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brunchable · 17 days ago

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It's not a Meet-𝑪𝒖𝒕𝒆, it's a Meet-𝗨𝗴𝗹𝘆. 《 Chapter 4: First Snow. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: It's not a meet-cute, it's a meet ugly, Grumpy Meets ✨️Sunshine✨️, Opposites Attract, Sassy Pet Matchmaker, Enemies-to-Lovers (Lite), Destined to meet again, Bucky is a hidden softie. Summary: Rhys punches Bucky. A/N: This story will be OUTSIDE of MCU but Bucky's traits will be mixed comics/mcu. This will be updated every FRIDAY(AEST). Adouble update what?? Credits to me for the Banner lmfao. credits to @ khaer for the divider.

You found yourself at the exclusive charity gala hosted by none other than The Emporium NYC—the brand your family had poured decades of effort into, now under your guidance as the new CEO. The chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting an elegant glow on the crowd below. You were dressed to the nines, a sleek gown that turned a few heads as you made your way through the event, mingling with business elites and socialites alike.

But tonight, even with all the excitement and the well-wishes in your honor, the event felt hollow. Rhys hadn’t even bothered to follow up after your argument; instead, he’d left you to attend alone, citing “deadlines” without even the courtesy of a call.

You brushed off the nagging disappointment as best as you could, forcing yourself into the motions—smiling politely, engaging in small talk, and pretending to care about which investments were “in” this year. Just as you debated sneaking out for some air and possibly texting Lincoln to bring the car around, a familiar face caught your eye.

There was Bucky, standing awkwardly near a table of canapés, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He was wearing a suit, but somehow, it seemed like he hadn’t entirely agreed to it. Apparently, he’d been convinced by Sam to come along to “loosen up” and “put himself out there,” which sounded suspiciously like Sam’s code for “torture Bucky with forced socializing.”

The sight of him, uncomfortably tugging at his collar, made you smile.

Before you even had a chance to greet him, he glanced up, catching sight of you, and did a double-take. He looked you up and down, clearly not expecting you to look… immaculate.

“Well, if it isn’t the king of resting grump face,” you teased, giving him a once-over. “Who roped you into this?”

He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “A friend. Said it’d be ‘good for me.’” He leaned closer, mock whispering, “I feel like I’m at a wedding where I don’t know the bride or the groom.”

He then raised an eyebrow, his gaze settling back on you. “What about you? Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You gave a small, tired smile.

“I’m the guest of honor, actually,” you explained. “The company wanted to make a big deal about me taking over, so here I am. Networking, keeping up appearances, and all that. Not exactly my favorite way to spend the evening.”

“What? Alone?” he asked, looking genuinely surprised.

You sighed, “Well… wasn’t supposed to be, but here I am. Just me and all this sparkling conversation.”

“Sounds like a blast.” He paused, glancing toward the crowded room and then back to you. “How about a little detour?”

Without waiting for you to answer, he gave a subtle nod toward the balcony doors. You hesitated only a second before following him, slipping away from the noisy crowd. The cool evening air was a welcome relief as you stepped onto the balcony, leaving the gala’s glittering scene behind.

As you leaned against the balcony railing, enjoying the cool air, fireworks suddenly burst across the sky in a loud, over-the-top display. Bucky raised an eyebrow, staring at the colorful explosions with a perfectly flat expression.

“Wow,” he said dryly. “I guess this is their way of saying, ‘Thanks for enduring the world’s most boring gala.’”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

Bucky shot you a look.

“The appetizers are the size of my thumb, everyone’s pretending to care about whose yacht is biggest, and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard the phrase, ‘Ah, you’re the guy with the metal arm, right?’” He paused, smirking. “No, wait—I stand corrected. It’s definitely that bad.”

You laughed, nearly doubling over. “Fine, fine. Maybe it’s a little unbearable.”

“A little?” Bucky raised his arms in mock disbelief. “I’d rather be chased by an actual bear.”

Before you could respond, a camera flash caught both of your attention. You looked over just in time to see a photographer inching closer, recognizing Bucky and readying his camera.

“Oh, no,” Bucky muttered, eyes widening. Without a second thought, he ducked behind you, hiding like a kid trying to avoid a parent-teacher conference.

“Are you kidding me?” you whispered, snickering. “You’re seriously hiding behind me?”

Bucky’s voice came from just over your shoulder, desperate but deadpan.

“Do you know how ridiculous it is having pictures out there of me just… standing around, doing nothing? People already think I spend my free time brooding in a dark cave or plotting world domination. This’ll just confirm it.”

The photographer was undeterred, trying to get a clear angle. You decided to make it worse for him. Plastering on a winning smile, you called out scrunching your nose, “I’m sorry, but he’s very shy. You’ll need an appointment.”

Bucky, catching on, slouched further behind you, groaning dramatically. “Yes, I’m a fragile introvert,” he declared, though it sounded more sarcastic. “All this socializing is emotionally taxing.”

The photographer gave you both a look of pure exasperation, muttered something like, “Celebrities,” and finally left, muttering under his breath.

As soon as he was gone, Bucky straightened up, looking both annoyed and relieved.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbled as you doubled over, laughter spilling out uncontrollably.

Through your giggles, you gasped, “Honestly, who knew you were camera-shy?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, shooting you a half-hearted glare. “I’m not camera-shy. I just don’t need photos of me doing… absolutely nothing.”

You were about to fire back with another teasing remark when a voice called from the doorway.

“Hey Boss?” Lincoln said, looking around the balcony, finally spotting you and pausing after catching you with Bucky.

You groaned, rolling your eyes, the interruption pulling you back to reality.

“Duty calls,” you sighed, turning back to Bucky with a reluctant smile.

He smirked, folding his arms as he watched you with a glint in his eye. “Guess I’ll just have to survive the party on my own.”

“Well,” you teased, backing toward the door, “try to avoid any other photographers. I don’t think I can save you twice.”

Bucky chuckled, taking a small step forward.

“I’ll manage. But hey,” he said, holding your gaze for a beat longer, “maybe I’ll catch you around again… if you’re not too busy saving other poor souls.”

A giddy warmth bloomed in your chest as you tried to keep your expression casual.

“Maybe,” you replied, giving him a small, playful wave as you stepped back into the light of the ballroom.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder one last time. Bucky was still there, hands in his pockets, watching you leave with that unreadable but somehow endearing look. And as you slipped back into the crowd, you couldn’t fight the small, stupid grin that tugged at your lips.

You caught Lincoln’s expression—one part curiosity, two parts astonishment, and maybe even a hint of betrayal. He quickly fell into step beside you, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper-shout.

“What the—? You know him?” Lincoln’s eyes widened as he tried to process what he’d just seen. “Is that why you asked me about him last week?”

You pressed your lips together, fighting back a laugh. “Calm down, Lincoln,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge.

“Oh, I’m calm,” he replied, though his eyes sparkled with barely restrained excitement. “Just… maybe feeling a little betrayed you didn’t tell me sooner. . . So can I have an autograph?”

× × × ×

Mission Report - J. B. Barnes To: N. Fury Subject: Preliminary Surveillance – The Emporium NYC Gala

Summary:

Attended charity gala hosted by The Emporium NYC, commemorating Ms. Y/LN’s recent promotion to CEO. Initial impressions align with prior assessments—She upholds a strong public image, maintaining composure and control over social interactions. Notably absent was her brother, who is assumed to play a significant role in the family business. Financial connections between The Emporium and Hydra remain unconfirmed at this stage.

Primary Observations:

Maintained close proximity to Ms. Y/LN during the event without raising suspicion. Her interactions suggest minimal awareness of potential financial inconsistencies within The Emporium. Detected a slight tension in her demeanor, potentially unrelated to business—indicating she may be open to informal connection or support.

Detailed Notes:

She was notably present without partner Rhys De Armande’s, who was expected as her support. Possible internal strain within close relationships could provide leverage if needed.

During casual conversation, Ms. Y/LN displayed no defensive behavior or signs of suspicion, indicating low likelihood of awareness about The Emporium’s alleged Hydra-linked transactions.

Absence of her brother raises questions regarding his involvement; additional background assessment on his role is advised.

Next Steps:

1. Gather intel on Ms. Y/LN’s brother and his level of involvement in company affairs.

2. Establish a means of recurring contact with Ms. Y/LN, potentially leveraging existing rapport to gain closer access to The Emporium’s internal affairs.

3. Monitor Rhys De Armande’s for any connections or knowledge that could corroborate Hydra involvement.

Conclusion:

Further investigation is required to confirm any connections to Hydra funding or activities. Ms. Y/LN appears unconnected to questionable financial activities, though developing a closer association could aid in discerning the nature of her family’s business ties. Recommend extending this cover to build familiarity with Ms. Y/LN and establish grounds for continued observation.

End Report

——

After finishing his report, Bucky leaned back, glancing over the words he’d typed. His gaze drifted to the section where he’d noted your apparent innocence in the financial dealings, the way you seemed oblivious to the possible Hydra ties. He read through it again, feeling a faint tug of something uncomfortably close to hesitation. The report had started to sound less like a surveillance file and more like a defense of you, highlighting reasons why you couldn’t be involved.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, mind flickering back to your laughter on the balcony, the way you’d leaned against the railing, unguarded and vibrant against the glittering cityscape. This was just a mission, he reminded himself. And yet, the thought of digging deeper, of edging closer to unravel the truth about you and your family, left a sour taste in his mouth.

With a sigh, Bucky closed the laptop. Getting close to you wasn’t just part of the assignment now—it felt like he was being drawn in against his own judgment. And for a man who’d always trusted his instincts, that was proving harder to shake than he’d expected.

× × × ×

The next morning, you were seated at your desk, a stack of files and emails demanding your attention. You were barely halfway through your coffee when the door to your office swung open without so much as a knock. Rhys strode in, his jaw clenched and his expression hard as he slapped a stack of photos down on your desk.

“What’s this?” he demanded, his tone icy.

You blinked, glancing down at the photos in front of you. Each one showed you on the balcony last night with Bucky—leaning against the railing, laughing, and standing close enough to him that it could easily be misinterpreted. The photographer had clearly captured every moment, especially the one where Bucky ducked behind you, making it look almost… intimate.

You took a steadying breath, not breaking eye contact as you replied, “It’s exactly what it looks like. I was at the gala, taking a break on the balcony, and happened to run into a friend.”

Rhys let out a disbelieving scoff.

“A ‘friend’? This guy—Bucky Barnes?” He gestured to the photos, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you even know who he is? Since when do you two get so close?”

You felt a flare of frustration but kept your tone calm. “Since we ran into each other last night, Rhys. We were just talking. That's it.”

“You’re representing the company, Y/N. This isn’t the image we’re trying to project.” He folded his arms, staring down at you with a hard, unyielding expression.

“Oh, I see.” You arched an eyebrow, finally letting a hint of your irritation slip. “So, the issue here isn’t that I was talking to someone—it’s that I was talking to him?”

Rhys clenched his jaw, looking ready to argue further but instead settling on a quieter, pointed tone.

“We have an image to uphold. People are going to start talking if you’re seen getting cozy with some guy on a balcony—better yet an ex-assassin.”

“If people want to talk, they’ll talk, no matter what I do, Rhys. And for the record, there was nothing ‘cozy’ about it.” You held his gaze, unflinching.

Rhys leaned forward, his tone soft but cold. “Just… watch yourself. You wouldn’t want any misunderstandings to get in the way of your responsibilities, would you?”

He straightened, his expression still severe as he waited for your response. You met his gaze, forcing a small, composed smile.

“Yeah—okay. Noted.” You nonchalantly shrugged, “Now, if you’re done, I have work to do.”

After a tense beat, Rhys finally nodded, his face tight as he turned and strode out of your office, leaving the stack of photos on your desk as a bitter reminder. You took a steadying breath, staring down at the images for a moment before sliding them aside, determination hardening your expression.

As you refocused on your work, a faint memory of Bucky’s amused smile from last night flickered in your mind, lingering as you shook off the chill of Rhys’s visit.

× × × ×

You weren’t quite sure why you’d agreed to come to this high tea in the first place. Sitting here, surrounded by ornate teacups and delicate pastries, you wondered if some part of you had wanted to give this gathering one last chance—or maybe Sarah had just been very persuasive. Either way, here you were, sipping tea with college “friends” whose fathers all happened to be powerful men with influence. Chloe’s father owned a chain of luxury resorts, Cindy’s was a prominent investor, and Louzy’s family practically monopolized a certain high-end fashion brand. They had all grown up in the world of prestige, learning to wield influence with a perfectly manicured smile.

Across from you, Chloe extended her hand with a satisfied smile, the enormous diamond ring on her finger glinting in the afternoon light.

“So,” she cooed, with an air of superiority, “Andy finally proposed. Practically begged me to say yes.” She laughed lightly, flicking her hair. “It’s been, what, a year and a half? I’d say he made a smart choice, wouldn’t you?”

Cindy gasped, leaning forward, eyes wide. “Oh my gosh, Chloe! It’s stunning. I can’t believe he went with such a massive diamond!”

Louzy added, “That ring is literally to die for. I mean, anyone with a ring that size has to be super special, right?”

Chloe smirked, then turned her gaze to you, her eyes gleaming with barely concealed judgment.

“But, Y/N, you’ve been with Rhys for… how long now?” She clicked her tongue, feigning surprise. “Still no ring, huh?”

You took a sip of your tea, forcing yourself to remain calm. “It’s been a few years, yes.”

“Oh, a few years?” Chloe repeated, her tone laced with condescension. “I mean, not to sound rude, but… you’d think he’d be, you know, a little more committed by now.”

She gave you a sickly sweet smile. “Especially since you’ve been attending a lot of events solo.”

Sarah shifted beside you, clearly annoyed, her fingers tightening around her teacup. You caught her eye, giving her a small, reassuring smile.

“I think Rhys and I are just… taking things at our own pace,” you replied, keeping your tone calm but firm. “Some people prefer to build a relationship on something deeper than a timeline.”

Chloe’s smile faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered. “Oh, of course. I mean, whatever works, right?” She shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “Though, personally, I think it’s nice to have that… security.”

Cindy nodded enthusiastically. “Totally! Who doesn’t want a big, sparkly ring to show everyone how loved they are?”

Louzy, who had been listening intently, suddenly perked up, her gaze sliding to Sarah. She tilted her head, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Hey, Sarah, I love that top! Is it one of the things you borrowed from Y/N’s wardrobe?”

A smug smile crept across Louzy’s face, clearly reveling in the veiled insult.

Before Sarah could respond, you placed your teacup down with a deliberate calmness, fixing Louzy with an unwavering gaze.

“Actually,” you said coolly, “Sarah works for the Daily Bugle. And she has fantastic taste—though I wouldn’t expect you to recognize it.”

Louzy blinked, momentarily thrown off. Cindy looked at her in confusion, then at Sarah. “The Daily Bugle? Isn’t that… a real newspaper?”

Sarah shot you a grateful look, her confidence restored. “Yes, Cindy, it’s a real newspaper,” she replied with a touch of humor.

Sensing the shift, Chloe lifted her hand to admire her ring again, determined to reclaim the spotlight.

“Well, anyway, let’s not get sidetracked,” she sighed, as if tolerating the attention on anyone else had been exhausting. “I just think it’s wonderful to finally have everything in place.”

You forced a polite smile, leaning into your chair. “Yes, Chloe. It really is… wonderful,” you replied, voice smooth but tinged with sarcasm.

As the tea dragged on, Chloe and Louzy tossed subtle jabs your way, but you countered with steady calm. Every now and then, Sarah would shoot you a grin, and by the end of the afternoon, you felt a quiet satisfaction settle over you.

You stepped out of the tea place with Sarah, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Remind me again why we went in there and willingly subjected ourselves to that?”

Sarah chuckled, glancing back at the elegant yet pretentious building. “Well, I always wanted to try that tea place… you know, just once.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your Chanel tweed jacket and skirt as if regretting dressing up for this crowd.

“Sarah, why didn’t you just tell me? We can go here anytime without needing to endure Chloe’s… antics.”

Sarah chuckled sheepishly, running a hand through her hair. “I guess I didn’t want to impose.”

Just then, your phone buzzed, and you glanced down to see Lincoln’s name flashing on the screen.

“One sec,” you said, answering the call. “Lincoln? What’s up?”

“Hey, Boss,” he replied, his tone urgent. “We’ve got an issue with the Emporium accounts—a discrepancy that needs your immediate approval to resolve. And, well, the board’s asking for an answer ASAP.”

You frowned, glancing at Sarah apologetically. “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You hung up, turning to Sarah with a reluctant sigh. “Looks like I’ve got to head back to work. Raincheck on that shopping trip?”

Sarah nodded, waving her hand. “Of course! Go do your CEO thing,” she teased with a smile. “I’ll hold you to that raincheck, though.”

You laughed, giving her a quick hug before stepping toward the curb, lifting a hand to hail a cab. As one pulled up, you glanced back at Sarah with a quick grin. “Promise, next time it’s just us—and zero frenemies.”

With a parting wave, you slid into the cab, already shifting gears mentally to whatever awaited you back at the office.

Sarah watched you disappear into the cab with a sigh, her shoulders slumping. Just as she turned to figure out her next move, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, wincing when she saw the caller ID. Taking a steadying breath, she answered.

“SARAH!” J. Jonah Jameson’s voice practically exploded through the phone, making her jump and hold the phone a few inches away from her ear. “I need you back at the office, pronto!”

“Uh, hi, Mr. Jameson,” she replied, trying to sound composed. “Is everything okay?”

“Do I sound like everything’s okay?” he barked. “We’ve got a tip on a big story—no, a scandal! Could shake up the whole city! And I need my best reporter here now!”

Sarah rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “On my way, boss.”

“Good!” he replied, practically cutting off the line before she could respond.

With a shake of her head and a resigned smile, Sarah headed down the street, already mentally preparing for the whirlwind of work that awaited her at the Daily Bugle.

As Sarah headed toward the office, she couldn't help but wonder what kind of "scandal" could have Jameson so worked up. The Daily Bugle was always sniffing out juicy stories, but this sounded personal. When she finally reached the office and pushed through the doors, she barely made it to her desk before Jameson spotted her and charged over.

“Glad you finally made it,” he said, his voice intense. “We just got a tip about the Emporium—the shopping mall empire. Something big is going on behind the scenes.”

Sarah’s eyes widened, and her mind raced. Y/N’s family business.

“Do we have any solid information yet?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Jameson thrust a stack of preliminary notes and reports into her hands. “Not yet, but rumors are swirling about questionable transactions, offshore accounts, maybe even connections to shady organizations. I want you on this, Sarah. Dig deep, find out if there’s a scandal in there somewhere. If there’s dirt, I want it on the front page!”

Sarah forced a nod, her mind flashing back to her earlier tea with you.

“Got it, boss,” she replied, clutching the documents, her mind already racing with questions about what this could mean for you—and how she would approach it without compromising her friendship with you.

× × × ×

A discrepancy in the accounts wasn’t typical, not for The Emporium, and certainly not something the board would demand immediate approval to resolve. Numbers ran like clockwork under your oversight, and you’d established a system so airtight that any red flag was immediately worth noting.

Staring out the window, you couldn't help but feel a pang of unease twist in your gut. Sure, discrepancies happened—data entries, system glitches, even miscommunication between departments. But this felt different. Lincoln’s urgency wasn’t the usual, nor was the board’s sudden insistence on your approval.

You knew that taking on the CEO position would mean an endless carousel of problems needing to be fixed or avoided, but this was something more. Something beyond routine. You’d barely had time to settle into the role, and already it seemed like cracks were surfacing.

When you finally arrived at The Emporium’s main office, you stepped out of the cab, straightening your posture as if bracing yourself against whatever you were about to face. The lobby bustled with activity as usual, employees and visitors moving about, the hum of productivity masking the weight of whatever issue had been quietly simmering beneath.

Once upstairs, you strode into your office, where Lincoln was already waiting, a set of documents spread out on the table. His usual calm demeanor was tinged with tension as he handed you a tablet displaying the latest financial report.

“Here’s the summary,” he said, his voice lowered. “It’s in the overhead expenses—numbers don’t line up with projected costs, but it’s small enough that it might’ve flown under the radar.”

You scanned the figures, your brows furrowing as the discrepancy became more apparent. The numbers weren’t wildly off, but they were just enough to be suspicious. The amounts were being siphoned off in bits and pieces—a little here, a little there—practically invisible unless someone knew where to look.

“Who else has seen this?” you asked, voice steady as you looked up.

“Just you, me, and the board,” Lincoln replied. “They’re pressing for a quick approval to ‘rectify the issue,’ but…” His voice trailed off, clearly cautious about voicing his suspicions.

“But it doesn’t feel right,” you finished for him, the weight of his unspoken concern settling over you both.

You set the tablet down, crossing your arms as you considered your options. This was your first significant test as CEO, and you couldn’t afford to let it slide—not without answers.

“Alright, Lincoln,” you said, your tone resolved. “I want a full audit of every expense tied to this discrepancy. And I want to know who’s overseeing these transactions.”

He nodded, already jotting down notes. “I’ll get the team on it. In the meantime, maybe stall the board?”

You gave a tight smile. “Let them know I’ll review it by end of day. They’ll get answers once I have them.”

As Lincoln left, you exhaled slowly, leaning against your desk, the polished surface cool beneath your fingers. You’d wanted this job, wanted to carve your own place in your family’s legacy, but now you were feeling the weight of what that truly meant. You were the one in charge, and this—no matter how small it might seem to others—was yours to resolve.

With a quick shake of your head, you steeled yourself and turned back to the tablet. You had no intention of being caught off guard again.

Your phone buzzed, drawing you out of your focus. It was a text from Rhys.

Rhys: Hey, can’t make it to dinner tonight. Got to stay overtime at work.

You glanced at the message, feeling a familiar twinge of disappointment. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you typed, your response clipped.

You: K.

A few seconds later, the dots appeared, then disappeared. Another message popped up.

Rhys: Raincheck?

You stared at the screen, your lips pressing into a thin line.

You: Sure.

× × × ×

By the end of the day, you’d pored over the accounts, scrutinized each line and every report, reviewing it all until the numbers blurred together. Yet no matter how many times you examined the details, something about the discrepancy didn’t sit right. The board was pressing for a quick approval, but approving without full certainty wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

Taking a steadying breath, you pulled up the video call with the board members. Your face remained composed, professional, as you addressed them.

“After a thorough review of the accounts, I’ve decided to delay my approval,” you announced, your voice calm yet resolute. “I want to ensure everything aligns perfectly before moving forward, for the good of the company.”

A few board members nodded in understanding, but one of them—a man with a steely gaze and a penchant for impatience—leaned forward, his brows furrowing. “With all due respect, Ms. Y/N, perhaps another review could clear this up quickly. We’ve been waiting on this matter for a while.”

You met his gaze evenly, unfazed by his subtle challenge. “I understand the urgency, but approving without absolute clarity could expose us to greater risk down the line. I’d prefer to be certain now rather than regretful later,” you replied, keeping your tone respectful but firm. “I’m sure we can all agree that protecting The Emporium’s integrity is our first priority.”

A murmur of agreement spread among some of the board members, though the one opposing you still seemed unconvinced. He opened his mouth to press further, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“I’ll follow up with additional findings by the end of the week,” you continued, your voice steady. “But until then, my decision to hold off stands.”

You could feel the weight of their scrutiny, but you held your ground, watching as one by one, they gave reluctant nods. After a few more exchanges, the call ended, and you exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and resolve. You’d faced their pushback with confidence—and ensured that your standards for the company remained intact.

As you leaned back in your chair, the weight of the meeting with the board still settling over you, a knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. It was Lincoln, poking his head in, his expression a blend of curiosity and concern.

“How did it go?” he asked, stepping inside and closing the door quietly behind him.

You managed a small smile. “Surprisingly well. There was some pushback, but I held my ground,” you said, leaning forward to stack some papers. “They weren’t exactly thrilled about the delay, but I made it clear why I’m being cautious.”

Lincoln nodded approvingly, hands slipping into his pockets. “Good call. Want me to arrange your ride home?”

You glanced at the clock, then back at the files still sprawled out over your desk. “Thanks, Lincoln, but I think I’ll be staying late. Just want to go over everything one more time, be certain I didn’t miss anything.”

With a nod of understanding, Lincoln gave a brief smile. “Alright. I’ll see you in the morning then,” he said before heading out, leaving you alone with the silence of the office and the persistent, nagging feeling that there was something still buried in the numbers.

Determined, you dove back into the system, meticulously retracing each figure and record line by line. After what felt like hours, your eyes caught something—a detail that seemed to have slipped through before, a specific source of funds that suddenly appeared in the data. You swore it hadn’t been there in your last review, but there it was now, standing out like a flag.

A frown creased your forehead as you hovered over the entry, wondering if you could’ve really missed it. You wanted to cancel the audit entirely and approve the request, as the newly surfaced detail seemed to align perfectly with the numbers. But as you leaned closer to the screen, the strange sense of something being slightly off continued to linger, almost hauntingly.

But it all looked right… didn’t it?

× × × ×

As you step out of the Emporium, the chilly late November air greets you, and the faint sound of holiday music filters through the street, blending with the gentle noise of the city. Pulling your coat tighter around you, you start to head toward the curb when a figure catches your eye.

There, leaning against a lamppost just outside the building, is Bucky. His face is partially shadowed, and he’s dressed casually, hands tucked into his pockets, looking a bit out of place yet completely at ease in the late-night scene.

“Bucky?” you ask, your surprise evident as you step closer. “What are you doing here?”

He straightens, glancing briefly up at the Emporium sign before looking back at you.

“Oh, hey,” he says, “I was just, uh—meeting someone nearby. Thought I’d take a walk after, and figured I’d swing by here to see if the rumors were true about those holiday lights.”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in your expression. “Really? You decided to swing by the Emporium in the middle of the night to check out Christmas decorations?”

He shrugs, looking offhanded but not entirely defensive. “Yeah, well, they’re pretty famous. Thought I’d see them up close. But I guess you got the better view from up there.” He nods toward the office windows, giving a slight smirk.

You cross your arms, unable to help the amused smile that tugs at your lips.

“Sure, okay,” you say, not entirely convinced but entertained by his excuse nonetheless. “But for the record, you didn’t miss much. It’s just lights.”

“Hey, it’s the season,” he replies, gesturing around at the twinkling displays. “Guess you’re not a fan?”

“After a long day of spreadsheets and budget requests? Not tonight,” you say, shaking your head. “But thanks for the review.”

Bucky shrugs, glancing at the quiet street. “Well, then, let me make it up to you. Mind if I walk with you?”

You give him a raised eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at your lips.

“Actually, I have a car waiting,” you say, teasing just a little. Then, with a small sigh, you add, “But… I guess I’ll say yes. Just because I don’t want to feel guilty.”

He lets out a low chuckle, falling in step beside you.

“Well, far be it from me to give you a guilt trip,” he replies, a bit of mischief in his eyes.

You and Bucky strolled side by side down the twinkling city streets, he glanced over, his expression relaxed yet curious.

“So,” he started casually, “how was the day? Besides the whole spreadsheet marathon and budget thing.”

You shrugged, lips quirking. “Oh, you know, just another day of trying to keep an empire afloat without losing my sanity.”

He chuckled, his gaze following the lights strung along the trees. “No pressure, right?”

“Not at all,” you replied dryly, sharing a knowing look. “Though I will say, I could’ve used a win today… like maybe a certain bag of cat kibble.”

A spark lit his eyes, and he tilted his head with a smirk. “Ah, you mean the bag of kibble I heroically claimed off the highest shelf? I’ll have you know that was Alpine’s reward for being a saint.”

You scoffed, feigning disbelief. “Heroically? You didn’t even offer to help. You just left me there, hanging—literally.”

“I don’t know,” he replied, a glint of amusement in his gaze. “You seemed pretty resourceful. Besides, I figured I’d let the ‘trash panda’ hone her skills.”

You nudged his arm lightly, as you continued through the festive district, the world around you buzzing with soft chatter and the glow of holiday lights. The chill in the air had grown crisper, biting, and you tucked your hands deeper into your coat pockets.

Then, just as you were about to reply with another retort, a tiny cold speck landed right on the tip of your nose. You blinked, surprised, watching as Bucky’s eyes drifted upward, following yours to the sky. Little white flakes were floating down, delicate and pure, catching in the glow of the lights as they drifted.

“Oh…” you whispered, lifting your hand to catch a few of the tiny, fleeting snowflakes, their touch cold against your skin. Around you, a hush settled as people stopped to take in the first snowfall of the year, gazes lifted in awe.

Bucky held out his hand, watching a single flake melt against his palm, his expression unreadable. And just then, he overheard a soft voice from a couple nearby, a woman nudging her guy friend and whispering, “You know, in my country… seeing the first snow with someone you like means you’ll fall in love and have a lasting relationship.”

The man laughed, nudging her back, but Bucky shook his head slightly, a low chuckle escaping him at the sentiment. That’s ridiculous, he thought, though when he glanced back, his gaze softened. You stood there, face upturned to the sky, lips parted in a soft, childlike smile, utterly mesmerized by the tiny specks of snow falling around you. The snowflakes caught in your hair, melting against your cheeks, their delicate spirals illuminated by the glow of the city lights. You lifted your hand slowly, palm open as if to cradle the snow, and for a brief moment, the world around you seemed to fall away, leaving only the gentle dance of winter’s first gift.

Bucky found himself frozen, captivated by the simple joy radiating from you, his own breath catching in his throat. The city sounds faded, and all he could focus on was you, wrapped in this fleeting, ethereal moment. The way the snowflakes danced around you, landing softly on your hair and shoulders, made it seem like time itself had stopped.

Bucky cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away and glancing off to the side just as you turned back to him with a soft, glowing smile.

“It’s so lovely, isn’t it?” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper as your eyes drifted back to the falling snow.

He glanced up briefly, letting the snow brush against his face, before looking back at you.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, his gaze on you a bit longer. “Lovely.”

× × × ×

Rhys swirled his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim lights of the bar. A few of his friends sat around him, joined by two women who laughed at each half-hearted joke he made. He took a sip, then leaned back, crossing his arms with a smug smile.

“You know, these days Y/N seems… less clingy,” he said with a hint of disbelief, like he was still processing the change. “No more arguments, no more endless complaints. I mean, it’s probably just because she’s still bitter I couldn’t make it to that gala,” he added with a dismissive wave.

One of the women leaned forward, tilting her head. “Honey, she’s obviously done with your relationship.”

Rhys snorted, though her words seemed to settle in the air a second too long. One of his friends chuckled, nodding in agreement. “That’s what happened to me last time. She probably wants out. Just break up with her, man.”

Rhys scoffed, looking genuinely taken aback.

“Are you insane? There’s no way I’m letting her go,” he muttered, taking a longer sip from his glass. “Do you know how valuable her family connections are? And besides, she’s never going to leave me. She’s invested.”

Rhys’ friend, Derek, raised an eyebrow, barely holding back a smirk. “Really? When was the last time you two even slept together?”

Rhys' jaw tightened, irritation flickering across his face. “I’m not telling you that,” he replied curtly, setting his glass down a little harder than necessary.

Derek let out a short, mocking laugh. “Right. Because, you know, inviting other women over for drinks isn’t exactly what most girlfriends would call a turn-on.”

Rhys’ grip on his glass tightened as he turned to face Derek, his gaze hardening. “Got something you want to say, man?”

Derek just shrugged, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back, clearly enjoying how easily he’d ruffled Rhys.

“Hey, I’m just saying… maybe you should think twice before acting like she’s wrapped around your finger. Just looks like the ice might be thinning, that’s all.”

Rhys glared at him, the playful atmosphere turning tense. But Derek just held his gaze, unconcerned, before lifting his own drink in a mocking toast.

Rhys’ gaze drifted toward the window as he took another sip, only to freeze mid-drink. His jaw clenched as he spotted you walking along the street with Bucky by your side.

Scoffing, he muttered, “Speak of the devil.”

He slammed his glass down, standing abruptly, drawing curious glances from the women beside him. Derek glanced over, his eyes widening slightly as Rhys stormed out, pushing past the crowd without a word.

Outside, you were laughing lightly, lost in the easy conversation with Bucky, unaware of the storm approaching. The chilly November air swirled around you, a rare moment of peace settling between you two under the soft glow of the city lights and holiday decorations.

“Y/N!” Rhys’ voice cut through the evening calm, loud and unmistakably irritated.

Startled, you turned, seeing him striding toward you, a tense expression on his face. Bucky’s gaze flickered to him, his posture shifting slightly as Rhys approached.

“Rhys… what are you doing here?” you asked, instinctively stepping back as he drew closer.

“Forget that,” he said, brushing off your question, his tone sharp. His gaze narrowed as it flickered between you and Bucky before landing back on you. “Let’s go. Now.”

You hesitated, glancing at Bucky, who was watching the situation unfold with a calm but alert expression. “Rhys, I’m just… out for a walk. You don’t get to tell me—”

Before you could finish, Rhys reached for your arm, gripping it firmly. “We’re leaving. This… whatever this is, is over,” he said, jerking his head toward Bucky dismissively.

“Rhys, let go!” you protested, your tone turning firm as you pulled against his grip, but he only tightened his hold, ignoring your plea. His fingers dug into your arm, the discomfort quickly bordering on pain.

“You’re causing a scene,” he hissed, leaning closer as if to scold you.

“Rhys,” you said, a wince escaping, “your grip… it’s starting to hurt.”

That was all Bucky needed to hear. He stepped forward, positioning himself between you and Rhys, gently guiding you behind him. His expression remained calm, but there was a steely edge to his voice as he addressed Rhys.

“You heard her. Let go.” Bucky’s gaze was cold, unwavering, as he stared Rhys down, his entire stance emanating a quiet warning.

Rhys scoffed, his jaw clenched, refusing to back down. “And who exactly are you to tell me what to do?” he sneered, still holding your arm as he squared up to Bucky.

“I’m the guy telling you to let go,” Bucky replied, his tone steady, his eyes locked on Rhys without flinching. He took a small step closer, his frame casting a shadow that made Rhys falter just slightly.

Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke up, “Rhys, please, you’re making this worse.”

Bucky's jaw tensed as he held Rhys' gaze, his piercing blue eyes unyielding, a flicker of restrained anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. He stood tall and solid, a quiet force between you and Rhys, his frame blocking you protectively from Rhys’ looming grip.

“She’s not going anywhere unless she wants to,” Bucky said, his voice low, edged with a steel that made him look almost dangerously calm. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t make a scene—he didn’t need to. His mere presence, unwavering and intense, was enough to convey every warning Rhys should heed.

Rhys scoffed, rolling his shoulders back as he maintained his grip on your arm, not backing down.

“Do you know who I am?” he spat, narrowing his eyes. “I’m her boyfriend, so she’s coming with me. Get the hint?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed just slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if Rhys' bravado amused him.

“Oh, I get the hint,” he replied smoothly, his tone laced with calm menace. “I just don’t care.”

Bucky took a half-step closer, his gaze never wavering, his voice dropping lower. “You heard her. Let. Go.”

Rhys' face twisted in fury, clearly not taking the hint. His grip tightened as he looked straight at you, tugging at your arm again with impatience.

"Let’s go, Y/N. Now.”

You winced, pulling against his hold, but he held firm, clearly too fueled by anger—and probably the alcohol coursing through his system—to let you walk away.

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he watched you struggle against Rhys’ grip. Without a second thought, he reached forward, his hand strong yet controlled as he pried Rhys’ fingers from your wrist, loosening his hold until your arm was free.

The tension thickened as Rhys’ gaze flicked down to his empty hand, his face contorting with anger. Before either of you could react, he swung, his fist connecting hard with Bucky’s jaw. The impact echoed, drawing the attention of people nearby who began to murmur and stare.

Bucky stumbled back a step, his hand reaching up to wipe the corner of his mouth, smearing the faint trace of blood there. He straightened, his expression calm but his eyes dark and intense. He smirked slightly, almost as if he found Rhys’ outburst… amusing.

“Really?” Bucky murmured, his tone cool, laced with disappointment that cut deeper than anger.

Rhys faltered, his confidence shaken as he met Bucky’s stare—cold, unwavering, and far from intimidated.

Bucky’s fingers flexed at his right side, and he took a half step forward, his eyes never leaving Rhys. The silence between them was charged, heavy with unspoken challenge, but before he could make a move, you gently wrapped your hand around his arm.

“Don’t,” you said softly, knowing Rhy won’t be able to handle what might come for him. “He’s not worth it.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted to you, his hardened expression softening just a fraction. He gave a slow nod, letting out a controlled breath as his shoulders relaxed. Then, without another word, he took a step back, keeping himself firmly between you and Rhys.

Rhys’s gaze darted around, finally noticing the crowd that had gathered, their eyes fixed on the tense scene unfolding before them. A few whispers and pointed glances pierced through his drunken haze, and he stiffened, the hint of embarrassment creeping over his face.

Realizing he was becoming the center of unwanted attention, Rhys clenched his jaw, reluctantly loosening his stance. He took a step back, throwing one last, heated look at you.

“This isn’t over, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl, but the threat was clear.

With that, he turned on his heel, brushing past the murmuring onlookers without a backward glance, his posture rigid with lingering anger and frustration. The tension in the air gradually lifted as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and Bucky standing together under the soft glow of the city lights.

Bucky turned back to you, his gaze immediately dropping to where you were rubbing your wrist. His eyes softened, and he reached out gently, his fingers brushing yours.

“Let me see,” he murmured, concern lacing his voice as he carefully held your wrist, examining it with a gentle touch that contrasted sharply with the earlier tension.

You offered a small, apologetic smile, averting your gaze. “I’m sorry… about all of that,” you said quietly. “You didn’t have to step in.”

Bucky’s grip was firm but reassuring as he looked back up, meeting your eyes.

“Don’t apologize for him. And trust me—I did.” His voice was stern, with a hint of quiet conviction, as if he wanted you to understand that he’d gladly do it again if he had to.

Your eyes drifted to the faint bruise forming on Bucky's jaw, the small cut on his lip that still bore a trace of blood. A pang of guilt tugged at you, even though you knew Rhys was the one responsible.

"Bucky…" you began softly, biting your lip. “Let me make it up to you. Come back to my place? I can at least clean that up,” you offered, gesturing to his split lip.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk breaking through. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

You shook your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Well, I want to,” you replied firmly. “So unless you’re planning to argue…”

“Alright, fine,” Bucky agreed, a slight chuckle escaping as he glanced at you.

You pulled out your phone, dialing your chauffeur, and after a brief exchange, arranged for him to meet you both outside. The evening air was crisp, a soft breeze tugging at the stray hairs framing your face as you stood beside Bucky, waiting.

Within minutes, the sleek car pulled up to the curb, and the driver stepped out, opening the door for you both. You slipped inside first, settling into the plush seat as Bucky joined you, still looking slightly amused at the unexpected turn of events.

× × × ×

You unlocked the door, stepping into your penthouse, the soft lights illuminating the modern, inviting space. Almost instantly, Figaro trotted over, his tail swishing elegantly behind him. He rubbed against your legs, his usual greeting… until his gaze landed on Bucky.

The cat stopped in his tracks, staring up at Bucky with wide eyes, almost as if he were thinking, What the…? Figaro let out a small, questioning chirp, his gaze shifting between you and Bucky with unmistakable suspicion, though a small part of him begrudgingly acknowledged, Well, he did have a decent ear-scratching technique last time.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Recognize me, don’t you?” he muttered under his breath, watching Figaro with a knowing look. It was hard to miss the cat’s distinctive tuxedo markings—after all, he’d seen this little troublemaker sneaking over to visit Alpine more than once.

Of course I recognize you, Figaro thought, his eyes narrowing in mild annoyance. Doesn’t mean I have to like you invading my domain.

Unbothered by Figaro’s scrutiny, you led Bucky into the kitchen, opening a drawer to pull out the first aid kit as Bucky settled onto a bar stool. Figaro followed, tail high in the air, but he seemed more fixated on Bucky than usual, his amber eyes narrowing as he watched Bucky’s every move.

“What’s up with you, Figaro?” you asked, casting the cat a puzzled look as you opened the first aid kit on the counter.

I’m keeping an eye on him, obviously, Figaro thought with a huff, not that I’m worried or anything…

But Figaro only responded by jumping onto the countertop—a rare move for him—and inching closer to Bucky with a loud, indignant meow, as if to say, What is this guy doing here?

Bucky chuckled, meeting Figaro’s glare with an amused smirk. “Got a little territorial streak, huh?” He looked back at you. “Pretty sure he doesn’t approve of my presence.”

You glanced between Bucky and Figaro, your brow furrowing in mild disbelief. “Figaro, honestly—what’s with the attitude?” you said, reaching over to give him a gentle scratch behind the ears, but his gaze never left Bucky.

It’s not attitude, Figaro thought, shooting Bucky one last narrowed look. It’s… quality control. You’ll thank me later.

Bucky raised his hands slightly, grinning. “If it makes you feel better, I’m just here for the first aid. Nothing permanent,” he joked, earning another disgruntled meow from Figaro, who continued his vigil from the counter, as if making sure Bucky knew he was being closely monitored.

You shook your head, rolling your eyes with a smile as you dabbed some antiseptic onto a cotton pad, preparing to tend to Bucky’s split lip. Meanwhile, Figaro stayed firmly planted on the counter, his tail twitching as he observed every move with a suspicious, almost possessive air, though a tiny part of him begrudgingly admitted that he didn’t entirely mind Bucky’s presence.

As you began to clean his lip, Bucky’s eyes subtly scanned the room, taking in the layout of your penthouse in that almost instinctive, assessing way. His gaze flicked from the sleek, modern furnishings to the well-organized shelves, noting details without appearing overly interested—a habit he couldn’t quite shake, even in settings like this.

Figaro, still perched on the counter, watched him with narrowed eyes. He let out a low, inquisitive meow, his head tilting slightly as if asking, What happened to your face?

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing at Figaro with a smirk. “Oh, so now you’re interested?”

You laughed, catching the exchange. “Figaro’s just keeping tabs on his guests. It’s not every day someone shows up with a busted lip.”

Figaro’s tail flicked, his gaze lingering on Bucky’s bruised jaw, as if silently judging him for somehow letting it happen. You call yourself a tough guy? his eyes seemed to say, a faint air of feline disapproval mixed with that begrudging interest he refused to admit.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. “Well, tell him not to worry. The other guy didn’t fare much better.”

Figaro gave a little snort of a meow, as if to say, Good. Keep it that way, before settling back, still keeping a close eye on Bucky’s every move as he took in the surroundings, each glance and observation not escaping Figaro’s watchful, judgmental gaze.

You dabbed at Bucky’s lip with a cotton swab, your face mere inches from his, he watched you with a soft intensity, a gaze that lingered, one where he couln't tear his eyes away. Figaro, keenly observant even when pretending to ignore things, narrowed his eyes, picking up on the subtle shift in Bucky’s expression. That soft, unwavering look—a look Figaro had seen before, usually directed at Alpine, but never this intense.

Oh, I see… Figaro thought, letting out a low, almost smug-sounding meow that echoed around the kitchen. You find my human. . . attractive don’t you?

Bucky shot a look at Figaro, brows furrowing, as though he could sense the cat’s amusement. Figaro’s tail flicked with a barely contained smugness, his gaze darting between you and Bucky like he’d stumbled upon a secret.

“Something you want to add, buddy?” Bucky muttered under his breath, his tone just low enough.

Hm. How about we settle on a deal? I will help you with her. You throw in a good word for me to your feline friend, okay? The cat only blinked back at him with that irritatingly all-knowing expression, like he was storing this little detail away for later teasing.

“Oh, he’s just nosy,” you chuckled, glancing over at Figaro, who was watching the two of you with an unmistakable gleam in his eye.

But as you returned your focus to Bucky, Figaro’s gaze lingered on the man, practically oozing feline judgment and, if Bucky had to guess, satisfaction. It was as if Figaro was thinking, Yeah, I caught you, and good luck hiding it.

“There,” you said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “All done.”

Bucky offered a small smile, his hand instinctively brushing his lip where you’d tended to the cut.

“Thanks,” he replied, glancing around before adding, “Mind if I…?” He gestured towards the open expanse of your penthouse.

“Go ahead,” you replied, moving to the bar area to fix a couple of drinks. As you started pouring, Bucky drifted towards a series of frames on the wall, his gaze lingering on one particularly large, formal portrait.

He pointed to the frame, glancing back at you. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

You followed his gaze, feeling a familiar, complicated tug at the sight of the photograph. “Oh, yeah… half-brother, actually. My mom’s the second wife.”

“I see,” he replied softly, still studying the image with an almost analytical eye. He seemed to pick up on the formality in the photograph—the perfectly arranged poses, the distance in everyone’s smiles.

Noticing his expression, you added, “Family photos tend to look like business headshots when your family’s… like mine.”

“Guessing ‘family time’ wasn’t exactly Friday night pizza and board games?” Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, nodding as he looked at you with a newfound understanding.

You laughed softly, handing him his drink. “Not exactly.”

As Bucky moved from one framed photo to the next, Figaro padded along right beside him, tail flicking as he matched Bucky’s steps with a slight swagger, casting sidelong glances up at him.

In his mind, Figaro couldn’t help but scrutinize Bucky’s every move. Are you here to get rid of that other guy for good? Because, frankly, I DO NOT like him. He flicked his tail with a sense of finality, as if his opinion were the only one that mattered. Just saying, he thought, staring up at Bucky with a silent, assessing look.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing down to find Figaro practically glued to his side, the cat’s wide, amber eyes watching him with a mix of expectation and judgment. For a brief second, it almost felt like the cat was evaluating him.

“Got something to say, Figaro?” Bucky murmured, giving the cat a curious look.

Figaro simply blinked back, his whiskers twitching in what could only be described as mild approval. Maybe, he thought, as he continued shadowing Bucky’s every step, we can be on the same side, after all.

Bucky paused mid-step, glancing down at Figaro, who was still trailing him like a loyal—albeit judgmental—shadow. He let out a soft chuckle, crouching down to the cat’s level.

“You’ve got quite the attitude, you know that?” he murmured, extending a cautious hand.

Figaro’s ears twitched as he considered the offering, giving Bucky a look that seemed to say, Finally, some respect. After a brief, regal pause, he leaned in, letting Bucky’s fingers brush over the soft fur on his head. “Guess we’re cool then,” Bucky muttered, scratching behind Figaro’s ears. Figaro’s eyes narrowed in pleasure, a low purr rumbling from his chest. He wasn’t about to admit it, but this arrangement suited him just fine. If you’re here to stay, soldier, at least you know who’s boss around here.

tags: @winchestert101 @lomlbuckybarnes @lveegsoi @itsshellzy @almosttoopizza

@aami98 @hextech-bros @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @infqnitysblog

@ayayaeyato @blackbirdwitch22 @mostlymarvelgirl @bohoooitsme @crdgn

@yiiiikesmish @jae0515 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @nikey-no-likey @aami98

@almosttoopizza @hextech-bros @wisteriaandwafers @yiiiikesmish @marvelavengerspovs1

@ppbhquinn @ziawbarnes @scott-loki-barnes @let-it-sn0o0ow

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wake-me-up-inside-imagines · 8 months ago

Note

Ok, I just read your sweet yandere post and would like to add something.

I love the idea of like a mafia boss yandere or someone who is usually cruel (like maybe a Hades sort of character) but is an absolute sweet heart to their darling. One of my fave tropes

OOOOOOH I LOVE THIS TROPE! I have a character who's just like this actually, a total sweetheart to whoever he's with but has a very low tolerance for most other people.

Sorry, this is a long one lol

I'm gonna make headcanons now because you've inspired me lol.

(Banner/divider credit goes to @cafekitsune)!

Tw: Kidnapping, mentions of violence

Mafia boss! Charlie who is no stranger to violence. He's lived his entire life surrounded by it, in fact. Having a mafia boss for a father will do that to you, he guesses.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's spent his whole life working for the mafia, being trained to kill, smuggle, and deal ever since he was a child. He grew up living a life of crime, rising up the ranks (thanks to his father), before taking over as the boss when his father was killed by an unruly client.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's a cruel, ruthless man. He's killed dozens of people, injured many more, and runs his organization with an iron fist. He may be young, but he's learned enough to know that any show of trust, any display of kindness is a show of weakness, a show of vulnerability. He can't afford that, not when he's the head of the mafia, so he makes sure to make it so that no one will question or challenge his authority by any means necessary.

Mafia boss! Charlie who has very few real friends, keeping those he does have at an arm's length. He'd rather die than admit that he craves real relationships, that he desires to make genuine, true connections with others. But he can't, so he pushes his wants to the side, reminding himself that his only purpose is to keep his business running smoothly, nothing more.

Until he sees you, that is.

Mafia boss! Charlie who meets you out on a grocery run one day. Your interaction is nothing special, at least to you, but Charlie can't help but marvel at how easily you make conversation with him while ringing up his items, how seemingly unfazed you are by his snappy attitude and unapproachable appearance. It's been a long, long time since he's met anyone unafraid of him, and those people are usually rivals who are too cocky for their own good. So this, this is new. He knows it's stupid, he knows that your tiny interaction shouldn't have mattered much to someone like him, but he can't help but feel giddy about the connection he's sure he felt.

Mafia boss! Charlie who, against his better judgment, wastes no time in trying to find out who you are. It's not hard, he has an entire organization full of trained trackers, stalkers, and informants at his disposal, and by the end of the day, he has your full name, address, social media accounts, family tree, medical records, and much more safely in his welcoming hands. He knows this is a bit overkill considering he only met you today and your interaction lasted five minutes at most, but now that he has a taste of real human interaction, he's addicted. He needs more.

Mafia boss! Charlie who quickly becomes awestruck and obsessed with you. His whole life, he's been surrounded by the craftiest, cruelest, most violent people imaginable, so to see someone, especially someone as precious as you, live a completely normal life, naive to the dangers he faces everyday? It's captivating! Of course, he can't follow you all day, he is a mafia boss after all, but he has enough people following you around and recording your every move that he doesn't need to! He's never been happier to be who his is than now.

Mafia boss! Charlie who thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. You're a sweet little thing, too gentle and too unaware of the dangers around you for your own good. He loves everything about you, no matter how weird or embarrassing. He's content to watch you carefully for a couple months, but as time goes on, his need to feel our touch, to talk to you, to see you face to face is too much. He needs you. He needs you NOW. It doesn't help that you're so vulnerable and weak compared to him, with no knowledge of weaponry or stealth to keep you safe. What if someone were to try and hurt you? Of course, his goons wouldn't let that happen, not if they wanted to keep their organs, but he would feel so much better if he could keep an eye on you personally. Not to mention, every mafia boss needs a spouse, and some of his higher ranking associates have been hinting that it's about time he found someone...

Mafia boss! Charlie who immediately starts planning your "transfer" to his house, meticulously drafting out every last detail to secure your safety. He chooses his best, most skilled employees to carry out his plan, only the best for his darling, and sends them out to bring you "home". That day you come home from work, completely unaware of the people in your apartment, completely unaware of the sleeping pills dumped into your water while you weren't looking.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's ecstatic to finally have you with him, to finally have someone to hold, to talk to, to love. He brings your unconscious body to your new room, laying you softly on the bed while instructing his employees to pack up all your belongings and bring them to him. He doesn't tie you down or chain you up, he has enough security measures in place to make sure you won't be able to escape. You won't even be able to leave your room without him being notified.

Mafia boss! Charlie who watches the camera in your room as you wake up for the first time in your new home, confused and disoriented. All of your stuff is here, but this is NOT your apartment. Where are you? He watches as you start to freak out, guilt flashing through him for the first time in his life. He doesn't want you to be scared, he just wants to keep you safe!

Mafia boss! Charlie who sends one of his gentler employees into your room to explain everything, too afraid of scaring you even further by showing up himself. He waits a few days before revealing himself to you, when your terror has calmed down and you've become more familiar with your surroundings. He kind of just stands there, unable to formulate a sentence, which is extremely unnerving to you. You've been told you're to be married to a highly respected and violent mafia boss, and here he is, just...staring. When he opens his mouth to speak, your surprised at how soft his voice is, calmly explaining to you that you're safe, you won't be hurt. He reaches out his hand to touch you, but recoils when you flinch, not wanting to push you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who does everything he can to make you more comfortable and less afraid of him, getting you anything and everything you've ever shown interest in, giving you as much space as you need, and letting you roam the rather large house freely. All you can't do is leave. He doesn't understand why you're still so scared, sure he's a criminal, but he promised he would never hurt you!

Mafia boss! Charlie who gets more desperate for your love as time goes on. He starts appearing in whatever room your in, softly talking to you about his day or about whatever you're doing, trying to get you to be more comfortable with him. Once you've gotten used to that, he starting slowly initiating physical contact, holding you in his arms like he's never going to let you go (because he won't). He tried his hardest not to push your boundaries, but eventually his need to be near you becomes too great. Rest assured though, he would never, ever dream of hurting you or purposely scaring you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who can't get enough of the feeling of your skin on his. He starts hugging/cuddling you whenever he can, holding you like you'll break if he presses too hard. He's always near you, cuddling up to you while telling you about how much he loves you, adoration shining in his eyes. He's the clingiest at night though, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall asleep, him watching over you until he succumbs to his own tiredness. And his kisses? They are the softest, fluffiest thing you've ever felt. He cannot get enough of your lips, and he always kisses you passionately, like you'll disappear once he separates from you. With how loving and gentle he is, it doesn't take long for you to start loving him back.

Mafia boss! Charlie who starts giving you more privileges the farther you fall into stockholm. He'll even start taking you out in public on dates once he thinks there's no chance of you trying to escape him. He'd be able to find you if you did, he has many, many connections, but he trusts you won't. He loves going out with you and doing normal, coupley things with you, it's a nice break from his usual, violent life.

Mafia boss! Charlie who is insanely protective of you, never leaving you alone in a room with anyone except for himself. He knows how dangerous it is to be associated with him and now that he has you, he refuses to let anything happen to you. Any rival who attempts to hurt, kill, or kidnap you is met with Charlie himself, who enacts the most brutal, torturous death he can possibly think of on them. Nobody will come close to hurting you, he'll make sure of it. But no matter what happens, he'll always make sure you're far, far away from the violence. He never wants to subject you to the horrors he's seen (and done).

Mafia boss! Charlie who feels awful the first time you hear him raise his voice. It wasn't at you of course, he would never, ever think of yelling at his darling, you just happened to be in the room when he was meeting with one of his associates. It's scary seeing him yell, threatening brutal acts of violence on his own employee, and for the first time you realize how different he is with others than he is with you. He's quick to shut the meeting down once he realizes you're there, spending the rest of the night apologizing to you and assuring you he would never speak to you like that. This'll be the first time he truly opens up about what his job is like and why he has to be as cruel as he is, trying to help you understand why he behaved the way he did. It's difficult for him to make himself vulnerable, but he'd gladly to it if it meant easing your mind. From then on, he makes absolute sure you aren't around whenever he has to take care of business. He refuses to let you see him like that ever again.

Mafia boss! Charlie who never lets you forget how much he needs you in his life. You're the only thing keeping him from devolving into insanity, he wouldn't know how to handle himself if you were gone. He'll give you everything and anything if you listen to him and stay by his side, so please... please don't try to leave him.

Not that you would be able to, anyway.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

Text

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut.

Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply.

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn��t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her.

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct.

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.”

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.”

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension.

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn’t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window.

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled.

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #ewan mitchell #michael gavey saltburn #satlburn michael gavey #saltburn #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #satlburn fan fiction #satlburn fan fic

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honeipie · 4 months ago

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the perfect present

izuku midoryia x fem!reader

synopsis: izuku midoryia. the number one hero, and your husband. his birthday is coming up and you have to find a present that suits him.

animated banners from @cafekitsune

w/c: 2.0k

“we all know that our favorite hero's birthday is swiftly approaching! so we’re all itching to know.. what are you getting your husband? i’m sure everyone is wondering how you deal with getting him a birthday present. i mean, the man can quite literally have anything he wants. people either give it to him or he can buy it with all the money he has from being a pro!"

it was your fault for thinking you could just go get a coffee in peace. especially around this time of year. ever since izuku had become number one people are starting to see izuku's birthday as a small holiday. they would have a small parade for him whether he decided to attend or not. though every year he did post out his humble thanks on social media.

you got into your car quickly shutting the door in the paparazzi's face. it wasn't the first time that this was being brought to your attention. from the first time izuku hit the ranks people have sent him elaborate gifts. from friends, family, and fans (lots and lots of fans) it stretched out from small handmade gifts to free week long vacations at the resort of his choosing. so yeah, there was a bit of pressure when giving him gifts. he'd always reassure you though that gifts from you were hands down his favorite.

though this year you wanted him to actually mean it. because last year you were sure that whoever gave him that extremely rare, limited addition all might figure beat you by a long shot. given it's displayed in his home office right next to your wedding picture.

it had taken you a while to really figure out what would mean the most to him in a gift, but you had finally figured it out. the only hard part was putting it all together in the short period of time.

---

"hm" izuku hummed rubbing his hands up and down your sides. a cheap paper birthday hat sitting crooked on his head "when can i open your gift?" he mumbled looking up at you. it was clear that he was slightly tipsy from the way his cheeks were dusted pink, and the fact that you had just told him the answer. you gently placed one hand on his cheek leaning in to give his nose a kiss.

"i told you baby. when they're finished outside" you smiled at his small pout and weak attempt to pull you in closer. you all had decided that it would be nice to have a get together centered around him. since it was just old friends, none of them cared about the proximity of you both.

five minutes had passed before the guys came in giving you a thumbs up.

"it's all set!" kirishima wrapped his arms around katsuki and kaminari who nodded in agreement.

"you sure you don't need help cleaning up y/n? we can stay" ochako offered already throwing things away along with the help of iida. you shook your head getting up from izuku's lap.

"no it's fine! you've already helped so much already" you said your goodbyes along with coaxing izuku to do the same. once they were all gone you shut the door and immediately felt a looming presence behind you. izuku wrapped his arms around your waist with a goofy smile.

"is it a sexy surprise? is that why they had to leave?" his hands roamed lower making you yelp with a giggle.

"izuku, no! it's not that kind of surprise" you turned and pulled away making him frown "but maybe you'll get that later. now c'mere" you grabbed his hand pulling him outside. he trailed behind you with curious eyes. though curiosity turned into confusion as he noticed what they had set up. it was an inflatable movie screen with a projector in front of it.

you guided him towards one of the couched you had in your backyard "take a seat and i'll explain" he nodded going to sit down as you brought the projector back then placed the computer in his lap "okay, so this is my gift to you. it's kind of like a little trivia game and you get rewards if you know that right answer. all of the answers will be numbers and when you get the number you click on the file that matches" you pointed to the computer full of files with different numbers. he noticed the piece of paper you were holding and decided to take a peek "so this is your first little question. how many students were there in class 1-A?"

"twenty" he said with no hesitation and went to find the file on the computer. a smile found its way onto his lips when he found it, but before he could click it, he noticed the weight shift on the couch. you were leaving. his hand instinctively went to grab yours "where are you going?"

you placed your hand over his "izuku this present is just for you. i promised i wouldn't look and you'll see why" you leaned in to place one last kiss on his cheek before walking back into the house to clean up. he watched as you walked inside but turned back to the computer. if this was how you wanted it to go then so be it. he clicked on the file which made the computer screen go dark.

"what the.." he mumbled trying to see if he broke it somehow, but his attention was quickly redirected when a video popped up on the inflatable screen and started to play.

familiar faces popped up on the screen with smiles as they waited for ochako to set the camera up just right.

“it’s perfect like that!”

“just make sure it doesn’t fall!”

“okay! okay!” she carefully stepped back into the group with a smile "three.. two.. one.."

"happy birthday deku!" his old class yelled in unison, ringing out against the cool night air. his breath caught in his throat as he looked around at the people he once went to school with and was now fighting alongside in the real world.

well, almost everyone.

"we just wanted to let you know how much we love and appreciate you!"

"you've done something special for every single one of us man. we wouldn't be the heroes we are today without you! stay manly!"

"agreed, thank you for everything you have done midoryia. we owe you" iida nodded firmly giving him a thumbs up. each one of them making sure to give their love before ochako grabbed the camera bringing it closer.

"we love you!" they all shouted before the video shut off.

crickets replaced the sound of their voices. he could feel the slight sting in his eyes which was an all too familiar feeling for him. his hand was quick to wipe them away before looking down at the next card.

how many kids have you saved?

how many people do you protect in japan every day?

what was your childhood apartment's number?

all might was which wielder for one for all?

each video held people that he cared about. all of them expressing their love for the green haired hero. the more files he opened, the closer he was to crying. though he wouldn't let himself, not yet. there were still two more that he needed to open.

how old were you when you met kacchan?

the mouse hovered under the 'five' file. he had forgiven him a long time ago, hell, he didn't even know if he was mad at him in the first place. it was only during the war where he expressed any type of emotion about their relationship.

a deep breath left his lips as he clicked on the file.

katsuki's face showed up on the screen looking softer than usual "this fuckin' thing.." he mumbled going to make sure it was recording "alright.. if you're watching this then it means it's your birthday, so happy birthday deku" he sighed scratching his head "when your wife asked me to do this i'm not going to lie i thought it was dumb way to stroke your ego, so i said no. but then i thought about it some more and realized that i'm the one with an ego not you. you've always been humble even after you were given the most powerful quirk on earth to date" katsuki shrugged as if they talked like this all the time "as much as i hate to say it, you've taught me things. whether i was willing to learn or not. if i were to say i am the hero i am today because of only myself that would be a lie. you helped show me what a genuine hero is.. so thanks you idiot" katsuki went to turn the camera off but then another video was clipped at the end "and if you tell anybody i said this to you i'll blow your damned brains out you got that you nerd!-" the video then stopped abruptly cutting off the number two hero.

hot tears ran down the man's freckled cheeks as the clip closed out. it had taken years of hard work, but it felt like there was something inside him that finally healed. izuku sniffled taking one of the tissues from the side table which you had left out for him. always so thoughtful.

after taking a moment to gather himself once more, he picked up the very last card.

how many carats is your wife's ring? (which you did an amzing job picking by the way)

he chuckled at your little note beside it before clicking on the very last file. your face popped up on the screen with your bright smile right in the camera.

"oh! sorry if there's anything in my nose. i didn't check before this started" he laughed watching as you went to back up. you sat down on the couch of your shared living room. he couldn't help but admire you sitting there. he remembers when the two of you first bought the house. going from store to store to pick out the most perfect decorations that would satisfy both of your tastes. even though he said he was happy with whatever you loved.

"hi my love, and happy birthday. i hope you liked this little gift i put together for you. i know it's not some impromptu vacation, but i hope you enjoyed it at least a little bit. i guess my video is just going to be a repeat of what you already know. just that i love you and i am so so proud of you not only as a hero but as a person. i know how hard it is for you to ask for help sometimes, so just the fact that you feel comfortable with me is enough. you've come so far from all that you've endured in high school til now. i hope you had an amazing birthday izuku midoryia. i love you!" you blew a kiss to the camera before going to shut it off.

izuku let out a shutter of a laugh, that quickly turned into a cry. though these weren't tears of sadness, but the absolute opposite. he stood up and made his way back into the house. you had just finished wiping down the dining room table and felt him before you saw him. two big arms wrapped around your torso. a rather familiar feeling that you hoped you would never forget. you should feel a slight shake to his body which had you turning around.

tears could be seen streaming down the man's face but he didn't have an ounce of shame. you grabbed the bottom of your shirt going to wipe them off but he didn't give you a chance. his arms pulled you into a tight hug. one hand resting on the middle of your back the other on the back of your head. you wrapped your arms around him head laying on his chest.

and the two of you stood there. izuku's quiet cries being the only noise that filled your living room.

he needed this.

you didn't know how long it had been before he spoke up, but it really didn't matter.

"thank you.." he whispered out giving you one last squeeze. you pulled away ignoring the newfound wetness on your sleeve.

"of course izu. happy birthday"

#honeipie #anime #bnha x reader #mha #x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #izuku midoryia x you #bnha izuku #mha izuku #my hero academia #HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY MANNNNNN #izuku’s birthday!!!

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ohe-ohe · 4 days ago

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Linemates to Lifemates: A Hockey Love Story

Newlywed PWHL stars Laura Stacey and Marie-Philip Poulin navigate the complications of marriage and career

By Devin Heroux, CBC Sports, Nov. 21, 2024

When you walk into the Montreal home of Marie-Philip Poulin and Laura Stacey, one of the first things you’ll notice is that there’s not much to suggest the couple are two of the greatest hockey players in the world today.

They aren’t the type of people to boast about their long list of achievements.

Their two-storey abode, with a spiraling glass staircase, is tucked on a quiet suburban street, located off-island away from the hustle and bustle of downtown. Purchased three years ago, it’s the perfect place to keep a low profile.

There are no trophies, plaques or medals on display that showcase the Olympic and world championships they’ve collected. No photos or banners of their hockey triumphs. Those are reserved for Arlo, a golden retriever that is their pride and joy.

There’s an Arlo treat jar. An Arlo candle. At their wedding in late September the napkins at each table were adorned with Arlo photos. He features prominently on their social media

Their home, in many ways, resembles how these newlyweds and PWHL Montreal Victoire teammates have lived their lives. They’ve been intentional about hiding from the spotlight, hiding their love, and hiding the most intimate parts of their lives.

Over the past year that’s started to change.

[whole article below]

Sitting in their living room on an October afternoon just before they begin training camp for a second season, the two share what this has all been like, including now being part of a true pro women’s hockey league, something they wondered and many before them wondered would ever happen in their lifetime.

“Being able to say we're professional women's hockey players, it's pretty amazing,” Poulin says. “And seeing little girls wanting to be there one day is better than we ever expected. And we don't take it for granted.”

Nor do they take for granted the freedom they have to live their lives as they wish.

“This is probably the most myself I've ever been,” Poulin says. “Being myself, having the community, family and friends embracing me, embracing us, embracing this new team. And it doesn't matter who you love, it's who you are. And I think that's the best part about it.”

It hasn’t been easy for many who have come before them. Twenty-six years ago in Nagano when women’s hockey debuted as an official Olympic sport, some media coverage focused more on the sexual orientation of the players than the competition.

But relationships among athletes are slowly gaining a normality in women’s pro sports. In 2021, married couple Allie Quigley and Courtney Vandersloot won a WNBA championship with the Chicago Sky, and they are just one of many couples in the league.

Women’s sports is undergoing a transformative expansion — new leagues, more money and investment, increased media coverage — and the story of teammates as couples is only going to become more common.

“I've always been the hockey player. But I have a wife and I can be myself. People are coming to the rink and saying thank you for allowing me to be myself,” Poulin says.

Stoic and composed in a hockey arena, Poulin’s eyes well up as she talks about their September wedding. Stacey sits beside her, Arlo on the couch. Tears are streaming down Poulin's cheeks and she hides her face under her black ball cap.

“She’s a crier,” Stacey says, rubbing her hand along Poulin’s back, filling the space between tears as Poulin tries to compose herself.

Poulin, 33, has kept who she really is buried for years, shoved away in the depths of all that she is. She was only going to let people know her as this great hockey player who comes up clutch in the biggest moments.

Poulin is the only hockey player in history to have scored in four Olympic gold-medal games. Her heroics in the 2014 Olympic final — tying the game with a late goal and then winning it in overtime against the United States to capture gold — put her in a category all by herself. She’s been seemingly unstoppable for years.

Stacey, 30, found a way to break through that tough exterior, to strike at the heart of all the things that matter to Poulin.

“She puts up that front of, ‘I'm the hockey player’. That's all people see and have seen of her,” Stacey says. “The world knows her as the best hockey player in the world, but they don't know her as the best person in the world as well.

“And I've been fortunate enough to see that but now for the world to see that too, it's pretty special.”

If Poulin has helped make Stacey a better hockey player, Stacey has assisted Poulin in living her most authentic life.

And in a lot of ways, they have become bigger than the game.

Their late-September wedding at Le Peaches and Cream in Low, Que., is described by many of the 192 family members and friends who were in attendance as the perfect day. Poulin and Stacey both call it “the best day of their lives” — an epic celebration of life and love, the culmination of a relationship that began in 2017 when they locked eyes while swimming at a Team Canada event at Blue Mountain in southern Ontario.

Stacey had just competed in her first world championship, Poulin a decorated champion many times over. They were teammates, but they didn’t really know a lot about one another.

“A few of us decided to go skinny dipping in the pool at 2 a.m.” Stacey says. “The two of us looked up into the sky at the same time and we saw a shooting star. Our eyes met and we asked each other if we just saw that. Nobody else in the pool saw it or knew what was going on but we saw it. For the rest of that night it was a weird feeling. I had a feeling.

“We always go back to that moment. Even in my wedding vows, that was the thing — that she was the wish I had always dreamed of and I didn’t realize it until now.”

Poulin, who’s happy to take a backseat to Stacey’s storytelling, jumps in.

“You should have seen the skyline the weekend of our wedding. It was so bright and magical. Stars everywhere. I believe in those little signs,” she says.

It was an idyllic setting for the two to share their vows, with vibrant, fall-coloured trees, expansive fields of lush green grass and breathtaking sunsets surrounding a barn-like building. There was a fire pit too, and on the eve of the big day, all of their friends gathered around the flames, sharing stories, drinks and laughs.

The crescendo came during the late-night dance party, when Poulin and Stacey had changed out of their stunning white dresses and into matching white pant suits, joyously leaping around to Celine Dion’s It's All Coming Back to Me Now.

With everyone surrounding them in a big circle, Poulin and Stacey jumped up and down, shouting, smiling. “Baby, baby, baby,” they sang, swept away in a moment that quickly went viral on social media.

It’s pretty remarkable considering Poulin and Stacey are the last of a generation that had to play on all-boys teams.

“I dreamed of playing for the Leafs because that’s all I knew. And that wasn’t possible but it’s the only thing I saw,” Stacey says.

No longer. They are now what young girls see — Olympic champions as teammates in 2022, twice as world champions — and working toward a championship as linemates on the Montreal Victoire.

Before they were even in this position the two had to navigate free agency ahead of the new beginning for the PWHL.

All six teams were able to select three players ahead of the league’s inaugural player draft on Sept. 18, 2023. Hometown hero Poulin was always going to Montreal — that was never in question. But would her then-fiancee and national teammate also be part of that deal?

And that was just it. Poulin and Stacey made it very clear throughout the entire process they were not a package deal — and didn’t want to be considered one.

“It was really, really hard on me,” Stacey says. “I had conversations with all of the GMs and stated that I'm only coming or only want to be drafted by you if you actually want me as a person and a player.

“Obviously there's always those thoughts that go through your head that they're only taking me or they're only asking me to sign early because they want her.”

Stacey even considered skipping free agency just so that she’d be part of a draft and not have to endure being favoured because she was Poulin’s partner.

“We did have those hard conversations, the two of us sitting here and seeing what was going to happen,” Poulin says. “There was no package deal. And that was something that we take a lot of pride in. I'm myself, she's herself.”

Enter Montreal Victoire general manager Danièle Sauvageau. She’s been part of women’s hockey for decades and was head coach when Canada’s women won gold at the 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics.

Sauvageau was deliberate in making sure Stacey and Poulin were treated like two separate players, with separate conversations with each.

“For me it was important that the choice was made individually,” Sauvageau says. “Is she going to think we value her because of the context of her private life? We had to ask that question. I wanted to do the exercise to show her that wasn’t the reason. I wanted to sign her.”

Sauvageau says their decision to pick Poulin and goalie Ann-Renée Desbiens was easy, but choosing their third and final free agent was a process. They had a five-player wishlist. Stacey was on that list — and they weren’t going to roll the dice on missing out on her.

“When you look at Stacey the last two or three years — the best line of Team Canada — she never gives up," Sauvageau says. “She brings a lot of energy. She’s a student of the game.

“We just didn’t want to lose her.”

Inside their home there’s a warmth and vulnerability the two share. But at the rink, it couldn’t be more different. Home is family. The rink is work.

“You're not going to see us fight or argue. We know it's business and we know we're going to get the best out of each other,” Poulin says. “When we train, we do our work. It's not about us being lovey dovey. It's us getting better, making people around us better.”

They have had to figure out how to give each other constructive criticism and feedback after their games — it’s still a work in progress.

“The first couple of games it was like, how do we do this?” Stacey says. “Do we just talk about it in the car? And then when we get home it's over? And I don't think that worked that well because I know for myself I just can't get over things that quickly.”

“So we did a lot of detours on the way home,” Poulin says, and they both laugh.

“We just kept driving. We just kept driving,” Stacey says.

Jill Saulnier, their teammate at the Beijing Olympics who plays for the New York Sirens, has been practising with the pair in Montreal ahead of the new PWHL season. During an unrelenting two-hour practice on a Thursday morning at the historic Verdun Auditorium, which is the training facility for Montreal, Saulnier is doggedly keeping up with her two best friends in dryland training and on the ice.

“They come to the rink. They’re married. It’s our job and it’s all business for them,” Saulnier says. “They’re able to separate the craziness.”

“I’ve known both of them for 15 years and they were wonderful individuals when I met them and they’re even more wonderful together. I feel that’s such a testament to a powerful relationship."

Erin Ambrose has also played alongside the two of them for years on the national team — and is getting ready to be their teammate on La Victoire for a second season.

“As their teammate and friend, if there’s ever been an issue you’d never know it,” Ambrose says. “It’s heartwarming to see two people lift each other up and genuinely two of the best people you could have in your life.”

Caroline Ouellette knows perhaps better than anyone how tricky it can be to find a balance between being in love and playing the game you love.

She won four Olympic gold medals and a handful of world championship titles with Team Canada between 1999 and 2018, victories that came at the expense of her American partner and now wife, Julie Chu, who starred for Team USA.

For Ouellette it was a question of legitimacy. She was scarred from the coverage at the 1998 Nagano Olympics when women’s hockey made its debut. She still vividly recalls a newspaper highlighting the sexual orientation of the women playing at those Olympics.

“It was front page in Quebec — a sexual orientation that makes people talk — that’s what it was about. The whole article was about maybe there being relationships on the team, maybe with the coach and players. It was so hurtful and negative to the game,” she says. “It was shocking and disappointing.

“It silenced me for years. I took the approach that it wasn’t going to overshadow the performance on the ice.”

For Ouelette it was less about people knowing her and Chu were together and more about keeping the focus on the talent on the ice.

“For me, I still felt I could be myself and be who I was with Julie. I think a lot of the media knew we were together and I’m grateful they didn’t make it something,” Ouellette says.

A lot changed for Ouellette and Chu in 2017 when they celebrated the birth of their daughter, Liv. For Ouelette, it was because there was no hiding anymore.

“We won the Clarkson Cup in 2017 with Liv in my belly. I thought that this was the coolest thing ever and I wanted to win that Cup so badly because I wanted to say we won with too many players on the ice,” she says with a laugh.

Ouellette was ready to share all the parts of her life and fully understands this place Stacey and Poulin have arrived at.

“They complete each other,” she says.

All of this almost never happened.

Six years ago Poulin’s and Stacey’s relationship was on again, off again as they, like many young couples, struggled with the decision of whether they wanted to be together. Poulin had just returned from the 2018 Olympics in Pyeongchang and was devastated after losing to the Americans in the final. She says it was one of the darkest points of her life.

“I felt like I let the entire country down,” she remembers. “I was one of the leaders. You take everything on your shoulders. I didn't want to see anybody and I was just really on my own.”

She sat in that sadness for weeks, but the Humboldt Broncos bus crash in April 2018, when 16 members of a junior hockey organization were killed, shook her to her core.

“You see parents losing their kids, kids losing their parents. I'm here in my bed and people lost their lives and I'm going to cry over a silver medal?” Poulin says. “That moment switched my perspective. That silver medal probably made me way better. It taught me that when there's hard moments, you get back up.”

That fall, Poulin and Stacey were playing on separate teams in the CWHL, the precursor to the NWHL, Poulin a member of Les Canadiennes and Stacey with the Markham Thunder.

“There was a lot. This is complicated. She was in Montreal. I was in Toronto. We were national teammates. We just stopped talking. I was not talking to her. I was good and ready to move on,” Stacey says.

Poulin wasn’t.

On Oct. 20, they found themselves lined up on opposite ends of the rink. Poulin’s Montreal team beat Stacey’s Thunder 5-1, and in a bold move, Poulin followed Stacey’s team bus back to her hotel after the game.

Poulin sent a text, imploring her to come out to her car to talk.

“She was serious,” Stacey says. “I didn’t know what to tell my roommate. I lied and said I needed to go see my family or something like that.”

Poulin finally convinced her to go for dinner, and the two now use that day as their anniversary.

And while there are many more championships the pair want to collect, they’re also starting to think about what could be next.

That’s where Arlo has picked up the assist.

“Ifwe have a bad practice or bad game, when we come home Arlo does not care. He's going to love us till the very end. And what's not to love about him?” Stacey says. “I think that's just opened our eyes to having a family and growing our family.”

“We've talked about having kids as part of our next project. We love kids. We have friends with kids and we love it. And honestly, it will be the next project for sure,” Poulin says.

There’s a practical part of that conversation — that one of them would have to take a backseat, at least for a bit, to their athletic career.

“And it's going to be interesting for us — two female athletes navigating how to have kids, when to have kids. It's definitely going to take some thought, some planning because it is brand new to us and it's brand new to a lot of people too,” Stacey says.

#long one! good one!#mpp #marie philip poulin #laura stacey #pwhl #pwhl montreal #victoire #montreal victoire #woho #canwnt hockey

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rubyreduji · 1 year ago

Text

of boobs and basses — ljh

summary: jihoon gets to meet his favorite rockstar, things only go up from there

tags: smut (minors dni!), fluff, idol!woozi, rockstar!reader warnings: smoking, explicit sex, multiple smut scenes, multiple orgasms, praise, fingering, biting and marking, oral, cum swallowing, finger sucking, spanking, hair pulling, creampie, crying, choking, squirting, over stimulation wc: 13.3k an: yes the reader and her band are based off of maneskin and vic de angelis. yes there is plot (but also a fair amount of smut ok). yes i love the banner thank you for noticing. here’s the playlist for this fic

Jihoon hates flying. Not because he hates traveling or because he’s afraid of heights, no he just finds it boring. Luckily he has WiFi and he can put his headphones on and sleep through the flight.

He’s sitting next to Seokmin who seems just as restless as Jihoon is, though Jihoon is a bit better at covering it up.

“Hyung, what are you listening to?” Seokmin leans over to try and look at Jihoon’s phone. His phone displays that he’s listening to Backseat Sex by LADYKILLER. “Oh, that’s the band with that girl you’re obsessed with. The one with the boobs.”

The words out of Seokmin’s mouth make Jihoon blush and he snatches his phone away. Seokmin isn't exactly wrong though.

Y/N L/N. Bassist for the rock band LADYKILLER. Jihoon may have a giant crush on you.

You and your band are well known for your ‘edgy’ image and your sexual stage presence. It’s not uncommon to see you on stage sporting nothing but pasties and a fishnet top. Sometimes no pasties at all. It seems these days he can’t even go on Twitter without seeing clips of you performing on stage topless, not that Jihoon minds.

That’s not why Jihoon has a crush on you though. You write most of your band’s songs, and to Jihoon nothing is more attractive than someone who understands music. You also just seem like a cool person, based off of interviews you’ve done and your fan interaction Jihoon has seen on social media. The way you handle fame is very different from how idols do, he likes seeing how free you are with your self expression.

Your music isn’t normally something Jihoon would like, but he saw one of your guys’ performances on Twitter and has been hooked since. Your stage presence is incredible and the chemistry of your group adds to that.

“Hyung this music is really…intense,” Seokmin says to Jihoon. Jihoon isn’t sure how much time has passed since Seokmin last spoke to him but when Jihoon looks over he can see that Seokmin has his earbuds in, listening to one of your songs.

Ex-Fling, off of your Razor Sharp Rampage album. It’s one of Jihoon’s favorite albums.

“You really enjoy this stuff?” Seokmin asks.

Jihoon flushes a bit, “Yeah. Their lyrics are good.”

Seokmin gives him a skeptical look. “If you say so, hyung.”

As soon as the plane lands in New York, the boys are swept away to the Radio City Music Hall. The VMAs aren’t until tomorrow, but Seventeen is scheduled to do their rehearsals today.

“You guys are a bit early, so you can just wait around and we’ll call you when we’re ready,” one of the stage managers tells the group before running off.

The boys break off to go kill some time but Jihoon stays backstage, watching the way everyone runs around getting things ready. Jihoon’s eyes scan the area around him, looking to see who else is performing tomorrow night. He sees mostly backstage hands until his eyes land on one certain person and Jihoon feels his jaw drop a bit.

This cannot be real.

Jihoon feels like he can’t breathe. This has to be some kind of hallucination or something because there is no way this is actually happening to him.

Y/N L/N. Twenty feet away from him. Dressed in cut off shorts and a tank top. Jihoon’s mouth goes dry.

He’s not sure why he’s so surprised. This is one of the biggest music events in America, and you are a popular American musician. Still, even if he was expecting you to be here, he didn’t expect you to be here. In the same vicinity as him. Even thinking about it makes Jihoon’s ears turn red. He feels like a flustered school boy again.

He was just talking about you to Seokmin and now here you are, right in front of him, looking like a dream. Jihoon gets embarrassed just thinking about how many times he’s stared at photos and videos of you.

You turn in the direction Jihoon is standing and your eyes light up when you see him. You start to walk towards him and Jihoon can feel his heart thumping in his skull. Surely you’re not walking over to him.

“Oh my god, you’re Woozi!”

You know who he is. Jihoon wants to pass out.

“I’m a fan of your work. I’m not usually a big K-Pop fan, but I like your stuff. Especially the solo you put out. Ruby? That was sick,” you tell him. “Sorry, I’m Y/N. Bassist for LADYKILLER.”

“I-I know,” Jihoon says. He’s thankful Vernon has been helping him brush up on his English. Too bad Vernon can’t help him with how shaky his voice sounds. “I’m also a fan.”

This seems to shock you a bit and an intrigued look crosses your face. “Oh yeah? That’s cool to hear.”

“Y/N! Come on, we’ve got soundchecks!” Jihoon looks over to see one of your bandmates (Tommy, the drummer) calling for you. A bit of dejection fills Jihoon. He wanted to talk with you more.

“Ah, sorry Woozi. It was nice meeting you. I’ll see you later!” You wave goodbye to the idol before running off towards Tommy. It isn’t until you’re out of sight that Jihoon realizes he didn’t say bye back.

“Jihoon-ah! Where have you been?” His members bombard him when he finds them waiting in a green room.

“I-I think I just met the love of my life,” Jihoon mutters.

Everyone looks at him a bit incredulously. It’s Seungcheol who finally speaks up. “What do you mean Jihoon?”

“She’s here, and I talked to her. Y/N.” Jihoon feels like he’s in a trance.

“Yo, from LADYKILLER? I love that band!” It’s Vernon who says this. Of course Vernon likes the rock band with the hot bassist who’s boobs are always on display. That’s so Vernon.

“The girl who’s always showing off her tits?” Soonyoung asks. They’d get canceled so fast if the Carats heard them talking like this.

“Stop saying that about her!” Jihoon’s face is probably red as a tomato right now.

“Is it…not the truth?”

“What girl is showing off her boobs?”

Jihoon wants to curl up in a ball and die.

“Jihoon-hyung has a crush on the bassist from the rock band LADYKILLER. Y/N L/N. Her band does a lot of nude stuff,” Vernon finally explains. “Their music is sick as fuck, but probably not in any of your guys’ taste.”

“She’s so pretty,” Jihoon mumbles.

“I hope I get to meet them too,” Vernon says. “James is so cool.” James. The guitarist. Jihoon thinks that he would get along well with Vernon.

The other members are all still staring at Jihoon and he wishes they would stop. Yes, he has a crush on a girl who is always topless. Can they please move on.

As if saved by the bell, a voice comes on one of the speakers.

“Seventeen please report to the stage. Seventeen please report to the stage.”

The boys all move to get to the stage, right as your band is finishing up. You wave at Jihoon when you see them approaching and shoot him a wink before following your band off the stage. And yeah, that definitely does things to Jihoon.

For the rest of the day and into the next Jihoon can’t stop thinking about you. He spends his whole night rewatching every one of your music videos, every interview you’ve done, and all the videos Jihoon has saved of your performances from when you were on tour last year. He might have an obsession.

Jihoon would probably have spent the whole morning doing the same too if he wasn’t taken to get ready for the award show. When the group gets to the venue they’re bombarded with cameras but once they get past those they are able to take their seats. Jihoon’s eyes scan the area quickly to see if he can spot your band, but he comes up short.

Soon the actual award show is starting and Jihoon doesn’t pay much attention to most of the awards, other than clapping when he should and noticing a few of his favorite artists when they come up in nominations or when they do their acceptance speeches.

When the time comes Jihoon gets up and goes backstage before their performance. He gets mic'd and then they’re being lined up to go out on stage. As much as Jihoon loves performing, he always finds it a bit strange to perform for people who aren’t Carats.

Jihoon does know that there is one Carat in the audience, so he dedicates his performance to you. The song goes too quickly for Jihoon’s liking and he thinks about how he can’t wait to be on stage with Carats again as soon as he can.

After their performance a few more awards are given, and Seventeen wins the award for the Best K-Pop and Joshua does all of the taking, as per usual.

Jihoon’s focus is lost again, until the announcer says a band name catches his attention.

“Next up to the stage with their hit single ‘Bruised Knees’: LADYKILLER!” The lights on the stage come up to reveal your band standing there.

Jihoon feels like a bit of a pervert from the way his cock twitches in his pants the second he lays eyes on you. You’re dressed in shiny black thigh high boots, a pleated mini skirt with a few chains and belts over it, and a button up shirt that only covers your shoulders and arms. Necklaces adorn your neck and dip down between your breasts that are out in the open. The only thing conserving any of your modesty is the silver star-shaped covers on your nipples.

Attached to your body is your iconic bass guitar. It’s sleek in a dark blue color. The rest of your band gifted it to you right before your first tour. You look good with it. If Jihoon is being honest you look like sex on a stick and he’s doing everything in his power not to pop a boner right now.

You have a smirk on your face and Jihoon swears you’re staring directly at him. You continue to stare at Jihoon throughout the whole song, which is about rough sex and giving head, like most of LADYKILLER’s songs are about. The songs that you write.

The special thing about your song ‘Bruised Knees’ is that it’s sung by your lead singer, Luka, but also you, with you singing the second verse and the bridge and sharing the chorus with Luka. The rasp in your voice goes straight to Jihoon’s cock and he really hopes that you (or anyone else) can’t notice.

You usually do backing vocals on the songs, but it’s rare for you to get your own part of the song and maybe Jihoon is biased but he definitely thinks you should sing more. Or maybe not because it’s really turning Jihoon on and he is in public and has a reputation to upkeep.

When you’re done with your song you wink at Jihoon again and yeah, Jihoon really is screwed because how is it possible someone can look so good.

By the end of the night your band wins both Best Alternative and Group of the Year. During both of your acceptance speeches Jihoon can’t pull his eyes away from you or the grin you have on your face.

When the award ceremony finally ends everyone is left to mingle. Most of Seventeen goes to greet some of the other K-Pop groups in attendance, but before Jihoon can join them, you’re approaching him with James in tow.

“Hey Woozi! Congrats on your award. This is my bandmate, James, he was wondering if he could meet Vernon?”

Before Jihoon can even respond, Vernon pipes up from behind him. “Yo! You’re James from LADYKILLER! Huge fan of your work man!” Vernon and James quickly engage in a conversation and Jihoon thinks it’s a little funny how similar the two are.

“Your performance was very good,” Jihoon tells you.

“Oh, wow, thanks! You guys too! I’ve seen videos of you guys performing, but seeing it live is a whole new experience. You guys are amazing.”

“Says the winner of Group of the Year.”

You scoff a bit embarrassed. You decide to change the topic. “Are you guys going to the after party?”

“After party?”

“Yeah. It’s basically an excuse for a bunch of musicians to get drunk together and do stupid shit. I’m only going because Tommy wanted to, but it would be cool to see you there. Your whole group too. No big deal if you don’t, but it would be nice to talk more.”

“Ah, yeah, maybe,” Jihoon says. He says maybe but he has already made up his mind that he is going to be there, even if he has to drag Vernon to go with him. There is no way he’s going to miss out on a chance to talk to you.

Vernon doesn’t take any dragging as he happily accepts to join, as it’s more chance for him to talk to the rest of your band. Joshua also decides to tag along with the promise to Seungcheol that no one’s going to get into any trouble.

Once inside the building, it’s clear this is a full on party. The air smells like alcohol and a wide variety of celebrities stand around talking to each other or dancing to the music. It doesn’t take long for James to find Jihoon, Vernon, and Joshua.

He shoots a smirk at Jihoon before telling him, “Y/N’s out on the balcony if you want to find her.” With that he leaves with Vernon and Joshua in tow.

Jihoon isn’t sure how to take the interaction and if James is giving him a hint or not. Either way Jihoon slips through all of the bodies in the room before finding his way to the balcony. There are a few people milling around but it isn’t hard to find you.

You’re still in your outfit from earlier and you’re standing talking to another guy who’s very close to you. A cigarette is placed between your fingers and Jihoon stares as you wrap your lips around it to take a drag. The way the smoke leaves your lips and blows into the guy’s face is…quite sexy to Jihoon.

Your eyes flit away from the guy for a second and land on Jihoon. Your face lights up as soon as you see him and you quickly leave the guy to approach Jihoon.

“Woozi! You came!” You smell like cigarette smoke and perfume and Jihoon has never been super into smoking, but the smell is intoxicating coming off of you.

“Jihoon,” Jihoon blurts out.

“What?”

“Call me Jihoon, please.”

You grin. “Okay Jihoon. Are you here alone?”

“Vernon and Joshua are here, but they’re talking to your band.”

“Ah, I see. Well then I guess you’re stuck here with me.” You send him a teasing smirk before taking another drag of your cigarette. The guy you were talking to earlier seems to realize you’re done with him and he shoots a glare at Jihoon before walking back into the building.

You lean against the railing of the balcony and look at Jihoon with a sultry look. You look so damn good right now in your stage outfit with your cigarette placed between your fingers and the moonlight shining down on you. Jihoon is glad he’s outside because he’s already having trouble breathing and he’s sure it would be worse inside.

“So Jihoon,” you reach to grab his wrist and pull him closer, “what’s a big time K-Pop idol like you doing liking a nasty band like mine?” His skin tingles under the touch of your warm hand against his wrist and he wants to remember this feeling forever.

“I uhm…” Jihoon’s face is hot as he tries to figure out what to say to you. “I saw a video of you guys performing and I enjoyed it. I enjoy how you write all of your songs.”

“Oh? What video was it?” There’s a teasing tone to your voice and Jihoon knows what you’re insinuating. Yes, the video he watched did include you topless. But he swears that wasn’t what interested him. Before he can sputter out an answer, you laugh. “I’m teasing you. I’m well aware of the…allure of my band.”

Jihoon wants to tell you that he thinks you’re more than just all of the sex appeal but before he can form the words he gets distracted. You’re staring at him intently, your eyes focused on his face.

“Y/N?”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Jihoon nods. “It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I kind of have a crush on you.”

Jihoon freezes. Did he hear that right? You, Y/N L/N, have a crush on Jihoon?

“Ah, I knew that was weird to admit,” you mumble after Jihoon doesn’t respond.

“No, no, I have a crush on you too!” Jihoon blurts out.

“O-oh!”

“I’ve been so nervous every time you’ve talked to me,” Jihoon tells you. He’s still nervous. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.

“That’s…so flattering, oh my god. You’re just so talented and cool and pretty. You’re so pretty,” you say.

Jihoon grins. “I think you’re prettier.”

“I- I like that,” you whisper. “I’m really only called hot or sexy, so pretty is nice.”

“You’re beautiful to me Y/N.” Jihoon reaches out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. “I think I’m going to die if I don’t kiss you right now.”

You quickly stub out your cigarette before grabbing Jihoon’s hand. “Not here.”

You pull him back inside and you two weave between people before going deeper into the building, away from the crowd. You and Jihoon find an empty hallway and you stop and face Jihoon. His hand is still clamped together with yours as you two stare at each other.

“You can uh, you can kiss me now,” you tell him in a soft voice.

“Okay.”

Jihoon hesitates, just for a second, before leaning in and capturing your lips with his. Jihoon swears that sparks fly the second your lips touch. The kiss starts out gentle but quickly becomes heated and Jihoon pushes you up against the wall, making you let out a low moan into Jihoon’s mouth.

Your fingers bury into the hair at the nape of Jihoon’s neck and you pull him closer. Your bodies are warm as they’re pressed together and Jihoon’s hands run all over your stomach, relishing in the feeling of your warm skin under his fingertips.

Jihoon swipes his tongue against your lips and you open up, letting Jihoon lick into your mouth. Your fingers tighten around Jihoon’s hair, pulling a bit, as you let out small whines from the back of your throat.

Jihoon isn’t usually one for hook-ups, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely inexperienced. He slots his knee between your legs and you automatically grind down against him. Jihoon can already feel the heat of your cunt against his leg and his cock stirs in his pants.

You two break away the kiss. You’re panting but Jihoon doesn’t take a break, leaning in to kiss at your neck. He sucks at the skin, trailing down your neck until your barrage of necklaces stops him. His hands slide up your torso to your exposed chest and he cups your tits. Jihoon kneads at your chest and you let out a soft sigh.

“How many times have you gotten off to pictures of my tits?”

Jihoon takes a shaky breath, “Too many times to count.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” you mumble. Your hips are still grinding down against his leg and Jihoon is sure his pant leg is wet by now. “Jihoon, I need you.”

Jihoon's cock is hard in his pants and he doesn't think he's ever been so needy before. Just as Jihoon is about to pull his cock out, his phone rings. Jihoon grabs his phone to dismiss the call, but then he sees it's from Joshua, along with about two dozen texts.

Jihoon groans and picks up the call. "What?"

"Where are you? Seungcheol says our manager is looking for us, we gotta get back right now."

"Right now?"

"Yes. Meet us at the front and if you're not there in three minutes I'm hunting you down."

The phone call ends and Jihoon sighs.

"Ah, you have to leave, don't you?" You ask.

"Yeah."

You look sad for a moment before you perk up. "How long are you guys in town?"

"A few more days. This is kind of a vacation for us."

"Great! Here." You grab Jihoon's phone out of his hand and quickly type something. "That's my number. Maybe we can meet up later in the week. Since you're blue balling me right now," you tease.

"Y-yeah, okay."

"See you later Jihoon." You press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jihoon bids you goodbye and makes his way to the front of the building, hoping Joshua and Vernon don’t notice the straining bulge in his pants.

The next day the rest of Seventeen are planning what they want to do, but Jihoon is texting you. He worries that it might be too soon to ask to see you today, since you just saw him yesterday, but you tell Jihoon you’d be more than happy to see him today.

You send Jihoon a text with an address and when Jihoon pulls it up in maps, it comes up with an apartment complex. Your apartment complex. Jihoon suddenly remembers that your band is New York City based.

Jihoon is glad that you two will be out of the public eye, but the idea of being alone with you in your apartment drives Jihoon crazy. He really hopes you two can finish what you started last night. After all, you’re not the only one who got blue balled.

Jihoon ignores the rest of his member’s questions as he slips a cap and a mask on and leaves in one of the SUVs, giving the driver your address. Your apartment is closer to the outskirts of the city, but it’s a nicer building. Jihoon is sure that only people who have a lot of money can afford to live here, which makes Jihoon feel better about privacy concerns.

Jihoon puts in the code you gave him to get into the building and he makes his way to your apartment. When he knocks on the door you open it within a few seconds.

“Jihoon!” You grin wide at him. “Come in!”

Your apartment is nice. It’s large with lots of windows and modern interior design.

“I feel underdressed,” Jihoon mutters. He’s in just sweats and a t-shirt.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m pretty underdressed as well.” You’re in a soft looking skirt and a tank top. You look really good. Jihoon has to look away when he notices you’re not wearing a bra, your nipples pebbling under the cloth of your shirt.

Jihoon knows why he asked you to hang out, but he feels too awkward to jump right into it. You seem to share the same sentiment as you move into the kitchen and grab two cans of coke out of your fridge, handing one to Jihoon. You two move into your living room area to the couch.

You have a few things scattered around and there’s pieces of sheet music all over your coffee table and couch.

“Sorry about that,” you tell him as you pick the papers up before sitting down. “Those are just songs I’m failing to write.”

“Failing?”

“Yeah. I can’t seem to finish them. I get ideas and then get caught up on stupid things,” you say with a shrug.

“I could look at them for you, if you want.” The words leave Jihoon’s mouth before he realizes what he’s saying. “Only if you want me to! I don’t want to overstep or-”

“No, that would be perfect! Could you? Let me get my bass!” You jump up and run into a room before emerging with your signature bass guitar.

It’s even prettier up close and it looks loved but well taken care of. Jihoon’s gaze doesn’t falter as he watches you play. You yourself are lost in the music, focusing on playing and singing the parts of your song you have finished. Your fingers glide up and down the next of your guitar as you tap your foot against the ground to keep beat. With the sun shining through your open windows, you look beautiful like this. Completely in your element.

Jihoon has to remind himself of the task at hand and when he starts to really listen, he realizes it’s very different from the normal stuff your band does. It’s still just as explicit as your normal work, but it feels more raw and visceral. He brings it up when you’re done.

“Oh yeah, this is actually music for a solo project I’m working on,” you tell him. “I’m really not supposed to tell anyone, but I trust you Jihoon.” Yeah, his stomach does flutter a bit. “When I write I can usually just focus on all of the sexual stuff, but I’m trying to add in more emotions with it, but I’m kind of struggling a lot.”

“What you have is good. Let me hear some of the other stuff you’re working on and we can go from there.”

That’s how you and Jihoon end up spending a good part of the day working on music together. Jihoon doesn’t mind though, he loves music and something about writing and composing with you feels right. Both of your minds work in different ways, but combined you are able to piece together the songs until they’re perfect.

It’s comfortable, being in your apartment with you, doing the thing he loves. It feels like you two have known each other a lot longer than two days. You two just…click and it makes Jihoon feel warm when he thinks about it.

“Jihoon, thank you so much for doing this for me,” you tell him after you two finish another song. “I know this probably isn’t what you expected to do today.”

“It’s okay, really. I’m really enjoying myself. I think I’d enjoy doing anything with you.”

“Jihoon,” you say softly. You’re staring at him again, with your alluring eyes that just draw Jihoon in. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Jihoon breathes out and before he can even finish his breath, you’re leaning in.

You cup Jihoon’s face, kissing him fiercely as you do. Jihoon nearly topples off the couch, but he grabs on to you, kissing you back. Your lips clash together as you do your best to taste each other as much as you can. As much as Jihoon loves song writing, he can’t deny that your songs are very sexually charged, and it’s definitely gotten him worked up in the hours he’s been here.

You two pull away panting, and you rest your forehead against Jihoon’s. “Do you want to…”

“Yes,” Jihoon nods, jostling your head as well. You grin and stand up, grabbing Jihoon’s hand to drag him behind you as you make your way to your bedroom, just like how you dragged him into the empty hallway last night. Hopefully today there won’t be any interruptions.

Once in the bedroom Jihoon grabs your waist and pulls you back into him, your lips crashing together. Your lips are so soft and Jihoon wants to kiss you forever. He reaches up to paw at your chest, feeling your pebbled nipple under his palm. He squeezes a bit too hard at one point and you gasp into Jihoon’s mouth and he decides he wants to get you to do that again.

Jihoon pushes you back until you fall onto the bed and he can crawl over you. He helps you tug off your tank top before leaning down to take one of your tits right into his mouth, his tongue and teeth gently playing with your nipple.

You squirm under his ministrations and Jihoon slots his thigh between your legs so you can grind against him like last time. You seem appreciative of the rough feeling of his knee against you as you roll your hips against him.

“J-Jihoon,” you moan.

Your tits are slick with his saliva now and he tugs at your nipple with his teeth before releasing it. When he looks down at you he lets out a soft groan, his heavy cock stirring in his boxers. Your hair is already mussed a bit and your face looks warm as you stare up at him with soft eyes. Your bare chest is littered in forming purple and red marks and Jihoon watches as it rises and falls with your breaths. Jihoon can’t help but revel in the fact this is for him only. No fans or cameras or anything else to see you like this, bare and vulnerable.

Jihoon pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side, and he watches the way your eyes trail down his pale, chiseled torso. Your hands reach up for him and you pull him back down on top of you, his weight settling on your body. Your fingers trail up and down his bare skin, your mouth pressed hot and firm against his.

Your leg is thrown around Jihoon’s waist and he rolls his hips into yours, his hard cock brushing up against your wet core. You mewl into Jihoon’s mouth, your fingers digging into the muscles on his back.

“F-fuck Jihoon, please. Please touch me,” you beg, your voice high pitched and desperate, making it impossible to say no (not that Jihoon would).

Jihoon peels his body away from yours once more before hooking his fingers into your skirt and pulling it down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear. Jihoon nearly starts drooling when he sees the lacy, red panties hugging your hips. His fingers trail up your leg and he rubs a thumb over your hip bone against the rough fabric.

“I thought you said you were underdressed. You wore these just for me?”

You nod. “Thought you’d like them.”

“I do. Though, I think I’d like them better off.” With that he tugs the fabric down your legs as well, discarding them on your floor.

You gasp when Jihoon pushes your legs apart so he can get a better look at what’s between them. Your pussy is already shiny and slick with your arousal, begging to be filled by something. Jihoon reaches out and trails his fingertips against your puffy folds, prodding and rubbing in a way that’s nothing but teasing.

You squirm under Jihoon’s touch, but Jihoon just ignores you, too busy admiring how pretty your pussy looks right now. His fingers slip between your folds and dip down into your opening, only to pull back a second later. When his fingers emerge they’re covered in your arousal and he uses the slick to slide his fingers up your slit, catching on your clit. You intake a sharp breath as your body stiffens.

Jihoon grins and starts to rub your clit in gentle circles. Slow and almost lazily, his fingers go around and around with no real vigor. Jihoon can see the way your pussy is leaking, dripping down onto your bed. You’ve been letting out soft whines as Jihoon touches you, impatient for him to do more.

After what probably feels like an eternity to you, Jihoon finally slips his fingers lower before pushing two right into you. Your cunt is well slicked up and greedily accepts the digits being slipped inside. Your walls are warm and soft around Jihoon’s fingers and he slowly drags his fingers out of you before slamming them back in. He juts his fingers in and out of you as he strokes your walls with his fingertips.

To Jihoon it’s not much different than playing the piano the way his fingers move skillfully in precise ways to hit all the right places. In a way this is also like making music; the sound of your soft moans and pants filling the air, mixing with the slight squeak of your bed frame and the wet slap of his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. It’s erotic and intimate and beautiful.

Below him, your body is shaking on the bed. Your fingers grasp at the sheets below you as your hips rut up into Jihoon’s palm. Jihoon’s whole hand is drenched now and his wrist is starting to ache, but he doesn’t dare stop.

“Fuck, fuck, Ji,” you mumble as your legs start to buck into the air. Jihoon pushes your hips down with his free hand and you let out a long moan as your walls clench down on Jihoon’s fingers as this thumb rapidly rubs at your clit.

Your hips roll against Jihoon’s hand for a few more seconds before your body relaxes into the bed. Jihoon stares down at you in awe. You grin up at him.

“That was…so good,” you say, still a bit breathless. “But…I think I need more. Fuck me, please?”

There is no way Jihoon is going to say no to a proposal like that. You direct him in the direction of your condom stash and Jihoon quickly shucks off his pants and boxers. He’s about to start rolling on the condom when he hears you gasp.

“You’re huge,” you say. When Jihoon looks up, you’re staring directly at his crotch. Jihoon’s aware is he…well endowed. His cock is about six inches long, but wide in girth. “Shit Jihoon, get in me right now.”

Jihoon chuckles and continues to roll on the condom before climbing back into the bed. He pushes you back against the mattress and leans down to kiss you. While your lips are still locked together he hikes one of your legs around his waist before lining himself up to your entrance. He rubs his head against your folds before finally pushing the tip in.

Jihoon’s mouth breaks off of yours and he trails wet kisses down your neck to your chest where he latches onto one of your breasts. His hips rut into you, slowly shoving his fat cock into your desperate cunt as you dig your fingers into his triceps.

Your walls hug him tightly and it makes his mind a bit fuzzy, his only focus being on you under him. Your scent floods Jihoon’s nose as he buries his face into your tits and he wants nothing more than to eat you whole. He mouths at your peaked nipples, nipping and licking everywhere he can, marking you with his love bites.

Jihoon swears he’s the luckiest man in the world, being able to lay here in your bed, marking up your tits. How many photos has he seen of them? How many people has he seen thirsting over you because of them? And here he is, being able to devour them all for himself.

Inside of you, his cock pounds at your walls, stretching you open. The rhythm Jihoon set is quick, but not brutal, and the drag of his cock in and out of you leaves both of you with a pleasured feeling coursing through your bodies.

“God, you’re so hot,” you moan out. “Used to dream about moments like this. I would watch compilations of you grinding on the floor to the Good to Me choreo.”

The words send a flush to Jihoon’s already warm face. He’s not sure if he should be embarrassed or find that incredibly hot. Maybe a bit of both. All he knows is that he’ll never be able to think of that song the same anymore.

Everything about you is intoxicating to the idol. Particularly in this moment though, the way you keep whimpering his name is driving him mad. Jihoon’s grip on your hips tightens as he rocks into you harder, his cock slamming into your sweet spot, making you cry out even harder.

Jihoon can feel his balls get heavier, ready to cum. He latches his mouth onto your neck and sucks hard as his fingers flit down to rapidly play with your clit. He’s hoping to get you to finish before him, but his orgasm hits him by surprise and his hips are stuttering as he releases his load into the condom. He doesn’t dare stop fucking into you though, even after he’s milked himself dry with your pussy. Jihoon doesn’t let himself rest until your body is shaking under him, your cunt clenching down as your nails dig into Jihoon’s skin.

When you’re finally coming down from your high, Jihoon gently pulls out of you before tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash. He flops down on the bed next to you and you cuddle right into his side, pressing a kiss right to his pec.

He reaches up to rub his hand up and down your back as you two lay there in silence, pressing kisses to each other’s bare skin.

Jihoon isn’t sure how long you two stay like that, until your kisses get a bit more meaningful and suddenly Jihoon is pinning you against the bed. His cock is already half hard again and it doesn’t take much to get it to full mast.

Your second round is softer, but just as intense. There’s a more romantic passion behind Jihoon’s motions as he takes his time getting you both off. Sensual kisses are traded as you and Jihoon whisper praises back and forth.

Halfway through fucking you Jihoon has the fleeting thought that he doesn’t want this to end. You both end up cumming together, your names falling off of each other’s lips with your foreheads pressed together. It’s oddly adorable and it takes Jihoon longer to pull out of you, completely content to keep his cock in you as you two lay cuddled in your bed.

When Jihoon finally does get up to discard the used condom and get something to clean you up, the sun is starting to set and Jihoon curses. When he checks his phone, his predictions are proved right at the sight of the numerous texts from their manager and Seungcheol.

You seem to realize this as well when Jihoon walks back to the bed and starts to get dressed.

“Do you really have to leave?” You look up at Jihoon. You look so cozy, cuddled up in bed, still naked. It really makes Jihoon want to stay and jump back in bed and tangle himself up with you again.

“Yeah, they need me back at the hotel,” he says instead, a bit discouraged as well.

“You’re in town for a few more days right?”

“Yeah, until Sunday.”

You reach out and grab Jihoon’s hand, pulling him to sit on the bed. You sit up as well, curling your bare body around his clothed form. You press a kiss to his ear.

“If you find the time, you should come to my concert on Friday.” Sleep laces your voice as you talk to Jihoon. Your body is warm pressed against him and Jihoon has never been more tempted to ignore his manager in his life. “We’re having a pop up concert to celebrate our fifth anniversary. I can get you seats in our VIP sections so no one would see you. I’ll text you the details but don’t feel pressured to come. Just, if you and your band want to do something fun, I can get the tickets.”

Jihoon nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Jihoon turns to face you and you press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you then. I’d walk you out but…” You gesture to your undressed form and Jihoon laughs.

“See you Friday. Sleep well Y/N.” Jihoon presses one final kiss to your lips before leaving your apartment, already missing you by the time he walks out the door.

The rest of the week Jihoon can’t do anything but wait for Friday, excited for your concert. He can’t wait to hear your band play live again, but mostly he can’t wait to see you again. You’ve been plaguing his mind since he last saw you, and it’s not just the sex. Jihoon can’t deny the pure, unbridled chemistry between you two and it makes his heart thump in his chest.

When Jihoon brings up the idea to his members about going to see your concert they all say it could be fun and Jihoon sends you a text affirming their attendance. Jihoon thinks it’s a little silly, his group of K-Pop idols going to go see your very explicit rock band perform.

When Friday comes Jihoon takes his time dressing up and he tries not to hit Soonyoung when he points it out.

The concert starts at around 8:00pm and doors open an hour earlier than that, but you told Jihoon to arrive a bit earlier so it would be less obvious to spot them going in. When the boys get there a quarter after 6:00, they are ushered in through the back doors.

Backstage hands are bustling around and there are a few people shouting at each other. The venue space is nice, but not too big. From what Jihoon saw online, it’s a pretty exclusive concert to see live, but tickets were sold for online streaming as well.

The boys are shown to their seats in a balcony room with glass covering one of the walls so they can see the stage. It seems to have some kind of film on the other side so they can see out, but nobody can see in.

“Wah, this is nice,” Seokmin says as he looks around the room.

“And for free too, Jihoonie hooked us up well,” Seungcheol adds. “This Y/N girl must like you a lot.”

Jihoon can feel his ears heating up. “Yah, all of you shut up.”

He turns away from his members, too embarrassed to continue the conversation. Jihoon does have to admit, you really are doing a lot giving free tickets to the thirteen men on such a short notice, and to get them into such a nice room.

When the doors open, Jihoon watches as your fans flood into the room. He can hear the chatter of everyone and he smiles at how excited all of your fans are to see you. The whole place packs up soon as everyone waits impatiently for the show to start.

Then the time hits and everyone is screaming as your band walks onto the stage. Jihoon’s eyes automatically fall to your figure and his heart beats against his ribcage. You’ve got a wide smile on your face as you strap your bass onto your body and walk up to your mic.

“Let’s make some noise!” Luka shouts into the mic and everyone erupts into applause. “Welcome to our 5th anniversary pop up concert, we are LADYKILLER, and tonight, we’re gonna have a good time. We’ll be keeping this casual tonight so get comfortable, get hype, and enjoy this first song.”

Jihoon’s eyes trail up and down your figure as your fingers fly over the strings of your bass. You’re dressed in a black leather boots, a short black denim skirt, and a silky white tank top lined with black lace. Your top looks closer to lingerie than an actual shirt and Jihoon can tell once again you’re not wearing a bra underneath.

You didn’t bother covering the hickies Jihoon left all over your chest and Jihoon feels his face heat up. The dark purple marks are scattered all over your bare skin and even though he’s a bit mortified, he’s also a bit proud.

Jihoon’s not the only one who notices the hickeys and he can feel his members send him suggestive looks as they watch the performance. Jihoon does his best to ignore them and focus on the band playing.

Jihoon admires how good you look up on stage. You really know how to work the crowd and you’re nothing short of mesmerizing to Jihoon. Every video he’s seen of you on stage doesn’t nearly do the real thing justice. After the first four songs your band stops the setlist to do some fan interaction.

“Y/N!” Someone calls from the audience. “Who gave you those hickeys!”

Jihoon wants to die as his members start to howl in their booth and Jihoon hopes that it’s sound proof. You just laugh along.

“Ah, these? They’re pretty aren’t they?” You run your fingers over your clavicle. “Now for who gave them to me…it’s not very nice of me to kiss and tell is it? But who knows? Maybe the perpetrator is sitting in this very room right now.” You wink at the audience and everyone goes crazy, screaming at your words.

The concert is fun, with lots of crowd interactions as you guys answer questions and give your own anecdotes from the past five years. You guys even tease your next album, sending the crowd into a frenzy when they see the teaser for one of the music videos.

It isn’t until closer to the end of the concert that Jihoon starts to have a real problem. In one of your most popular songs there’s a wicked bass solo that consists of you playing for two minutes straight and it’s one of the reasons why you are one of the more popular members of your group (on top of well…you know). Normally Jihoon would be entranced by the skillful way you play your instrument, putting your whole heart and soul into your solo, but today he can’t focus on anything other than the way you look.

You look sultry as you smirk out at the audience. At one point your eyes flit up to where Jihoon is sitting and you wink and Jihoon thinks he might pass out from how sexy you look right now. You put your whole body into playing and when you bend over, Jihoon can see your bare tits hanging freely in the air and he has to shift around to adjust his growing hard on. He doesn’t know if he should worship or despise whoever your stylist is.

Behind him, he can hear Jeonghan and Joshua snickering. Jihoon does his best to think about anything that will get his semi-hard cock to go down, but unfortunately for him the last song in your set list is hands down the most sexually charged.

As soon as the opening notes are heard, the whole atmosphere of the room changes. The lights dim as red accent lights bask the stage. Jihoon can’t peel his eyes away from you as you move with the music, your hips swaying along in a hypnotizing way.

He gasps a bit when Luka comes up behind you and grabs your hips, practically grinding on you as he sways with you. His hands travel up your sides and he brushes his fingertips over the upper part of your chest. When his hands move back down, this time they’re pressed to your front, dragging over your tits and down your stomach before he finally pulls away.

The whole time the crowd is hooked, and so is Jihoon. He’s a bit jealous that someone else is touching you in such an intimate way, but he knows it’s nothing but fan service, so he instead focused on how incredibly erotic he finds the moment, imagining he’s the one touching you instead.

After the song is finished your band thanks the audience before exiting the stage. The whole room is still buzzing with energy as they start to exit and Jihoon’s members seem to be hyped up as well.

“I see why you like them Jihoon,” Mingyu says and Jeonghan snorts.

“I can too.”

Jihoon groans but thankfully he’s saved when someone comes to retrieve them and guide them to the backstage area where your band is standing. You’re leaning against an audio case, drinking a bottle of water. Your body is shining with the post concert glow Jihoon is so familiar with. Jihoon is lost staring at you when a voice grabs his attention.

“Hey Y/N, isn’t that your boyfriend?” It’s Tommy who says this as he glances over to where Jihoon and the rest of Seventeen stands. Jihoon tries not to get flustered over his choice of words.

When you look over to where Tommy is motioning, your face instantly lights up at the sight of Jihoon. You stand up and cross the stage quickly before drawing Jihoon into a hug. “Jihoon!”

Jihoon snakes his arms around you and hugs you back. Your body is still warm from performing on stage and you feel nice pressed up against him. “Hi Y/N.”

“I missed you,” you whisper in his ear, just soft enough that only he can hear. His heart flutters at the words.

“Yo!” At the loud shouting you and Jihoon pull apart, just in time to see Vernon and James engage in a bro hug. You giggle at the two boys and Jihoon realizes that your hand has moved to hold onto his tightly.

The rest of your band is walking over and Tommy and Luka greet Vernon and Joshua. While everyone makes conversation you squeeze Jihoon’s hand and pull him away. He follows after, figuring his boys will be occupied with your boys for a while.

You pull Jihoon away from the backstage area and into your dressing room. It’s nice and large with a plush looking couch pushed against one wall. As soon as you close the door of your room you’re pushing Jihoon onto the couch and climbing on top of him, placing a leg on either side of his thick thighs. Automatically Jihoon’s hands fly up to hold your waist.

Your own hands cup Jihoon’s face as you kiss him softly. He kisses you back, soft and sweet. When you pull away from him, you wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling into his body.

“I’m so happy to see you.”

Jihoon is almost relieved to hear those words. The whole week he questioned if he was weird to miss you so much after only meeting twice. He likes knowing you feel the same.

“I’m happy to see you too. You looked great up there.” As he talks to you his hands rub up and down your sides, enjoying the silky feeling of your shirt under his palms.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Really great.” Jihoon shifts under you a bit, hoping you get the message. You obviously do when you giggle and lean down, pressing your mouth to his ear.

“You know Ji, I’m always so horny after performing. Help a girl out?”

Jihoon nods frantically and then before he can even blink your mouth is pressed up against his in a hot, wet kiss. Your fingers grasp the back of his neck, pulling him towards you and he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you close to him. Jihoon can’t help but love the feeling of being able to have you like this again. You two fit together nicely and Jihoon wants to keep you in his lap forever.

Your thighs are tightly locked around his waist as you grind down on his crotch. Jihoon’s arms tighten around you even more as he bucks up into you. He’s been trying to keep his boner at bay but now that he has you all alone, he can stop caring. He rubs himself up against your warm core, already wet through your panties.

Something about the way you so easily fall apart in Jihoon’s arms drives him particularly mad. The soft whimpers that leave the back of your throat as you grasp at him more and more desperately. When Jihoon pulls away to catch his breath your lips are trailing after his, not quite wanting to let him go soon. Maybe Jihoon likes it because he’s just as obsessed with you as you are with him. He leans down to press open mouthed kisses to your throat and you giggle as he does.

“Didn’t even bother hiding them,” Jihoon mutters, his fingers trailing across the old bruises splayed across your chest.

“I wanted to show them off! You did such a pretty job.” You shake your chest a bit to show them off more, but Jihoon can only focus on the jiggle of your tits in his face. Jihoon dives down, his tongue laving right over them.

He can taste the salt of your sweat on your skin and it’s oddly intoxicating mixed with the scent of your expensive perfume and your weight pressing down on him. His cock is aching in his pants now, begging to find release.

You seem to realize this as you pull away from Jihoon and slip off his lap and onto the floor. The sight of you on your knees in front of Jihoon is nearly enough to make him cum on the spot. You look up at him with big pleading eyes and Jihoon forces himself to burn the image into his memory.

“Ji,” you whine, “lemme suck you. Please. You look so good tonight, I need your cock between my lips.”

Jihoon’s in a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket. It’s not much but he’s aware he looks good in the get up. He’s glad you’ve noticed as well. Jihoon internally gloats that while Soonyoung might of made fun of him, he’s the one getting his dick wet right now.

Jihoon shifts his hips a bit to signal you to go ahead and you dive right in, unzipping his pants and taking his cock out. It springs out of its constraints, heavy and hard as you hold it in your grasp. Without breaking eye contact with Jihoon you lean down and wrap your lips around the tip, sucking gently.

Jihoon takes an unsteady breath, not sure how long he’ll be able to hold out. He’s never wanted to cum as badly as he does now, watching the sight of your warm, soft lips on his thick, red cock head. Jihoon feels your tongue press up against his sensitive tip, lapping at where his precum has started to pearl, and he shudders.

He has to stop himself from grabbing your head and shoving it down his length. Instead he digs his fingers into the couch cushions next to him and goes his best not to thrust up into your mouth. You must sense Jihoon’s eagerness though, as you stop your coy act and widen your jaw, taking more of him in you. You bob your head up and down, your lips and tongue dragging against his cock, shooting pleasure through Jihoon’s body.

The sounds your mouth makes are the lewdest noises Jihoon has ever heard and he gets a picture to match it as he stares down at you. Your hands are wrapped around his length where your mouth can’t reach and your eyes are closed, focused on getting Jihoon off.

Your mouth and hands are skilled as you quickly work Jihoon to his high. You suck particularly hard at his tip and without much warning he’s bucking up into your throat, spilling his seed into you. Jihoon almost cums a second time just from watching you swallow down the load he gave you.

When you’re done swallowing, you open your mouth for Jihoon to see you took all of it and Jihoon can’t help himself from grabbing your jaw and running his thumb across your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth. You automatically wrap your lips around it, sucking on it just like you did with his cock a few seconds ago. When you finally pop the digit out of your mouth, Jihoon’s cock is already starting to stir again.

Jihoon is aware you’ve probably done a lot of hooks up before. You’re a rockstar who writes songs about sex, of course you have to get your inspiration from somewhere. Still, the thought makes Jihoon a bit jealous and he has to push it down in turn to watch you start to strip for him.

You start with your top, easily tugging it over your head and tossing it to the side. Your tits are just as perfect as Jihoon remembers them. Jihoon stands up from the couch, his dick still hanging out of his jeans, as he crosses to where you’re standing. Without saying a word he reaches out and gropes your tits in his palms. As his fingers knead at your breasts, he leans in, connecting your lips together.

You let out a hiss that turns into a moan as Jihoon pinches your left nipple hard. Your hands scramble to push Jihoon’s jacket off his shoulders, the article of clothing falling to the ground with your discarded shirt.

His shirt is the next to go and Jihoon lets out a dissatisfied grunt when he has to pull his mouth away from yours. He’s not too upset by it though, because now he gets to feel your tits press up against his own chest. Both of your bodies are on fire and the actual heat of your dressing room isn’t helping either, suffocating his thoughts so the only thing on his mind is you and your pretty little cunt.

Speaking of your pretty little cunt, Jihoon’s fingers work frantically at the buttons of your skirt so he can have better access to it. He pushes your skirt down your hips and grabs one of your thighs, wrapping it around his waist so he can grind his dripping cock against your drenched panties. He groans against your shoulder when he feels the rough fabric of the lace against his tip.

Jihoon steps back from you to take off the rest of his clothes and he gets a good look at you then. Your lips are dark and swollen from how aggressively you two have been kissing and your chest is already starting to sprout new bruises from Jihoon’s relentless attacks on the soft skin. You’ve also shed your last layer and Jihoon gets a good look at your needy pussy.

Jihoon lets out a long exhale, his body screaming at him to fuck you.

He’s about to when he comes to a realization, causing him to curse softly. He doesn’t have a condom. He tells you that.

“Doesn't matter,” you tell him. “I’m on the pill and I’m 100% clean. Condoms were just a secondary precaution, but I need you in me now. Please Jihoon, just fuck me.”

The thought sends Jihoon off. You just gave him permission to fuck you raw. The thought of your warm, wet walls wrapped around Jihoon’s cock without any barriers has Jihoon grabbing you and bending you over right there. You yelp a bit at being thrown around, but it quickly turns into a moan when you feel Jihoon grind up against your exposed folds.

“Ah~ Jihoon, please,” you beg. You sound so needy that Jihoon has no choice but to shove his cock into you. Your walls wrap around him desperately as he pushes into you. The fit is tight and Jihoon has to take a shaky breath before he starts to ram into you.

He can tell his cock is still just a bit too girthy for you from the way you whine every time he re-enters you. He slides his hand up your spine to between your shoulder blades and he presses down, pushing you into the couch cushions.

Jihoon feels like he’s in a porno with the way he’s fucking you. When he glances to where your bodies are connected, a creamy ring has started to form around his base from your pussy. The recoil of your ass as he thrusts into you is hypnotizing and he has to pull his eyes away not to get too distracted. He slides his hand up further and into your hair, pulling back to lift your head off the couch.

Jihoon can’t believe he gets to be here with you like this again, his cock digging deep into your sweet cunt. His fingers tug at your hair a bit harder and your walls clench down around him, sending Jihoon’s brain and dick into a frenzy.

“You like that jagiya?”

“Yes, yes, fuck Jihoon. I love it. Love your big fat cock and your strong hands and your sexy voice,” you ramble on, your voice tense and labored, taking breaks between your words just to catch your breath.

Jihoon’s free hand lifts up off your hip, only to go flying back down against your ass, resounding in a loud slap echoing through the room mixed with your moan. Your ass is red when he pulls his hand back and Jihoon does it twice more before smiling, satisfied with the way it seemed to turn your brain off even more.

You look so pretty under him, sharing your pleasure with Jihoon as he uses your body to get himself off. When Jihoon glances at your face, your eyes are closed shut, tears spilling down your cheeks as a line of drool connects from your mouth to the couch. Jihoon’s stomach tightens as he watches you and he knows he’s close.

“Shit, Y/N,” Jihoon growls out as a warning before he’s pressing his hips flush against your, releasing his load straight into your pussy. At the feeling of his cum shooting into you, you cry out, your walls clenching down on him, pulsating.

Jihoon is panting as he pulls out of you, him cum spilling out along with it. His cum slides to the floor in thick globs and you groan at the feeling of it exiting your pussy. With shaky legs you stand up, clinging to Jihoon for support as you pull him into a kiss. Your mouths and teeth clash together, but it doesn’t matter because your lips are tangling together and Jihoon can taste you against his tongue and for now that subdues the urge to devour you.

Despite both of you just cumming, neither of you give yourselves time to rest. You push Jihoon back onto the couch before climbing into his lap again. Only this time, you line yourself back up with his cock before sinking down on him. His cock is still hard and he’s still terribly turned on so he’s not complaining. He’s grateful for his idol stamina or else he’s not sure he would be able to keep up with your insatiable desires.

“Shit, you’re still so tight,” Jihoon grunts. “Your cunt is perfect for my cock. So good for me.��

His grip on your hips is tight, probably too tight, but he can’t be bothered to care when your head is thrown back and the nastiest sounds are leaving your lips. Your tits bounce freely in his face as you fuck yourself on his lap and Jihoon can’t do anything other than stare in awe at them, enjoying the show.

“God Jihoon, you feel so good in me,” you cry out. Your fingers are perched on his shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscle so you can anchor yourself better.

As you bounce up and down on Jihoon’s cock, more of his cum pushes out of your cunt and drips onto Jihoon’s lap along with all of the slick your pussy is producing. Jihoon wants to cum in you again, already obsessed with filling up your tight cunt with his seed.

His hands travel up your body and he gropes your tits harshly, pinch the nipples and scraping his teeth over your sensitive buds. You look like you’re about to ascend to heaven as you roll your eyes back into your head, moaning like your life depends on it.

It’s enough to get Jihoon desperate to go over the edge and he wraps his arms around your hips before pulling your body against his. You press your weight against his body, your legs giving out on you, as Jihoon starts to buck up into your sweet cunt. He’s sure the pressure is brutal inside of you, leaving you with a bruised cervix for later, but Jihoon only has one focus right now so he can’t bother being nice. He buries his face in your neck, doing everything to reach his high.

You seem to reach yours first, your body trembling in his grip as you trap his cock in a vice grip. This is enough to finally get Jihoon to cum for a third time tonight, spilling it all into your pussy again.

Jihoon’s body is sweaty and hot and he’s exhausted as he slumps back against the couch, out of breath with no thoughts in his mind. You don’t look much better as you drop your body on top of his, your eyes closing as you nuzzle your head against his chest.

Neither of you say anything for a while, just doing your best to regain your bearings and enjoy the feeling of your bodies sandwiched together. At some point Jihoon’s now flaccid cock slips out of you, but you don’t get off his lap yet.

When you two do finally pull apart Jihoon is still feeling a bit light headed but he’s at least back down on Earth as he kisses your tear stained cheeks, rubbing your back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, very good,” you tell him. “Just…very tired now.”

Jihoon chuckles and stands up to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge sitting to the side of the room. You take it and chug the whole thing down. While you do that Jihoon looks around the room for something to clean you both up with. There’s a box of tissues sitting on your vanity and he grabs that and starts to wipe himself down before doing the same to you. It’s not the best clean up he’s ever done, but it’s the best he can do for now.

Jihoon finds his clothes and puts his boxers back on before crawling back onto the couch next to you. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You’re cute, you know that?” You mumble into Jihoon’s collarbone. “Right before you were gonna cum, you started mumbling in Korean.”

Jihoon flushes. He didn’t even know he was talking, let alone in Korean.

He settles on saying, “Your moans are cuter though.”

You stay silent for a moment before speaking up again, your voice more somber this time. “You’re leaving soon right?”

“Yeah, Sunday morning, so in two days.”

You snuggle a bit closer into Jihoon. “Would it be ridiculous to say I think I’ve gotten attached to you.”

Jihoon huffs out a laugh. “Not ridiculous, I think I feel the same.”

The truth is, Jihoon has gotten attached to you, even after only two days of interaction. There’s something so alluring about you that draws Jihoon in. Just like a siren calling a fisherman, you’ve drawn him in and it’s only due time before he crashes.

Your presence is comfortable and everything feels natural with you, it feels right. Jihoon doesn’t want it to end. He wants to store you away in his suitcase and bring you back to Korea with him. Everyday he’d get to wake up next to you, your pretty smile being the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. You two would spend your days making music and cuddling on the couch. Then at the end of the day Jihoon would be able to press you into the mattress and have his way with you, enjoying the taste of you lingering in his mouth and soaking up every pretty sound he pulls from your lips.

But, he can’t. He has to leave you here, thousands of miles away from him, with a thirteen hour time difference from New York to Seoul. Not to mention you have your own careers and Jihoon is well aware of the time and effort his own takes. The Carats absolutely wouldn’t have it if it was revealed he has a girlfriend, who he was living with. Especially one with your public image. They would rip you to shred.

But god does Jihoon wish it would work out.

“Hey,” you say softly. Your finger is tracing patterns against his chest. “Would you maybe…want to spend the night at my place?”

Jihoon looks down at you and nods. He doesn’t care if his managers are going to kill him, he’s going to spend as much time with you as he can before he leaves. He shoots a quick message to his members who promise they’ll cover for him and then before he knows it he’s being driven to your apartment.

When you two get into your unit you order food for the two of you and then you fall asleep in Jihoon’s arms when you’re done eating. It’s painfully domestic and Jihoon holds you the whole night, afraid to let you go.

In the morning, when you wake up, Jihoon bombards you with a barrage of kisses and you giggle as you pull Jihoon’s body even closer to yours. It doesn’t take long to get both of you riled up, leading to your clothes strewn on the floor as Jihoon sinks himself into you once more.

That’s how you two spend the rest of your day, limbs tangled together, making love as Jihoon does his best to burn the feeling of your bare body pressing against him into his memory.

His head is currently shoved between your thighs, suffocating in your drenched pussy. You’ve had his thigh, fingers, and cock once but Jihoon is determined to get you off at least five times today. For now he’s taking his time though. His mouth moves slowly, teasing you so you get unbearably needy for Jihoon to give you more.

His tongue drags through your folds, collecting your slick and swallowing it down. Between the taste of your arousal, the sweet smell of your cunt, and the feel of your pussy on his tongue, Jihoon’s mind is muddled with a lust induced haze and Jihoon wonders if this is what it feels like to get high.

Jihoon’s plump lips wrap around your clit and he sucks on it gently, just enough to stimulate you but not enough to actually do anything. You squirm and whine and tug at Jihoon’s hair, but he ignores your attempts to get him to do more, content with driving you crazy for now.

Your legs squeeze tight around Jihoon’s neck, pulling him even further into your cunt. Your thighs are like earmuffs over his ears, cutting off his last sense so there’s nothing but you. Jihoon ruts his hips into the mattress under him, his own cock leaking and hard. He has a bit more resolve than you though, and he clamps his thick hands on your thighs, prying them apart once more.

“Please Jihoon,” you beg. “I need more.”

Jihoon pretends he can’t hear you as drags his lips to kiss over your folds like he’s making out with your pussy. He does this a few more times before moving his mouth off your core completely, turning his head so he can suck marks into your thighs.

“Jihoon,” your voice sounds genuinely desperate, like if Jihoon doesn’t do anything you’ll actually combust. This is what Jihoon has been waiting for and he tightens his grip on you before diving straight into your cunt.

His motions have purpose behind them now as he licks at your sopping cunt. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue flick back and forth over your hole. Your body is now trembling under him as you cry out in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, Jihoon, shit.” The words tumble out of your mouth as your legs shake around his head. He keeps eating your pussy out until your body goes limp.

He’s a bit surprised you came so fast, but he guesses you were pretty worked up from all of the teasing. And the previous orgasms.

Jihoon’s only cum once though, compared to the four times you have, and he’s not going to let you rest until he gets his second in. He picks himself up from between your legs and climbs over your body. He kisses up your torso, stopping at your tits for a moment, before finally making his way to your lips.

He kisses you hard and fierce, too impatient to be soft at the moment. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Your hips buck up into him when you feel his cock drag over your slit, his precum spreading against your folds. Jihoon is sure he could get off just like this, rubbing your pussy on his cock, and if he was just a tad bit more desperate he would, but he’s still slightly level headed enough to make the decision he wants to cum inside of you.

Jihoon spreads your legs wide before sheathing himself right into you. Your cunt allows him in easily, slick and stretched out from all of Jihoon’s previous efforts. His pubes brush up against your clit as he bottoms out in one go.

You let out a weak moan as Jihoon lets out his own deep sigh. Your walls are warm and soft around his aching dick and Jihoon imagines this is exactly what heaven feels like. As much as Jihoon would like to take his time with you, he’s already done that earlier and while teasing you, he got himself a bit too worked up as well.

Jihoon doesn’t waste time, plunging his cock in and out of your cunt. His cock hits deeper and harder into you each time, slamming into your plush walls. The noises you make make Jihoon want to fuck you even harder and he grabs your legs and pushes them up against your chest, exposing your cunt to him even more. The change in angle has his tip digging into a new place, making you moan even louder.

“Ji, Ji, Ji,” you chant as the man in question continues to slam his hips into yours. Jihoon groans as he looks down at you, his hands pushing down against your legs to keep them in place, folding you in half.

“So pretty,” Jihoon grunts. “My pretty baby feels good from my cock?”

“Yes, yes, so much. Feels soooo good Jihoon.” You’re babbling at this point, barely coherent from the pleasure you feel. The thought makes Jihoon smirk, gaining the urge to drive you completely for the edge.

One of his hands releases your legs and moves up to your neck, clamping around it. His fingers squeeze firmly and you gasp a bit. He feels your cunt tighten around him, causing him to squeeze even harder. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you throw your head back against your pillow.

Your skin is burning under Jihoon’s palm and he can feel the way your neck muscles move under his fingertips from the way you’re doing your best to let out strangled moans. Your body is already spent from the past four orgasms he’s given you, but he’s still not going to go easy on you.

He wants you crying from his cock. Coming undone again and again and again until you can’t remember anything other than Jihoon. Nobody will ever be able to be as good as him and every time you go to write a new song, you think of him and this moment.

Your pussy keeps clenching down around him and Jihoon closes his eyes, trying to drag this out even more. He knows he won’t last much longer though. The warmth of the room combined with the warmth of your body has his own skin heating up, fogging up his brain.

Jihoon feels your hand wrap around his wrist, pulling his fingers off your neck and moving them so they slip into your mouth. You suck on the digits, swirling your tongue around them, your taste buds pressing against his pads and that’s all it takes to send Jihoon over the edge. He cums deep into you, his cum shooting against your cervix.

Jihoon’s hips don’t stop though, pounding brutally into you, milking himself with your cunt. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and slips them between your bodies, flicking and rubbing at your clit furiously. It isn’t until he feels you tense up under him, that he finally pulls his dick out of you. As soon as he does, the flood gates are broken and your cunt is spraying your juices all over the bed and Jihoon.

The idol watches the way your pussy pulsates when you’re done squirting. You look completely wrecked and ready to pass out and Jihoon sees that as a job well done. Your leg keeps twitching every so often and Jihoon reaches over and massages it.

You whine a bit at his touch but don’t pull away. “‘M so sensitive.”

“You did so good for me,” Jihoon coos.

When Jihoon is sure that you’re not going to pass out he gets up and pads into the kitchen to get you a glass of water. When he gets back to the room he finds that you’ve rolled out of the wet spot you made and are now sitting up.

You take the water from him and chug it down before making a feeble attempt to stand up. Your legs shake a bit and Jihoon has to steady you. He helps you to the bathroom where he draws you a bath and moves back to your room to change out the sheets.

When you get out of your bath you crawl back into the freshly changed bed where Jihoon is laying waiting. You don’t hesitate to snuggle down into his arms.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you admit in a small voice.

Jihoon sighs. He doesn’t want to leave either.

“I know that it’s unreasonable to do long distance,” you continue, “and that we both have busy schedules but, I’d really like it if we kept in touch. Then maybe the next time you’re in America, or if I go to Korea, we could meet up again.”

Jihoon kisses the top of your head. “I’d really like that too.”

In reality, Jihoon isn’t sure what’s going to happen. He’d like to think that you guys will keep in touch because he really hopes you do and for once he’s letting himself be an optimist. It’s not exactly like he’ll be able to forget about you anyway, so it’s better to keep a place open for you in his heart.

Jihoon holds you tight until he no longer can and he leaves you once more with nothing but a kiss and a promise to text you. His heart aches in a way he didn’t know was possible as he boards the plane to fly back home to Korea. Just another reason for Jihoon to hate flying.

This time Vernon sits next to him and the younger holds an earbud out to him. Jihoon slips it into his ear and the sound of a familiar bass solo floods his mind. Jihoon sends a grateful look at his dongsaeng, letting your playing soothe his heart.

By the time the song ends Jihoon’s head is filled with ideas for songs about you and his heart is warm with a feeling that everything is going to work out in the end.

"Did you hear who's going to be featured on LADYKILLER's new track?"

"No, who?"

"Woozi and Vernon from Seventeen."

"Damn, I already know it's gonna be good. I mean, Y/N and Woozi? Sounds like a match made in heaven."

taglist: @pandorashbox @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash @chaimi-yuta @embrace-themagic @kayleeshinee @joonsytip @heyxxitsxxtay @synthetickitsune @chwecardcaptor @candidupped @dreamhannies @d0nghyck @niyizh @baldi-2 @spilled-coffee-cup @sulkygyu @enhacolor @noniestars @heavenly-mobo @sunnyteume @debsworld23 @m1nghaos @just-here-to-read-01 @blxckswxnxge @17kwans @jeanjacketjesus @x-veex @namjoonbaby @ovai @belladaises @todorokiskitten @valentxi @yeosayang @98-0603 @miriamxsworld @morklee02 @luvv4svt @tinkerbell460 @toruro @lllucere @novalpha @yongi-lee @seuomo @niktwazny303 @brxzilianbaby @moshiyuron @im-gemmy @honeylovemoon @opwolfe

join my taglist: here!

#lee jihoon #woozi #woozi smut #woozi fanfic #woozi x reader #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #kpop #kpop smut #rru.fics #rru.writes #★ mdni

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talkdutchtome · 1 year ago

Text

You Should Have Said No Chapter Four- Fifteen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / pierre gasly x reader )

summary . . . when your fiancé cheats on you, you strike up an unusual friendship with one of his closest friends, who just so happens to have had a crush on you since he set eyes on you. chaos ensues.

inspired by the works of miss taylor swift )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . fifteen - taylor swift )

warning . . . cheating, mental illness, angst, eventual smut, poorly translated french and dutch, swearing, mention of parent loss, emotionally abusive parent, slight social media au, kendall jenner as fc (potentially more i’ll add as i go along)

series masterlist . . . available here )

12 years ago

“Surprise!!” the group in front of you call out, making you jump so much you screamed. After a few seconds to steady your breathing, you looked out at the crowd of people standing in your living room; three people stood at the front holding a banner displaying a picture of your face with the words “Happy Fifteenth Birthday Y/N”. Holding the banner was Lila –your best friend, Pierre –your boyfriend, and Charles –one of your closest friends and Lila’s boyfriend. Feeling tears come to your eyes, you struggle to find any words to react to the scene in front of you; you want to thank them profusely , you want to strangle at them for making you jump and scream in front of the whole school, you want to burst into tears that they love and care about you so much to plan a surprise party for you. Eventually you decide to just run to them and hug them, pulling them all into one big group hug. Since you and your best friend Lila met the two boys a little over two years ago the four have you have been inseparable; everything you did you did together. You and Lila would attend all of Pierre’s and Charles’ races, sitting in the stands no matter the weather, holding up signs and cheering them on. All three of them would attend any gallery exhibitions your photography would in, even if it was the poshest, snootiest thing ever they would all be there on their best behaviour ready to support you. And in the crowd of every one of the musicals that Lila performed in sat you, Charles and Pierre; the boys usually bored out of their minds, but it didn’t matter if you didn’t enjoy what the other did, as long as you were always there supporting everything that you all did.

After a few hours the party had died down and they only people remaining at your house was the four of you. Swinging on sofa hammocks in your garden, you were all drunk from the alcohol that Charles’ managed to persuade his brother to buy for the occasion and talking about nothing but everything all at once. Charles and Pierre spoke about upcoming races, Lila spoke about the holiday she had that was coming up in a few months, and you spoke about your family. They all knew that your family wasn’t a topic you usually chose to speak about, but spurred on by the liquor in the system you told them all about how your family life had been since your mum died three months ago. You told them how your dad barely speaks to you anymore, how he can’t look at you in your eyes because all he sees is her. You told them how lonely you’ve been. You told them how your brother had only been back to the house once since she died. Before now you hadn’t discussed with them the realities of your life since your mum had been gone, you thought they didn’t know how alone you were when you walked through your front door, away from whatever activity you had been doing with them and back into solitude in the shape of a family home. But they did know. They knew you were affected more than you were letting on and they knew that your plans for your birthday were to sit in your room alone and cry, wishing that your mum would come back and fix the broken fragments of your family. So, they planned a party. Each of them asked for money from their parents to throw the best damn party they could, not to distract you from your mum or to make you forget about your sadness but to remind you that alongside that sadness is also happiness. That you still had people in your life that cared and would go above and beyond just to see you smile. Overwhelmed by all the emotion, you started to cry into Pierre’s chest. You were crying for your mum, for the family that you used to have, but you were also crying for the family that you had now, the family who knew how you felt without you even having to tell them; the family who would make up plans and errands that needed to be ran to give you a chance to get out of the house for a few hours.

Eventually Lila and Charles retired up to the spare bedroom of your house and left you and Pierre in the garden, looking up at the stars. It was that moment where you realised for the very first time that you loved the boy sitting next to you. You loved Pierre Gasly and from the way he was looking up at you, you knew that he loved you to. You weren’t ready to tell him yet; you knew more than anyone that the worst part about love is what comes after it, remembering something your dad told you the day of your mum's funeral- “Love is short, forgetting is long.”

Present day

“So Y/N where are we watching qualifying from today? I mean I’m sure you don’t plan to sit in the Alpine garage and I’d rather not sit in the Ferrari garage if it’s all the same to you, it was bad enough speaking to him on the phone the other day.” Lila questioned you as just as you were parking your car at the track, making you laugh at the pettiness of your friend before realising that you didn’t have an answer to her question, making you curse yourself for not thinking about it before.

“Oh shit I’m not actually sure. I mean I guess if I told Rebecca what happened I’m sure she’d give me somewhere to go but I don’t really want to have that conversation with my boss yet.” You answered getting out of the car. Lila opened her mouth to speak but another voice came through, stopping her.

“Y/N! Hi, how have you been?” a Dutch voice called out, causing you to turn around to find Max walking towards to you.

“Hey Max, yeah I'm goo-” you started before being interrupted by Lila, very eager to meet the man who had been looking after her best friend in her absence

“Oh hi I’m Lila, I’m Y/N’s oldest and bestest friend” the girl said sticking her hand out for the dutchman to shake, looking him up and down, checking him out unashamedly. You laugh at your friend's boldness, never been one for shyness.

“Hi Lila, nice to meet you” he chuckled awkwardly, slightly taken aback by the forwardness of the red-headed girl stood in front of him.

“So are you two excited for qualifying today” he asked. You were about to tell him yes wish him luck and then walk away into the building, but Lila got there before you.

“Yeah, I would be if we actually had somewhere to watch it from”

“Oh you should come and watch it from the Redbull garage, I’m sure Christian wouldn’t mind.”

“Ohh yeah that would be great thanks, I bet it would be great for Y/N to sit in a garage that actually wins something for a chance.”

Lost in Max’s eyes, that you didn’t even know you were looking in, you only realised what had been said between your best friend and the Dutchman until it was too late. Max had already walked away, chuckling to himself at your best friend's snide comment about Pierre. You smacked Lila around the head, not enough to hurt her but enough to convey your annoyance.

“Now why in the fuck would you say that Lila?” You asked her, genuinely impressed by the stupidity of the girl who was laughing beside you.

“Because he’s hot and we needed somewhere to go, duh” she said still laughing. You felt your jaw tighten at her words, a pool of jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach.

Sat in the Redbull garage with Lila talking to Max and his mechanics, you wanted it to feel awkward and unnatural, but it didn’t. It felt comfortable, like it was something you had been doing all your life, like Max had been there all your life. The speed at which he went from someone who you barely knew to someone who you felt complete comfort in unnerved you.

“So, Y/N, there is going to be a party on Sunday, and I’d like you to come. It’ll be mostly just Redbull but there will be others there. I think Lando and Daniel will be there.” Max asked after a while of being sat there quietly, almost like he was working up the courage to ask you.

“Oh, Max I’d love to but Lila is going home on Monday, so I’d like to spend the last day with her, sorry”

Lila smiled to herself, knowing what she needed to do.

“Monday?” she asked with fake confusion “No Y/N, I’m going home on Sunday straight after the race. I told you this when I got here” She knew lying to you wasn’t particularly fair on you, and course she would have rather had stayed for the entirety of her trip, but whether on Sunday or Monday she would eventually have to go home and she would rather go home a day earlier and give you a reason to go to Max’s party, in the hopes your friendship with Max would grow further and you would have a friend after she had left.

“Oh, really I could have sworn that you sai-” you started before being interrupted by Max.

“So, you can come then?” he questioned. You looked up at Lila, completely unsure what to say. You really didn’t want to be alone on Sunday night, but you also weren’t sure if going to Max’s party would be a very good idea. She nodded her head slightly, encouraging you to say yes.

“Umm yeah sure okay.” your response was met with a huge smile from Max and a squeeze on the arm from Lila, both very glad for your answer.

The first thing Max did when he got out of the car after getting pole for Sunday’s race was look for you sat in his garage. During the session you had gotten pretty cold and the only thing nearby that you could put on was Max’s jacket, so with a lot of persuasion from Lila, you put it on. You made eye contact with him and seeing that you were wearing his jacket caused him to smile. It was a smile that, in the entire time you had never seen from him before; not when he won either of his world titles, not any of the times you had seen him around the paddock with his ex-girlfriend. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You were getting ready to leave the garage and head back to the hotel when Max walked in, heading straight towards you.

“Hey congratulations, you did so well.” you looked up at him smiling and couldn’t help but realise how good he looked after racing. His hair, usually neat and uniform was fluffy and messy. His cheeks were flushed red and his forehead slightly damp with sweat.

“Thank you! It was a good session, but I think that might just be because I had a good luck charm waiting back here for me.” He responded and you giggled. Lila was stood to the side, almost completely ignored as you and the man stood flirting with each other, without either of you actually realising that was what you were doing.

“Oh well if I’m your good luck charm then I’ll make sure I’m here tomorrow for the race, can’t have you having a bad race all because I’m not here can we” You spoke, suddenly getting a big enough burst of courage to make a joke.

“Yeah, you might me right, you kinda have to be here.” he replied causing you to laugh.

“Anyway, we should get going, thank you for having us both here, it was a good day.” you told him before turning away to leave the garage.

“Oh wait I forgot this” you said, remembering you were still wearing this jacket.

“No you keep it, you look better in it then I ever did anyway” he said before you had a chance to take it off. Suddenly, you thought about everything Max had done for you in the last week and you just couldn’t help yourself but to wrap your arms around him and engulf him in a tight hug. He was taken back slightly before he hugged you back, putting one arm around your waist and one on the back of your head, touching your soft hair. You rested your face in the crevice of his neck, enjoying the comfort hugging Max provided. Lila laughed, that was not a hug that two people who were just friends gave each other. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pierre stood outside of the garage, watching the two people hug, this caused her to laugh more. She stuck here middle finger up at Pierre, making eye contact with him to ensure he knew he was the person her gesture was directed at. You pulled away from Max, and it looked like he was going to say something else, but you just waved before walking away from the garage, unsure what to say to the man who made your heart race faster than you had ever felt just from hugging you.

Back in the hotel, you could tell Lila had something to say and knowing Lila, that meant she was going to say it.

“I was joking the other day with what I said about Max, but after meeting him I’m deadly serious when I say that you need to get with him.” Your mouth dropped open at her honesty.

“Lila no don-”

“No Y/N, shut up let me say this. I know you love Pierre; you always have, and I'll be honest I think you always will. But he cheated on you, no matter what happens now and how you feel about him you can’t be with him again. Max is the perfect gentlemen, he's been treating you well and looking after you, not to mention how stone cold sexy he is. I can see he likes you, and I think you like him to but you just don’t want to admit it. I know you’ll say that it’s too soon after Pierre, but you can’t pick and choose when love comes around and you certainly can’t say no to love because of someone who cared about you so much he went and fucked another girl whilst you were 20 minutes away waiting for him to come home.” She finished her rant and looked up and you, expecting you to argue with her, but you didn’t, you just sat quietly, trying to take in everything she had said. After five minutes, you finally knew what to say.

“Do you remember my fifteenth birthday?” she looked at you confused and nodding, unsure where you were going with this.

“After the party had finished and you and Charles had gone up to bed, Pierre and I sat and talked

under the stars for hours. It was the first time I knew I loved him. From that day onward I knew I wanted to be with him forever, that whatever it would take I would spend the rest of my life with him. I don’t think I can live my life without him, I don’t even know who I am without him.” You told her, trying so hard not to cry. She looked at you with a sympathetic smile before bringing her thumbs up to your eyes to wipe away your tears.

“Do you remember what my mum said to me when Charles broke up with me?” she asked and you nodded.

“Well whether 15 or 27, it’s still true, okay?”

12 years and 6 months ago

Lila was sprawled over her bed, her head in your lap and her feet in her mum's lap, she was sobbing uncontrollably and had yet to tell either of you why she had called this emergency girls meeting. You stroked her hair, and her mum held her leg.

“He broke up with me. Charles broke up with me” she managed to get out word by word in the gaps between the sobs.

“What? No what are you talking about Lila? Why would he do that?” you asked her, completely shocked by your best friend’s words.

“He said that he changed his mind! That he doesn’t want to be with me anymore.” she revealed again, it was hard to understand what she was saying she was crying so hard. You didn’t want to believe it, you thought that the four of you would be together forever, that you would have a joint wedding and that your children would grow up being best friends just like you all did. You wanted to cry too but held it in, trying to be supportive for your best friend. Lila’s mum just softly smiled longingly before saying

“When you're 15 and somebody tells you they love you You're gonna believe them And when you're 15, you forget to look before you fall But I've found time can heal most anything”

TAGLIST

@hiraethrhapsody @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @aundercover @dearlovelys @bicchaan @eugene-emt-roe @faithm120601 @ruleroftheuniverse @idkiwantchocolatee @simxican @reidsworld @icarus-nex @barnestatic @amalialeclerc @stargaryenx @pjofics @girlintheredscarf

(Sorry if some of the tags don't work! im still learning how to use tumblr so i'm a little clueless)

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen #formula 1 #max verstappen smut #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #max verstappen x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x oc #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fanfic #fanfic

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