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. âYou didnât tell us Landoâs friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!âÂ
âHe didnât even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!â is all you can utter back in response.Â
Youâre just as taken by surprise as she is. Youâd have never expected Landoâs friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. Itâs not a connection you wouldâve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends.Â
Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles.Â
âMate, it is good to see you again,â He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. âIâve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.âÂ
Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. âCould be doing better, but yeah, cheers!âÂ
Martinâs eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that youâre a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. âSee youâve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, Iâm Martin.â Then he notices how Landoâs moved closer to be next to you and youâre sure heâs already got things figured out. âEnjoy the set! Iâm sure Lando will take good care of you.âÂ
A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where youâve actually started to enjoy yourself.Â
Landoâs hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.
Itâs so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you canât.Â
Anyone can see you right now, seeing as youâre not exactly in a private place. Youâre tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martinâs booth and entourage, but it wouldnât be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights.Â
Itâs risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire.Â
It isnât until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you canât breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.
Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Landoâs grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out whatâs happening.Â
You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down.Â
Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan.Â
You donât even know whatâs wrong. Everything is goodâyouâre with your best friends, with Lando, and youâre supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like youâre not supposed to be here?Â
The answer is a mystery even to you.Â
Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. Youâre free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser.Â
Footsteps approach some time later. How long, youâre not exactly sureâwallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner.Â
Lando doesnât say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. âCâmon, letâs take a walk.â He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him.Â
âI canât walk on sand in these heels,â You sniff, scowling a little bit. Itâs a shit excuse, you know that, but you donât feel like being very cooperative right now.Â
âIâll hold them,â He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.
You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and itâs him who speaks first.Â
âAre you alright, love?â He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. âCâmon, will you talk to me? Please?â His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. âI think itâll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.âÂ
âAll of thisâthe jet, the yacht, everythingâitâs a lot to take in,â You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. âAnd I know you did it for me, so Iâd feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But IâŠthis is all completely new for me. Like, I canât help but feel like such an outsider.â
Landoâs expression crumples. âOh. I didnât mean toâthat wasnât my intention. To make you feel like you donât belong.â
âYou donât need to be sorry. Itâs not you, itâs me.â
âThis sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,â He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. âWait, is thisââÂ
âNo! No, Iâm not breaking up with you. Iâm justâŠsaying things.âÂ
âOkay.â He nods, looking thoughtful. âHow can I fix this, how can I help with what youâre feeling?âÂ
You smile at him, grateful that heâs asking even though there isnât anything for him to do about how youâre feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasnât done that. Heâs nothing but kind and caring about it. About you.Â
âIâm fine, Lando. Thank you though, youâre sweet,â You assure him, kissing his cheek. âMind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martinâs set?âÂ
âWe donât have to go back,â He suggests. âWe can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.âÂ
âI want to go back. Itâll be fun,â You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but heâs the one who looks wary.Â
His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. âAre you sure?âÂ
âPositive. Iâll be fine, I promise.âÂ
-------
The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martinâs gig lets out, with good reason. Itâs late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyoneâs asleep except you and Max, whoâs on the phone with his girlfriend.
Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted.Â
You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones.Â
Honestly, you donât think youâve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk youâd had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.
Still, thereâs something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to.Â
Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. âPietra says hi. Sheâs looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.âÂ
âWeâre excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.âÂ
âYeah, she is,â Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. âIs everything alright? You look like youâve got something on your mind.âÂ
You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Landoâs springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesnât wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. âItâs kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.âÂ
âAnything, go ahead. Weâre friends, arenât we?â Itâs actually reassuring to know that Maxâs opinion on you hasnât changed since youâd gotten together with his best friend. Youâre still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say whatâs been weighing on you.Â
âAre you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.âÂ
You arenât seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, youâre not really sure. Max is Landoâs best friend, his brother. Other than Landoâs family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids.Â
All these people, theyâre everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand.Â
Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. âYouâre exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything heâs got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. Youâre perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.â
You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. âThank you.âÂ
âNo, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.âÂ
Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. âMe? What did I do?âÂ
âI know Landoâs filled you in about whatâs been going on, so you know that heâs had a bit of a rough time lately.â Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. âHeâs not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, âcause it wasnât good for him, bottling it all up like he was.âÂ
Your heart aches for Lando. You canât help but want to protect him. It was true when youâd been just friends and only grown truer since.Â
âI wasnât sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I havenât seen him smile this much in ages. Heâs been so happy, so in love, itâs beenâshit, I donât even know what else I can say other than thank you. Youâve made my best mate himself again, andâŠI think I owe you everything for that.âÂ
You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention toâbeing the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happyâbut only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. âHeâs in love with me?âÂ
Maxâs eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what heâs just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation youâve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes wouldâve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what heâd just let loose. âI really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.âÂ
âLando told you he was in love with me?â You press. Youâd kick him under the table, but then youâd risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. âMax.âÂ
âFuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.â You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. âJesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think Iâm falling in love with her.âÂ
âHe thinks?âÂ
âWell, I donât know! Iâm not a mind reader, am I?â He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. âBut if I could read his mind, Iâd say yes. Iâve known LandoâŠshit, I dunno, ten years now? And Iâve never seen him like this with anyone else before. Youâre special to him.âÂ
âHeâs special to me too,â You say softly, stroking a thumb over Landoâs knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesnât. It feels exactly right.Â
âI feel obligated to give you the usual âhurt my best friend and Iâll hurt youâ bit, but I know you wonât. Youâve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that youâll love him as much as he loves you. You do, donât you?âÂ
You sigh, chuckling softly. âFigured out that one easily too, havenât you?âÂ
âPlease, Iâve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. Youâd be terrible spies.âÂ
âThanks, Max. Seriously.âÂ
âFor calling you a crappy liar? Youâre welcome, I guess?â Heâs only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. âAnd if he ever hurts you, loop me in. Iâll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.âÂ
âOh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.âÂ
Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. âYeah, heâs got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.â
The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good.Â
Heâs actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being.Â
follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new chapter :)
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#ln4#ln4 x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris series#lando norris x fem!reader#lando norris imagine#summer's golden haze
260 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not to discredit the excellent advice above - it derails from what the OP was saying in the first place.
Because no, I feel that what @scarlet-letter-s-for-soft so beautifully described is not what the OP was describing: a manipulative tactic.
See, all of the situations above come from a place of kindness and understanding: you need to communicate with people you form relationships with, you need to put effort, though how that communication works and how much of that effort will be put in is different for different people. You need to look at the attachment styles and figure out the needs of others and work on that.
And then you have people, who will not do that. But they will give you beautiful promises and when you do meet with them you will receive attention and love or friendship or intimacy that you will treasure. And that feeling of being precious to them will keep you with them, on their orbit, without realising that none of the promises were kept. That your requests for another meeting were negotiated to suit them or were discarded. That your needs are getting neglected. But the beautiful words are still there:
âI love talking with you and canât wait to see you againâ, just without a follow-up meeting. So if you canât wait, but do not propose a meeting, what should I get from that? Itâs an empty but pretty promise.
âI do not like putting labels, but you know how important you are to meâ, no if I was important you would at least talk about my needs - and in this instance the need to define our relationship.
âI am just so busy, with work and all that is going on right now, you know? I will let you know when my schedule opensâ, but if it does not, unless you start pulling back and they need to hook you up again.
The father described above is not the father that does nothing and leaves their kid, without paying child support and then re-enters their life when he needs to borrow money. The friends that get busy in life or need a me-time will still be there for you when you need it even if itâs once a year or if they drop you a message or show how they think of you in a different way. It is not the same as when someone wants to manipulate you in liking them but without giving anything back - just words, or sometimes extra attention so you will stay hooked.
I am not a psychologist, and I know shit about attachments styles etc. But I know manipulation and negotiations for compromises are not the same thing.
So normalise someoneâs lack of effort as their lack of commitment to you, lack of interest and drop that person if their effort ends with words and they give you some follow-up action only when itâs convenient to them, not necessarily to you. When they only take and never give.
Or sometimes, even if they gave you something, pay attention. Check how you would feel if someone was treating your loved ones in the same manner. Make sure it is not screwing you over or worse, screwing with your other relationships.
Letting go of people is also a skill and it is not easy. But sometimes that is needed for your own well-being. If you are kind to others, be also kind to yourself. Know when someone is only offering you sweet talking, and no action that follows the words.
Normalize seeing someone's lack of effort as their lack of interest in you regardless of what they tell you. Giving you all of the right words, but none of the right actions is called manipulation. If a person wants to be with you, they prove it. Period.
#I love the approach of giving people the benefit of the doubt but itâs not always the case#Self-care#I am so sorry if the reply is harsh - but that is not âno effortâ#and I hate that it derails from the original message of getting rid of toxic people
18K notes
·
View notes
Text
Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120 Headcanons
Pairing: Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120 x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, killing, guns/gunshots (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)
àȘâ⎠Watching Hyun-ju during the six-legged pentathlon, you couldn't help but be amazed. She was a leader, a fighter, someone who didn't and wouldn't give up, that much was sure. It was amazing to see her lead her group to victory, to safety, being the one to push them and encourage them. Everyone cheered, obviously including you, and it truly was an amazing feeling to see them all get away with their lives. You weren't so sure if you'd make it, too.
àȘâ⎠Thankfully, you did. Your group barely scraped by and you just decided that you needed to be on Hyun-ju's team. Hesitantly, you approached Geum-ja, who immediately noticed your small figure and agreed in a heart beat to let you join their little group.
"You were great back there, you know?" You told Hyun-ju with a shy smile while she was sitting on the stairs, originally just observing Yong-sik getting scolded by his mother again. "Hm? Ah.. that was nothing." she replied back, shaking her head when smiling up at you. "I think everyone in here should be like you," you chuckled, "like, actually. We'd all benefit from it."
àȘâ⎠Hyun-ju's heart melted at all the nice words you would say to her, complimenting her braveness and strength. It made her feel more validated in her actions, which was the motivation she really needed in a place like this. Young-mi was equally excited to have you in their group now, having animated conversations with you about the things you had in common â And if she approved of you, Hyun-ju would, too.
àȘâ⎠Whenever you were scared, were having doubts about yourself or just needed someone to talk, Hyun-ju was there. It was almost like she felt it when you felt that way and she'd always listen to you and comfort you. Her hugs were warm and firm, perfectly calming you down after a particularly bad nightmare. In return, you also encouraged her to talk to you if she ever felt the need to, but everytime you suggested that she'd laugh it off. To Hyun-ju, it was enough to know that she brought you comfort, she didn't need anything in return. She did think it was adorable for you to say that.
àȘâ⎠To distract you from all the stress sometimes, she'd ask you about your plans for the future, about your hobbies and jusy about the things that made you, you. Hyun-ju was genuinely interested in getting to know you and was growing very fond of you over a short period of time.
àȘâ⎠After suffering through the third game together, and also a painful loss (rip Young-mi, my queen), everyone was going through it. Instead of everyone keeping it peaceful, they just decided to slaughter each other after lights out. Ever since losing Young-mi, Hyun-ju was very adamant on keeping you by her side at all times. She wouldn't make that mistake again and leave someone she cared about out of her sight.
The lights flicker like crazy above you, screams and the disgusting sound of people getting killed right next to you were the only things you could focus on right now. You were panicking, you were scared, you felt like you were going to cry and throw up. Hyun-ju had grabbed you by your hand and dragged you to the last corner of the dorm area, hiding you between some mattresses other players had set up. She was firmly holding you by your shoulders and telling you something you couldn't make up. Probably that everything will be okay or something. "Hey! Hey, please listen to me," Hyun-ju leaned in close, hugging you against her, "it's all going to be fine. We'll be okay."
àȘâ⎠In fact, you were. Obviously you were. Hyun-ju wouldn't say something she didn't mean â she wouldn't lie to you. She knew that winning someones trust was hard and the fact that you put so much of it into her filled her with pride.
àȘâ⎠Gi-hun had his mind set on a revolution. Anybody who could handle a firearm was supposed to step forward and take one of of the ones they took off the dead guards. You swallowed, locking eyes with Hyun-ju. She'd step forward, they needed her. You gave her a quick nod and a faint smile and she returned it, quickly stepping forward to help the others.
Geum-ja put a hand on your shoulder, claiming that she'll be fine and that she's far too tough to die out there. "They'll be back to get us out of here, don't worry about it." she said, tugging you by your sleeve, beckoning you to come with her.
When Dae-ho stormed in after a while again, hastily collecting the magazines out of the guards pockets, you were relieved, even if he seemed extremely beside himself. He had some sort of panic attack, so you sat him down on one of the beds, trying to reason with him, until Hyun-ju stormed in, making your facs light up. Oh my god, she's alive. She basically ran to Dae-ho, urging for the ammunition and kept asking him what happened.. so, this wasn't going according to plan at all. You assumption was confirmed by all the masked guards that flooded into the dorm area, holding the remaining players at gunpoint.
"Hyun-ju..?" your voice was shaky. Her eyes fell down on you, taking your hand into hers. "It's all going to be fine."
#squid game#squid game fanfic#squid game season 2#squid games x reader#squid game x reader#squid games#squid game 2#player 120#player 120 x reader#hyun ju#hyun ju x reader
147 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE RICH MANâS GUIDE TO CORRUPTION
GIVE IT UP FOR LOVE
warnings⊠i mean some absolute swine talk, gojo and geto are evil men, youâre a sweet and pure virgin. swearing, mentions of fucking, really just vile pig shit.
synopsis⊠suguru and satoru have a lovely chat over a warm summers breeze. oh! and sweet, un-expecting, vulnerable you is the topic of discussion.
a word from the creator⊠idk if i mentioned this but this fic is based loosely off the movie cruel intentions! banger film, check it out. i wrote a lot of this chapter awhile ago so if the writing style switches up next chapter donât sue me. iâm excited!!!! hereâs to the next eleven chapters of hell
series masterlist
Gojo hates the heat. He thinks he's tolerated it before on his fatherâs yacht or when he did an unnecessary shirtless carwash for extra money he didn't need; but right now with the breeze through the windowâ that Suguru demanded be openâ overbearing the air conditioner, he's absolutely positive that summer is the worst.
âStart of the yearâs cominâ, yknow.â He typically broke the silenceâ as if he could ever shut up to begin withâ and he was almost always met with a:
âNo shit.â strident response. Those seemed to be Suguruâs speciality, and provoking them seemed to be Satoruâs.
Itâs too hot. His white hair presses into the drywall, feeling much cooler than the air outside. âIâm not stupid, Suguru. Neither are you, you know what I mean.â Itâs an overdramatic sighâ a call for attentionâ as he turns his head over to look at him.
âTheyâre gonna ask us about it soon.â And, in some way Suguru canât really comprehend, Gojo sounds excited.
His manner isnât necessarily wrong, not so much as it is unexpected. The ânew year, new fuckâ competition of Azabu was practically famous among the young men certain to attendâ the sons of the sons who started it, and all their nephews or cousins or any synonym for a pig of a relative that they could come up with. And, luckily enough, they had the privilege to be top candidates.
The competition was started by the current deanâs uncle, a horny fuck-all type who would take any and all excuse to boost his ego while tearing down a girlsâ or maybe he really did just want a good lay. But, it grew and grew and grew, and now it was almost ritualistic, a second identity of worthiness in the form of fucking a virgin before anyone else did.
Sure, they were nothing but thrilled for it as high school reached an end, or even the first or second year of university. But now it just seemed dull.
But, traditions are custom, and customs are a necessity. Itâs almost become lore throughout their little clique of affluence; whispered stories from childhood turned into real competition after a long wait, especially from a group of people who so rarely have to wait for anything. Itâs inspiring, they think, means to associate themselves with a lower class; normalize themselves just a little more.
Alumni share stories at functions, putting the frat in fraternizing, nonchalance on the tips of their tongues. Sometimes the tone almost feels dark, and Suguru thinks if he were a better person heâd feel some type of sympathy for the girls. Any fragment of empathy he had wiped away when he won for the first time, though, wide smirk as his year mates glared at him; memories of the tight, albeit idiotic, girl engrained behind the lids of his eyes.
Even so, it gets old quick. And itâs not like they donât fuck dumb, stupid, silly girls with nothing to say for the rest of the year anyway. So, he canât quite figure out what Gojo is all too excited about.
âWell try to make sure your dick doesnât get hard from the thought, you fucking freak.â Thereâs a giggle from the other man, a scoff too, and he pushes his hand out at him.
This is crucial. This is who they are together. A pairâ whether itâs a pair of awful men or not.
Thereâs also a sense of trepidation that comes with it, of course. Itâs exclusive, more so than they already are, and if you do one thing wrong- speak a little too loud, come off too brash, give a lackluster lie after actually getting caughtâ youâre out. And whose pride would want that?
âItâs stupid we always gotta wait for them to sit us down, itâs not like we donât know whatâs coming up.â He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. âPlus, what a fucking weird thing to say to your kid.â
âI mean the whole thingâs odd if you think about it.â Gojo shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets, forearms bare against the linen of his trousers.
Heâs right, of course. Even if neither of them feel guilt for their actions, they canât ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach when their own fathers sit them down and incite such a twisted view on them.
Be that as it may, itâs not too bad when thatâs all they know, and itâs not like either of them are going to complain at a quick orgasm, a nice pair of tits, and that goddamn feeling of triumph.
âDo you think theyâll cry again?â Satoru mocks, brimming with glee as he leans in the direction of his friend. âItâs always funny, dontcha think?â
âAs if youâd know,â Thereâs a smirk despite the aggression in his tone. âDunno why it matters so much to you, you already got bitches babbling about you all the time.â
Gojo sighs, expression bored and childish and fucking greedy. âYeah, I know butâŠâ His voice peters out, lost in the room. Elation bubbles back into his features, warming his cheeks and animating his eyes as he looks at Suguru.
âYknow, I heard the dean has a daughter starting, actually. Real sweet gal, even wrote a whole fucking magazine article about the importance of âsaving your innocenceââ his voice wobbles, eyes rolling as he sneers. âfor someone you really love.â
âSounds like sheâs ugly.â
âThought so, too, but..â He trails off, hand fishing in his back pocket for his phone, pupils dilating at the light on his screen. It doesnât take him long to find the photo; clearly heâs been sitting on his discovery for awhile, anticipating when he could tell him. âLook.â
Suguru doesnât like to be wrong, much less will he ever admit it. âHoly shit.â You arenât necessarily the prettiest girl heâs ever seen, probably not even the prettiest heâs seen in the last month, but you were definitely something.
Maybe it was the curve of your jaw or the tint in your lips, but the photo set something off in him. On the surface he thinks itâs the just barely explicit face youâre making in your mirror, phone in hand as you look into your lens, but really, honestly, if heâs searching deep downâ itâs the fact he knows youâre the one girl who wouldnât just throw herself on him if he so kindly asked.
âSugu, are you ever bored of this? It feels too easy, right?â Suddenly Gojoâs previous excitement feels misplaced, voice itching for more. âHardest part about it is finding out whoâs actually a virgin or not, and thatâs pretty simple with how awkward they get.â
âWhat are you saying?â Maybe he already knows, maybe heâs hoping for the obvious, but he asks like he doesnât care. The former moves fast, hand steady on the desk as he leans far too close for comfort. In any other situation, heâd probably be met with a harsh jab to the face, but this feels differentâ secret.
âLetâs do something, on our own, just you and me.â He almost seems too impatient, pressure digging into the ground from the toes of his shoes and gaze begging. It was the kind of thing that made you want to agree, if nothing else to just feel a fraction of the way he seemed to be. Before Suguru could even consider the idea, test the waters and make Gojo beg a little bit, said boy opened his mouth again.
âI mean, unless youâre not up for it. You donât really seem like the type to make a girl give it up for love.â He snickers, raising the back of his hand to his forehead as he feigns swooning.
âGeto, Iâ I love you.â His voice is high, wheezy in his imitation and a little rude. âI think.. I think Iâm ready- I want it to be you.â He cuts himself off with his own laugh, hand circling over his mouth to try to stifle himself. âCould you imagine?â
âThe fuck does that mean?!â
âCmon, Suguru, youâre not really the endearing type.â Heâs edging him now, tone manipulative and pressing and snarky and Suguru knowsâ of course he knows, but it canât help but irk him.
âWhat are you thinking?â And now Gojoâs beaming again, feet guiding him back across the room to his bag, books stacked neatly inside, lying even against each other. He pulls out a magazine and tosses it to him haphazardly before he reaches back for a notebook and a pen.
âPage 36, read it.â The article is cheesy. Itâs too long and feels like something right off a self care Facebook page. Suguru is sure he physically recoiled a couple times reading it; especially when you wrote âVirginity is a miracleâ the ability to show someone how much you love them in such an intimate way should be saved for someone special.â.
Itâs shocking that youâre the daughter of the man who oversees their little sex game.
Suguru thinks youâre vileâ embarrassing and pathetic and a huge fucking waste of what seems like a really good pair of blowjob eyes. It makes his skin crawl and he verbally scoffs when he reads your finishing sentence about cherishing your virtues, so focused on the arrogance in your punctuation that he doesnât even hear Gojoâs laugh.
âPretentious as shit, right?â He snorts, eyes flickered as he recites the passage in his head. âItâs gonna feel so good to fuck the words right out of her mouth.â Suguru didnât know what he expected from his friend, but it wasnât that. Itâs clear through, through and through, that heâs dedicated to the idea.
âI mean sure, I guess youâll have your turn. Maybe sheâll fuck just about anyone after I win.â
âWait, so youâre in?â
âWhatever.â
âFuck yeah!â Heâs joyful, fist pumping into his chest in a quick celebration before heâs holding up his notebook, standing directly across the floor from the desk.
The wood is dark, deep and marbled, glazed over the top and lined with little symbols of power in the form of trophies. Itâs clearly something too nice to serve as a welcome mat, but nonetheless Suguru rests his heels on the surface, ankles crossed over each other as he leans back in his chair. His eyes point to the ceiling to look at anything other than the annoyance in front of him.
âWell clearly we need to set up some rules.â He sneers in his seat when he remembers not looking at him wonât make him shut up.
âOkay well we have the obvious: whoever fucks first wins. And I mean fucks, none of that sloppy anal shit. Doesnât count.â Itâs almost funny, but neither of them acknowledge it. If they do, thatâll come hand in hand with the fact theyâre acting just like their fathers.
âShe has to be sober.â He didnât really expect himself to say that, but he did expect Satoru to whine.
Gojo lets it sit in the air for a second before he nods curtly and jots something done.
âWould it be too cocky to say she has to cum?â The journalâs away from his face now and someone could, and probably would, argue that the walls are lucky to see the boyish grin heâs got. His smirk pulls up at the corners of his lips, but Suguru just finds it vexing. Gojo is far too full of himself, he thinks, and he hates to admit thereâs good reason.
Nonetheless, he has to give him a little shit. âDo they normally not with you?â
âHey! Thatâs not what I meant, asshole.â Thereâs something sweet to Satoru, under all the sickening that is his personality. It makes people understand just why girls fall for him, and definitely helps him keep a good image to the public.
And thereâs something smart to him that makes you feel like he could really pull whatever he wanted off. It makes the idea of competing with just him much more appealing.
âAre we gonna have like aâ fuck I donât knowâ like a time limit?â
âFuck is this? A video game?â
âI mean no, but competition wise if it takes us like half a year isnât that kind of stupid? Because whoâs to say she wonât âreally love youâ by then, and then youâre not making her go against anything, yknow?â And there's also something meticulous about him that makes him aggravating as all hell.
âFine. A month.â
âJust a month?â
âYeah, youâre right. Plus, anything longer than that and weâd just be a couple of fucking losers chasing after a bitch.â Suguru knows Gojo is giving him a look without even seeing it, the slightly judgmental and almost kind one he does. âWhat? Youâre the one who said it to begin with.â
âYeah, okay, whatever. A month.â Itâs silent for a second, comfortable with all their years of each other, before he clears his throat.
âThat it then?â Maybe theyâre the same kind of evil. Maybe they deserve each other.
âOne more, actually.â Thereâs that feeling from him again, the tone that makes Suguru want to agree aimlessly for no fucking reason other than the possible rush. And before he can fester; before his skin can start to crawl and his hands can get clammy just from that sheer desire in his voice, Gojo grins.
âYou need proof. And I donât mean her saying it, because you can bribe anyone into saying anything. Gotta show it, photo or video or something, balls deep or whatever the fuck.â That almost makes Suguru laugh.
âI donât think sheâs gonna go for that one, no matter how good the dick is.â
âShe doesnât have to know.â Now heâs really thrilled. He doesnât know what it is, but that lights something in him, stirs in his stomach and causes a little quiver in his brow.
âFuck yeah, man,â heâs really laughing now, pointing at the journal harshly. âwrite that shit down.â
Thereâs something unspoken over them now, a deeper bond than they thought they could have. Neither of them would ever admit it, but it feels like theyâre those two high schoolers again, counting down til they can become something fucking great. This is the feeling theyâre supposed to get from their fathersâ stupid fucking contest. This is actual competition, a chance to actually win.
A new air falls on them, mixed back in with that warm, rich breeze.
âOkay, that settles that then.â Gojo offers, fingers tapping the binding of his book. âShe has to be attending the start of the year banquet so thatâll be an excuse to meet her. Everything from then on is up to us.â Suguru always dreaded that shitty event, but now he finds himself doing mental math to count how far away it is.
Even if the whole thing is trivial, and even if you seem like the most uptight thing ever, Suguru is a man of pride. And prideful heâll be.
âWe still gotta do the ânew yearâ thing, you know. Theyâll burst a fucking artery if we say weâre not interested.â His voice is gravelly and calm and so not anything heïżœïżœïżœs feeling, but he thinks Gojo buys it when he chuckles.
âCan you be excommunicated from being a womanizer? Because I think we would be.â Theyâre almost joking like everything is normal. Itâs different, so much different, but theyâre acting the same.
âIâm gonna go grab some water and maybe call one of your maids to make lunch, you want anything?â Suguru shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he tries his hardest not to look at the journal Satoru set on the side table.
âSuit yourself, Iâll be back.â
âWhatever,â He waits after Gojo walks out. Waits a good forty five seconds before he stands up, and he crosses the room in about three.
He glances over at the thrown aside notebook, eyes quick as he scans it. The handwriting is adjacent to messy, scattered and the page is littered with semi vulgar doodles and side bars. Itâs coherent, though, and even though they both know Gojo had no intention of giving it to him, itâs got his signature at the bottom.
1. Full fucking!! Penis in vagina
2. No signs of being inebriated. Absolutely stone cold sober
3. If it takes longer than a month after everyone is introduced weâre both âa couple of fucking losersâ (< Suguâs words)
4. Orgasms are important ! Or at least near orgasms (she is a virgin)
5. Photo / video proof. If you canât get it, you arenât in it (haha! get it?)
He snickers at four, the uneasy tone in the second sentence almost self deprecating. Despite that, he canât help but feel a smidge of respect that he ended up adding it to begin with.
He grabs the pen from the table, pressing into the paper too hard as he leaves his chicken scratch of a John Hancock. Okay, maybe this will be fun.
taglist⊠@moonlight-pearls @sharkerino @echerie
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#satoru x reader#jjk x reader#gojo smut#jjk smut#geto x reader#suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#suguru smut#geto smut#satoru smut#jjk#gojo satoru#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x you#geto x you#geto x y/n#the rich manâs guide to corruption
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
going to add that like, in murdering his father he also alienates the other half of his heritage to the point that now it's Eternally On Sight with him and them. Then! After! The other people in the murder polycule fuck off right as he starts grieving both his parents, hard, while also leaving him not only his now-tainted family home (they literally murdered his dad in his childhood bedroom!!!) as well as "a museum dedicated to the murder of [his] people" in the Belmont basement.
Then! Further! He goes kinda insane with his grief, makes dolls of his polycule, meets a pair of siblings who are down to clown except they aren't there here to steal genocide secrets and they sexually assault then try to murder him in his bed! So he emulates dear dead dad and impales them on stakes out front.
Things kinda look up when Greta forcibly picks him up by the scruff, tells him to get over himself your mom's people need you, then sends him off to fight monsters with a slap on the ass (figuratively, though I do not doubt she actually did that after the final battle at some point in the time skip before Trevor comes back).
But Then! Wait there's More! Trauma Train Has No Brakes! Some also-grieving-his-dead-loved-ones dumbass desecrates some random corpses to resurrects the souls of his parents and torments the fuck out of them by fusing them into a horrible amalgam that is both dead and alive and both people but only one person all at once, right in front of him! Then Dumbass Extraordinaire learns he got played by something calling itself Death who then goes on to (seemingly) brutally murder a member of the Murder Polycule after spewing some of the vilest insults ever put to animated media.
I mean, the seemingly murdered guy comes back a while later, and supposedly they live happily ever after, but did they really? Because like 300 years and a number of generations later he has to rock up to help out the however-many-great-grandchildren of his murder polycule kill another goddamn vampire (yes, the other half of his heritage that he was alienated from for having to kill his dad).
hell yeah, 10/10 character of all time, love him to bits
Obsessed with the idea of Castlevania from Alucard's perspective 'cause like. Imagine your dad is one of the most dangerous people on the planet but you keep forgetting about it because he's also hopelessly and pathetically devoted to your mother to the point of borderline neglecting you which kind of sucks but y'know whatever. And then your mom is brutally and publicly murdered so you head out for your dad's estate already presuming he's cooking up some pretty chill, sweet revenge, only to find out he's actually Actively Planning A Genocide against your own mother's people, of which you're also still technically a part of. So you try telling your dad that's actually Not Chill and he just fucking lunges at you, permanently scarring you and leaving you in a year long coma so now you have to kill your weirdo loser dad which sucks hard cuz y'know. You really don't have anyone else but ok.
But you're still in a coma so then you're woken up by a random mage girl who thinks you're Jesus Christ Reborn and a loser homeless boy who immediately (and homoerotically) tries to fight you and he actually manages to stab you in the gut but you think that's sexy and you ask them if they wanna help you kill your dad and now suddenly you're part of a murder polycule. So like. What I'm trying to say is 10/10 the character of all time
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
THE STARS ALIGNED, THEY LED ME TO YOU | Jude Bellingham
pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader
word count: 5.4k
summary: jude starts his 2025 with a quiet morning walk to his favorite cafe. on that new year's day, his horoscope leads him to someone very special. as the year unfolds, the stars continue to chart his path, marking important relationship milestones and memories
warnings: smut
A/N: had this idea for quite a while and it was fun to write! let me know what you guys think :)
I.
january 1, 2025 - cancer, today is all about partnerships and fated meetings. keep an eye out for new connections that could change your life, and all things green. yes, green. đ
jude squints at his phone.
heâd downloaded an astrology app as a joke a while back, roped into it by a friend who was one of those people who took astrology really, really seriously. it was all rubbish of course. but for some inexplicable reason, he hasnât deleted the app yet. maybe it was out of curiosity, or maybe just the fact that he liked having something to chuckle at during breakfast.
this morning, jude doesnât feel like laughing at all. he groans as he shoves his phone into his pocket, wincing at the dull ache in his head. last nightâs champagne had been a mistake. or maybe it was the tequila shots that came after. he wasnât sure anymore. either way, he was paying for it now. the cold january air didnât help much either, biting at his skin even through his oversized hoodie and thick sweatpants.
on early mornings during his off days, he liked walking inside the gated community he lived in. sometimes, he even dared to walk beyond the gates, wandering the streets of madrid where he's rarely afforded anonymity. he had a set route, a memorized path that despite technically being habitual by now felt like an escape from the sometimes drab routine of his daily life. occasionally, he'd stop at a small cafe nearby, ordering a small coffee to go. he had an unspoken agreement with the barista on shift during those early morning hours: no acknowledgment of who he was, no whispered recognition in front of the other patrons. or maybe he was overthinking it and the barista had no idea who he was at all. who knows.
he tugs the hood further down over his face, adjusting his headphones and the mask he wore to keep from being recognized. not that he expected to see many people out this early on new yearâs day, anyway. there were only the party survivors, disheveled and stumbling back home. no time for them to notice any lone, wandering footballers.
when he eventually reaches and walks inside the cafe, he's not surprised to see that there's less people than usual. just a young couple in party clothes, bleary eyes and sharing a croissant.
he orders his usual, headphones still blasting music, and lingers by the counter as he waits. his eyes do wander though, and he notices a lone figure sitting by the window, her back facing him. his eyes are immediately drawn to the oversized bow in her hair. the bow is bright yellow, a contrast to the muted tones of the cafe.
he finds himself staring, wondering what pressing matter would have someone typing frantically into their laptop on new years day in a near deserted cafe. he watches her, all social awareness seemingly fleeing his mind.
that is, until the girl suddenly turns and gets up. his eyes snap away immediately, and he pretends to be busy with his phone as she walks up to the same counter he's standing by. it strikes him that it would be more awkward if he pretends not to have been looking at her, especially if she'd somehow noticed. so he looks up from his phone and catches her gaze.
the second thing he notices about her, besides the bow, is how strikingly pretty she is. deep brown skin, almond shaped eyes peering through tortoiseshell glasses, and a small smile on her lips as she catches his gaze. annoyingly, he feels his stomach dip. tell tale sign that he's attracted to this girl, which he could've figured out without the physical reaction. jude's a pretty self aware guy, after all.
"don't have a match today?" he voice carries over the music in his ears.
he blinks, momentarily thrown off by her directness. "no, i'm off"
"okay" she says, unfazed. "your coffee is ready"
"huh?" he blinks again.
"your coffee?"
his eyes follow to where her finger is pointing, to find that, sure enough, his coffee is ready and waiting for him. jude curses silently, realizing he was too busy staring at this girl and being lost in his music to notice the barista setting it down on the counter.
he glances up at the barista, who sends him a sly wink, as if to say, caught you.
he murmurs a quiet thank you, pays for his drink, and generously tips. all the while he waits for the girl to strike up conversation with him, or ask for a picture, or yell BELLIGOL!!!!! unprovoked. because that's usually what happens when people recognize him in public.
instead, she asks for a muffin, and when the barista hands it to her on a plate, she simply offers a soft smile to jude before walking back to her seat.
jude's jaw slackens.
"ask to sit with her" the barista, whose name tag reads enzo, encourages from across the counter.
"but-"
"you've got nothing to lose" he reminds him. "if she says no you just walk out and leave and never see her again"
except he does have something to lose. he always does, when it comes to these things. a small, paranoid part of him runs through the scenarios: what if she sneakily took a picture of him while he was standing there? what if she says no, and then runs to one of those stupid gossip accounts on instagram to announce jude bellingham is such a creep, ew!. what if-
the chatter in his mind is silenced when he notices the pin on the barista's shirt, which reads: GREEN PEACE.
jude is immediately reminded of his horoscope this morning. keep an eye out for all things green.
enzo follows his gaze, then grins. "i volunteer there. great cause you know?"
jude doesn't respond. the familiar thought creeps in again: horoscopes are ridiculous, and any person who makes decisions based on them is naive at best and downright cuckoo at worst. but this is harmless isn't it? its not like he's letting astrology convince him to sink his entire net worth into some sketchy crypto currency or something.
so he squares his shoulders and mutters to enzo, "fine, i'll go talk to her"
the barista just gives him an encouraging thumbs up as jude picks up his coffee and heads her way.
sheâs still typing as he walks over, her fingers flying over the keyboard with the kind of focus that makes him wonder if she's even aware of her surroundings at all. the oversized bow in her hair bobs slightly as she shifts in her seat. for some reason, he finds that little detail endearing.
when he finally reaches her table, he clears his throat softly.
âhi" he says confidently. "would you mind if i sat here?â
she looks up, tilting her head to study him for a beat. then, with a shrug, she gestures to the empty seat across from her. "go ahead"
she doesnât look surprised that heâs there. instead, she closes her laptop gently and leans back on her chair as he takes a seat.
âdidnât think youâd actually do itâ she says, sounding amused.
âdo what?â he asks, also leaning back on his chair.
âcome over and sitâ she replies, a small smirk playing on her lips. âyou were staring for a whileâ
he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. âyour bow is distractingâ
she adjusts it on the back of her head, and a single strand of curls slips out from where sheâd tucked it behind her ear. jude has to fight the urge to tuck it back in.
"got it yesterday"
âi like itâ he says, fumbling a bit. âitâs very⊠cottage core?â he immediately regrets his words, because he has no idea what he's talking about. he hopes he's not embarrassing himself. âit gives off that vibe.â
he's relieved when she laughs. "thanks. i'll take it"
"i'm jude by the way" he says hastily. he hopes he's not coming off as arrogant by not introducing himself earlier, even though she recognized him.
"i'm y/n"
he nods towards her laptop. "y/n, what's got you so busy on new years?"
"oh, i'm applying for grad programs. finshing up uni soon, so yeah" she says shyly.
"what do you go to school for?"
she tells him about her major, how she's feeling about graduating soon. he listens intently, genuinely interested, and when itâs his turn to share about his job and life, he finds himself opening up too. itâs easy; surprisingly easy. for someone he met just ten minutes ago, their conversation flows effortlessly. sheâs funny, quick witted in a way that keeps him on his toes, and she laughs at his jokes like she genuinely finds him amusing. it makes him feel good about himself.
enzo wanders over a while later.
"you two need anything else?"
jude glances down at his coffee cup, empty for at least the last twenty minutes. this would be the perfect moment to call it a day, to say goodbye and head home like he originally planned. with january being a very busy month for the team, he knows he should take every chance he gets to rest and recharge.
but leaving is the last thing he wants to do. talking to y/n is fun, refreshing.
"yeah, jude says, before he can overthink it. he nods toward y/nâs plate with a small grin. "iâll have a muffin too"
II.
april 9, 2025 - today the stars are urging you to take charge, cancer. whether itâs expressing your feelings or trying something new, trust that courage will be rewarded đȘ
having a crush is top 10 most painful things in the world.
jude used to roll his eyes at people who said that, chalking it up to melodramatics. but now he knows it first hand. because why in the hell is one person taking up so much of his brain space? how is that legal? how is that remotely okay?
that person is y/n, of course. they're friends now. close friends. friends who hang out regularly, who text a lot. friends who have inside jokes, shared playlists that she uses to tease him about his 'old man music taste', and a mutual understanding that they just get each other. its is great. itâs everything jude could ask for. except for the fact that itâs not enough.
for four months now, he feels like he's been sentenced to a life of angst. the kind that feels heavy on his chest whenever she's near, or worse, when she's not. so much so that he finds comfort in his so called 'old man music', sometimes unintentionally sulking to '70s ballads about longing while staring dramatically out the window like one of those moody main characters in coming of age movies. his mother had caught him once and given him the biggest side eye, as if saying get a grip please!!
and when his woe is me schtick doesnât work? he distracts himself the only way he knows how: throwing himself at girls who arenât her.
itâs not something heâs proud of. in fact, it makes him feel like an idiot most of the time. but what else is he supposed to do? she doesnât seem to want him, not like that, and heâs stuck in this cruel limbo that's seemingly never ending. best bet he has is to try and forget.
on this april evening, jude is walking out of the locker room after a match, his heart still racing from the rush of adrenaline and the high of scoring a brace. y/n waits for him in the underground parking lot of the bernabĂ©uâ a rare thing, since she doesnât care much for football and has only attended his matches once or twice, and always in the company of his other friends. the irony isnât lost on him: the person who occupies so much of his thoughts doesnât share his love for the thing that defines his life. itâs baffling, but it doesn't feel wrong, and heâd managed to convince her to come tonight, using the excuse that his mom was out of town and heâd appreciate the company on the drive home.
he finds her leaning against his car, scrolling absentmindedly on her phone.
âheyâ she says when she spots him, grinning at him. âyou took your time"
"sorry" jude grins back. "there were so many people to take pics with"
then she throws herself at him so suddenly that he stumbles, barely managing to steady them both. she envelopes him into a tight hug, and jude surrenders himself to it gladly, heart pounding insistently against his ribs.
âtwo goals!â she leans back, her face alight with excitement as her hands grip his shoulders. she shakes him slightly, her energy infectious. âyou were fucking unstoppable!â
âthanksâ jude giggles, pulling her into another hug. heâll take any physical closeness he can get.
they stay like that for a moment longer than necessary, and then y/n pulls back, her hands flying to his hair. she tugs gently at one of his coils, frowning slightly.
âyour hair is so dryâ she says, her tone exasperated but fond. âdid you forget to use the leave in gave you? you have to put it on after you shower, judeâ she tsked.
out of the corner of his eye, jude notices his driver glancing at them in the side mirror before quickly looking away. he wonders again if this looks like more than what it is. not that heâd mind if it did.
âno, yeah, i did bring itâ jude says defensively, but just as heâs about to grab his bag to show her, his hand freezes. his pockets are empty. âshitâ he mutters, patting himself down to make sure. âthink i forgot my phone back thereâ
âitâs alrightâ y/n assures him. âwe can go get itâÂ
the elevator ride back to the locker room is quiet. jude shifts from foot to foot, sneaking glances at y/n, who seems to be pointedly avoiding his gaze for whatever reason.
when the doors open, they step into the hallway where jude had been earlier. he spots his phone right where he thought itâd be, face down on a bench just outside the locker room where heâd been taking pictures with fans.
âthere it isâ he sighs in relief.Â
âimagine someone nicked itâ y/n jokes as she picks it up.Â
âiâd be fumingâ he chuckles, but then he notices her face. sheâs frowning down at his screen, evidently bothered by what she sees. a second later, she hands it back to him, a tight, forced smile on her face.
âohâ y/nâs voice is light, almost too casual. âhere you goâ
jude finds whatâs caught her attention. Its a DM notification from a girl, the message preview reading: had fun last week. when can I see you again?
âits uhâ its someone i met at a party last weekâ jude stammers. âweâwe didnât, you know, butââ
âyou donât owe me an explanationâ she says quickly, her voice light but strained. âitâs fineâ
but itâs not fine, and the sudden distance in her tone cuts deep. jude clenches his jaw, sliding his phone into his pocket as they head back to the elevator. fucking idiot, he scolds himself. but a part of him is hopeful. maybe she cares, maybe she wants him the same way he wants her.
the ride down is tense, a heavy silence between them. jude feels like the words are right there, desperate to get out, but he doesnât know where to start.
âthanks for coming tonightâ he finally says, breaking the quiet. âeven though football isnât really your thingâ
she glances at him, her lips twitching. âyouâre my thingâ
the words are like a punch in the gut, but in a good way. before he can stop himself, before he can overthink, he blurts out: âi like you. more than a friend, i mean. i have for a while now. and i know this probably isnât the right time or place to say it, but i canât keep pretending i donât feel this way about youâ
y/n stares at him for a beat, her eyes searching his face. then, without warning, she steps forward, cups his cheek, and kisses him. itâs soft at first, but when he kisses her back, it deepens, all the pent up feelings spilling out.
âi like you tooâ she murmurs against his lips in between kisses. âa lotâ
she doesnât say anything more, and neither does he. thereâs an unspoken understanding that theyâll get to talk later. thereâs time to untangle his messy coping mechanisms, to decide what this is and what it could become. for now, itâs enough to kiss like two people whoâve been suppressing so much for so long. for jude, it feels like a long exhale after holding his breath. its feels like relief, like a much needed respite.Â
the elevator dings, and they jump apart just as the doors slide open. a staff member is standing on the other side, clearly trying not to stare. jude is too happy to feel embarrased.
âbuenas noches!â jude says brightly, winking at the man before grabbing y/nâs hand and pulling her out of the elevator, their fingers intertwined.Â
III.
july 1, 2025 - things are heating up!đ„. the stars are conspiring to bring moments of ecstasy to you, cancer.
the first three months of jude and y/n dating flipped everything he'd pictured for his early 20s on its head: staying single, having fun, engaging in meaningless hookups that served their purpose but left no emotional trail behind. those plans flew out the window thanks to y/n, who makes him laugh until his stomach hurts, who became one of the few people in the world he feels truly himself with, who now goes out of her way to watch football because she knows how much it means to him.
plus he's having the best sex of his life. he really can't complain.
its the middle of summer, a couple days after his birthday and a few before he has to leave on the team's preseason tour. they're in birmingham, taking a quick two day trip before the craziness of their lives pulls them in different directions. jude spends the day showing her around the cityâhis old stomping grounds, the places that defined his childhood and adolescence. it feels amazing to share this part of himself with her, to show her the nooks and crannies of what makes him him.Â
now theyâre back in his house, indulging in other activities.Â
âyoung denzel was so fine. i mean, he can still get it. he's aged like fine wineâ sheâd sighed earlier, her head resting on his chest. they were cuddling on his sofa, the mighty quinn playing on the tv. they were both slightly distracted: her scrolling through her phone, and jude absentmindedly admiring the bracelet she'd gifted him for his birthday. (jobe had caught him doing the same at breakfast and muttered something about people in love being disgusting)
jude had side eyed her, hand resting lazily on her hip. âwas he finer than me?â
"yeah" she'd said without skipping a beat. "definitely"
he'd gasped, feigning offense. "you're supposed to say no. i'm your boyfriend!"
"you're not far off from him, i guess" she'd teased.
"you guess?"
"you asked" she shrugged, fighting a smile. then after a slight pause, "you know, i dated a guy that looked a lot like him once. he was sooo-"
"right that's it" he said, grabbing the remote and turning off the tv. "no more movie nights with you"
"oh no" she deadpanned, tone dripping with sarcasm as she removed herself from his arms and faced him. "how am going to survive without your 28th rewatch of training day?"
jude couldn't help the grin spreading across his face. he couldn't never stay mad at her; not even pretend mad. before she could react, he grabbed her and gently flung her onto the couch cushions, eliciting a surprised squeak as he pinned her down and started tickling her. her giggles spilled out loudly, her protests coming out in breathless half sentences as he attacked every ticklish spot he could find.
one thing had led to another â heated kisses, a move to his bedroom, clothes thrown off frantically, hands wanderingâand now here they are, her body curving towards him, her face contorted in pleasure as pounds into her.
sheâs so slick, taking him all at once, and judeâs body has no choice but to surrender to its most primal instincts. in and out. plunge in then retreat. heâs dizzy with pleasure, but even through it, he canât help but feel a little salty about her earlier comments.
"bet offbrand denzel couldn't make you feel like this" jude murmurs against her ear, his voice low and rough. the rhythm of his hips snapping forward punctuates his words.
her nails drag down his back, leaving faint trails as she gasped "he wouldnât even have to try"
he nips at the soft skin of her neck. "guess iâll just have to prove iâm better wonât i?"
she's so tight and warm and wet, he doesn't ever want this to stop. his movements grew deeper, more deliberate, and he smirks when she cries out his name, her hands gripping his shoulders like her life depended on it. "say it" he demands, voice a mix of amusement and lust. "say iâm better"
"youâre-oh god, youâre such an idiot" she manages between moans, refusing to give in completely, though her body betrays her with how eagerly it responds to his every touch.
"wrong answer" jude mutters, his lips brushing hers before he kissed her deeply, swallowing her protests and replacing them with soft whimpers.
his pace quickens, each thrust dragging a gasp or a broken words from her lips. jude leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, his voice dipping lower. "admit it" he murmurs, his tone slightly smug. "i'm the best you've ever had"
she doesn't respond, and jude can't blame her, they're fucking so good he can't think straight now. and then, as if she can sense he's about to lose control, she gasps, "don't come. not yet. don't stop, please, baby"
he grits his teeth and tries to obey. then she brings him impossibly closer, so their sweaty bodies are pressed up against each other, and kisses him. and all he can think is mine. this beautiful, sweet girl is writhing in pleasure under him and she's his. he'll thank his lucky stars forever.
afterward, they lie tangled together on his bed, having only moved to discard the condom and clean up. their hearts drum in tandem, fast and loud. y/n looks drowsy, her eyelids heavy.
"i lied, by the way" she murmurs slowly against his chest.
"about what?"
"about dating someone that looked like young denzel washington" she giggles. "i made that up to get you riled up"
jude bites her shoulder playfully. "i hate you"
what he really wants to say is, i love you.
IV.
september 17, 2025 - communication is key, cancer đŁïž. today, the stars urge you to focus on how you express yourself. be clear and open in your communicationâitâs the foundation for building trust and understanding.
jude canât shake the feeling that something is off, and itâs gnawing at him.
heâd flown out of madrid the night before for a champions league away game, catching up with y/n for a bit after settling into his hotel room before calling it a night. now, its the afternoon of the next day and heâs in the locker room gearing up for their final training before the match, and he's feeling uneasy because he hasn't heard from y/n since.
heâd texted her his usual good morning when he woke up. no reply. after breakfast, heâd sent her a funny tiktok, something he knew would usually get a quick response, but still, nothing.
it wasnât like her, and the silence was starting to weigh on him.
the concern he felt earlier turns into irritation as afternoon turns into evening. if y/n was upset with him, why wouldnât she just say so? the silent treatment didnât solve anything, and it wasnât like her either. theyâd always been the type to talk things out.
after training, he tries to distract himself. he joins the boys for a round of video games, their laughter and trash talk filling the hotel room. but every few minutes, his eyes flick to his phone, waiting for a reply that doesnât come. each notification he gets, from group chats to random emails to that stupid astrology app just irritates him further.
theyâve never gone a whole day without talking. ever. the thought nags at him, and as stubborn as y/n can be, jude knows himself: he always caves first. always.
by the time the boys leave his room, jude is pacing, phone in hand. he sighs heavily and hits the facetime button, his thumb hovering over the screen for a split second before he presses call.
y/nâs face appears on the screen when the call connects, and judeâs irritation completely disappears the moment he sees her. she looks exhausted. her curls are a mess, dark circles under her eyes, and thereâs something guarded in the way she looks at him.
âhi, babeâ he says softly, clearing his throat. âyou good? you werenât responding to my messages all dayâ
âiâm good" she says curtly.
he waits for her to say more, but she stays silent. he feels a pang of hurt and irritation again. no asking how his day was? how he's feeling before the match?
"how was your day?" he tries.
"fine"
"what did you get up to? how were classes?" he tries again.
"okay"
jude exhales loudly, visibly frustrated. "can i get a response that's more than one word?"
he watches as she shifts around in her seat. "well, i couldn't get a word in last night so i thought what's the point?"
"what?" jude furrows his eyebrows, genuinely confused.
"you were going on and on about your match and your photoshoot coming up and i wanted to tell you about how this exam tomorrow is stressing me out-" her voice wobbles over the last few words and she pauses for a bit, lips pursed and eyes glossy. "- but you couldn't pay attention for the life of you"
jude is silent, jaw slack as he watches his girlfriend on the other end wipe a stray tear away because of him. in his head, nothing seemed amiss last night during their call. but she wasn't lying; he was venting a lot about the match and some logistical issues his agents were worried about for his next shoot. and yeah, maybe he hadnât given her the space to speak, hadnât noticed the subtle shifts in her tone or the demeanor that mightâve hinted at how overwhelmed she was feeling.
he curses himself under his breath, because now he realizes that he hadn't even checked their shared calendar the past couple of days, so he hadn't even known about the exam. and to think he picked up the phone because he was annoyed at her.
ây/nâ he says, voice low and filled with remorse. âi-iâm so, so sorry. i didnât mean to-â he stops himself, groaning softly as he facepalms. âi messed up. i wasnât paying attention, and thatâs on me. iâm really, really sorryâ
she sniffles. "its okay"
"please don't cry"
"i'm not crying because of you, idiot" she snorts. "i'm crying because i'm stressed out"
jude fully lays down on the bed. "okay, how can I help?"
y/n sighs, wiping her cheeks as she looks at him through the screen. "you can't exactly help me pass this exam, jude"
"no, but I can help you feel less stressed" he says earnestly, his voice softer now. "talk to me, babe. tell me everything. whatâs been going on?"
she hesitates for a moment, but when she starts talking, itâs as if a dam breaks. the words spill out in a rush, tumbling as she tells him everything; the material is so much harder than she anticipated, no matter how much she studies it feels like nothing sticks, and the crushing pressure to excel is suffocating her. she pours it all out, every frustration, every fear, every doubt.
jude nods, listening intently. âyeah, that sounds rough. and i made it worse. i shouldâve checked the calendar, and i shouldâve asked how you were feeling. instead i was just rambling about my stuff"
"you didnât mean to" she says softly, though her tone is still tinged with exhaustion.
"but I did it, and Iâm sorry" he replies, sitting up now, his elbows resting on his knees. âlook, communication is our thing, yeah? itâs what makes us work. we canât let that slide. i donât ever want you to feel like Iâm not here for you, especially when you need me the mostâ
she gives him a small smile. âand i shouldnât have just shut down on you today. i couldâve told you how i was feeling instead of ghostingâ
âso lets agree no more bottling things upâ jude says, a faint grin tugging at his lips. âif one of us is stressed or annoyed or just having a bad day, we say it. no silent treatments, no guessing gamesâ
y/n nods, her shoulders relaxing. âdealâ
âgoodâ jude says, his voice lighter now.
they spend the rest of the call catching up on the little things. she shows him the nails sheâs planning to get soon, scrolling through her pinterest to show him the design. he mentions that heâs getting a trim in the morning, which prompts her to tease him mercilessly, saying he probably spends more time in his barberâs chair than he does on the football pitch. he quips back that its probably less time than she spends obsessively curating her pinterest boards.
they say their i love yous and good nights, and jude heads to bed, already feeling lighter and more relaxed about the game tomorrow. she has that effect on him, y/n. a way of making him feel seen, loved, and just serene.
he wants to keep her forever.
V.
january 1, 2026 - gratitude grounds you, cancer. đ take a moment today to appreciate everything you've accomplished, as it will give you the clarity and confidence to take the next steps with purposeâš
enzo is standing behind the counter when they enter the cafe, a smile spreading across his face when he recognizes them. it feels serendipitous, almost fated, that they're greeted by the same barista who served them on this day last year, the day they first met.
"ah, my favorite lovebirds!" he exclaims. "happy new year! what will it be today?"
they order their drinks and settle into a corner table, the same one theyâd sat at a year ago. between sips of coffee, they make plans to stop by the pharmacy on their walk back to pick up ibuprofen for the hangover still lingering over them.
then, as if itâs the most natural part of the conversation, jude pulls out a key from his pocket and slides it across the table. his expression is soft, his voice as confident as the day heâd first asked to sit with her. âmove in with meâ he clears his throat. "please?"
she blinks, caught off guard for only a moment, before her lips curve into a smile. â yes. i mean, i would love toâ
it was a long time coming. their relationship is going strength to strength, despite their seemingly different worlds. all because, at their core, they're the same. jude feels proud that he's built something great with someone so special- even looking at her now makes his heart splutter, he's never going to be used to how beautiful she is. most of all he's proud that theyâve managed to carve out a space in each other for each other.
every time she stayed over, every morning they woke up tangled in the same sheets (her inevitably hogging the covers to his annoyance) it felt right. so this question has been building for a while, and when he finally asked it, her answer, immediate and without hesitation, feels like the most natural thing in the world.
they walk out of the cafe after a while, arm in arm. he steals glances at y/n walking beside him and he feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude. for that stupid astrology app and enzo's GREEN PEACE pin. but most of all, for the kismet of that day a year ago, for everything theyâve built since, and for everything still ahead.
#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x you#jude bellingham one shot#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham smut#jude bellingham fluff
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
He's Definitely Obsessed With You (Series)
Origins! Logan X Fem!Reader
Plot: You're an army nurse, deep in the trenches of the Vietnam jungles, doing everything you can to keep yourself together, and the infantry that come into your tent. One day a soldier you aren't familiar with is brought in, and you find out something about him that leads to the start of an important relationship between you both that changes the course of your lives together...
A/N: This is basically the plot of Origins, but with my own spin on it with a Fem!Reader! This is my first time EVER writing an X reader, so comments appreciate! I plan to make this a series, but I wanted to put out a prologue first. Okay, it's not really a prologue and more like a chapter, and ended up being super long because I started writing and then didn't stop, and prologues are short- but IT'S MY STORY AND I'LL CREATE MY OWN RULES. The prologue is just how reader and Logan meet! (PS, there's eventual smut...Soon as I figure out how write it without getting embarrassed) Also, I'm still figuring out how to format on Tumblr, so please don't mind any funky design choices. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes somewhere in there
Warnings: Reader POV only (for now) Reader is female, also an army nurse, also a mutant- but powers aren't specified, blood mention, medical stuff talked about (like amputations), injury descriptions, Vietnam war and slight politics mention, probably a lot of historical inaccuracies i just googled things but I tried! implied reader could be religious but honestly there's nothing concrete to that. The only description of reader is her clothes and that she has hair, and wears makeup (lipstick). Reader has a hard on over Logan (she has a cruuuush), let me know if there's anything I missed!
Word Count: 4753
Series Masterlist
Prev<- ->Next
Prologue:
Rain rapped lightly along the top of the large tent, creating a soothing sound throughout. A radio, playing an american music station, played a rock song, of some new band slowly making a name for itself, sat nearby on a metal cabinet. Stacks of manila folders and papers were disorganized and spread, almost completely covering a desk. A clock ticks rhythmically. The tent was lined with cots, tables, ratty mattresses, IV stands, and small tables covered with empty food trays, water canisters, and paper cups filled pills. Some of the beds were taken up by injured men, snoring and groaning as they attempted to sleep, only slightly more comfortable here in the medical tent than out in the muddy, rainy trenches. It was monsoon season in Vietnam, and you were at your wits end with paperwork in the middle of a small but-not-that-small camp, set up not far from an American fire support base.
You were sitting at the desk, half asleep as you attempted to fill out another request form for medical supplies. Halothane, Methoxyflurane, Morphine, Penicillin - are common medicines that you find yourself constantly having to restock. Of course bandages, gloves, needles, saline, tubing, multiple surgical supplies, other things you find yourself low on often too, considering the amount of amputations, large and minor, that happen around here. The medical tent that you currently reside in was a revolving door of soldiers, both American and Vietnamese, as well as nearby villagers who come for aid after the American presence near their homes led to viruses they canât combat on their own, or other unfortunate injuries if war breaks out in their village.Â
You were simply an army nurse, this was not your usual duty to perform, it was normally left to the assigned doctor of the camp. Your job was to assist the doctor, take care of the patients, administer medicine, IVs, change bandages, wet baths, feed them, and hold their hands as they cry for their momma and to God. You were busy enough, and the doctor, Doctor Frank Jones, who you were assisting had got shot by a stray bullet when out in the jungle, and had to be taken back to the main base, and back to the States. Due to a communication failure, his replacement ended up somewhere else, and transportation wasnât an option due to the fighting happening.
 Fortunately, Doctor Jones had seen potential in you and believed you would be an excellent doctor one day - something you wanted to pursue after your service was fulfilled. He became a mentor, helping you study and learn medicine, and giving you skills that an average nurse- even an army nurse- wouldnât usually have. Now, it was just up to you, and a few young army medics - teenage boys who were given no choice in going to war, and their skills were found best in assisting injuries on the battlefield, but they were eager to help, and their light-hearted jokes and company helped relieve some stress for you, especially with the pain you watch day in and out. You didnât always have the luxury of their help though, as when patrols went out, they required at least one of them to join. It leads you to have to order around other grunts who have no idea how to even measure the proper dosage of cough syrup for themselves whenever a serious injury comes in, having to give detailed orders on what to do- usually just getting you the supplies and medicine you need, as the grunts are typically too distracted and upset over their fallen brother to assist you in anything medical and complicated.Â
With being the only medical authority in the camp- as well as the only woman- you were well respected and popular. Your compassionate personality, and comforting presence, as well as your âTake-no-shitâ attitude, led to soldiers of this camp visiting you all the time, usually making up excuses like having a cough, or a splinter in their finger, just so they could have the pleasure of your smile and encouraging words. The CO here made sure that they all treated you with respect, as a woman- and a nurse, so you never once felt unsafe- or unappreciated. Besides, a good section of this camp is young boys, too nervous about their situation to worry about trying to flirt with a woman like you. You're more of a comfort figure in these parts than anything else. Despite the stress and worry you face in day to day life, in the middle of the war, you were just happy to be doing something. You werenât exactly a supporter of this war, but the moment you saw young boys lining up to go to war, something in you made you fiercely determined to follow, and do whatever you can to make sure those boys can go back home to their mothers and fathers.
The Rolling Stones was now playing on the radio, this was a band you were more familiar with - one of your favorites. Your foot tapped to the beat of the song, as you checked off another item you needed to be stocked up on- and hoped the supply chain doesnât hold out on you again. For some reason, they seemed convinced that you must surely be lying about the supplies and will not send you the full amount of what you requested, leading you to storm into the COâs tent on more than one occasion and rant to him with a few unsavory words about the supply lines commander. He always listens though, and does his best to get you what you can- which you can appreciate.Â
âHey turn that up-â You heard one of the patients call out, and she smiles, reaching to the radio and turning the volume higher. She looked up from the desk to see one patient in bed moving his foot with the beat of the song, and the other, who asked her to turn it up, raised his arm in the air, hand in a fist as he rocked with the song. âThis is a good one, hadnât heard this one yet.â
âIt came out in 65â dumbass.â the other called out. âHowâd you not know it?â
âIâve been here since 64â asshole! Think we always had access to a radio?â
They all chided each other, making you laugh as you shake your head, turning back towards your paperwork, determined to finish it today so you can send it out. It was rare you get these moments of quiet, so you appreciated it when you could. Things could turn on a dime in a second, especially since the fighting was getting closer to where this camp was set, and youâre hoping that you would get some help before anything serious came. You were just starting to get absorbed in the letter you were writing to the CO of the supply line, something slightly passive aggressive, when one of the soldiers yelled to you from outside.Â
âHey! Nurse! Thereâs some guys coming this way! They got someone injured-âÂ
You looked up, dropping your pencil, and turning the radio down as you readied yourself, brushing the pants of your army fatigues to straighten it out, and rolling your sleeves farther up your arms. You watched as the flaps of the tent get pulled open, as two men carry someone resting on a cot. You didnât like how quiet the man was being.
âIn here-â You lead them to another section of the medical tent, ment solely for treating wounded, in an attempt to keep something sterile and clean- well, as clean as you can get it. The soldiers set the man onto the table that sat in the center of the room, small trays and medical supplies, as well as a large overhead lamp that provided lighting to give you a better view at what youâre working on, surrounded the table.Â
âWe got ambushed on patrol, fortunately heâs the only one that got hit, a VC jumped out of the grass and stabbed him. We got pressure on the wound, and heâs still alive- for now.âÂ
You nodded as you went to a basin to pull on some sterile gloves, and walked over to examine the soldier. He was handsome- you couldnât help but noticed but quickly put that out of your mind. A full head of deep beautiful brown hair, and a thick beard framed his face. He looked older, possibly in his mid 30âs. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, as his teeth were gritted and eyes cinched shut in pain. A wave of sorrow hit you, as you never liked seeing people in pain, it hits you bad enough to wonder why you chose to go into the medical profession of all things. Nevertheless, you push through, and began working on removing the uniform so you can see if you can save this one. At least he wasnât screaming.
âWhats his name?â
âLogan maâam. Heâs Private First Class.â The private responds, voice professional, but quickly drops into something softer. âHeâs a good guy, and smart, usually quick on his feet, its surprising someone ambushed himâŠâÂ
âNeed any help maâam?â The other private who brought him in ask.
âNo, I got it, thank you.â You tell them as you grab some sheers and began cutting through Logan's army garments. âJust make sure others are alright. See if any of the boys out there need water.â
They nodded, saluting- leading you to roll your eyes- and left your section of the tent, just as you manage to cut off the white wife beater he was sporting underneath his army garments, giving you a complete view of where he had been stabbed. You breathed a small sigh of relief, the wound appeared in the part of the torso where nothing vital was located and you managed to roll him to his side- seeing the stabbing didnât go straight through, meaning this guy had a good chance of surviving, assuming he doesnât succumb to infectionâŠ
âAlright Logan,â You turned you head to look at the man, who was still tense, eyes squeezed shut. He was somewhat awake, with his breathing and the way his muscles contracted, but he didnât seem to be aware of what was going on, you still felt it important to talk to whoever you were treating though. You had to hold the hands of many scared soldiers, and quickly have learned the right things to say when comforting. âIâm going to take care of you, and in return, youâre going to need to be strong for me here.â You say softly but firmly to him, hoping that heâs hearing you through the pain, as you went and quickly grabbed a wet cloth out of a basin nearby, squeezing out the excess water, and gently placing it over his forehead, in order to soak up some sweat, and provide some more comfort to cool his skin that seemed to be burning hot. You couldnât help but note that you donât recognize him- you wouldnât have forgotten his face thatâs for damn sure, if heâd ever came to visit you, which most privates in this camp has at one time or another. You shook the curiosity out of your head, you had to move quickly, fighting the urge to wanting to take in the details of his face- his very handsome face, and moved to focus back onto the wound on his torso.Â
You started by slowly removing the packed bandages, examining the blood flow to make sure nothing gushed, but he really wasnât bleeding much anymore- actually, it didnât look like he was bleeding at all now. Confused, you began cleaning the area of the stab wound so you could get a clear view of what you were looking at. At first, you thought you were losing your mind, you had to been because what you were seeingâŠ
It was as if the skin was growing back, the wound, going inwards seemed to almost pop out, before the skin stitched together, going through what the bodys usual healing process would look like- except doing it within a matter of seconds. Turning from a bright red inflamed wound, into a baby pink scar bump that slowly faded off, you couldnât even tell anything had happen there- except from the blood stained around it. You were blinking in disbelief, mouth slightly agape, before it suddenly occurred to you what you were just seeing.
Oh
Oh shit-
Heâs a mutant.
You looked at the man, whoâs muscles seemed to be relaxing now, as he took deeper breaths, the sweat on his face began to dry and disappear. You werenât sure what to do at this point, youâre so used to every minute counting to fix someone, and this guy just healed himself in seconds!
And by god, he was so handsome. You thought that already, got to stop thinking about that. Turning away from his face, you went to examine where the stab wound used to be, gloved fingers gently pressing on the area- before the soldier- Logan, practically yelped- and sat up rushed on the table, startling you even more so than him, as you jumped back, hands in the air in surrender- as if you did anything wrong.
He was panting, the cold wet cloth you had placed on his forehead fell into his lap, as he looked around with wide eyes, pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring, he almost looked animal-like in this state. He turned to look at you. His eyes took you in, and suddenly you felt embarrassed by your army clothes you were sporting, green cargo pants, and a green collared button up shirt, tucked into your pants, making you feel less than girlish in them, despite their comfortability, your forehead was covered in sweat, and your hair pulled back in a bun neat bun with baby hairs sticking out everywhere. At least you had lipstick on to give yourself a little bit of a pop in your plain looking outfit. That should be the last thing you should be worried about.Â
âYouâre okay-â You finally found your voice, holding your hands out to him, âYou got ambushed, but youâre okay now.âÂ
He blinked, then let out a small sigh, his whole self seeming to relax, his expression turned more human-like, as he faced forward, then looked down at himself. His hand went over where he had been hurt- seeing that there was no longer any injury there, although something in his expression told you he could still feel it. He swallowed, jaw tensing, before realization struck him, and his head snapped to look at you.Â
âYou saw- You know, donât you?â He asks, his voice was deep, but sounded a little dry and scratchy. Still, it was enough to make your knees weak.Â
You turned, going to a cabinet that held medicines and various other supplies, but on the counter was a pitcher of water and a few glass cups. Pulling off your gloves, you poured a cup from the pitcher, turning back and handing it to him.Â
âYeah. I saw.â You say cooly, holding it out for him to take. He looked at you, his deep and should you think gorgeous hazel eyes felt like they were piercing your soul; as if he was trying to decipher what was going on in your head, which you wish you knew as well because his stare was making your brain fuzzy; then glanced at the cup and finally took it from your hand, your fingers brushing together, making your heartbeat just a little faster, and you could feel a small heat blooming in your cheeks.
Jesus christ, pull yourself togetherÂ
You thought to yourself. You cleared your throat while he took several swigs of water, dropping his hand with the cup to his side as he took a moment to breathe once more.Â
âGot anything stronger?â He asks, his low and smoother now, quirking a brow at you. You smiled,Â
âSorry, anything alcoholic you may want to drink in here, I gotta save for the guys who canât heal themselves within minutes.â You say teasingly. âSupplies are low enough already.âÂ
You could see a small quirk of his lips, in something resembling a smile. He was still tense though, his eyes seemed to be somewhere else. He looked at you again,
âDoes itâŠscare you? Me being a mutant?â He asks, his voice low
âUmâŠ.No?â You responded, confusion on your face, a small shake of your head, âWhy would it?âÂ
He seemed relieved- and surprised by that answer, his shoulders finally relaxing, and he took another drink of water, eyes closing as he finished the cup, and handed it back to you, where you set it back on the counter. Wiping his mouth with his arm, he sat up more confidently, bending his leg as he brought his knee up to his chest, and propped his forearm over it, and leaned back on his other hand, taking a few deep breaths as he lowered his head down, then looked back up at you, his expression suddenly stern.
âYou gonna tell them?â He asks. You knew he was referring to the army. Mutants werenât well accepted in the world- much less the US army. The American government is actually sitting comfortably in the capital and writing out bullshit laws on mutant regulations, rather than trying to figure out a solution for the war here in Vietnam. You, a mutant yourself, albeit your powers were easy to hide and conceal, you still feared of a day that someone somehow discovers your secret. Youâve heard stories of American soldiers revealed to be mutants being killed, due to some bullshit excuse that they âliedâ about who they were, and couldnât be trusted. Whether those stories were true or fearmongering to keep mutants hiding their true identities, you didnât know, but you certainly werenât gonna find out yourself. You definitely wouldnât put another fellow mutant, just trying to survive like you, in any sort of danger like that, even if he could probably just heal if he got put in front of a firing squad.
You pursed your lips together. Then smiled. âNo. Iâll keep your secret.â You say. âAll it means to me is that I have one less person to worry about around here. I was actually wondering why I hadnât seen your face in this tent yet before, and now I know why.âÂ
He softened at that, but his face quickly fell back into something more serious and stern once more, which youâre starting to think might be his baseline.Â
âYou okay?â You asked, your voice was soft, and sweet, and borderline angelic for a man like him, whoâs been in wars almost his entire life- which you donât know about that. âThat probably didnât feel good, what happened.â He nodded.Â
âMâ fineâŠ.Thank you.â He grumbles lowly, looking down at his hands. âI heard about you- actually I-I seen you around. Youâre the only nurse on camp?â He asked, looking back up at you, there seemed to be a bit of curiosity in his voice.Â
âYeah. Iâm pretty popular.â You say, in a teasing voice, blushing at the thought that heâs noticed you. Which shouldnât be a surprise, you are quite literally the only woman around, save for the women in the village not far from here. Â
âMust be busy.â
âOh⊠Nah-â You playfully wave him off. âSome days are so slow, Iâm actually bored.â You say matter-of-factly, but you both knew you were kidding. Another quirk of his lips. You smiled softly at him, but there was a voice in your head telling you, that since he doesnât need your help, you should probably get back to helping the ones who do. Not that you want to leave, he was so damn handsome, you could stare at him all day. It wasnât just his good looks though, his whole self drew you in with just a few words, and you find yourself wanting to get to know Logan, because the look in his eyes told you that he was someone worth knowing. Or maybe that was just your hormones talking. There was just this energy between you both, some type of unseen connection. His eyes trailed down you again, this time fully taking you in, stopping at your chest, and for a moment you were about to be completely turned off by this man being a pervert, but he nodded towards it.Â
âYour necklace?â He asked. You looked down, oh, you thought to yourself. You pulled the string of your necklace, lifting the small coin that it held, string carefully wrapped around it so it doesnât fall off.
âItâs a prayer coin. A priest gave it to me.â You explained. âItâs the archangel Raphael. A protector, patron saint of medical workers, like doctors, nurses.â
âLike you?âÂ
You nodded. He examined it, before you tucked it back under your shirt. You usually keep it hidden, but it must have fallen out while you were rushing. Now it was silent again, and you both werenât sure what to do or say.Â
âWellâŠ.â You took a breath, you glanced down at his abdomen, and suddenly your brows creased in concentration.Â
âWhat?â He asked, by your sudden change in demeanor.Â
âYou canât exactly walk out with no injury. Those two privates were pretty worried about you.â You say, putting your hands on your hips and pursing your lips together. You clicked your tongue.
âI can figure something out-â
âNo no-â You held your hand up and looking around the room. âThose privates brought you in, thereâs probably an incident report written right now, not to mention I have to write a report on your injuries too-â you explained. âI mean, how are you gonna explain it if you walk out, completely A-okay?â
Logan shrugged simply. âI can think of something, it isnât the first time this happened.â You rolled your eyes. Men.Â
You rather not waste bandages on a pretend injury, but you need someway to get his injury to look believeable, thats when you spotted your answer. His white tank top that you had drop to the floor, it was good enough to wrap around him, making him look as if heâs been all fixed up from his stab wound. The shirts cotton texture looked similar to the pattern of a bandage, and was good enough, especially considering no one would be looking hard enough at his wound anyway.
After a few minutes of âfixing him upâ with your solution to keep his regenerative abilities a secret, you stood back examining the fake bandage/shirt that you tore up and wrapped around his torso, using bandage pins to hold it in place. Then shrugged.Â
âItâs good enough.â You say. âYouâre not going anywhere anyway, so itâs not like youâll raise a bunch of questions. It looks like you have an injury, itâll match the incident and medical report. You wonât get found out.â
âIâm not going anywhere?â He raised a brow.Â
âNope. You were injured, which means I gotta keep an eye on you. So youâll be sleeping here, and youâll have to pretend youâre in pain, whining and moaning and all that. Give it your best performance.â You encourage. âTake it, not many around here get a chance to get a break like that.âÂ
He looked at you, pondering what you were offering him- well, you werenât offering, he was going to have do it because you werenât gonna risk him revealing himself as a mutant, which for some reason you were now more concerned about than he was. A small smirk appeared on his face, âThat mean youâll be waiting on me then, hand and foot?â
You smiled, âDonât get ahead of yourself soldier.â You say teasingly. âYou can stay in here a little longer, rest up, maybe shed some tears to make it look like youâre suffering tremendously.â You added a little flair as you brought your hand up to your forehead, pretending to faint, before turning and walking away to leave the room, now knowing you really needed to get back to work.
âI donât think I need to shed any tears.â He mutters, but there was amusement in his tone though. âHey bubâ He called after you as you were about to leave the room, lifting the tent flap, but you stopped to look at him. âWhy are you seen keen on helping me out? Making a plan to make sure people donât find out what I amâŠSeems like too much trouble to go through for you.â He frowned.Â
âWellâŠâ You dropped the flap of the tent, âUs mutants gotta stick together, right?â Logan looked surprised at first, eyes widening a bit, and jaw slacking, but then a soft, genuine smile stretched across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling, leaving you thinking that was a smile you never wanted to go without again. Smiling back at him, you winked, and turned back before stopping and looking at him again, âPlus, you seem worth the trouble.â You add, before finally leaving him to himself.
Maybe it was too much trouble. You could leave Logan to figure it out himself. You two didnât know each other, you werenât friends. Yet you, the compassionate self you are, and also slightly bull-headed, was not going to leave Logan hanging alone. Maybe it was the fact that you were both mutants that urged you to help him, let him know that someone like him out there has his back, even if he had many brothers at his side watching his back too. Or maybe it was because you felt an undeniable pull towards him- and him towards you.Â
While he stayed in the medical tent with you for about a week, the standard time for stitches to stay in. While staying, you both got to know each other better. You found a deep friendship with Logan quickly, both of you having an understanding of each other, not just as mutants but as individuals as well. You were able to laugh, usually at his snarky remarks to the other privates and even his comments to the higher-ups, surprising you in how he likes to occasionally challenge authority despite how quiet and reflective he can be some moments. You saw him as brave, smart, and he was protective, always going first in patrols, and keeping an eye on the younger privates. Heâd hid it well, rarely making it seen, but he had a compassion that made your heart swell, especially when you came across him comforting a young private who was homesick and scared. He had a good instinct that seems to attest to his mutation- which he later revealed the full aspects of it to you later on, claws and everything- which did nothing but fascinate you, leading to a full acceptance of him he hadnât felt or seen in a long time. Heâd visit you in late nights when he wasnât assigned guard patrol, bringing you something to eat or drink, and youâd both quietly talk about your lives, and howâd you ended up there. He listened to you complain about the lack of supplies, and how you got into medicine in the first place. Youâd learn of his brother Victor- another Private First Class there at the camp, who you quickly learned a distaste for after meeting him, and how old they both really were- leading you to bombard him with history questions, that he simply answered âI wasnât there bub.â There was an unspoken yet mutual physical and spiritual attraction between you both, but before anything could have gone further in your relationship, down in the thick muddy jungles of Vietnam, you suffered a similar fate as your mentor Doctor Jones. A stray bullet having shot through your shoulder while you were out, attempting to help a young private whoâs leg unfortunately got caught in a dirt trap. You were okay, but orders sent you home on a medical discharge, saying you fulfilled your duty to the States.Â
You missed Logan, and you also found yourself struggling to find your place back in civilian life again, the stress and the trauma of the things you saw weighed heavy in your mind, not to mention the worry you felt over Logan's safety while he was still over there. The only thing easing your worries was the letters you wrote to each other, until one day his letters stopped coming, and your own got returned back to you with no explanation, leaving you in fear of the worstâŠ.
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#wolverine#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett fic#wolverine x f!reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine x men#i know the title will throw you off but TRUST ME#especially with the vibes of this fic#also like i said my first reader fic SO PLEASE BE GENTLE
95 notes
·
View notes