#I STAND MY GROUND ALSO I LOVE HIM VERY VERY MUCH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ponderingmoonlight · 4 months ago

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How kny men treat their pregnant wife

Pairings: Obanai x fem!reader; Rengoku x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: I went absolutely insane in Sanemi's part lmao, let me know what you think about maybe even more kny complilations in the future?🤍🫶

Obanai – super overprotective

„Darling, you really don’t have to be cautious all the time. I’m fine and it’s mid-day.”

“You never know”, the man next to you mumbles while positioning himself in front of you.

Since the day Obanai found out that you’re expecting your very first child, he never left your side. Not even at night, when he’s usually out fulfilling his duty as a hashira. And if he must go, he always makes sure that you’re not alone.

“I really don’t want to bother you, but Iguro-san sent me here to keep an eye open for you”, Mitsuri explained with reddened cheeks after appearing in front of your door at sunset.

You sign to yourself with a small smile crawling up your face. You never really realized that your husband is so eager to have a child. When the two of you first met, he acted so cold towards you that you were convinced he hated you after saving your life in your village back then. It wasn’t until he showed up at the butterfly estate on a random day and handed you a bouquet of flowers that you realized how hard you fell for that man yourself. Despite his cool and composed walls, despite always staying in the background and leaving disgracing comments from time to time. You really learned how to love the serpent hashira for the man he is: kind, loving, protective and smart.

“Why are you not coming over to cuddle me instead?”, you suggest oh so sweetly while opening your arms as an invitation.

Obanai side-eyes you up and down, his mind visibly racing behind those gorgeous eyes.

“But what if I hurt you and the baby?”, he mutters, still standing his ground.

“I’m not made of paper and the baby isn’t as well. And also, I’m carving nothing more than a hug from my husband at the moment.”

Slowly but surely, he finally turns around. As if you’re made of porcelain, he wraps his arms around you oh so gently. Have you ever seen your husband this cautious and sensitive around other human beings? You’ve seen the way he beats up the other corps members in his training sessions on a daily basis. A giggle escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. Your man really turned soft due to this pregnancy.

“What’s so funny?”, he grumbles, his vibrant eyes set on you.

“You’re too hesitant to give me a real hug and yet, you’re beating up innocent kids during training. Come on now, I said I want a real hug!”

Before he’s able to protest, you press yourself against him with full force, allow your head to rest against his beating heart. It’s been ages since he last cuddled you the way you always loved it. With your body resting on top of his and your arms wrapped around his broad chest, everything starts to feel like home.

“Don’t you think that’s too dangerous? The baby-“

“The baby will be fine. I can handle a tight hug, darling. I really missed this…”

He shifts his weight underneath you and gently starts rubbing your back. Oh, how much you adore your husband and those sweet little moments between both of you. You never imagined to love someone like this, to fall head over heels for a man who is the complete opposite of yourself. But here you are, falling even harder day by day.

“And…you really think this is safe?”

“I’m absolutely sure it is!”

Obanai pauses for a moment, his eyes almost piercing through you.

“I think you should go and see Shinobu later”, he finally presses out.

“Come on, I already told you-“

“This doesn’t feel safe at all. We’re leaving in just a few minutes”, he continues while wrapping his arms around you.

Rengoku – the proudest soon-to-be dad

“I made you breakfast, my love!”, your husband announces while entering your shared bedroom in his plain white kimono.

“You’re way too kind, Kyojuro. You know I could have done it myself”, you reply while lifting yourself off the futon.

“Oh, let me help you up!”

Gently, he grabs your shoulders and helps you to get up. With your swollen belly, things aren’t as easy as they used to be. By now, you aren’t even able to see your feet anymore.

But it’s all worth it. He’s all worth it.

“Look at you”, he mutters with unusual low voice.

When his hand starts caressing your belly along with that loving gleam in his eyes, you almost forget how to breathe. From the day both of you found out that you are expecting a child, Kyojuro fell head over heels.

“You look so breathtakingly good, my everything. I could stand here and stare at you all day, little flame.”

It almost seems as if Kyojuro’s already heavy feelings doubled during your pregnancy. Not a single hour goes by without him telling you how gorgeous you look, that you are an angel walking on earth.

Even though you know you gained a few pounds and how swollen your face looks. He doesn’t care about the fact that sometimes, you are too exhausted to wash your hair or that you didn’t dress in something nice since your clothes started to get too tight.

Your husband adores each and every fiber of your being.

“Stop, you’re making me blush”, you giggle while playfully freeing yourself out of his strong arms.

“I’ll never stop telling my pregnant wife how gorgeous she looks! How are you feeling, my love?”

You find yourself trapped in his arms with his eyes all over you again. God, will you ever get tired of looking at him, of seeing those vibrant eyes?

“I’m okay. I just feel a little heavy.”

“I’m so proud of you for enduring all of this. Shinobu already told me this pregnancy doesn’t go easy on your body. You’re a real fighter, (y/n)!”

“A fighter? My body is supposed to do this. There’s nothing special about that”, you try to brush his praise off, cheeks already turning dark red.

“Don’t think about it that way. Your body might be equipped for a pregnancy, but Shinobu informed me about all the things you have to endure and how painful and tiring it can be-“

“Did Shinobu really explain all those things to you?”, you mutter through your hands that cover your face in sheer embarrassment.

“Of course! After all, I’m your husband and it’s my duty to support you in the best way possible!”, his beaming voice replies proudly.

“And I can’t wait to meet our little wonder.”

The second he gets on his knees, you see stars. Oh so gently, he pulls your kimono to the side and starts caressing and kissing your womb. Your knees threaten to fail you, feelings all over the place. God, you really don’t deserve a loving and caring husband like him, you don’t deserve all those feelings he holds for you and your unborn baby so openly.

Before you’re able to stop yourself, a violent sob escapes your lips.

“No love, why are you crying?”

Kyojuro meets you eye to eye in an instant, his hand carrying away every little tear that threatens to stain your face.

“It’s just…You are too kind…I don’t deserve your praise…”, you croak out.

“You deserve this and so much more. Now come on, I made you mochis with the receipt Kanroji taught me…”

You sniffle uncontrollably in his arms.

Wait, did he just say…

“You mean my favorite mochis?”, you mutter.

“Of course, little flame!”

“Oh…Then…Maybe we should get going, then…”

Sanemi – doesn’t even know yet

Fuck fuck fuck.

You stare at Shinobu in sheer horror. This can’t be true. Definitely a mistake. A cruel joke, maybe.

You…pregnant?

“Tell me you’re joking”, you mutter under your breath.

Just when you thought things between Sanemi and you started to get better, than you finally managed to live besides. Calling yourself his wife was never easy, especially due to the fact that he only married you because your family literally sold you to him in exchange for not killing you right on the spot. The two of you never seemed to get along that well.

You swallow hard. That night was an exception. You came home drunk, you didn’t know what you were doing when you seduced him, when you began babbling about something as stupid as feelings.

You swore to yourself that you’ll never fall for your husband. And now you’re expecting his child.

“I’d never joke about something like that, (y/n). It seems like somehow, you managed to get pregnant”, Shinobu replies in all seriousness while taking off her gloves.

Fuck.

“He’ll fucking kill me”, you mumble to yourself.

“Maybe he’ll skin me before that, slice open my belly like a fish-“

“Can you just stop?”, Shinobu interrupts you in all urgency.

“Shinazugawa might not be the most empathic man walking on this earth, but he also didn’t marry you for nothing. I’m sure everything will be fi-“

“Absolutely nothing’s fine. I’m fucking screwed”, you huff in frustration while yanking up.

You’re completely fucked. There’s no way in hell Sanemi will ever find out about this, not in this lifetime. You have to make sure that this stays a secret.

“Don’t you dare to tell him a single word about this, got it?”, you literally threaten Shinobu with your shaky finger pointing at her.

You, expecting a baby.

From Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Without even waiting for her reply, you storm out. Are you able to get rid of this situation? Mindlessly, you rub your belly when a new wave of memories from that fateful night hits you.

“I might l-love you”, you blurted into the room, Sanemi’s widened eyes staring at you in sheer horror.

“You…love me? Just yesterday, you told me how much you hate me”, he clarified with harsh voice.

“Are you drunk, (y/n)?”

“I…might be, yeah. But I mean it.”

Against all voices that begged you to stop, you darted towards him.

Until you sat on top of him and wrapped your longing arms around his neck.

“I love u, Sanemi.”

“I can’t believe a single word you say, shithead.”

“Watch me, then.”

It happened so fast you still can’t believe it. One passionate kiss, your hands wandering underneath his uniform, his muscular frame on top of you.

“You really want this?”, he huffed against your cheek, usual so maniac orbs filled with nothing but pure lust.

“Yeah”, you breathed out.

Urgh. You dig your nails into your hair, head spinning instantly. What kind of fuckery is this? Your first night ever and now…you’re pregnant? As if things between you and him aren’t already cringe enough.

“Why are you looking like shit?”

His oh so familiar voice makes your guts turn. For the split of a second, you are literally one movement away from puking all over his feet.

“Why are you talking shit?”, you spit at him, shoulder bumping against his as you try to get away from here as soon as possible.

But Sanemi grabs your wrist before you’re even able to think about your escape.

“Why were you at Shinobu’s? You never visit her.”

“I’m not feeling well”, you jeer at him.

“You even refused talking to her when your bone splatted out of your damn leg. Don’t fuck with me, (y/n). You didn’t come here for nothing.”

“Yeah, I really shouldn’t have done that”, you snap, violently ripping away your wrist.

This is way too much. Your family, Sanemi, that damned pregnancy. You thought this hell trip was over when Sanemi somehow managed to accept you, you really thought you could leave a rather peaceful life.

God, what a fucking fool you are.

“Hey, what the hell is going on? (y/n)!”

Just before your knees hit the ground, you feel Sanemi’s strong arms lifting you back up.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“I’m pregnant!”, you scream on top of your lungs.

“All of this because of that damned night, because I lost my fucking control. I’m pregnant…”

Sanemi’s arms around you tense up immediately. Fuck, you can’t even bring yourself to look at him.

Truth is, you love that man. Fuck, you fell for him harder than you ever imagined, so badly that you can’t stop thinking about him. And that night, you allowed yourself to get a taste of him. After all, maybe this was all you need to finally forget about him, right?

What a fool you are.

“You’re…what?”

Violently you rub away the tear that starts rolling down your cheek.

“You’re…pregnant…”

“Saying it again and again won’t make it disappear”, you bark at him.

“I’ll be a dad?”

Huh? What is that unusual tone in his voice. Did Sanemi Shinazugawa really sound…joyful?

“Yeah…”, you mutter.

In the split of a second, you find yourself devoured in his arms and captivated by his glossy eyes. Your heart skips a beat, mind not able to follow the scene that lays itself out in front of your eyes. He doesn’t look angry at all, not even sad. No, he looks as happy as you’ve never seen him before.

“I can’t believe it. I never imagined this to happen”, he whispers while grabbing your face.

“Gosh, let me kiss you.”

“You want to kiss me?”, you shriek.

Despite your growing feelings for the wind hashira and those countless secret looks you’ve shared with each other, it was always a quiet agreement between both of you to never express any feelings. No hugs, no kisses, no questions. Just living side by side. Fuck, you never even allowed yourself to even gaze at his lips before that fateful night.

And now you’re lying in his arms, pregnant while he asks for a kiss.

“I mean…yeah”, you finally breathe out.

And then his lips crush against yours. Longingly, passionately, filled with so many emotions that you fail to breathe. All this time, you tried so desperately to hate that man, to hide your feelings from him in order to protect yourself. But all it took was a single night and that unexpected pregnancy to make you realize that maybe, allowing yourself to discover your own feelings isn’t that bad, after all.

Maybe, everything will in fact turn out alright.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

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phantomrose96 · 4 months ago

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So my mom's birthday was this week and I flew down with Patches to visit her for a few days. Patches, while a verified hater of the airport, really loves my mom's place because there are so many more closets to explore and birds to watch and cobwebs to dust with her stupid little face.

My mom also goes to bed earlier than anyone I know, so for the evenings it was on me to monitor Patches' activity. And she's very good. She's 99% good. She's 1% "could use improvement" good and the 1%, which I'd forgotten about, is tomatoes.

Patches will leave most things alone. (And by "alone" I mean she'll absolutely bitch slap them onto the floor, but they will leave the ordeal with just as many or few surface punctures as they had before the encounter started.) Not tomatoes. Patches has it the fuck out for tomatoes.

So when I noticed her batting something around on the ground I realized that my mom had left a sole, roma tomato in the fruit basket on the counter and it was now experiencing the life cycle of a pingpong ball between Patches' paws.

I take it away from her, like a fucking evil woman, and now I'm like "okay actually, where do I hide this." See at home I have an anti-Patches cabinet, which is for things that have no business living in a cabinet but which WILL have business dying at Patches' hands if left accessible. And this is WEIRD to have such a cabinet but it's my own home.

I'm scanning my mother's cabinets going "is this weird here? can the tomato go in my mother's dish cabinet?" And I briefly consider sticking it in the fridge, as a normal location, but the audacity of altering this tomato's ripening process is an audacity I do not possess. So I go with cabinet. I go with the first eye-level cabinet, which is the coffee mug cabinet, which is perfect because the tomato will not be lost to cabinet purgatory there, since my mom opens it every morning for her coffee. I will simply tell her in the morning that the tomato is there.

Next morning. Seeing as my mother goes to bed at the butt-crack of dusk she ALSO gets up at the ass-crack of dawn. This means I trail down like 2 hours after her with my work laptop and Patches. This is also now her birthday. I'm sharing the sofa with her for a good 15 minutes when I think to myself I'd like some coffee, and I remember I put a tomato in the cabinet. I tell my mom as much. I put the tomato in her coffee mug cabinet.

And the look I get is one I can't really figure out on spot. But she says "Chrissy this is the best birthday present you could have given me" which is a very weird response to the already weird statement "Oh you probably saw, but I hid the tomato in the coffee mug cabinet because Patches has it out for tomatoes."

So I do not at all know how this makes for a good birthday gift. My mom tells me how a week or two ago, she came home unloading groceries. At the end of putting everything away she could not for the life of her find her phone. Absolutely nowhere. She pinged it from her iPad and it started singing. From the fridge. She opened her fridge. Her phone was in the fridge.

A couple days later she lost Ash's collar. Spent three days looking for it. Couldn't remember where she'd taken it off or what she did with it. Showed up in the grass when she remembered she took it off to let him play fetch in the lake.

And then this morning, her birthday morning, she came into the kitchen, made her pot of coffee, opened the cabinet to fetch her coffee mug, and found... tomato. Singular. Tomato in the cabinet. Tomato she had no memory of placing in a cabinet. Tomato she could not possibly fathom having a reason for being in the cabinet.

She was like Chrissy I cried. She was like this is it, time to send her to pasture. She's a harebrained old lady now and there is no coming back from this. She's the lady who accidentally puts tomatoes in the cabinet. Awake before God, standing in the kitchen, signing her life away over this tiny roma tomato. (Roma tomato with little cat vampire teeth marks in it).

I was like oh. No. I put it there. Because Patches was going to commit war crimes against it. I put it there because I did not stop to consider "Will finding a single tomato in the coffee mug cabinet somehow be the very specific thing that undoes my mother this morning?" I put it there out of careful consideration for the life of this tomato, and with no consideration for the extremely esoteric way that a tomato in the cabinet could be received like a horse head in the bed, Godfather style.

We made a salad with the tomato. Happy birthday Mom.

#chrissy speaks #patches

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

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✎ treasure

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

genre: taking care of your son with dad!gojo, fluff/comfort

note: AAAA i love this waaay too much!😭 this brilliant idea gave me baby fever so bad came from an anon who so energetically dropped by my askbox, thank you! and seeing this artwork by Yoon in twitter definitely gave me more ideas too!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"No!"

"Why? This helps—"

"That's ugly! I don't want to look ugly—like you!"

Satoru blinked in utter disbelief, and you broke into the most satisfying fits of laughter. In front of him, standing tall and sullen and very much like him was his own son, now barely five years old.

Your boy mentioned that he had been experiencing discomfort in his eyes lately, which also caused him to become dizzy. And Satoru attempted to persuade him to use a blindfold like he did because it was effective.

However, as we can see, his son didn't take his suggestion well at all. His bright blue eyes, ones your husband passed down, bore an intense glare aimed squarely at him.

"I..." Satoru sputtered, his eyes twitching. The sight was comical as no one had ever managed to elicit such a reaction from him. And no one ever considered him an unattractive person too! "I'm not—"

"You are!"

Once again, you let out a triumphant cackle, and this time your husband shot you a glare. But you didn't care. All those years of tolerating his antics had paid off. His son had finally put him in his place!

When he was a baby, you thought your son was Gojo Satoru incarnate. He was the spitting image of him—with all gaits and expressions too. And you had worried if he would turn out to be just as much of a menace as he was.

But apparently, life has other sweet plans because like you, he was a relatively calm boy, diligent, and didn't like to make a fuss. Satoru argued that it was definitely in his genes—claiming he had also been a sweetheart when he was a child, but you couldn't quite imagine him being remotely as reserved as your son.

That aside, the cause of this hilarious exchange did actually make you worry a bit.

"Look, I know it probably looks odd," Satoru gestured at the blindfold in his hand, but your little boy still didn't seem convinced by the pout he displayed. "But it will help you, I promise. If only you would—"

Oh, but it was almost like karma because besides his appearance, the other trait your son inherited from your husband was his strong sense of winning.

His face reddened from sheer indignation, and he once again screamed, "I don't want to! I'll just cover my eyes with—" he took a nearby napkin and pulled them over his eyes, "—this!"

Satoru sighed in annoyance, and you decided to jump in. Crouching down next to him, you gently pried the napkin from his hand.

"Papa just wants to help you, okay?" you reasoned, cupping his plump cheeks. Gods, he used to be this round thing in your and Satoru's arms and now he was already this big. "He uses it everyday and he has no problems, see?"

"But it doesn't look good..." Your son drooped his head in disappointment, and you could feel Satoru rolling his eyes beside you, evidently miffed at the thought of him being less than good-looking.

Parenting is challenging, especially when your husband still holds onto some of his childlike tendencies. So you decided to end the discussion here.

It was later at noon, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch when you heard your son's scream and something crashing. Your heart was in your throat as you rushed to the backyard, only to see something that made your heart lurch even more.

Your sweet boy was wailing on the ground, clutching his head, and Satoru—

His expression was as horrified as yours if not more, as he ran and caught your son in his arms, pressing him tightly against his chest as if shielding him from the sun altogether. "Shit. Hey, hey—buddy, you okay?”

Satoru lifted him up and carried him inside. You were right beside him as he settled on the sofa, gently hushing your son, who was still shaking and had his eyes covered against his chest.

"M-My head..." your son whimpered, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. "...h-hurts..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." he murmured, caressing the child's hair in a soothing manner, and it reminded you so much of what he would do to you in the early mornings. "I've got you now, nothing’s going to happen to you. Hang on a little longer, yeah?"

You felt warm tears threatening to well up in your eyes at the sight. It was heart-wrenching to see your son in such torment, and the way your husband was consoling him deeply touched you. It served as a poignant reminder of just how many years had passed from when Gojo Satoru was still that brat who used to mess with you during high school.

Soon, your little boy's breathing became even, and he went to sleep in Satoru's comforting embrace.

You looked at him while biting your lip, undiluted worry in your voice. "What should we do? He's been experiencing pain often lately..."

Satoru really wanted to wipe that expression from your face, but with his precious child clinging onto him for dear life, even he didn't have the heart to.

"Don't worry, I'll be with him," he assured, a plan already forming in his mind. "If he hates blindfolds that much, then I'll get him some pairs of glasses just like the ones I have—for kids. We'll start with that."

Bearing the weight of his clan's revered eyes was a heavy burden, and honestly, he would prefer it if none of his children had to inherit them. After all, he went through it all too as a child—the manifestation of the six eyes' powers marks the beginning of life as a sorcerer. The perilous world he was still trying to keep away from his son.

Nonetheless, he would be there for him every step of the way. It was what he vowed to himself on the day he was born. He wouldn’t let anything befall him—or you.

You had calmed down after hearing his plan, and as you gazed at your precious boy’s innocent face in his protective grip and the gentle pats he gave him, you suddenly found yourself in a mischievous mood once again.

"Heh, quite the doting papa, aren't you, Satoru?" you winked, a teasing smile on your face. You could have sworn his cheeks slightly flushed as he retorted:

"Hmph. He is my personal little body warmer, after all."

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aquaticmercy · 29 days ago

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Hot Chocolate?

Summary: Bucky wakes up from a nightmare and can’t find you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : PTSD, nightmares, panic. very slight cursing. hurt/comfort. Very much an angsty fic.

Requested by : myself again

Word count : 1.4k

Note : As someone who has struggled with sleep disorders, writing this helped me reach a strange catharsis. Since today is World Mental Health day, please check up on your friends, my loves! Oh and I am still accepting requests, I just have enough prompts for the rest of this week and will be replying to your asks at the start of next week! Also, do Americans use electric kettles? Sincerely, someone who lives in England.

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

Bucky shot awake. He shuddered, trying to bat away the lingering visions of his nightmare that clung to him like a drenched blanket.

He found his lungs grasping for air with panic gasps as his eyes darted around the bedroom. The shadows casted by the starlight filtered through the curtains took shapes that made his heart race. For a split second, he thought he wasn’t in his apartment anymore. He was back in the Siberian Hydra lab, cold metal restraints nipping into his skin. He heard his handler’s voice speaking Russian, echoing the room with his old trigger words.

He forced himself out of this terrified state, grounding himself in reality. His chest was heaving, his eyes were bleary. Instinctively, his hand reached for the space next to him.

It was empty.

You weren’t there.

A wave of panic crashed over him, and this was far more constricting than the terror of his nightmares. His heart started pounding more violently in his chest. His fingers grazed the sheets where you should have been. You had at least been gone long enough for the pillows to grow cold.

He could feel his pulse in his veins, each beat hammering the insides of his skull. His mind spiralled uncontrollably, thoughts feeding off the remains of the nightmare and twisting them into something much worse.

Had you left him?

What did he do?

Had he driven you away?

Was this it?

Bucky hastily threw off the covers, sprawling it all on your bedroom floor. He stumbled out of bed, mind clouded with fear and panic. The apartment was eerily quiet— too quiet for him to handle on his own. Too quiet for his overwhelmingly loud thoughts.

He waded through the hall as if he was four feet deep in muddy waters, his bare feet softly thudding against the floorboards. The faint sound of water boiling reached his ears. His breath hitched, his heart racing.

Emerging into the open space, his eyes darted around the dark living room, his gaze finally landing on the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He walked towards the kitchen.

There you were.

You were standing by the kitchen counter, a mug in one hand, the other resting on the kettle. You were so beautiful. So perfect, compared to him.

You looked lost in thought, your posture relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him, though you were unaware.

Bucky’s feet stayed where he was for a moment, as if ice had frozen over him. Relief washed over him so fast that it nearly knocked all the air out of his lungs.

You were here. You hadn’t left.

The relief was quickly replaced by the gnawing ache of guilt, the kind that made his chest feel tight and his head swim feel like it was underwater. He’d thought you were gone, and the mere thought of it had sent him into a spiralling depth. How pathetic.

He couldn’t help it. He constantly felt like teetering on the edge of losing you. Like every day with you was borrowed time. Like he had already stayed his welcome. Like he wasn’t worthy of holding you in his arms.

Perhaps the reason he was so jaded sometimes, was that he was sure you’d wake up and realise he was too broken, too damaged.

When he played this scenario in his head, you’d walk out the door, leaving him a shell of the man he is now. He thought about it more that he’d care to admit.

His heart was still pounding in his chest as he moved closer to you. His footsteps were slow and uncertain. Your eyes lifted to meet his stormy blue ones as he entered the kitchen, your brow furrowing in concern when you saw his pale, shaking face.

"Bucky?" your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper.

He shivered a bit, unable to form words for just a second. The ache in his stomach and the ball in his throat made it impossible to speak. His eyes dropped to the floor, shame curling a painful knot in his core.

“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” he finally muttered, struggling to get every word out, as if he was swallowing glass. “I thought…” He trailed off, the rest of the sentence too painful to say out loud. Instead, small sobs escaped his lips.

You set the mug down on the counter and closed the distance between the two. Your hand found his arm, your fingers warm against the cool vibranium.

“Hey,” you said gently, willing your voice to be as soothing as can be, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Bucky’s gaze stayed fixed on nothingness. You could hear his jaw clicking nervously, like a man terrified for his life.

“I thought you’d left,” he admitted in a cracked whisper, sounding as fragile as he felt. “Thought I’d… driven you away.”

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice. He sounded like a whimpering puppy, begging to be held.

He had such a raw, vulnerable nature that he tried his best to keep hidden all the damn time. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as he allowed you to. You needed him to know you were never letting him go.

At first, his body was frozen like a petrified statue— he wasn’t sure he deserved the comfort. But slowly, his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“I’m right here, darling,” You whispered. Your words were firm but gentle. “I’m always right here.”

He let out a shaky breath. His forehead dropped to rest against the top of your head, breathing on your scent— the scent that always brought him a sense of calm. “I don’t… I don’t know why I keep thinking you’ll leave.”

“I’m not.” You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “I’m not,” you repeated again, hoping that if you said it enough times, he’d finally believe it.

The sincerity of those two simple words made his throat tighten, his chest constricting under the weight of emotions he had always struggled to fully process. He had never ever wrapped his head around how you could stand here, looking at him—someone so broken and damaged—with such gentle desire. He had never believed he deserved it.

But he wanted to believe, to trust that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he always feared. That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t going to leave him behind like he feared you would.

The faint shimmer of tears fractured the soft kitchen light. He was at a loss of words at how you were holding him together, when he couldn't even do it for himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I keep putting you through this.”

Your hand found his, fingers intertwining with his. Your grip was warm, It was reassuring and steady. “Don’t be,” you said softly. You could tell that he had a nightmare. You learned the signs— the shaking, the sweating. The look of restlessness despite being asleep for the last several hours. “You just had a rough night.”

Bucky trembled against you, feeling him unravelling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was short and it came in shaky bursts. Tears streamed down his cheeks, hot and heavy, soaking into your skin. They started quietly, a gentle release, but soon turned into shuddering sobs that echoed against the kitchen counter, the walls, the floors.

His grip tightened, fingers twirling into the fabric of your shirt as if you were his anchor in this reality. Each sob was raw, steeped in guilt and in the fear of losing you.

No matter how vulnerable he felt, he knew that in your embrace, there was no judgement. You held him tighter, whispering soft reassurances and sweet nothings— promises that you’d stay with him forever and ever. Until the end of time. Until your heart gave out.

“Do you want hot chocolate, too?” you asked softly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a small laugh, your words a shocking catharsis, bringing him out of the spiral.

Oh, you always knew how to say the right thing at the right time.

He nodded, squeezing your hand one more time, just to reassure himself that you were real, that you weren’t slipping away.

You smiled gently at his quiet laugh, slightly reaching out to turn the electric kettle back on again without letting your grip on him falter.

As the kettle hummed in the background, Bucky held you close, finally convincing himself that no matter how dark the nightmares were, you would always be there when he woke up.

-end

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ayyy-pee · 4 months ago

Text

𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕀𝕥 𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Tomioka Giyuu x Female Reader

Summary: Will he survive this war?

Will you be alright without him?

Will you be lonely if he never returns?

And arguably, the most important question – will his line end with him?

The clock is ticking and who knows if he will ever make it back to you.

He’d never given much thought to children, but Giyuu had also never given much thought to marriage before he’d met you.

Giyuu and reader get to work on making a baby.

Story Warning: BREEDING KINK GIYUU, LACTATION KINK GIYUU, Smut, Giyu and reader are secretly married, P in V sex, Profanity like yall should know, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Giyuu is a munch, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Creampies, Mating Press, Freaky ass Giyuu fr

Art by: michi_ia (Twitter)

A/N: This was a request from one of my amazing readers! This one shot takes place in the same universe as Hidden Affairs (Sanemi x Reader fic!) They can both be read as standalones as they involve different readers! Hope you enjoy!

It’s eerily quiet tonight. Just as it’s been for the past several weeks. A storm is brewing, slowly but surely. Giyuu feels it, they all feel it. It’s like a simmer just under the surface, waiting to boil over at any moment. That’s why all of them were called to Ubuyashiki mansion. The plan has been set in motion and Giyuu knows what his role now is.

But will he make it back alive?

That’s the question that plagues his mind at this very second as he approaches his home. He can see the dim candle lighting illuminating the space through the windows and he knows he won’t be alone once he’s inside. No, he’ll be able to see you. And it’s all he’s been looking forward to since he stepped foot on the mansion grounds.

“I’m home,” Giyuu murmurs as he slips out of his haori. He lays it carefully on the table beside the front door.

“Welcome back, my love,” your voice floats through the air like a song, calling him to you. You’re in the bedroom and when Giyuu enters, he sees you’re already snuggled into the futon on the tatami, clearly ready for bed. “How was the meeting?”

Giyuu sighs, crossing the space and falling to his knees at your bedside. He leans forward and kisses you softly, reveling in the way that you, as always, can melt away his worries with just your skin on his. “It’s…” He debates on telling you the truth. That it’s not looking good. That he and the other Hashira, the Master, are all in imminent danger and that it’s likely to come soon. But as he watches you, so sweet and caring, he knows he can’t lie to you. “I’ll have to leave…to be close. He will come soon.”

He, being Muzan. Though Giyuu doesn’t dare speak his name in his home.

“I see…”

You recover quickly, but Giyuu has already seen it. The sadness and concern that flashes across your features. He feels guilty that he’s the cause.

“And the others?” You question, trying to change the subject. You know Giyuu hates talking about matters like this with you. You dislike it as well. Because he can’t be as honest as he wants to be with you. It’s for your safety and honestly to protect your sanity. It’s enough that you’re fully aware of the position he holds as a Hashira, and yet you insist on staying with him. Not that he could ever let you go. Even though he knows it’s selfish for him to have you, he would rather be a selfish man than be without you.

“Same old, same old. Still a little strange without Uzui, but we are managing.” Giyuu kisses you again before standing. Just as you do every night, you’ve got a bath waiting for him, and he’d like to get in and soak so that he can get back to you before sleep takes you for the night.

“That’s good. Everyone is well?”

“Yes.” He purses his lips as he fiddles with the rest of his garments, debating on whether or not to tell you this. But he thinks you may find this amusing. “Shinazugawa looked as though he was seconds away from ripping my head from my shoulders before the Master appeared.”

He hears your soft giggles behind him. “Were you sitting too close to his lady again?” You tease.

Giyuu shrugs, though you can hardly see the movement. “For Hashira, they are very bad at concealing their secrets. They smell of sex every time they arrive.”

“Yes, but it’s very cute to see. I’m happy she continues to keep our secret even though she has no idea we know hers.”

Ah, yes. Shinazugawa believes Giyuu is interested in his beloved, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. See, what the other Hashira (aside from Shinazugawa’s love) doesn’t know is that Giyuu is married - happily, at that. His colleague only found this out after running into you in town, carelessly dressed in Giyuu’s haori as yours were in the wash. And when she confronted you about the very familiar garb you were wearing, you just “felt that you could trust her with their secret”. It’s worked out for you both so far. It’s made you and Giyuu’s fellow Hashira closer, and Giyuu is simply glad you have a friend who you can confide in. He doesn’t even mind playing the messenger between you two, typically passing along stories and jokes from you to his associate when you’re all called together for a Hashira meeting.

But it’s also placed a large target on his back, a certain white haired psychopath surely waiting for the right moment to shove his blade down Giyuu’s throat.

“He believes I have feelings for her, you know? Almost blurted out their secret in a jealous rage in front of us all.”

“What?!” You gasp, scandalized. “You’re kidding.”

“No. He hates me because of it. It’s quite obvious.”

You hum, mind going a million miles a minute as you mull over this information. “Maybe it’s due to you being so unapproachable and distant. You don’t spend much time with the other Hashira. Perhaps it makes you unlikable.”

Giyuu winces, your words touching a sore spot because this isn’t the first time he’s been told he’s not liked among the Hashira. Kocho once said something similar.

“I’m not unlikable…” he grumbles, lips curling at the corners when he hears your laughter again. You tease him too much. “I’m going to take a bath. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

++++++++++

“Shall we try for a child?”

The question leaves Giyuu’s lips before he can talk himself out of it. He debated on saving this question for the morning as he joined you beneath the blankets, but his bath left him to sit in silence with nothing but his thoughts.

Will he survive this war?

Will you be alright without him?

Will you be lonely if he never returns?

And arguably, the most important question – will his line end with him?

The clock is ticking and who knows if he will ever make it back to you.

He’d never given much thought to children, but Giyuu had also never given much thought to marriage before he’d met you.

The prospect of a child never appealed to Giyuu before, but the closer he gets to this inevitable battle, the more it’s on his mind. If anything were to happen to him, he would not want you to be alone. He would want to leave you with something of his, something that you’ll be able to look at and be reminded of him if worse comes to worse.

“What brings this on?” You ask, more quiet than normal. “I mean you…you’ve never discussed children before.” You roll onto your side, propping your head up on your elbow. The moon casts almost an ethereal glow over you, your beauty clear even in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

He shrugs. “I suppose I’ve never thought about it.” His blue eyes gaze into yours. There’s something there, something behind your eyes that you’re not saying. If it were a no, you would say so. You’ve never been one to mince words. If it were a yes…well, you’d say that as well.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“Yes.” He sits up, pulling you into his lap. His fingers play with the strings that hold your top together, gently tugging. It loosens, exposing your collarbone to him and he can’t resist placing a gentle kiss there. “Wouldn’t you enjoy it?” His lips ghost your skin lightly, and the sigh that rushes past your lips is music to his ears. “Caring for this small person, a perfect mixture of you and I?”

You place your hands on his shoulders, head tilting to the side to make room for Giyuu as his lips explore your neck, your throat, the swell of your breasts. “Yes,” you whisper. The sleeves of your top slip from your shoulders, a new part of you exposed for Giyuu to now claim, and you let him. You let Giyuu do whatever he wants with you when it comes to this. You’re always so pliable as soon as his arms wrap around you.

“I want it,” you breathe, hands pulling Giyuu from your shoulder and cupping his face. You press a soft kiss to his mouth. “Let's have a child.”

Wide eyes beam at you in the moonlight, a look of appreciation swimming in them. How did Giyuu get so lucky to have a wife like you? His hands guide your top down, revealing your smooth skin to the night air. His lips caress your breasts, breaths ghosting over your slowly hardening nipples. He takes one into his mouth, groaning at how the soft flesh fills his mouth. Your body is beautiful — a face that would bring a god to their knees, curves in all the places Giyuu appreciates, a form that molds perfectly to his, made for him and only him.

Giyuu lets his mind wander while his mouth presses sweet kisses to your chest. What will you be like when you’re pregnant? Will you crave for certain foods? He’s heard that that is common. What will you look like when you’re months into your pregnancy? Will Giyuu be there to witness your belly grow round with his child?

Something clicks in Giyuu’s mind at that moment. And while he’s not usually rough with you, he can’t seem to control himself when a guttural moan bubbles from deep within his chest and he wraps an arm around you, flipping you both over. He settles his hips between your legs, rolling his hips against your core, reveling when your back arches off the futon as you moan. And Giyuu dips down, capturing your mouth with his and swallowing each and every sound you make.

It’s all dry humping and moans, whispered “I love you’s” and peeling each other’s clothes off until you both lay bare. Giyuu listens to the way your breath hitches as he kisses his way down your body. His lips brush over all of your sensitive spots on the way down, only stopping when they reach the most sensitive. Your chest heaves with heavy breaths as Giyuu peers up from between your legs. This is one of his favorite views, particularly at night when the soft glow of the moon illuminates your body in such a way that he can’t help but be painfully erect.

Giyuu is a man of very few words. Everyone knows this. Even with you, he is not particularly talkative, but as Giyuu takes in the sight of you, legs spread wide and the puffy lips of your pussy coated with your arousal shimmering in the moonlight, he must let it be known. “You are so beautiful”. He licks his lips, groaning because he is eager to have you, eager to taste you, feel you, breed you.

“Wider, my love,” Giyuu commands, and you do as you're told, spreading your legs to further expose your aching cunt to him. “Perfect,” he whispers, hands coming up to caress the inside of your thighs where he plants tender kisses along the plush flesh. He leans forward, burying his nose into your core and inhaling deeply.

And this may seem odd to those whose jobs don’t revolve around breathing, but there’s something about your scent that has changed. Giyuu can’t place his finger on it. Maybe your scent smells sweeter? Or perhaps your scent is simply more intoxicating because Giyuu has reached a level of arousal that is new to him. But there is without a doubt something different.

He decides not to dwell on it any longer when a desperate and hushed “please” reaches his ears. He realizes then that your thighs are shaking, eager for him to proceed. So he presses a soft kiss to your glossy lips. You gasp quietly, back arching immediately and Giyuu takes that moment to lick a fat strip through your folds.

The groan he lets out is deep, animalistic almost. It vibrates through your core and the sensation makes you reach down, weaving your fingers through Giyuu’s dark tresses to grab hold.

“O-oh, Giyuu…” You gasp as he presses his tongue to your clit, his eyes roll back when he feels the slick pour from your core and straight into his mouth. He laps it up eagerly.

“You taste divine,” he groans into you and you moan in response, hips rolling up to grind your cunt against Giyuu’s mouth, begging for more. And Giyuu obliges, lips sealing around your clit and sucking, licking, nipping at your swollen bud until you’re practically fucking yourself on his tongue.

“Giyuuuuu,” you keen, back lifting off the futon again. You moan loudly, fingers clutching Giyuu’s hair and pulling him further into your pussy. “Right there–” you pant. “Right there! Please don’t stop–”

Giyuu grunts, wincing because his cock is throbbing painfully against his abdomen. He can feel the moisture beneath him, his tip leaking with his arousal. Surely this will stain the fabrics, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. He brings a hand to your pussy, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing tight circles. You’re thrashing, moaning his name over and over, damn near about to pull his hair out when Giyuu plunges his tongue into your clenching hole, and he has to will himself not to cum when you cry out and your soft walls clamp down on his tongue immediately. Your hips come up to meet his mouth, grinding your soaking cunt against Giyuu’s face. And he loves it.

Giyuu loves the taste of you. He’s not much of a drinker, he’ll admit. Never much cared for the taste of liquor and has never experienced being drunk in his life, but he imagines it feels similar to the way his head is swimming just off the taste of you.

By now, the futon is sticky with his precum, and it doesn’t help that Giyuu has now been mindlessly rutting against the fabric to find some sort of friction. He longs to make you cum on his tongue, but he also longs to bury himself inside you. But you make the decision for him, tugging his hair until Giyuu finally pulls his mouth away from your center. He crawls along your body, the echoing sound of his length separating from the stickiness of the bed filling the room.

He’s face to face with you, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness and it takes him by surprise when you run your tongue from the tip of his chin, all the way to his mouth where you press your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you murmur against his lips, “how do you plan on putting a baby in me if you don’t fuck me?”

Giyuu thinks that if Muzan doesn’t end up being the death of him, you will be. He puts a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and whispering, “Forgive me, my love. I got carried away.” He slips his free hand between your bodies, a fiery heat blooming in his cheeks when he feels the way his cock is dripping onto your cunt. This is it. There will be no going back once he goes forward with this.

“When I’m done, you’ll be with child,” he says, seriously, as though it’s a fact. Because in his mind, it is. Giyuu grips his length, stroking himself slowly, rubbing his tip against your clit as he lets his mind wander briefly, and lets your moans fuel his runaway thoughts.

His head is consumed with the image of your breasts, swollen and dripping with milk and he has to halt his strokes to stave off the sudden urge to blow his load. He’s a little surprised, actually. Giyuu has seen and rescued his fair share of pregnant women, and didn’t think twice about it. Forgot about them the moment they weren’t in his direct line of sight. But you…you who consumes his every waking thought…the idea of you with leaking nipples, allowing Giyuu to taste the delicious nectar that your body has produced? It’s a thought so arousing, he has to tuck it away mentally, save it for when he’s alone on his missions so that in the late hours of the night, when he’s wrapping his hand around his cock, the image is still fresh.

He’s not sure when he slipped inside of you, let alone flipped you both over again so that he’s now on his back while you ride him. You take him all the way to the tip, moaning loudly every time you sink onto him. The intense waves of pleasure bring time to a standstill. Your nails are sunken deep into Giyuu’s abdomen, steadying yourself as Giyuu’s hips thrust into you at a bruising pace. On a typical night, Giyuu wouldn’t be so rough with you, so greedy with you. But tonight, while his mind is focused on a single goal – ensuring he leaves you with his offspring growing inside your womb – he feels like a crazed man.

Your cries grow louder, more high pitched and your movements stutter momentarily. When you cry out that you’re going to cum, riding him faster and faster, walls fluttering around him, breasts bouncing beautifully, Giyuu’s mind is back on his prior thoughts – dripping, swollen and full…

And then Giyuu is crying out with you, gritting his teeth as he fucks up into you, emptying his balls to the point that he’s lightheaded. His vision blurs as he keeps pumping into you. He hears the squelching, feels the splashing of his seed dripping from you and onto his abdomen, and Giyuu pulls you down to take his entire length again and again until he finally comes to a halt. His hands grip your hips tight, eyes honed in on where you sit flat against him as your sweet pussy cradles his cock.

“Don’t move,” he growls, surprising himself with the gravelly sound that just left his lips. And you nod, whimpering above him. Within your walls, Giyuu can feel his length still pulsing, spurting pathetic, weak strings of his seed. This orgasm has his chest heaving, hands shaking. He grits his teeth, using his hands to rock your hips back and forth.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” he coos, finally releasing his hold on you. His fingers ghost along your skin, from your chest, over your nipples, down to your abdomen where he places his hands flat against your stomach. He focuses on fucking you deeply, burying his cock as far as he can, pushing his seed as deep as possible. “Our child will be so lucky.”

“Yes, my love,” you breathe, eyes closed while you continue to take all of him so well. “And you’ll be an amazing father.”

Your words turn him on, more than he’s ever been. He rolls you both over once more and when you’re on your back, Giyuu takes a moment to pull out and admire his work. His eyes are locked on your core, dripping with evidence of him, pulsing and hungry for more. And he’s still so hard. He wants to give you more, needs to give you more. So Giyuu slips back into your pussy easily, the lubrication from the mixture of both your releases making you both shudder.

He’s so fucking sensitive, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when your greedy cunt is still squeezing down on him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, pushing forward until a knee rests on either side of your head. And Giyuu thinks he may black out, because he doesn’t know that he’s ever been this deep inside of you before. He can feel his seed spilling from you, slipping down to your ass where his balls are pressed so hard, it keeps the thick liquid from flowing any further.

“One more…” he grits out, brows knitted together in determination. “Need to make sure it sticks.” Then he’s fucking you again, one palm resting on the back of each thigh, balls smacking loudly against your ass with every rough thrust.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” You gasp, fingers gripping the bed sheets tightly, and Giyuu whimpers in response. Your pussy is tightening around him, a vice grip already greedily trying to pull whatever he has left to offer from him.

“I want your baby,” you murmur into Giyuu’s ear and he groans, voice rough with desire. His thrusts pick up speed, searching for more pleasure.

“Do you?” He moans against your shoulder when he feels himself hit a particularly soft spot within your walls. “I’ll give you one. I swear I will –”

“Yes!” You practically scream. “Right there, Giyuu–”

“Fuck –” His eyes are closed, mouth slack as he pumps wildly into you. You’re so wet, so tight, so soft and as much as he wants to keep fucking you like this, he’s about to cum embarrassingly fast for the second time tonight. He can feel his balls get a little tighter with each sticky thrust. “Shall I b– ah…shall I breed you once more? Fill you up…ngh…until you’re dripping with my seed again?”

“Please–”

You hardly have to finish your words, because Giyuu is grunting loudly, bottoming out just as he spills himself into you, giving you every drop he has to offer. “Stay still,” he tells you, still thrusting into you, even though he can go no further. He pulls back once more, then sinks balls deep inside of you, breathing heavily as he empties himself. “Need you to take it all, my love.”

“I will,” you pant, his perfect little wife.

You stay like this for some time, Giyuu plugging your pussy until his cock softens inside you. Then he pulls out slowly when he has no other choice. You sigh in relief when you’re able to finally put your legs down as Giyuu lies beside you. He scoops you into his arms, kissing you all over your face, silent apologies for being so aggressive with you. You’re both catching your breath while Giyuu softly runs his hand up and down your spine.

“I wonder if we’ll be successful.” Giyuu mutters when the silence is too much and his thoughts become so unbearable he has to share them with you.

You wiggle out of his hold, sitting up to look down at him. You’re smiling, a cute and goofy smile that Giyuu only sees when you’re up to something. Or when you have a secret that you’re finding impossible to keep from him. So Giyuu sits up as well, brow raised in curiosity.

“What is it?” He asks suspiciously. His eyes narrow when your smile widens.

“It was successful…” You take Giyuu’s hand and press it to your stomach. “about two months ago.”

Giyuu is confused. His eyes are stuck to where you have his hand. Two months ago? Successful?

You can see the confusion clear as day, even in the darkness. “My love,” Your hand cups his cheek and like instinct, Giyuu leans into the touch. He still hasn’t torn his gaze from your joined hands. “Giyuu…look at me.”

And he does, back rigid as he stares at you with wide eyes. The cogs are turning, finally. He thinks he may have figured it out. But there’s a teasing smirk sitting on your lips, and Giyuu doesn’t know if he should believe you or not.

“A-” He swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Are you…?”

You pull Giyuu towards you to place a sweet kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been with child for some time. I just wanted to wait to be certain. I planned on surprising you today, but your meeting ran so late and…” Your hand covers your mouth, hiding the small giggles threatening to bubble up from your chest. “Well, it’s just so cute when you get all serious and focused like that.”

You fall back onto the bed, your pretty laughter filling the room, and Giyuu can’t help it. He laughs, too. Your laughter is so infectious he can’t resist.

It’s a strange mixture of elation, fear, maybe relief. He’d accomplished his goal before he even knew it. But with him leaving to go to the mansion tomorrow, knowing what is planned, he’s now got a new sense of dread seeping into his bones.

But it also gives him a new sense of purpose, outside of returning to you.

Giyuu must defeat Muzan.

Giyuu must survive.

Giyuu must get back to his wife, to his child, to his family.

No matter what.

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askfordoodles · 5 months ago

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A detail I don't see mentioned about the confrontation between Blitzø and Stolas is that while Blitzø is understandably angry and lashing out, he also ends his rant with an invitation to Stolas, imploring, no, demanding he meet him at his level, to get as angry as he is, to FIGHT HIM, right then and there.

We've seen frequently that imps are violent in general, they're originally native to Wrath, and we see that most of their bonding rituals often involve violence and/or bodily harm (just look at how much Millie and Sallie May messed each other up at the end and while being able to laugh about it; a broken bottle fight and broken bones is their version of a light-hearted pillow fight)

While Blitzø is also very self-destructive, even by Hell's standards, it should be noted that he's technically begging for Stolas to connect with him in this moment, to speak a language he understands. "At least respect me enough to fight me! If you care, why walk away? Get real with me, if we can't get physical with our genitals, then at least let us get physical with our fists!"

Unfortunately, Stolas has had the exact opposite cultural upbringing, having been taught his whole life that emotional outbursts are unseemly and improper, so his main go-to for conflicts is avoidance. He avoided confrontation with his father, he basically avoided Stella as much as he could even when she was openly shitting on him at parties; and ONLY just recently has he managed to stand up for himself and when he finally does, it's not to strike back, but simply stand his ground for once, emboldened his new-found love for Blitzø and the knowledge that his daughter isn't fooled by the act anymore and will soon be of age anyway.

It is not currently in Stolas' nature to be confrontational the way Blitzø desperately needs him to be.

Blitzø says: "Please, if you ever actually cared, you'd fight for us Get mad, show me that you care!"

What Stolas hears is just the most literal interpretation with zero subtext, because he isn't attuned to the subtleties of arguing and especially not what it looks like for imps, i.e. he focuses on the "I always hated you" interpretation.

Both gave the other an opening, but only heard dismissal, because it wasn't spoken in a language they were familiar with.

I'm not saying either handled things well here, Blitzø shouldn't immediately respond with anger and Stolas shouldn't default to walking away, that's my whole point.

I just thought it was an interesting angle that their differences aren't just societal (privilege/wealth/respect) but also cultural in how it influences how they each handle emotional confrontation, or, in the case of Stolas, how they don't.

#helluva boss #stolas goetia #blitzo #blitzø #stolas #stolitz #full moon spoilers #helluva boss spoilers #I always felt Stolas was pretty autistic-coded so it makes sense to me that he has a tendency to take what he hears at face-value #but also Blitzø clearly has previous baggage with Royals that he's unfairly projecting onto Stolas here...#i'm interested to see if they ever touch on that when we get more of his tragic backstory revealed

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norrizzandpia · 11 months ago

Note

you’re my absolute favourite lando fanfic writer, i get so excited whenever you post. can you do some sort of fake dating x enemies to lovers with lando & some angst & grovelling please? i leave the rest up to you, i can’t wait to see what you come up with<3

THIS IS THE BEST MIX OF TROPES I HAVE EVER SEEN I LOVE YOU FOR THIS also thank you so much for saying I’m your fav lando writer I’m blushing ☺️

You Were Never What I Wanted, (LN4)

Summary: Lando and Y/n have never liked each other and it’s only the distaste the world has for them when McLaren forces them to “put on a show for the public”. At first, a few hand holds and light, quick kisses seem to be tolerable, yet feather light touches turn into longing stares and, suddenly, they’re falling in love. Although, hatred is a powerful emotion. Can love really trump it?

Warnings: language, sexual discussions, very mild smut, lando and yn yearning, yn calling lando a man whore not affectionately, talks of death, a crash, she’s long so grab popcorn, omfg this one hurts

Note: i love a good fake dating y’all don’t GET. IT. Also i added the reformed playboy trope to this to spice things up! It’s very mildly mentioned tho UPDATE: PART 2 POSTED!

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lando screeches, body flying from his chair beside Y/n.

Charlotte smiles tightly at him, nodding slowly and putting her hands up, “Lando, yes. You know this is the only way to clean up the reputation you two have developed together.”

He groans, turning to pace the room when Zak interrupts, “Lando, be a fucking man and clean up the mess you’ve made.”

He turns quickly, eyes bulging as he yells, “It wasn’t fucking me! It was her!” He turns to look at Y/n, bewildered look in his eyes as he points furiously at her, “It was you! You got us into this mess! You clean it up!”

Y/n rolls her eyes at him and he almost loses his head, “You’re just as at fault, Lando. You’re the one that openly criticized my driving in a room full of reporters and cameras!”

“I was asked a fucking question, Y/n. It was my job to answer it honestly.” He shoots back.

She scoffs, “Are you fucking psychotic? Or just that fucking stupid? Our job is to lie to the press, that’s what it’s always been. Don’t fucking change it when it’s convenient for you.”

Lando’s hands claw at his eyes as they continue to bicker, “The only person who’s stupid here is you.”

“I was standing up for myself!”

“Oh, yeah?! Now, look where that’s gotten us! A fucking PR stunt!”

“Get over yourself, Lando! You’re just as at fault!”

“You’re so fucking annoying, Y/n! Can’t take any fucking accountabil-”

“Oh, please, you’re one to ta-”

“OKAY!” Charlotte claps her hands as she stops the two drivers. The image before her is one she never thought she’d see this season. Lando Norris, a McLaren driver and well known playboy, getting mad he had to kiss one of the most beautiful women to grace the sport of Formula 1, fellow driver on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n. She surely would’ve chuckled if Lando’s eyes weren’t alive with an angry fire she needed to diffuse immediately.

“You two need to just realize that whose fault this was doesn’t matter. What you need to focus on is pretending you’re in love, so the media stops breathing down McLaren’s and Red Bull’s necks. This is the only way we can make all this bad press go away.” She explains, hands moving rapidly in front of her as she tries to calm the two down.

Y/n, the more rational one, nods, accepting her fate with grace. Lando, on the other hand, stomps his foot on the ground and mutters a sentence of agreement before storming out of the room.

Y/n laughs, turning to Zak and Charlotte, the papaya employees looking as if five years had just been taken off their lives, “I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s so fucking childish.”

Charlotte, media trained, smiles, “He’s better when he isn’t angry.”

Zak, not media trained, nods, “Y/n, I’ve never agreed with you more.”

The man and woman share a look, a subtle scolding glint in Charlotte’s eye as she stares at Zak. He backs down, earning a giggle from Y/n as she begins to leave the room.

“You’ll send the NDAs and other contracts over to Red Bull, right? I’d like to get this started and over with as soon as possible.” Y/n smiles, a soft one that makes others feel warm inside.

Charlotte nods, “Of course. Consider it done.”

Y/n, keeping her smile and composure, withdraws from the room, the door closing with a loud click.

Zak and Charlotte are left to sink down into the chairs behind them. Slugging, Zak’s head lulls to her side, “This is either the best idea we’ve ever had or the worst one.”

She laughs, “They either fall in love or hate each other more.”

—

“Okay, so,” Charlotte smiles at Lando and Y/n from her side of the SUV, the two on either side of the car, sitting as far away from the other as possible, “This is going to be a short outing.”

“Thank God.” Lando mumbles under his breath, earning a scowl from the girl beside him.

Charlotte huffs, continuing, “Just a coffee run. You’ll go into the cafe, holding hands, maybe a kiss or two, get your drinks, and then leave. Very quick. However, I need you two to give it your all. This will be the first time the public sees you as something more than enemies. It needs to be convincing. Heart eyes and maybe, if you’re comfortable, roaming hands.”

Lando’s head turns in utter disgust, “If you fucking think I’m going to touch her ass or some shit, you’ve absolutely lost it.”

Y/n’s body whips around, whole torso facing him as she stares him down, “Oh, please, Lando, you get no fucking women. You haven’t touched anybody’s ass, let alone a girl’s, in fucking ages.”

“Oh, yeah? Then, explain the girl that woke up in my bed this morning!” He fires back, head tilting in a challenging way.

Y/n shoves her arms across her chest as she sits back and whispers, loud enough for him and Charlotte to hear, “Man whore.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows lift slightly, exhaling a breath, “Well! This should be fun!”

The car comes to a stop in an alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. Charlotte lets the silence pass between the two for a few moments before leaning over and opening Lando’s door, “Well, get on with it! Chop chop! Don’t have all the time in the world.”

Lando slides out of the car, shaking his head and grumbling incoherently. Y/n follows him, however, when she gets her legs hanging out the door, she is reminded of just how high the car is off the ground. She goes to turn her body around, opting to slide slowly out on her stomach in avoidance of an accident, but, before she can get positioned, Lando grabs her hips and lifts her from the car, down onto the ground.

There’s a moment where she’s so taken aback, surprised, by the movement, all she can do is grip onto his biceps and stare down at her feet, safely on the pavement. It’s only when Charlotte starts yelling, “Yes! Yes, Lando! Just like that! Look at her like that!” That she looks up. What she finds is deep green eyes completely dilated and lost in the sight of her. She reminds herself of the hatred this man has for her, brushing off the way his hands squeeze over the flesh of her hips desperately, and removes herself from his hold.

Immediately, he comes to, the snarl replacing whatever emotion had taken over his face before. She trails down the dirty, smelly passageway, hearing Lando’s feet patter behind her.

It’s as if she’s achingly aware of his presence when he reaches her, just before they turn onto the public street, and takes her hand in his. The way his cologne wraps around her body, suffocating her in the most addicting way, and the feeling of his fingers fitting perfectly in the divots of hers, soft against her skin, has Y/n reeling. She goes along with his movements, relying on him to guide her as she travels to a place where Lando’s just the man she used to think he was; insanely hot and incredibly charming.

He pulls her back, however, when he opens the door for her and quietly says her name when she doesn’t walk through.

“Y/n?” His hand tugs against hers, smiling softly at the way she stares off into space. Whether that smile is genuine, although, Y/n has no clue.

She shakes her head, murmuring a thank you to him as she scurries past the threshold. When they both enter, their presence is immediately clocked by the other customers waiting for their orders. That’s what Y/n tells herself when Lando comes up behind her, arms around her waist as he rests his head on the top of hers.

“What do you want, baby? I’m paying.” He says, low enough for it to come across as a whisper, but loud enough for the girl in front of them to turn her head slightly in curiosity.

He’s surprisingly good at this, falling into the role demanded of him in a way that has Y/n faltering. She was expecting a man who was so distant from her, the same as her past partners, she had to beg for his attention. Yet, here she was getting showered in affection by a man she was convinced didn’t have the capacity for it.

Her response is easy, covering for the feelings arising within a certain part of herself she can’t quite name, “Just a cappuccino. Thanks, Lan.”

His grin is sweet as he lays a kiss on her temple. His hands rub over her hips as he detaches himself from her body and moves in front of her, teasingly pushing her away from the register with a light laugh.

Lando spews off the order to the man behind the counter as Y/n moves to the other side of the establishment, residing where the orders are dropped off. It could’ve been strategic, it probably was she promises herself, but Lando yells across the store to her.

“Y/n! Love, do you want food? They have your favorite here,” He smiles at her, earning a few giggles from fawning girls in the corner, “Croissants!”

Did he know croissants are actually her favorite or was that just a lucky guess?

Y/n gives him an airy chuckle, head falling back slightly in a lovesick way as she shakes her head, “Nah, I’m okay. Just gives us another opportunity to come back here.”

He nods at her, shaking his head at the barista and handing him some cash.

He tips the change, a hefty amount seemingly as Y/n watches the worker hesitate and thank Lando profusely. Her heart warms, shining on the inside as he treats hardworking people, those who are usually treated horrifically, with the utmost respect.

These reactions she’s having toward him are confusing, a far off nagging in her brain that she might’ve always wished for this type of attention specifically from him.

Nevertheless, she forces her mind to end its overwhelming thoughts when he waltzes over and sidles up next to her. She’s determined to keep this transactional, however she can.

She can’t get feelings.

She won’t get feelings.

And that was that, she decided.

“Lando!” Another worker calls out, setting down two drinks on the counter in front of them. Y/n goes to pick them up, however Lando beats her, giving her a cheeky grin as he mumbles, “You’re my girlfriend, Y/n. You don’t get the drinks, I do. Don’t be barbaric.”

She stands staring at him, mouth agape at his comment as the girls sitting behind them, somehow closer now, gasp.

Y/n hits his arm, the liquid jostling in his grip, “We weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”

He shrugs in return as he pushes the door open with the side of his body, and waits for her to walk through, “I guess I just couldn’t wait, baby. Too in love.”

She shakes her head at him, taking the drink from his hand, their digits brushing against the other’s in an electrifying way, “Down the toilet goes the soft launch plan.”

As they turn the corner, the smile he had been adoring her with suddenly vanishes and the usual pain that fills his expression when he’s around her returns.

“I’m just trying to get this over with, Y/n. Waiting a whole fucking month to tell some fans we’re together is so fucking stupid and I’m not doing it.” He bites out, a hostility to him she had forgotten in the ten minutes he had just treated her like she was his everything.

She drops the coffee on the ground as they grow closer to the car, shock at his quick change in attitude forcing her body to go numb. Lando stops when she does, both of them staring down at the leaking, steaming drink.

He dryly laughs at her, “How fucking stupid! Can’t even hold her own drink! No wonder you’re a shit driver!”

He gets in the car, shutting the door harshly and leaving her to internalize his criticisms.

For some reason, after getting a glimpse at what being loved by him feels like, his words hurt more, mean more.

What a dangerous game.

—

Lando is a known party animal. He’s in love with the blinding lights, loud music, and alcohol flowing without a care in the world what hangover he’d be graced with in the morning. However, with her here, it proves to be a much more stressful experience.

She’s glued to his side, not particularly the clubbing type, and Lando feels his heart quicken when other men bend their backs to see her walk away. A month into the arrangement they structured and he’s consistently feeling as if he’s fighting off every man that floats their way.

He’s worried someone will try to take advantage of her; he’s worried someone will spike her drink; he’s worried someone will touch her weirdly; he’s worried someone will bother her.

He’s worried about her.

A thought so pressing he forces it out of his mind, away from the impending cloudiness that accompanies a topic so big; the way he feels toward her.

The way it was explained to him, by the joint teams of McLaren PR and Red Bull PR, was that, for the first few weeks, their relationship outings would consist of soft dates, quick times spent out together grabbing takeout or a few pictures here and there on both their social medias that addressed their relationship status. Once they got past that time period, they would begin to see the public more often as a union. Long dinners, a handful of charity functions, a gala, and nights out clubbing riddled his calendar now.

Something he wasn’t too opposed to he was coming to find out.

That was the phase they were entering now; the hard launch. After his stunt in the coffee shop those four weeks ago, the teams had to regroup. The girls who had been hanging around had heard his slight confession of love, plastering it on the internet for every person to see.

The consequence? Lando didn’t get to be seen with Y/n for a week as the PR teams waited for the attention around the news to subside.

He wouldn’t risk that now.

Not when he was beginning to get used to the way her hand held his bicep as his fingers tangled in her other hand below.

“Lan?” She yells in his ear, their footsteps just now reaching the VIP section as the bodyguard lets them through.

He looks down at her, their faces centimeters away, lips centimeters away, and Lando’s scared.

Scared of the things he wants to do as her plump, pink lips sit right below his.

“Yeah?” His eyes avert to Max, his best friend, the boy giving him a knowing glance as he sips on his glass.

“Get me a drink please? I would do it myself, but I don’t want to risk having to talk to a random guy and-” He interrupts her immediately when she mentions the possibility of someone else hitting on her.

“I got it.” He’s spinning around, fast walking toward the bar before she can tell him what she wants.

She turns around, wandering over to Max and plopping down beside him on the soft, black couch in the corner of the room.

Max shakes his head as he looks at her, chuckling softly before letting his head fall to his chest.

“What?” She asks, eyebrows raising at the boy she had grown close to over the time she’d spent with his friend.

“You two are so funny.” He continues giggling, his girlfriend smacking his arm with a cautious look.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What?”

“You guys say you hate each other, but then you look at each other like you can’t wait to rip the other’s clot-” He begins, but Pietra slaps her hand over his mouth.

“MAX FEWTRELL!” She screams over the music, “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

Her scolding makes him cower into himself, a drunken look on his face as he searches for mercy from his girlfriend.

Y/n is about to press for more when Lando shoves her drink in front of her, holding it out for her until she cradles it in her own.

Looking down at it, her head tilts, “A vodka soda with two orange slices?”

Lando stares at her blankly, “Yeah, you’re favorite, right?”

She nods, “Yeah.”

They look at each other for a moment. Confusion on both their faces for two different reasons.

“Is that a problem?” He asks her, hand dangerously close to her thigh and heating the skin of her leg up with the need for him to splay his fingers across it.

She shakes her head slowly, “No, just- How did you know it was my favorite?”

Emotions flash through his eyes, too fast for Y/n to decipher them. He withdraws physically, cold returning to her leg when his hand retracts to his lap.

“Uh, you just told me a few times.” He stutters.

If she knew him better, she might say for certain he was nervous.

Not mentioning the fact she had never told him what her favorite alcoholic drink was, Y/n moves on. It’s not because she doesn’t want to find out how he knew what she liked or that she simply doesn’t care how he knows, it’s because a camera catches her peripheral eye. Her head discreetly moves to the side, analyzing the drunken girl who stumbles over to the railing and points her phone right at them.

Y/n falls into Lando’s side, his body laid against the back of the couch and making for a comfortable cushion. His arm automatically wraps around her shoulders as her hand plants itself on his upper thigh.

When her fingers brush teasingly close to his crotch, he looks down at her, astonished, “What are you doing?”

“Camera.” She says, his eyes looking up through his lashes before he sees what she had witnessed before.

He nods subtly, leaning down immediately to press his lips to hers shortly. It’s a kiss like the ones they’d had before, quick and dry, yet, this one, instead of pulling away right after, Lando lingers. His lips brush against hers in hesitation, as if he’s deciding whether or not he wants to lean back in for more. His eyes stare into hers, top lip hitting her bottom one as he dips his chin down. He’s close to taking what he wants, breath heavy against her face as he holds her to him. His hands eagerly claw at her dress, forcing her to stay where she is, where he wants her to be, close to him. Yet, he continues to hesitate.

Finally, for the first time, Y/n sees the emotion that hides behind the beautiful color of his eyes; confusion.

It’s only for a split second though. She sees it only for a millisecond as Lando feels the way she breaks down a wall he had built up long ago. When she realizes the war behind his head, he retreats.

His hands fall from her back and his head turns to the side, rejecting what he wanted to do. She watches him look for the girl that had been filming them, eyes roaming over the crowd before coming to the conclusion she was gone.

“No camera.” He says curtly, pushing her off him as he gets up from the couch and walks back to the bar.

She watches him order another drink, no doubt for himself.

Her eyes train on the drink that sits, sweating, on the table in front of them.

Lando’s drink that’s completely full.

🏎️

Liquid courage is a real thing. It’s what drives Lando to ask Y/n to join him on the dance floor. It’s what drives Y/n to pull him into her and sway her hips right against him. They’re on beat with the music, it thumping in their hearts as Lando grips her hips and forces her body closer to his. There’s a newfound sexual tension, rather than the usual tension that consisted of complicated feelings and lingering hurt over past insults. Her hands drape over his neck, head in his chest as he lays his against her shoulder, withholding groans when she circles her hips and accidentally caresses his dick.

His head’s somewhere else, terrifyingly so. He’s not fully thinking through his actions or the thoughts running through his head, the consequences they would have.

All he can think about is the feeling of Y/n’s boobs pressed up against his chest, her cleavage cum-worthy when he looks down and sees her potential spill-out.

The chorus of Love Tonight pumps through the speakers, communicating the feelings they’re too scared to say.

All I need is your love tonight.

The music spurs him on, almost nudging his head downwards to meet her in the same spot they had been in just a few hours before.

His lips hovering over hers with the same thoughts as before, Lando’s brain goes haywire. She’s panting against him, hips relentless as they continue to circle against him. He’s drowning in her, no escape from the hold she has on him.

Fuck it, he thinks.

He smashes his lips against hers, the first kiss they’ve had that truly puts into perspective how much they want each other. Teeth clashing, his tongue wandering the walls of her mouth, Lando and Y/n fail to come up with an excuse for their actions.

No cameras, no fans, no press.

Just the two of them, dancing and kissing with one singular goal.

All I need is your love tonight.

—

“Here’s your check! Thank you for joining us tonight!” The waiter smiles, setting down the black booklet as Lando quickly swipes it from the table.

Whining, Y/n waves her card around, “Lando, when are you going to let me pay? I don’t think I’ve paid a single time we’ve been together.”

He smiles at her mischievously, “Exactly.”

She rolls her eyes, “Lando,”

He eyes her as he scribbles onto the receipt, “Y/n,”

She scoffs, sitting back in her chair with a huff.

When he’s done, he gives her a sympathetic look before reaching across the table and grabbing her hand, “How about next time we get coffee you pay for your own?”

She looks away from him with a failing suppressive smile, “That’s like five dollars, Lan! You’ve probably spent thousands in the time we’ve been together.”

He shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter.”

Her face scrunches up, “Yes, it does!”

He’s about to rebuttal, but the screeching of people close to them takes their soft eyes off the other.

A mixed group of girls and boys stop at their table, smiling brightly at the two drivers. One of them stands in the middle, phone clutched to her chest as she asks, “Can we get a picture?”

Lando looks to Y/n, searching for approval, but she’s not looking at him. He watches her face light up, smiling big at the fans in front of them as she gets up from her chair.

“Yeah, of course!” She laughs, a sound so light and delicate, it makes Lando’s heart clench in his chest. He never saw the way she acted around fans, having been isolated from them in the times they were together. However, now, as he stays put in his chair and stares on, he adores the way she adores them.

His hands clasped in his lap, Lando sits motionlessly. He can’t take his eyes off the woman who is very clearly making this group’s year. They all stare at her as if she held the moon in their hands, a present from her to them. There’s a simple sparkle in their eyes as she takes pictures with each of them, a simple sparkle that tells him just how much these kids look up to her.

He’s enamored by her, just like they are. For different reasons, though.

“Lan, are you going to get up?” She giggles, hitting his arm and reminding him of the task at hand.

The group stares at him, not the same way they had stared at her notably. He can tell they value him, they’re excited by him, but they aren’t starstruck by him.

He can live with that, though. He gets what it’s like to become speechless over something so beautiful.

After a few more clicks of the camera, the supposed couple sits back down in their seats, but Y/n doesn’t let the fans leave yet. He watches as they brighten at her starting conversation with them.

He loves this. He loves he-

“I have to say, I was so surprised when I found out you two were together.” One of the girls in the group interrupts his questionable internal dialogue. He’s relieved, however. He can’t be thinking that way.

He can’t be feeling that way.

He isn’t.

Y/n tilts her head up at them, “Yeah?”

The group nods and one of the boys speaks up, “Yeah, you two, like, hated each other.”

Everyone laughs, Y/n sitting back in her chair as Lando watches her take the statement easily, “Well, we didn’t hate each other. We did love each other, just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Her eyes meet his and, for a moment, Lando wonders if she truly means it or if she’s signaling for him to add on.

He goes with adding on, “Yeah, definitely. Who could hate her?”

You could, she thinks. You do, she thinks.

The words sink her heart to her stomach. A reality so crushing, she hates to entertain it. When this is all over, he’ll go back to hurting her with jabs that attack her self-confidence and she’ll be left to hang on to the man he had been when they were “together”.

She doesn’t want to go back to hating him, yet she’s scared she will. She doesn’t want to go back to knowing who he truly is at his core, yet she’s scared she will.

She doesn’t want to go back to knowing what he truly thinks of her, yet she’s scared she will.

By the time she returns to the conversation, the fans are simultaneously thanking them for their time and kindness. Leaving them alone, Lando stands from the table and checks the bill once more. Y/n grabs her bag, “Why’re you checking it again?”

He looks up at her as his pointer finger lingers on the paper, “Oh, just calculating what you’ll owe me when this is all said and done. You know, when we go back to hating each other’s guts.”

He says it jokingly, she can tell he’s teasing as he laughs it off, holding her hand gently as he leads her out of the restaurant. But, none of that stops the way she exhales a deep breath, a sigh that carries so much pain, she wonders where it came from.

Lando used to mean nothing to her, or so she thought.

Had he always meant everything?

—

Silverstone is supposed to be a fun race for Lando. It’s one of his favorites on the calendar. Although, that joy is rapidly tanking as he races quickly around the track, smoke emitting from behind him and filling the air, filling his helmet. He coughs harshly as he rushes into his radio, “Was that a crash?! Who is it?! Are they okay?! Is it on fire?! There’s smoke.”

There’s panic in his voice, knowing regardless of who it is, he’ll be worried.

Andrea’s silent on the other line, heightening Lando’s concerns.

“Andrea! What’s going on? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.” Andrea responds immediately.

Lando rounds a corner before he speaks back, confusions drenching his tone, “Okay, so who was that? Are they okay?”

Andrea is monotone, “I don’t know if they’re okay right now.”

Lando’s heart drops, “Oh, no, who was it? Was it one of the Williams? A Ferrari? Maybe a Haas?”

Again, Andrea doesn’t answer him and Lando is about to press him further when he reaches the crash site once more. Eyes trained on the color of the car, the words “Red Bull” hit him hard.

Andrea waits for the anxiety to kick in on the other line, fully prepared to talk him down as he watches for any updates on the crash.

“IT’S A FUCKING RED BULL! IS IT Y/N? ANDREA, IS IT Y/N?” He screams, voice shaking as he begins to slow down, cars passing him by and making him lose positions.

Andrea watches the decline of Lando’s car in the race standings, head falling as he realizes no information about Y/n will come quick enough to make him get back in the race.

Calmly, he responds, “I am not sure who it is yet.”

He hears Lando groan aggressively, “Bullshit! Is it her?!”

His yelling can be heard throughout the entire wall, everyone giving side glances to Andrea over the man who is currently screaming.

“Lando, I promise you, if I knew who it was, I would tell you.” Andrea gives, voice pleading.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only thing heard being the sounds of Lando’s heavy breathing. Solemnly, Andrea watches a camera zoom in past the smoke and center the number of the car in the frame.

Y/n’s car.

Clicking the button, Andrea speaks to Lando, “I can confirm it is Y/n’s car. No knowledge of if she’s gotten out of the car or not.”

Again, there’s silence before Lando’s hand smacks his steering wheel and he lets out a noise filled with anguish, “Please, tell me when you find out.”

Torturously, Lando passes by her car at every turn, watching only for a second as people work to try and get her out of the car.

Andrea watches in horror as a group of men lift her from the car, her body limp and unmoving as they run her to the safety car.

“She’s out of the car.” He murmurs to Lando, praying the boy won’t ask more questions.

He does, “Good! That’s good! By herself or did she need aid?”

The sound of Andrea’s heavy sigh kills Lando, “No, not by herself. She needed help.”

“How much help?”

Silence.

Lando yelps, “ANDREA! TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON RIGHT FUCKING NOW! THIS IS MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! HOW MUCH FUCKING HELP?”

“She’s not moving.”

Lando doesn’t say anything, his mind racing as his eyes water.

Finally, he speaks, “I need to retire the car.”

Andrea and the rest of the pit wall turn to look at each other with outraged stares, “What? No, Lando. The car’s perfectly fine. The pace is great, no dam-”

Lando interrupts Andrea with a broken voice, “The car’s not the reason we need to retire the car. It’s the driver. It’s me.”

Everyone can hear it in the way his voice cracks, he’s crying, knowing he can’t see through it. It’s a danger, it truly is, and that forces Andrea and the team to comply with Lando’s demands.

When he parks in the garage, he clampers out. Shoving engineers, Andrea, his dad, Zak, and anyone else who gets in his way or tries to talk to him, Lando sprints over to the medical center. On his way, he loses his mind over the possibility that she might not be there, already at the hospital, or she will be there, but just her lifeless body.

He’s still drenched in sweat, the amount doubling from his running, when he gets there. Lando pushes past the people who stand at the front, not giving them time to tell him he can’t come in. He hears them call out in opposition, but he’s already in and he just doesn’t care.

There’s no time to address the feelings swirling in his stomach that feel ten times what he had felt for any of his past girlfriends. There’s no time to talk about the way he cries over the image of her burning car or her unconscious body being pulled from it. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, last year, he wouldn’t have acted this crazed over her accident. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, now, he’s fully prepared to brawl with anyone that dares to stand in his way of finding her.

There’s no time because he’s reaching her door and flinging it open. There are nurses beside her conscious figure, tending to the scratches and cuts she has from the car’s debris. Even with the bloodied bandages, Lando smiles at her smiling at him.

When she sees him, her arm reaches out for him without thinking. He takes long strides to get to her even in the small room and, when he does, he grabs her hand.

Kneeling down on the floor beside her, he squeezes her hand, “You okay?”

She nods, “Will be.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He whispers, nurses glancing at each other before exiting the room at the intimacy flowing between the two.

They really were selling this.

Suddenly, Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as her gaze lifts to the clock on the wall, “Wait, Lan, the race is still going. Did you crash?”

He shakes his head, eyes averting from hers, “No, I retired the car.”

Her other hand reaches to turn his gaze back to hers, holding his jaw softly as he smiles at her, “Why?” She whispers.

“Because I needed to make sure you were okay.”

The truth hangs in the air painfully.

They can’t speak of what that means or what that alludes to. They can’t speak of the way he clutches onto her hand as if she’ll go away. They can’t speak of the way he raced over here, throwing important people to the side in a state of pure panic. They can’t speak of the way they stare at each other, yearn for each other in a way that goes against every rule they agreed to when this started.

All they can do is kiss each other sweetly and lie.

Lie to themselves about what will happen after it’s over; lie to themselves about how much they truly care for each other; lie to the PR teams and tell them nothing is developing between them, that it’s safe to continue this.

And, most of all, later, when Zak asks Lando why he has lip gloss smudged against his mouth, they must lie.

—

“Can you zip me up?” Y/n turns around in the car, her back to Lando as her dress hangs open slightly at the top.

He nods, fingers delicate against her skin as he glides against it, trailing the cool metal up. His hands finish on her shoulders, slowly rubbing softly as she begins to lean against him.

“Lan, that feels good.” She mumbles, words slurred from the way his fingers work the knots under her skin.

Her body lies fully on him, his mouth by her ear as they wait to get to their destination. He continues to massage her, whispering random things in her ear about errands they need to run or complete tomorrow.

With her eyes closed and relaxed state, Lando admires how safe she feels around him. Five months ago, Y/n wouldn’t have dared to let him touch her in the way he was, in the way he had over the past two months, however things had changed. For better or for worse, Lando still wasn’t sure.

The driver in the front eyes them questionably, having witnessed the change in their dynamic over their months together.

With her body still limp against him, the car stops in front of the gala’s entrance. Photographers scream beyond the door and flashes of cameras blind them even as they sit behind the glass.

Looking at her and taking her hand in his, Lando whispers, “Ready?”

She nods, “Always.”

A man opens their door, the volume erupting as Lando steps out, his hand clutching Y/n’s as she follows suit. Immediately, they’re pulled into multiple pictures. Lando’s arm finds its home around her waist with Y/n’s hand resting on his chest, a couple so perfect for each other. Their endeavor had been so incredibly successful, both their teams’ PR divisions were pleasantly surprised. Lando looks on at her, a radiant smile gracing her face as she speaks to one of the reporters on the carpet, and hates the feeling of knowing how close the end is.

In just a few weeks, they’ll be sitting down to write a small paragraph, one that will be posted to their Instagram stories as it tries to sum up the romance they thought they had.

At night, he tries to think of words to describe the moments he’s had with her and, every time, he comes up empty.

Her laughing at the journalist’s joke makes him come to the conclusion there will never be a time where he can gather syllables to explain how undeniably perfect she is.

How he got to the place of being able to address how wonderful she was? Lando had an inkling it was because of the way she made his heart pound and hands sweat.

🏎️

Lando and Y/n easily make their rounds throughout the room, greeting sponsors and potential ones with their hands clasped together. It’s obvious how charming they are together, obvious when random strangers are flipping open their checkbooks at the sight of them. Lando knows it’s all her with her thoughtful sentences and engaging demeanor.

He’s a side piece and he’s okay with that, only okay with it when he’s her side piece.

They’re in the midst of sharing a new drink they decided to try, giggles shared between them as they pass the glass between each other. They had started doing this ages ago, when they first grew closer to one another. In order to make these events go by quicker, they started trying all the items on the alcoholic menu they had never heard before. Some of his favorite memories of her had taken place when she tried something she didn’t like and almost spit it out at him.

“I think this one’s good! What’s it called again? Something sexual, right?” She asks as he takes another swig.

Lando shakes his head, grin on his face as he lifts the drink up to their eye level, “I forgot, but it must be cum something. Sure does look like cum.”

Her mouth falls open and she screeches, “Lando!”

He falls over onto the table beside them, laughing, “What? You don’t swallow?”

She joins him in laughter, “You wish you knew.”

Of fucking course, he thinks.

“Lando?” A voice from his past calls from behind them.

Lando’s heart drops, turning around and seeing Luisinha.

“Hey, Lu!” She moves to hug him, squeezing him lightly before letting her eyes drift to the girl quietly standing with him.

“Hi, Y/n.” She speaks, smiling softly as she hugs her.

Luisinha giggles before looking between the two, “I assume I need to be reintroduced to you. Before, you were Y/n, driver for Red Bull. Now, you’re Y/n, Lando’s girlfriend.”

Y/n nods, a gesture that looks to come so easy to her, Lando wishes it was real.

They hug again, chuckling at the situation before Luisinha directs her attention back to her ex-boyfriend, “It’s nice to see you, Lan! All those nights spent on the phone just aren’t the same as seeing you in person.”

Y/n loses her breath over Lu’s words, gaze drifting immediately to Lando and watching as he nods along.

“Yeah! Seriously, talking to you over the phone isn’t enough.”

His response, easy and light, crushes her.

Y/n steps in closer, “Sorry, um, you two still talk?”

Luisinha looks to Lando, intrigue in her eyes as she searches him. Lando, the boy stuck between his past and present, realizes his mistake.

He shakes his hands, “No, I mean- Yes, but it’s not like that, Y/n.”

Luisinha stays silent as she watches Y/n try to keep her composure, “When was the last time you talked?”

Lando can’t bring himself to answer, so Lu does for him, feeling for the girl in between them, “Last night.”

He watches Y/n’s face slowly process the information. It’s as if reality comes crashing down on her, a harsh moment that reminds her of what they are to each other at the end of the day.

Y/n nods, smiling at the two before beginning to walk back, “I need a minute, sorry.”

Lu watches Lando long for her, momentarily wishing Y/n would just understand how much he feels for her, and Luisinha, finally, gets a wave of closure. She understands now why they broke up. When he ended it, Lando had told her he loved her more as a friend, something that broke her, yet, now, she understands why she had been so confused. Originally, she thought he did love her, he just been too afraid to tell her the real reason for their separation, but, as she stares at the pooling in his eyes, she sees a look she never got.

A look of intense love.

She nudges his arm, “Don’t let her get away.”

He nods at her, running off in the direction Y/n had left, eyes searching for her in the sea of people.

🏎️

Lando catches sight of her gorgeous y/h/c hair off in a small hallway of the hotel. He jogs over, her back to him, and lays a soft hand over her shoulder.

She stiffens, refusing to turn around and meet his eyes. However, his voice coaxes her, “Y/n, look at me.”

As much as she tries not to, she does and it breaks her further.

Her watery eyes and lost head tilt are a stab to Lando’s heart, her choked up voice speaking, “So, you were talking to her the entire time we were doing this?”

He’s at a loss, knowing that’s the perfect truth, yet knowing it isn’t fully, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

Her body jerks away from him and the anger he was usually greeted with returns, “Oh?! Then, what does it mean, Lando?! Because it looks like I meant fucking nothing to you! I know it isn’t in my head! I know what’s happened between us isn’t just some people getting over the hatred they had for each other! I thought you felt that way too!”

“I do!” He yells back, frustration at her obliviousness getting to him.

Tears leak down her face, “Then, why did you spend the entirety of this talking to your ex! Why’d you agree to this if you still love your ex?!”

Lando groans, “I don’t love my ex! I don’t love Lu! I love you!”

Her tears fall harder, “Do you? How could someone love another person they used to loathe?!”

Lando shakes his head, overwhelmed at what’s going on in his brain, “It just happened, Y/n! You think I thought this would happen?! No, I didn’t!”

Y/n resigns, quiet taking over other than their heavy breathing, “I don’t believe you.”

His annoyance takes over, “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

I want you to tell me why you love me, she thinks. I want to know where your hate turned to love, she thinks.

Those things go unsaid.

Instead, she huffs, “I think this has gotten too out of hand. I think we need to end this arrangement early.”

She sees the unmistakable sadness etched into his face, “How early?”

“Like, tonight.” She whispers, protecting herself from the world of hurt that would be being loved by him. She isn’t Luisinha, she isn’t a model or breathtaking woman. She’s a girl who fell in love with a “boy’s” sport, a girl who has seen the flaws within herself and tried, desperately, to change them, rewrite them. She never does, although. She always comes out the same on the other side.

The truth catches up with her and images of the beautiful women Lando has had in his bed fill her mind. How does she know this isn’t some elaborate prank to get her vulnerable and then humiliate her out of the resentment he holds against her and the situation she got him in?

Lando musters up some sort of guard, distaste returning after its five month long hiatus, “Fine. I’ll let McLaren know. This works anyway. You served your purpose, got my reputation back to where it was before you came in and fucking destroyed it. You ruin everything, you know that, Y/n?”

She nods, cries intensifying at what she had been afraid of: his hatred for her returning after getting to know a side of him so tender.

“Got it, Lando.” She whispers, slinking past him and out of the building.

He watches her walk away, confused at how he had confessed his love for her and ended it by telling her she was destructive.

She isn’t. How could he say that?

How could he tell the one woman who had built him up that she had tore him down? How could he let frustrated anger replace the love he had for her?

How could he let her get away?

UPDATE: i posted part 2! Find it here.

A/N: TUMBLR GLITCHED OUT AND WAS CRACKING DOWN AT HOW LONG THIS WAS SO I WILL MAKE A PART TWO WITH A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris edit

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reidmotif · 5 months ago

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Check Your Window (He's At Your Window)

Summary: Reader discovers her window faces into the apartment of her very attractive building neighbor, Spencer. She's willing to do anything for his attention. He's willing to reward her for her efforts.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, lingerie, masturbation, slight dubcon (but for like 5 seconds i swear), nipple play, penetrative sex, apartment break-in.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

It’s natural to believe you’re safe in your place of residency. You’re given locks, blinds, a security gate- all measures designed to invoke a false illusion of privacy. Of course, there are defects that no one can plan for that have the ability to shatter this illusion.

Mine happened to be a badly placed window.

Finding this apartment felt akin to love at first sight. It sounds dramatic, but I’m serious. Do you know how horrific real estate is these days? But when my eyes came upon piano oak flooring, the soft light of the day streaming onto a marble island, and of course, an in-home washer/dryer system, I was sold.

Due to my inherent awkwardness around meeting strangers, and lack of overt charm, I’d never been one to initiate introductions with my neighbors. I moved in quietly, packing up my life into neat little boxes and dispersing them throughout the emptiness of my new space. It was only then, when I realized a strangely placed window that seemed to fall exactly where I’d wanted my bed to be.

And while examining my outlandish situation, I saw him.

I didn’t want to assume he’d been watching me. I wasn’t paranoid like that. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to give off the aura of, for lack of better words, a creep, so the quick aversion of my eyes from his gaze felt instinctual. Curiosity won over me a millisecond later, though, and against my better judgment, I quietly peered into the window again, wondering if the man in the glass had slipped away, or had looked away from where our eyes met last.

What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was to be met with the unflinching stare of his eyes, far from concerned with how he came off, holding his gaze with an almost disconcerting and defiant presence.

He gave me a subtle nod, before walking away, disappearing from view. I was left feeling.. unsettled. But also strangely thrilled. There was a certain peculiarity in knowing you were susceptible to an audience at any given moment. I vaguely recalled social facilitation as a possible explanation as to why the concept roused me the way it did, but whatever it was, I didn’t feel compelled to attach curtains or any kind of barrier to avoid the phenomenon.

While my thoughts occasionally drifted to the man, I didn’t actually know anything about him. He lived in the building beside mine, so we didn’t even share so much as a landlord. I truly never expected to gain any insight on him besides the location of his domicile in relation to mine, and the thought didn’t bother me by any means. I was completely fine with letting our connection stay as severed as it was.

Fate, on the other hand, had other ideas.

I found myself a few weeks later, struggling with an overstuffed grocery bag in front of my building, and in a terrible game of mismanaged weight and the flimsiness of grocery-store plastic, my bag gave way, scattering the contents of it across the ground. Further misfortune plagued me, as the bag in question had been holding a good pound of lemons, that rolled quite far from where I’d been standing. I immediately dropped to the ground, trying to gather up the ones by my feet in my arms, and noticed a presence nearby doing the same and bringing the runaway citrus to me. I was thankful, and was ready to express my gratitude to the helpful samaritan, until I saw a flash of recognition collectively pass over our faces as we made eye contact.

Him. The man in the window.

“You dropped these.” He says, his voice a little quieter than I’d expected from him, and I nod.

“Yeah, no. It’s these bags. Not really equipped to hold a pound of lemons.” I say, trying to gather the rest to my chest, our eyes still trained on the other.

“Can I ask why a pound of lemons?” He asks, a sort of playful lilt in his voice.

“Lemonade.” I say, almost immediately.

There’s a bit of confusion that flashes over his face. “Are you making a joke?” He replies, furrowing his brows a bit.

I realize that my response might’ve come off as too deadpan, and I shake my head to correct his misconception. “Oh, no. I’m serious.” I say, offering a grin. “I love lemonade. There’s a work party I’m attending, and I offered to make some for the office. Hence, the lemons.” I continued, gesturing at the aforementioned fruit, and feeling myself ramble slightly, but it didn’t seem to offend the recipient.

“That.. is a surprisingly normal response, given the situation.” The man says, nodding. “I love lemonade too.” He adds.

There’s a bit of silence as we both picked up lemons together, the man more focused than I on the task. I took the oppurtuinity within the lull of our conversation to truly examine the man, finally no longer separated by a pane of glass, and my observations all seemed to point towards one glaringly obvious conclusion.

The man in the window was hot.

He appeared older than me, yet his age did nothing to diminish the beauty of his features. His doe-like eyes seemed to shine with the same curiosity that I felt towards him. His hair was a bit longer than I’d expect from a man his age, but it suited him. The smooth slope of his nose had a certain charm to it, and his cheekbones were impossibly sharp. I wanted to run my thumb over the bone, and kiss him senseless until we could barely remember our own names.

“I’m (Y/N). You’re free to come over.” I say, a little more rushed than I’d wanted to. “For the lemonade, of course.” I add, trying to not drop the ball when it came to inviting this gorgeous man over to my apartment.

“Spencer.” He replies, offering his name to me. “I'll keep it in mind.” He says, smoothly. He flashes me a kind smile as he places the last of the lemons into my other bags or directly into my hands.

I’d hoped “I’ll keep it in mind” meant “within the next few days or so” but waiting seemed futile after a certain amount of time had passed. He never came, and I even stopped seeing him as often through the window in passing. In hindsight, it was rather naive to genuinely expect a near-stranger to come to my apartment, on account of an invitation that could have been interpreted as a thinly-veiled proposition.

It felt a bit dull, his lack of interest. I’d had a taste of his attention, and for some reason, I was hooked. It was irrational, and illogical, but I couldn’t help the desire I felt simply at the thought of this man. And in a mixture of perversion, desperation and pure brainlessness, I tried to use the one thing that had rarely failed me in the past. Sex.

I reasoned by telling myself it wasn’t like it was guaranteed he’d see me.

And it wasn’t as if I was standing directly by the window, exposing myself for his pleasure, and his pleasure only. So hey, if he saw my figure adorned in lacy lingerie in passing, and felt compelled to act on that in any way he chose, well. No harm, no foul, right?

So that’s exactly what I did. To my benefit, it was one of the hottest summers D.C had ever had, so the lack of clothing worked in my favor. I’d always felt quite confident in my own skin, so lounging around in bras, panties, barely-there cover-ups around my apartment didn’t strike me as the oddest thing to do. I felt comfortable, and in turn, possibly seducing the man in the window. Win-win.

And “win” I did, in some way at least, because I noticed the arrival of lingerie correlated in a sudden uptick in the times I’d see Spencer taking a longer-than-normal glimpse into my apartment. It was fucking exhilirating, to have his regard in this strange, taboo way. I’d find myself imagining him, surrounded by a sea of sheets and pillows slowly stroking his cock to the images of my scantily-clad body. I had no real way of verifying if this was the actual case, but the fantasy was enough to bring heat to my cheeks and an ache in my panties.

It started to drive me a little crazy, however, when after a week of this, literally no tangible reward came from the fruits of my labor. While I’d enjoyed his eyes on my form, that seemed to be all he was capable of. He seemed completely at ease with just watching (to my utter dismay) and it seemed the action I wanted him to take was sorely out of reach.

Reflecting on his shy, soft demeanor from the one time we’d spoken, I concluded that he might not be as forward as I am. It made sense; he never seemed to have visitors in his apartment and, seeming to be in his 40s without a stable partner, he probably wasn't accustomed to a woman's attention in this way. He didn’t exactly exude “womanizer” anyway from what I knew about him, and I began to connect his lack of initiative to these points.

It didn't deter me from continuing my attempts though. At best, I was at least providing a lonely middle-aged man some sorely needed imagery in the meantime. I’d always been a giver, anyhow.

It’s reasonable to assume there’d be some payoff down the road, right?

Wrong. I continued to wear increasingly revealing lingerie, going as far as just walking around naked once in a while. Nothing. I was a fucking saint at this point for continuing this for him.

It didn’t help that my mind insisted on taunting me with what I couldn’t have, as a moment of spare time in my day would constantly be preoccupied with thoughts of him in my bed, pinning my hands down and kissing up and down my neck. I’d imagine him pounding into me, or bouncing up and down on his cock, bringing us both to the throes of pleasure. I couldn’t halt the depravity of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried.

What I also couldn’t stop, was the slow descent of my fingers into my panties one night, finding a delectable mess within them, signifying my deep arousal associated with the man. It’d been a long few weeks, the smell of summer and heat encasing my apartment, and a profound craving I couldn’t resist. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I began rubbing the small nub, alternating between up and down motions, and then a slow, circular rub. Little moans poured out my lips, before I quickly shed my panties entirely, watching a string of arousal stuck to them, kicking them haphazardly to the side, wanting more access to my clit.

My eyes naturally closed as I found myself lazing towards the precipice of release. Soft sighs and moans filled my apartment as I let my fingers rub a bit more desperately. I could see flashes of him again behind my eyes, his hand on me, instead of my own, mirroring the actions I was performing. A gasp of his name came tumbling out of me as the image became clearer and clear, my eyes opening almost frantically as I felt myself closer and closer.

That’s when I got the strangest sensation, and felt a pair of eyes on me. I jolted my head to the left, and saw Spencer, who was clearly watching at this point. His gaze was entirely trained on me, and similar to the first time he saw me, our eye contact didn’t deter him from his observation.

I refused to let it either, and kept my gaze trained on him. I was entirely exposed. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my actions if I’d had a gun to my head. It just felt too fucking good. A moment more of eye contact from him, and I felt the familiar clench and release from my body, waves of pleasure wracking my body. I let out another moan, but not once did my eyes leave his, as my back arched against my sheets, a silent plea on my part being conveyed.

Come here. What could you possibly be waiting for?

I watched him disappear from the window as I finished, both literally and figuratively, and panted, wondering if finally, finally, my prayers and fervent supplications would be answered.

After about 30 minutes, my anticipation was replaced with severe disappointment when I realized even after then, he wasn’t coming. I could no longer see him in the window, and at this point it seemed a little silly and pathetic to continue expecting him to come.

Maybe he was just entirely sexually inadept. That could be a possibility, right? How much more explicit could I get than this? I’d masturbated in front of him! Albeit, through a window, but masturbation regardless! Was this seriously all he was willing to do?

I roll my eyes at the thought. I came to accept that maybe, truly, there was nothing I could do to get this man to fuck me the way I deserved. Fine.

As I closed my eyes to get some necessary rest after my endeavors, I made up my mind that I’d buy curtains tomorrow. Fuck Spencer Reid, and his absolute inability to take any action in his goddamn life. Fuck this apartment. Fuck everything.

Was I dramatic? Yes. Was I still right? Also yes.

Despite the sour mood I’d taken to bed with me that evening, my dreams were anything but. The idea of Spencer Reid holding me down, whispering sweet and dirty nothings alike were all still incredibly tantalizing to my subconscious. I could hear his voice in my ear, soft pink lips brushing against the shell of my ear, a deep pressure imprinted onto my body, keeping me in my bed.

“Wake up, sweetheart.” He murmured, beckoning me out of the peaceful cocoon of sleep.

I felt a few more wet and warm kisses trailing up and down my neck, the sweetest sensation of pleasure being granted to me with every touch he gave.

“Need you to wake up, pretty girl.” He mumbles. “You really are so pretty up close.” His voice is slightly patronizing, and it does nothing to help the excitation that was steadily growing inside of me.

Suddenly, I became incredibly aware that the stimuli I was receiving didn’t appear to be a byproduct of my psyche, but rather- he was here? My eyes opened slowly to realize I wasn’t at all mistaken, the soft brush of his brown hair against my neck slightly tickling me as I came to.

“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his lips still mapping out every inch of my skin. Out of pure instinct, a slightly alarmed moan came from me, still unsure if I was dreaming or not. Surely I had to be dreaming. I had to be, because how the fuck did Spencer Reid get into my apartment? Into my bed?

“You want this, yeah?” He murmurs, taking a second to gaze down at me. I realized he’d been on top of me this whole time, and the pressure I’d felt in my dream was his skin on mine, trapping me in between his strong chest and the soft sheets adorning my mattress. “I know you do. Saw your little show and everything.” He breathes out, desperately, almost.

I know I should’ve thought about it. Perhaps I should’ve pondered on the idea of letting a man who’d just broken into my apartment full access to my body as he pleased, but there was no time. He was here, and how could I have ever said no to that?

There’s an equally as desperate and breathy, “yes” that escapes my lips, and before I can finish saying the word, he dives down, meeting my lips with his, absolutely devouring me with no hesitation whatsoever. If I'd thought his previous ministrations were delightful, this was absolutely heavenly.

I moan softly into his mouth, wanting to tangle my hands in his hair, or latch them onto his shoulders and sink my nails deep into the skin that resided there- anything to show even a semblance of control in this situation, but it seemed Spencer had already thought of that, pinning my hands against the mattress so tightly, I couldn’t have moved if I’d exerted every last bit of strength into it.

“God, the first time- first time I saw you.” He mumbles in between kisses. “With those lemons. I knew they’d fall. Saw you through the window across the street and practically ran. Wanted to meet you so badly.”

A small whimper escapes me, and I can’t help but get wetter at the thought. I knew he’d been watching me through the window, but the idea that I captured his attention, outside of my apartment, in the most mundane of situations only served to heighten the arousal I felt, my thighs rubbing together for any kind of relief.

He notices the movement and grins, planting one last kiss on my lips before slipping down. His hands cup the backs of my knees, forcing me to spread my previously shut legs.

“You had the prettiest voice.” He breathes out, examining my glistening heat. “Fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d sound, screaming my name.” He leans forward, planting a chaste kiss on my clit that caused an incredibly breathtaking jolt through my body.

“Spencer-” I moan, my head rolling back as I felt it, my back arching slightly.

“Yeah, just like that.” He mumbles, clearly pleased. “Good girl.”

His hands traveled upward from where he’d been situated between my legs and squeezed my breast blindly. It didn’t feel like it was for my pleasure, but rather that he was desperate to touch anywhere he possibly could. Anyone else, and I might’ve been annoyed with the incessant touching, but with him?

It was so fucking hot.

“That goddamned lingerie.” He mumbles. “The things I wanted to do to you. Did you know that?”

I looked at him through hooded lids, unsure what he meant, and he took my diversion of attention to quickly tweak one of my nipples, eliciting another surprised moan from my mouth.

“I’m so much stronger than this, usually.” His large hands continue to squeeze and grope at my breasts. “But you.” He whispers, a hint of a growl making its way into his tone. “Had to push the limits. Practically begging me to come here and take you.”

I let out a gasp as I felt his hands trail down my stomach, the cool touch of his fingertips causing the muscles to tense up there.

“I’m gonna do it.” He whispers, his face only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the open window, but I could still see the dangerous glint in his eye, thrilling me even further. “Fuck you exactly how you want it.”

Before I’m able to react to the sentiment, he’s grabbing onto my hips and turning me over, a yelp drawn out from me.

“Hands and knees.” He says, in an authoritative tone that doesn’t leave any room for any disagreement. I comply quickly, much to his elation.

“You’re so good for me, yeah? Gonna ruin you. Just how you want.”

There’s a hint in condescension in his tone, like he’s making fun of me for wanting to be fucked this badly, but I can barely pay any mind about it, especially when I feel his cock slotting itself betweet my folds, separated only by his boxers, a shaky moan coming from Spencer.

I can feel his hands leaving my hips and the slight lean away as he quickly shucks off the fabric, and within the next second, he’s pushing into me, providing me with a stretch and fulfillment that was so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take him long to set a fast pace, the sound of our skin slapping and the smell of sex permeating the room.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans out, and I let out similar noises in tandem.

I can barely find it in me to stay coherent. I want to scream how good he feels, how big his cock feels in me, how close I was- but instead the only thing I could manage was the borderline scream of his name and loud sobs of pleasure, fully at the mercy of the man behind me. I can feel the way I clamp down on him, absolutely imploring him for as much as he could give me.

“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He says, feeling the clench of my walls on his cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Give me what I want.” He murmurs lowly, leaning down closer to my ear. His hand shoots out a moment later, beginning to rub my clit, similar to how I had been doing a few hours earlier as he watched me, and the memory and sensation of it is enough to hurl me off the edge, my walls tightening around his cock as waves of pleasure wracked through my body.

It seemed that was enough for him as well. I felt his hips still, and a sudden warmth at my deepest point. He let out a groan of relief as he thrusted once, twice more, and then pulled out, his cum slipping down my thighs as he plopped down next to me. I’d already collapsed the second he pulled out, panting as I came down from the orgasm.

“You good?” He mumbles, wearily, and I can feel him moving aside my hair to kiss at my shoulder.

“Mhm.” I murmur back, a small sigh of relief escaping me. There’s a beat of silence, before he breaks it.

“Tomorrow.” He murmurs. “Wanna go out with me?”

I raise an eyebrow, turning at him with a playful expression- as playful as I could get in this state anyway. “Where to?”

“Target.” He mumbles, still stroking my back lazily, his eyes shining with something less intense than lust now, but still enough to turn my stomach over with butterflies.

“Target?” I say, squinting my eyes. “Why Target?”

“We’re buying you some curtains.” He says, a small grin appearing on his face. “And maybe a stronger lock.”

I giggle at that, rolling my eyes a bit. “But then you don’t get to see me anymore. I kind of liked what we had going on.”

“I did too.” He whispers, his tone slightly vulnerable now. “But I like this a lot more.”

A small smile plasters itself to my face as I nod.

“Me too.” I whisper back, biting my lip.

A mutual understanding passed through the both of us as we smiled at each other in the dark, and for a split second, I imagined myself possibly loving this more someday.

All in good time. Right now, I was going to sleep, protected by his soft, strong arms. That was enough for now. We’d finally gotten what we wanted.

woah!! trying to finally get back into writing semi regularly i see. i hope this was enjoyable. this is one of those pieces i'm kind of unsure about, so please, please interact if you liked it! likes, comments, reblogs, anything! or let me know if you didn't! i live for feedback of any kind. thank you for reading anyhow, i am very grateful for it <3

also lol if it wasn’t obvious i listened to “she” for fic inspo lol. linked below

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baby-yongbok · 5 months ago

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𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘬 + 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦

Hwang Hyunjin 𝗑 Afab!Reader

♡ Genre - Friends to Lovers

♡ CW - Explicit Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Nightmares, Alcohol usage by reader, Hyunjin calls reader rose as a nickname, One use of 'y/n'.

♡ Summary - Your avoidant tendencies have allowed the burn of pink and white to keep you Hyunjin at a safe distance until it all comes crashing down. Can the fire that kept you apart also be what brings you together?

♡ Word Count - 9.2k

♡ A/N - I went from not being sure if I liked this fic to being in love with it. I think that it's a very sweet fic and I loved writing it. I worked so hard on it and I'm so proud of it. The goal was for it to be 4k words.. then I almost posted it at 8k but now... yeah. I hope that you love this as much as I do!

♡ Playlist - Pink + White - Frank Ocean, Rainy Days - V, For Us - V, Beautiful Things - Benson Boone, Trajectories - Bruno Major

✧ Masterlist ✧

When you were six years old you punched a boy in the face on the playground. That was the first time that you ever felt the burn of genuine fear.

Your mom along with the many others came swirling around them. When your mother asked you what happened you cried. You clung to her running over to you and the crying brunette boy on the playground with a mix of emotions and explained the best you could through your tears that you didn’t like that he was chasing you, when you agreed to play tag you thought that you’d be the chaser not the one being chased.

That was the day that you learned two things about yourself, you have a habit of acting impulsively when you’re scared and you don’t like being chased. It's suffocating.

As you got older your friends described you as the avoidant type, especially in relationships. You developed a reputation for being an ice queen in your Sophomore year of university which led to you being one of the most sought after girls on campus.

You’ve lost friends because of this. Their boyfriends saw getting close to them as a gateway to meeting you. Many guys took dating you as a challenge with an end prize of overnight popularity. Unfortunately, some of your closest relationships have been destroyed because of it. You learned not to be sad about it, you’ve come to terms with it, this is just the way that it goes. Of course your other friends were all important to you but you always told yourself that you’re alright with losing them as long as you have your best friend by your side.

“More roses? Are you in love or something?” You weaved through the cluttered art studio that Hyunjin has claimed as his own. It’s on the dead side of campus on the second floor of a building that was abandoned last year. Your best friend refused to let the studio go when it was shut down, he says that it houses some of his fondest memories.

“Always in love, never loved back.” He quips, eyes still trained on the canvas. “You’re early.”

You jump up onto one of the few clear desks in the room, right behind his easel. “Chemistry ended early.” Hyunjin stands straight, eyeing his canvas for a second before looking over at you. He knows that you’re skipping class. Your last hook-up is in that class and you're trying to avoid his attempt at getting you in his bed again. If you’re being honest, the decision to sleep with him was impulsive. You blame the beer, all eight of them.

“I thought that we could go to the exhibition early.” He starts another brush stroke and silence swallows you both. “I’m excited about it and if I’m being honest I just wanna spend time with you. I’ve barely seen you for the past three days.”

Hyunjin’s steady hand wavers and he thanks his lucky stars that you didn’t see it. “Aw she misses me. She loves me so much.” The sound of your feet hitting the ground as you jump off of the desk echoes through the dusty room of stacked chairs and forgotten storage items.

Hyunjin stands and dips the paint brush covered in bright pink in the cup of water next to him. “You could’ve come to my place ya know.” You grab your stuff, swinging your bag onto your shoulder.

“Your brother is there, you know how he gets.” You scrunch your face at the thought of Hyunjin’s step brother, Jeongin. The two of you get along perfectly, almost as well as you and Hyunjin until Jeongin starts flirting. He confessed to you on New Years and you’ve been avoiding him ever since. He’s too sweet for you, you’d hate to hurt him. “I’m gonna go change, I’ll meet you by your car.”

“You brought a costume change for an art exhibit?” He asks as he starts cleaning his space.

“Of course, I need to look like art too.” You smile at him but he doesn’t smile back, he rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the mess of paints and rags on the desk in front of him. He waits until he hears the door open and close behind you to finally let the corners of his mouth turn up. He chuckles to himself quietly while his mind comes up with responses that he’d never dare to utter out loud.

“This one looks like you, rose.” The year old nickname slips off of Hyunjin’s tongue like silk. You’ve never fully understood how the name stuck. You figured that it’s because roses are his favorite flower and he thought it was cute. You’ve never asked for its origin but you don’t mind the name. It’s sweet.

You turn to view the series of pink, white and green dots making up a bouquet of roses on the framed canvas in front of Hyunjin. He studies it with smiling eyes though the neutral look on his face could fool those who haven’t experienced him like you have.

“It’s pretty.” You mumble as you lean your head on his shoulder. You wrap your arm around his and the sleeve of the brown oversized flannel shirt that you picked out a year ago rides up his forearm a bit, he blames the chills running up his spine on the breeze against the newly exposed skin.

“I knew I’d see you here.” The voice of a woman next to Hyunjin startles you a bit. You stand straight and watch as Hyunjin smiles towards her. He’s cursing her in his head for interrupting the moment between the two of you but he learned a long time ago to just live in the moment when it comes to you.

“Of course, I had to see this exhibition.” He shakes her hand and you chalk it up to her being someone important though she doesn’t look much older than either of you. “You put it together beautifully.”

Ah, she owns the gallery. “Oh, please, it’s nothing. I just hope that you’re enjoying it. I actually thought about you when I put this piece up.” She motions towards the art in front of the two of you. The piece that Hyunjin says resembles you. “It looks like something you’d design. I’m still desperate to organize a local exhibition for you, ya know.”

Hyunjin laughs but it's stiff and polite. He’s being shy. He’s a very cautious person but he reaches a whole new level when it comes to his art. “I’m not quite on that level yet.”

“I disagree but I won’t bother you about it until you graduate. This is your final semester, right?” You can see her eyes smiling just like Hyunjin’s were a second ago as she checks him out. She’s shameless in her actions, the glint in her eyes is far from professional.

“Yes, just three months to go.” She nods, dragging her gaze up from his lips with a smile.

“Call me when you graduate, I’d love to have you working with us.” She pulls a business card out of her pocket and flashes one last smile before waving a reluctant goodbye towards your best friend.

Silence settles between the two of you for just a couple of seconds before you break it. “She wants to fuck you so badly that she didn’t even look at me.” Hyunjin scoffs at your whispered words as he slips the card into his pocket. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice. How old is she anyway? She looks a bit young to be in charge of this place.”

“Her father owns it.” He mumbles as he grabs your wrist and leads you over to the next piece of art.

“Oh, of course. She probably thought I was your girlfriend, ya know. She’s rude as hell for not even asking or looking at me. I know she saw me here, she’s clearly -” You’re pulled into Hyunjin’s side before you can finish your sentence. The sudden action cuts you off with a heavy thump of your heart and that painfully familiar burn rising in your chest.

“Look at this one.” Your eyes are on him but his are on the art. “This one looks like you too.” You pull your gaze away from him to view the piece. The thumping in your chest doubles once your gaze meets your own. It’s a mirror with pink and white abstract designs floating around and over the glass. The paint is so messy yet strategic. It leaves just enough room for your reflection.

“It’s messy yet elegant, don’t you think? You can’t help but to stare..” He’s visibly smiling now. The corners of his mouth turn up as he studies the art in front of him. As he studies you. “This one might be my favorite. It’ll be hard to beat it.”

“I don’t like it.” You mutter quickly, pulling away from Hyunjin and turning towards the next piece. You try your best to steady your breathing. You will your heart to calm down so that you can take a complete breath but it’s betraying you. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

You’re walking away before Hyunjin can reply. He watches you with that smile in his eyes as you disappear around the corner. He knew that what he pulled would be a risk but it was one that he was willing to take. He doesn’t call you beautiful nearly as much as he should or as much as he really wants to.

In the bathroom you’re slumped against the door of a stall while you try to catch your breath. You don’t like how Hyunjin’s words made that white hot burn in your chest kick up. You don’t like the way that his eyes being on you made you feel like you were the only two in the entire gallery. It’s suffocating.

When you step out of the stall your fingers are busy on your phone screen. You find your friend Isa’s number quickly and take a sigh of relief when she answers on the third ring. You bypass reciprocating her kind greeting and get right to the point.

“Get-together at yours tomorrow?”

You’re standing in the middle of the Pink and White art exhibition. Other viewers jumble together along the walls of the gallery and crowd the pieces. You can’t see anything but their blurred faces decorating the white walls. There’s a slow yet heavy beating in your ears but you’re comfortable. You’re alone in the middle of it all, watching everyone from a pleasant distance as you turn to study them all as if they’re the art on the walls.

The beating in your ears skips as you turn and come face to face with Hyunjin. He’s standing in front of you wearing that brown hat that you love and the oversized flannel that he bought just to share with you.

Suddenly the others in the room are quiet. All eyes are on you but Hyunjin’s gaze is the most piercing. His brown eyes are smiling at you with a softness that makes the flame in your chest burn brighter.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You look around at everyone else but they’ve vanished along with the art on the walls. The beating in your ears picks up, it’s deafening but Hyunjin’s voice can be heard loud and clear over the noise.

“I like staring at you.” He takes a step towards you but you take two back. He frowns and steps forward again. You repeat the process until your back is against the wall. “Why do you do that?”

“I’m not doing anything.” You swallow hard as you try to push him away but he’s stronger than you. As strong as stone caging you against the stark white wall. “I can’t breathe.” You’re pushing as hard as you can but it’s no use. You’re stuck under him.

“Why do you do this?” He’s still staring down at you, a burning gaze setting your skin ablaze. “Why do you keep running?” The beating in your ears drowns out all sensible thoughts. You can feel your veins swelling with fear and the blinding white burning in your chest puffs up with the crushing pressure of having him so close. Too close.

“Back up.” You inhale the thick air, feeling dizzy. “Move.”

“Stop running.” You try to inhale but it gets stuck in your throat. You want to scream. You need to escape. You need to get out of here.

You lift your heavy arm the best you can and pull back enough to punch Hyunjin. You aim for his face but your fist goes through him just as your lungs start to burn, you take one last look at him before the wall behind you gives out and you’re falling backwards. Hyunjin watches you, his eyes are void of that sparkling smile and guilt consumes you right before you hit the ground.

You jump up with a gasp as your eyes frantically search the room around you. Your chest rises and falls heavily and sweat beads at your hairline.

It was a dream.

Friday is a late day for you with your last class ending at nine in the evening. Hyunjin always waits for you in the abandoned art studio, he waits for two hours just to walk you to your dorm across campus. It’s become a routine for the two of you but you told him not to wait up tonight. He was reluctant at first, he insisted on waiting for you but you were adamant about breaking your routine.

He agreed eventually but you could see the dejection in his eyes as he hugged you goodbye before your last class. He watched you walk away just like he always did but this time his heart was heavy in his chest. Did he do something wrong?

That question haunted him throughout the day. It was loud in his head as he collected his stuff and made his way to the abandoned studio. It echoed in his ears as he tried to finish the painting of his vibrant rose that he’s added notes of dusty pale pink to. But it was the loudest when Jeongin called him to ask if he was going to the get-together at Minho’s place tonight.

He knows that you and Minho’s girlfriend Isa are close so you have to know about this, hell, you might’ve even helped plan it and you kept it from him. You’re avoiding him.

You skipped your class to head to Minho and Isa’s place. They share a small apartment right off of campus that you often use as an escape. Isa is one of the few friends that you still have from sophomore year since her boyfriend has never once tried to get in your pants.

You sat on Isa’s bed clutching a bottle of soju that is not at all meant for one person while you laid your head in her lap. You loved being with her because there was never any pressure to fill the silence. She understands you in a way that other people just don’t. Not even Hyunjin.

“So, he called you pretty?” You’ve been telling her everything from what happened at the art gallery to the nightmare you had last night. “And now you’re avoiding him?”

“I’m not avoiding him.” You take a swig from the glass bottle and gulp hard to rush the alcohol into your system. “I’m just being careful.”

“You’re being careful by avoiding your best friend… because he called you pretty and you had a nightmare about it?” You sit up with a groan, lifting the bottle to your mouth again with a sigh. She’s not getting it.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me. You didn’t feel the way he pulled me into him, his arm wrapped around my waist and he just stared at me with that smile in his eyes. You know the one that makes his eyes shine when he sees something pretty? He was looking at me like that and he told me that I looked elegant. Messy but elegant and that he couldn’t help but to stare. There was a softness in his voice, I swear, and he just wouldn’t take his eyes off of me. It’s like he was looking into me instead of at me it was… it was..”

“Sweet?” You tap the bottle in your hands with your nails.

“Suffocating. It was too much. It made my heart skip and it made me feel hot.”

“That usually means that you like him, ya know.” She takes the bottle from you, drinking from it a bit herself. “ You know that he’s a romantic and this isn’t the first time you’ve felt like this with him.” She hands the cold glass back to you while you think back to the other times that you’ve felt this. The latest being your birthday three months ago when Hyunjin whisked you away to the next city for a mini getaway.

You stayed in the same hotel room and on the night of your birthday you had a bit too much to drink. He carried you up to your room since you were too out of it to walk but you weren’t too far gone to forget the way that he handled you with such gentle care.

He brushed your hair out of your face when he laid you on your bed and took your make-up off with such a tender touch that it made you want to kiss him. You almost kissed him.

“I don’t like him like that.” You shrug and she sighs.

“Whatever you say, ice queen.” That damned nickname makes you cringe but Minho is bursting through the door before you can rebuttal.

“Jisung and Bin just got here, come on.” You stare at him with confused eyes and he crosses his arms as he stares back at you. “Well? Get up, you wanted to do this.”

“Do what?” You look over at Isa who’s already getting up from the bed.

“Did you not call her asking for a get-together? People are getting here so come on. I’m not hosting this by myself.” Your heart drops and you stare over at Isa who looks back at you with her own look of confusion until it all sinks in.

“You meant for it to be just us, didn’t you?”

Hyunjin is a cautious person, anyone who knows him knows that about him. He doesn’t like when things go wrong because of him. It eats him alive until he can fix it and if he can’t he lets the anxiety consume him until a part of him dies with the memory of it all.

His cautious nature is what prompted him to drive home after he got that call from Jeongin. It brought him right to his bedroom where he dropped his bag by the foot of his bed and laid back against the mattress with a death stare set on the dull ceiling. It stared back at him, reflecting his thoughts back to him for him to analyze.

His brother left for the get-together as soon as he walked through the door and Hyunjin was tempted to follow him down to Seungmin’s car.

He was tempted to drop his bag and turn on his heels and come straight to you but he knew better. He knew you better than you knew yourself. If he shows up at that get-together you’ll avoid him like the plague. You’ll feel trapped by his presence and any hope that he has of fixing this situation will die right in front of his eyes.

His cautious nature is what’s keeping him on his bed. It’s what’s grounding him to this spot and sating the burning desire to chase you. The problem is that the fire in his chest is bigger than he can handle. He’s seen how you treat the men you want to avoid on campus, he’s seen you take the long way home just to avoid a conversation and the thought of you doing that to him makes him wilt. He can’t let that happen.

His feet are carrying him across his room before he can even fully process it. He opens his closet and pulls out the brown flannel along with his brown beanie. They’ve become comfort items for the both of you at this point, especially the flannel. It feels like a thread connecting you to him and him to you. He needs to save that connection.

He sloppily throws on the items while he checks the clock. He’s nearly two hours late but there’s still time.

Hyunjin has never gotten a speeding ticket but he was nearly positive that he’d get one tonight. He made it to Minho’s place in record time but he’s panting when he knocks on the door like he’s ran there. His heart is hammering when Isa answers the door and the look on her face when she takes him in only makes his heart beat faster.

She forces a smile, inviting him in and telling him where everything is but he already knows all of that and she knows that he does. “She doesn’t want to see me does she?” Isa sighs, giving him a look that answers each and every one of his questions all at once.

“Thanks for letting me in.” He walks past her with a nervous huff, making his way into the small party and searching for you immediately. He finds Changbin and Chan before he can find you and the two quickly drag him into a conversation about gods know what while wedging a glass bottle of mystery liquid into his fist.

Hyunjin’s eyes wander in an attempt to find you as he ignores his friends' conversation. Luckily it didn’t take long for the sound of your loud laughter to echo through the room. His eyes were on you in an instant once he heard it. You’re right in front of him sitting in the truth or dare circle with a can of something strong in your hand. You’re always the loudest in the room but right now you seem to be the drunkest too, you shouldn’t be playing that game you’ll do something reckless.

He wants to go over and pull you up, he wants to tell you that you’re going home and that you need to sober up. He wants to get you to talk to him but he ignores everything he wants and watches you instead. He stays cautious and keeps his distance.

“Y/n, truth or dare.” One of your few girl friends, Harvey asks from across the circle. You answer ‘dare’ with a wide smile, it’s no surprise, you always pick that. The raven haired girl looks over to Mingi for assistance since she’s known for picking terrible dares. After a couple seconds of deliberation the blonde perks up with an idea.

“I dare you to kiss whoever this bottle lands on.” Mingi dares with a nonchalant smile and you shrug, the alcohol in your system is surely boosting your confidence but it’s not like you’ll remember any of this tomorrow so who cares, right?

He spins the bottle in the middle of the circle and everyone watches with quiet anticipation as it lands on the copper haired boy sitting three people away from you. It’s Jeongin.

He stops in the middle of sipping from his cup and flashes you a small innocent smile but what you return to him is nothing less than a look of raw seduction. You’re on your feet in an instant, making your way over to him with low and hazy eyes. You straddle him swiftly, getting comfortable in his lap like you’ve done this a hundred times.

“You sure about this, noona?” His hands rest on your thighs, he brushes his thumbs over the bareskin and you can feel a shiver down your spine. It almost reminds you of how Hyunjin touched you on your birthday.

“Do you not wanna kiss me?” You tease him with a slight slur to your voice. You know he wants to kiss you, everyone does except for Hyunjin, right?

Just as that thought passes your eyes flicker up and meet those of the very man on your mind. He’s watching you with an angry gaze as he fists the neck of the glass bottle in his hand. Your mouth goes dry as you take him in, when did he get here? You feel stuck staring at him, everything around you is suddenly muted and the people around you disappear. It’s only you and Hyunjin.

Both of your hearts are pounding in your chest.

Both of you feel like you can’t breathe.

Both of you are about to do something that you shouldn’t.

“Kiss her already!” Ryujin instigates from across the circle and you snap out of your haze and blink down at Jeongin. You both share a smile, one more genuine than the other, before he’s leaning into you. His lips just barely brush against yours before you’re interrupted.

A firm grip on your shoulder startles you and the man under you. You both look up to meet the eyes of the angry Hyunjin above you.“Get up.” He practically growls with a slight tug on your arm. You stare up at him with glassy eyes though you are feeling a bit more sober now. “Get. Up.”

You’re being pulled up before you can process it. Your feet fight to keep up with him as you stumble towards the bedroom he’s leading you to. You can feel all eyes on you, you can feel the room getting smaller once he locks the bedroom door behind the two of you and pulls his flannel off to drape over your shoulders, something that he does to comfort you.

“What the fuck?” That’s all you can manage to get out of your mouth as you stare over at him. He stares back with his arms crossed and his chest rising and falling with what you perceive as anger but he would describe as anxiety. Pure fear.

“Do you understand what you were about to do?” Hyunjin tries to be mindful of his tone. He tries to limit the waver of his words and calm the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s trying. “Why would you kiss him?”

“I didn’t.” The alcohol in your system takes over again and you thank the ridiculous amount of soju you’ve consumed for coming to the rescue. You tug on the flannel resting over your shoulders, pretending that its warmth would protect you from the buzzing in your head and inevitable burning in your chest.

“You would’ve if I didn’t stop you. What happened to you not being into Jeongin? What happened to you not wanting to hurt him?”

You groan, stomping your foot like a child being scolded by their guardian. Like the little girl who punched the brunette boy in the face for chasing her. “Why don’t you mind your business?”

Hyunjin scoffs, his anxiety grows in his chest and he takes a step back. “You are my business.”

It’s silent for one, two, three heartbeats before the dizzying emotions burning in your chest fill in the silence for you. “Well maybe I shouldn’t be. You’re way too attached to me.”

Hyunjin feels frozen even though he’s stepping back from you. He’s creating more space between the two of you just like you seem to be doing. What do you mean by that? You’re rambling on before he can ask. “You do all of these things that make me feel like I can’t breathe. You call me pretty and you touch me softly and you hold me close and… and you just make me feel hot. You suffocate me.”

Hyunjin whispers through the bubbles forming in his throat. He’s gentle with the way he speaks, he is a cautious person after all, especially when it comes to his art. “Is this about what I said at the gallery?”

His question goes in one ear and right out the other. Your brain formulates words quicker than you can process them, creating a violent episode of word vomit that threatens to spill over your lips and onto the carpet but you swallow hard and condense it all into one simple yet seering sentence. “You keep making my heart race, it’s not fair. You need to go, just go.”

Hyunjin’s blood runs cold and his temples throb like you’ve hit him. Like you’ve punched him in the face. Anxiety bubbles in his veins and swells behind his eyes. It’s his turn to ramble, the word vomit seems to be contagious.

“I’m not leaving.” His gaze is frantic, cautious, scared. “I am too attached, you’re right. I have been for a while. I’ve loved you for a while and I tried to hide it but I shouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t be scared that I’ll lose my best friend if I tell her that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“No, you are not confessing to me right now. Don’t you dare do that.” You pace to the left then the right in a hurried attempt to escape his words before they could reach you. He can’t be doing this right now. You needed to get out of here.

“I am. I am confessing to you. I need you to hear me say that I love you because I do and it scares me just as much as it scares you but you are the reason that it’s scaring me. Losing you is the reason that I’m afraid and I need you to tell me that that isn’t going to happen.” His voice is shaky just like your hands. He watches you like a dog being dropped off at the pound as you physically try to escape him. He knew this would happen, this is what he was afraid of.

“Stop. Just stop it, Hyunjin. You’re doing it again, I can’t breathe when you’re this close to me.” He stares over at you from the other side of the room and you stare back at him. This doesn’t make any sense. He isn’t next to you but you still can’t breathe. It doesn’t make any sense. “I have to go - I have - just… just leave me alone.” You turn towards the bedroom door but he speaks up before you can make your escape.

“I’m not going to chase you.” Hyunjin is unmoving. His feet are still planted to the floor like a statue as he slips his fists into his pocket. “I don’t want to push you further away but don’t you dare go home and convince yourself that I don’t care just because I let you go.”

You listen to him over your hammering heart with your back turned to him and your unsteady gaze trained on the worn door knob. “I’m letting you go with the hope that you’ll come back. You know where to find me.”

Your feet threaten to betray you, they try to turn you around and drive you over to him but your heart is screaming. That white flame is burning in your chest and begging you to run. Run as fast as you can and find safety, but your safety is standing behind you. It’s watching you with teary eyes that are desperate to meet yours.

A tear slips down your cheek as you grab the doorknob and pull it with a quick twist. You follow your heart and rush out of the room with tears decorating your face and your hand over your mouth. You let the burning win again.

You rush past everyone, Isa tries to stop you and Minho even catches you for a minute but you fight him off of you and make your way to the front door. You don’t get too far before the last layer of your resolve snaps, You turn onto the next dark block and sink to the ground. Sobs rip through you as Hyunjin’s words hang in your head. He loves you. He wants you but you left him. You left everything you’ve ever wanted behind you.

A heavier sob escapes you as the truth of it all comes crashing down. You love him too, don’t you? You’ve loved him for so long. Since your birthday and beyond that but you’ve been avoiding it. You’ve avoided your feelings just like you have everything else. You’ve punched yourself in the face, you’ve chased yourself into a corner and now you might just lose everything you have left. You might lose your best friend.

The storms over the next two days swirl the skies into mysterious clouds of pink and white as rain soaks the grass the same way that you’ve soaked your pillow for hours. You’ve opted to stay in, avoiding anything or anyone that could remind you of Friday’s catastrophe.

You’ve debated texting Jeongin and apologizing for what you remember of the situation. You almost called Isa to spill the fears bubbling in your lungs to her so that she could help you sort through them but she can’t. This is up to you. You need to make a choice. Will you run away from the fire or towards it?

On the other side of campus Hyunjin sits in the abandoned studio with paint stained hands and dried tears on his cheeks. He’s left his previous painting incomplete. The bright blushing rose sits across the room with the others just like it while he touches his brush to the canvas and smears a smoky mauve to the pristine white flesh. His lines are messy and uncalculated. Far from cautious.

For a moment he considers that he was only ever careful because of you. Your lack of control over your emotions inspired him to fill in the blanks for you. Now there’s no need for caution without you.

The rain carried into Monday along with the emptiness in your chest. You’ve typed and deleted paragraphs to Hyunjin who has done the same as he sat on the studio floor.

He stayed in the dusty room until midnight each day that he was without you and you stayed up well past then. He poured himself into painting and you poured yourself onto the carpet of your dorm room. You made lists and mapped your emotions until it all started to make a bit more sense. Until the love that burned alongside your hot white fear was glowing pink in the mirror.

You skipped your classes on Monday, your feet drove you over to the dead side of campus through the violent rain. You stood in the hallway outside of Hyunjin’s studio. The worn copper doorknob stared back at you like it knew what you were here to do. Like it was daring you to go inside. You suck in a breath as you grab the metal, you’ve never been one to back down from a dare.

The studio is empty when you walk inside. The fading warm light of the lamps that you and Hyunjin bought and snuck in illuminate the space the best that they can given the dull pink skies. Your eyes catch on the new piece sitting up on his easel. It’s dark and runny, it’s raw and it feels like it’s calling your name.

“Hi.” Hyunjin’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. His voice is small and surprised as he stares over at your frame clad in that famous brown flannel and sweatpants.

“Hi.” You whisper back. He looks like a mess. Brown hat, pulled too far over his head and his hair spilling from every exit it can find. “More roses?”

He stares passed you and over at the wilting petals on the canvas with a sad smile. “It’s like I’m in love or something.”

Your guilt tinged heart beats a bit faster when he steps further into the room and closes the door behind him. He drops his bag next to the door and stares at the dinghy tile with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. For everything, for the party and everything with your brother and for everything that I said.”

The word vomit is back. It spilled over your lips before you could attempt to swallow it back but you’re almost thankful for it. You have no clue how you’d get your words out otherwise. “You just made me feel… I just felt..” You kick at the cracked tile as if it holds the answers you’re looking for but Hyunjin beats you to it.

“Suffocated.” His eyes are on you now, they’re low and shadowed in a longing sadness. “I’ve seen this happen a million times to other guys and I thought that I was being careful enough to avoid it.”

“This is nothing like the other guys.” Your bag slumps off of your shoulder and you carelessly allow it to hit the floor. “Your confession just -” He cuts you off with a tight smile.

“I know. It ruined everything.” He sighs, sad eyes examining the space between the two of you. “I ruined everything and I’m sorry for that, rose. I really am.”

“It didn't. It didn’t ruin anything, it just scared me. I felt suffocated, yes, but not by you. It was by what I felt for you. That’s why this isn’t like what happened with any of the other guys. I never wanted them. Avoiding them was easy but you… avoiding you..” Hyunjin watches your heaving chest with the caution that he thought had abandoned him. He’s quiet, allowing you time to gather your thoughts. He doesn’t want to corner you, he just wants to hear you.

“Why do you call me that?” You whisper once your breathing has steadied. “Why did you start calling me rose?”

Suddenly he’s looking past you then down at the tile under his feet. He leans against the door behind him, a faint smile decorating his sad face. “You were wearing one in your hair on the day that I realized I love you.” He looks over to where his easel is set up. “We were sitting right there and you had a pale pink rose behind your left ear. You picked me one to match and I told you that it was my favorite flower because in that moment it was. It was beautiful but you…your beauty is hard to beat.”

Your heart is thumping in your ears, it’s a sound that you’ve grown comfortable with over the past few days. The clutter of the abandoned room almost seems to disappear as you process his words. The burning in your chest makes itself known along with the newly identified pink flame. The white walls of the studio almost seem brighter as you receive Hyunjin’s confession. You let it sink in and drown out the tension little by little. “So when you paint them…”

“I’m painting you. I’m always painting you.” The thumping is deafening but Hyunjin is clear over the noise. He has always been the only one who can cut through it all, even in your dreams.

You can feel yourself falling just like in your nightmare only it’s forwards. You’re falling forwards as your feet carry you to him. You run. You run to him and you fall into his arms that have been desperate to catch you for months. The burn in your chest is paralyzing, it’s seering and fighting the pink flame for dominance.

You cry into his chest, you sob as the pain of running into the fire engulfs you. It swallows you whole and you stand in it with him, you cling to him before you burn to ash and he holds you like he knows it all. He cradles the back of your head like he can feel the fire ripping your flesh apart.

You’re flush against him, tears soaking his shoulder and burning all over until he does what no one has done before. He puts it all out. A simple kiss to the top of your head dowses the flame and reduces it to a measly spark of fear overshadowed by an uncontainable pink and white glow of love in your chest.

You gasp at the cooling effect. Air rushes into your lungs and you can finally breathe, he’s the oxygen you needed. He’s everything you’ve needed but now you want to give your air away again. You want to give it all to him.

You pull away from his shoulder in one swift motion, your eyes are shut tight as your lips find his and you pull him into a hard and messy kiss. The sound that escapes you both is desperate and beautiful. His lips move with yours in an uncoordinated rhythm that makes your lungs burn comfortably. They burn the way that they’re supposed to.

Hyunjin cries into the kiss. Tears stream down his cheeks as he cradles you against him like you’d vanish if he didn’t. He drinks it all in, he allows himself to live in this moment that he’s been dying to have with you for what feels like an eternity before he reluctantly breaks the kiss.

His eyes are still closed when he pulls away. He whispers to you, careful not to crack the shell of this delicate moment. “I thought you -”

“I don’t want to keep running. I can’t, I need you. I can’t lose you.” Your eyes flutter open at the same time as his. He stares down at you with that smile in his eyes. That smile he has when he sees something beautiful, when he’s utterly enamored by the sight before him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do any of this, I only know that I want to do it with you.”

He’s quiet for a couple of seconds before a smile sneaks up on him. It fades just as quickly as it came and his eyebrows pinch together. “You want me?” You nod and the smile shows itself again.

“I want you.” He leans back in, cupping your cheek as he kisses you hard. His body pushes against yours and you move with him as he walks backwards towards one of the few empty desks and lifts you onto it.

His hands explore every inch of you that he can reach. He balls his fist over the baggy flannel hiding your body from him while your fingers tangle in his hair and scratch over his shoulders and up his arms.

He breaks the kiss to run his lips over the flushed flesh of your neck, he whispers into your skin between each kiss “Tell me to stop.” He pulls at the collar of the flannel to kiss the curve of your neck. “I’ve waited so long for this, please tell me to stop. Tell me to wait.”

You push his head further into the crook of your neck as you tilt your head further to give him better access. “I don’t want you to.” He sucks a mark into the skin right below your ear and you pull his tucked in shirt from his pants with an elated moan.

His clumsy fingers fight to unbutton the oversized flannel as yours attempt to unbutton his jeans. You reach your goal before he does and waste no time capitalizing on your victory. You dip your hand in just enough to fish his growing erection from his briefs and wrap your hand around it.

Hyunjin moans at the stimulation, leaning his forehead against yours and squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. “Fuck, please don’t, I wont - I can’t last.”

You kiss his temple softly, whispering reassurance that you don’t care to have him last, you just want to have him. Once he’s centered himself again he continues his struggle to expose your body to him. The final button falls open like the curtain to a play and he stares down your scantily clad torso like an audience in awe.

His hand moves on its own as he admires you. It dips into the waistband of your sweatpants and swipes over your clothed clit.

Your head falls forward to rest on his shoulder with a quiet moan as he groans into the air. Your grip on his cock tightens a bit in response to the sensation and he hisses. “Please tell me I can feel you. Is it okay? Can I?”

He doesn't want your first time to be here but he wants you. He needs you.

Hyunjin hooks a finger into the damp gusset of your panties and pulls it to the side just enough to slip a finger into your waiting cunt. You pant in his ear, wanton moans bubble over the brim of your lips as his free hand cradles the side of your neck. “Look at me, please look at me, baby.”

He runs his thumb over your cheek, brushing over the path of your dried tears. “So pretty, this must be a dream.” You shake your head. Speaking between moans. “Not a dream, baby.”

He slips in another finger as you circle your palm over the head of his cock and you both moan. “Please tell me I can.” He leans his forehead against yours, his desperate eyes reflect the look in your own.

“You can. Please, I want you to.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” He’s asking before he can process it and you’re shaking your head before he can even finish his sentence. A shy glaze washes over your desperate gaze as you watch him undress you.

“You’re all I ever think about.” He whispers as he hooks his thumbs into the band of your pants. “You’re all I’ve wanted for the past year.”

“I’ve loved you since my birthday.” You blurt out, vulnerable eyes peering into his. “Maybe even before that.” He runs a finger over your clothed cunt and you shudder under the touch.

“I wanted to kiss you the night of your birthday. You looked so beautiful but you were wasted. You wouldn’t have remembered. I just stared at you, I took your make-up off and I brushed the hair from your face and you stared back at me. I was just dying to kiss you. I was dying to confess.” Your hand runs slowly up his shaft and he swears that he feels electric.

“I wanted to kiss you too.” He’s quiet, staring back at you with a smile. “That’s why I was staring”

“I kissed your forehead when you fell asleep.” He pulls your panties down your legs, allowing them to pool at his feet with your sweatpants. “I knelt by your bed and whispered my confession to you.”

His fingers are filling you again and you gasp while staring into his eyes. “I wanna hear it.” You whisper through a moan.

“You want to hear my confession?” You nod, your gently fucked out gaze stares into his like your hypnotized by the moment. He scissors his finger into you, stretching you out just a bit before you’re gasping from the stretch of him replacing his fingers with his length.

“Fuck, you’re inside of me.” Hyunjin stills with a groan. His forehead rests on your shoulder while he silently begs himself not to come undone just yet. He sucks in a breath before he recites all that he can remember.

“You’re everything that I thought it would be to fall in love.” He whispers as he pulls back, thrusting into you slowly. “You really snuck up on me, I don’t know what I expected though.” He lifts his head to look at you as he sinks back into you. “You became my world so quickly. So effortlessly.”

You cup his face with both of your hands as you bite back your moans. You want to hear him loud and clear. You want to remember every word. “I should’ve known that I’d fall in love when I first met you.” He picks up the pace, falling into a messy rhythm that’s accompanied by a fit of moans and grunts.

He struggles to keep his eyes on you. They flutter shut with each thrust as he feels himself float closer and closer to his climax. “Baby, I won’t last.” You wrap your arms around his neck and one of his wraps around your waist while the other rests on your thigh before creeping over to softly pinch and rub your clit.

“Hyune, you’re gonna make me - gonna -” He cuts you off with a sloppy kiss, his tongue brushes over your parted lips to request access before making room for itself against yours.

“If you tell me that you’re gonna cum I won’t last another second.” He whispers against your lips and you moan against his.

“What if I tell you that I love you.” Hyunjin’s eyebrows pinch at the confession. That’s way worse than telling him that you’re close. “I’ve loved you back for as long as - as long as you’ve loved me.”

“Rose, baby, you’re gonna -” It’s your turn to kiss him now, it’s a mess of teeth and tongue but you love it. You love him and him you.

You both pull away in tandem, twin moans ripping through your chests as you both announce yourself to the other.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” Hyunjin pulls out of you, painting your thighs in his sticky white release while his fingers toy with your clit to ride you through your orgasm. It’s loud and messy and beautiful. A romantic elegance that you want to live in for as long as it’s available.

Once you’ve both come down from your high Hyunjin kisses your sweaty forehead and you kiss his. He pulls his bottoms up before grabbing the cleanest paint rag he has to clean you up. A comfortable silence settles around you as you ground yourself and take in the space.

“You didn’t finish that one.”

He follows your gaze over to the painting of the pale pink rose. The middle of the canvas contrasts the rest with nothing but dull line art to show the completed picture. It looks like a work in progress. “I know, but I think I like it like that.” He looks back over at you and you at him.

“It looks like you."

It’s been seven months. Graduation has come and gone in the middle of your blooming relationship with Hyunjin and you’ve dedicated each and every second of your budding love to taming the flame.

Each kiss from him has kept the spark of fear at bay and each touch has taught you how to stop running. It’s been a slow and cautious process that he is more than proud to be a part of. He takes pride in it. He takes pride in being with you.

The smooth breeze of late summer brushes against your skin as you step out of your car. The white dress that Hyunjin picked out for you sticks to you like paint on a canvas as you make your way up to the art gallery.

It’s buzzing inside, people stand and stare in awe at each piece while whispering and pointing to their favorite details. You stop and stand in the middle of it all, taking it all in with a slow spin on the balls of your feet. You take in every corner until you turn around completely and you’re met with the face of the artist himself.

“Hi.” Hyunjin smiles down at you, brown baggy flannel hanging from his shoulders.

“Hi.” You stare back at him with a gleaming smile in your eyes. You take in every inch of him, scanning him like he should be framed and hanging on the walls around you.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Hyunjin wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “I like staring at you.” Your response makes him beam a shy smile.

“You should be staring at the art. The artist might get sad if you don’t.” He kisses your forehead before letting you go. Some people around you stare over at the two of you with curious eyes. They’re eager to put a face to the muse of the showing artist.

You take his hand and lead him over to the piece that a couple is walking away from. You stand in front of it hand in hand as you study it for what feels like the millionth time. “This one is my favorite.” The incomplete pale pink rose stares back at you.

“And why is that?” Hyunjin has that smile in his eyes as he stares up with you. The memory of this piece's origin plays behind his eyes like a memorized movie.

“I’ve been told that it looks like me.” You lay your head on his shoulder and wrap your arm around his. A chill runs up his spine and he blames it on you. You and the love he feels glowing pink and white around you.

“There you are.” History repeats itself as the lady that you’ve come to know as Dalia interrupts the two of you. “I wanted to check in with you, how does it feel to finally have your own exhibition?”

Hyunjin smiles at her politely, turning towards her a bit with his fingers still threaded through yours. “It’s amazing. Thank you, you’ve done a wonderful job putting this together.”

“Oh, please, it’s nothing. This is all you.” You watch her as her eyes smile just as they always have. Her hand brushes over his arm in a carefully calculated move. She’s still shameless and unprofessional. “This piece is my favorite. The unfinished look is unique and raw. What inspired this one?”

You grin to yourself as you listen to her. She’s trying so hard that it’s difficult not to laugh.

“Actually.” Hyunjin pulls your hand a bit, leading you forward so that you’re right next to him. It’s impossible for Dalia to ignore you now. Her eyes scan you reluctantly and the smile on her face falters for a second before she pulls it together. Gosh, that's gratifying.

“My lovely rose here is the inspiration for it all.” Hyunjin looks over at you with a glow that is unmatched even by the largest of flames. “None of this would be possible without her.”

It’s like Dalia disappears once Hyunjin looks over at you. You’re the only two in the room as far as you’re concerned. “Oh, well that’s just - that’s wonderful.” Her staggered speech pulls you both out of your loving haze.

“Such a … sweet profession of love.” She glares over at you though you’re sure that in her head she’s doing a wonderful job at hiding her contempt. “I should make sure that everything is running smoothly. Please excuse me.”

She clears her throat awkwardly before she departs, you and Hyunjin both bid her smiling farewells before turning to each other with wide smiles. “Show off.” You push his shoulder playfully and he laughs.

“I didn’t do anything.” You roll your eyes as you both wander over to the next piece on the wall. You stare up at the two pink roses in a lone vase, a shadow of sunlight casts down on them both as they rise towards its shining glow.

A comfortable silence blankets the two of you while you listen to the soft buzz of the people around you. You squeeze his hand softly and he squeezes back just as you open your mouth to speak.

“She still wants to fuck you.” He smiles

“Shut up.”

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