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ugh-yoongi · 4 months ago

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ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol angst #seungcheol au #scoups angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jewel writes

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babyleostuff · 6 months ago

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perilla leaf/ shrimp debate | ot13

the perilla leaf debate: whether it is appropriate for one’s significant other to help peel the perilla leaf of a friend

𐙚🧸ྀི choi seungcheol

does absolutely not fuck with the idea. you’re not touching anyone’s food, he’s not touching anyone's food, and someone else is definitely not touching your food. he would genuinely give you a silent treatment if you helped your/ his friend with the perilla leaf or a shrimp because choi seungcheol is a possessive bitch, and he’s not afraid of letting everyone around him know about that (as if the hand on your thigh wasn’t enough). the only person that you can touch your food, and help you with it is him. end of story.

𐙚🧸ྀི yoon jeonghan

he wouldn’t mind you helping out your friend with peeling the perilla leaf or the shrimp, jeonghan is all for acts of service, and helping those who need it. even if the person would try to use the peeling as an excuse to flirt with you or get closer - still, no reaction from jeonghan. that’s just lame in his opinion, like seriously? a leaf? and i can imagine him scoffing loud enough for your friend to hear.

𐙚🧸ྀི joshua hong

does not pay attention to it, because if he was in your place he’d help his friend out as well. like, it’s so obvious to shua that neither a perilla leaf, nor a shrimp could question the quality of your relationship, and loyalty to each other, so why focus on something as silly as that? it actually causes the opposite effect for him - he finds it really endearing how you pay attention to the people around you, and how eager you are to help them.

𐙚🧸ྀི wen junhui

jun definitely wouldn’t say anything even if he was bothered by it, but i’m not really sure if he’d pay that much attention to it anyway. if you were around people you both knew very well, like the boys and their significant others, he wouldn’t mind it whatsoever. but if you were out with people he didn’t know that well he’d be more attentive then, but still - he wouldn’t make a scene out of it by any means. he’d maybe get a bit, i don’t know, sad? for a moment, but it would quickly go away. it’s just a leaf/ shrimp after all.

𐙚🧸ྀི kwon soonyoung

(he’d probably be the one in need of your super duper peeling skills) the only thing he’d be truly bothered by if you helped your friend would be that they stole your attention from him, and kwon soonyoung needs your attention. the peeling itself is not that big of a deal, though i think a small part of hoshi would be a bit jealous, maybe he’d give you a bit of an attitude because peeling a shrimp can’t be that hard, right? but it’s nothing too serious, soonyoung is usually dramatic like that so it’s nothing new for you.

𐙚🧸ྀི jeon wonwoo

okay so, here’s the thing. if you help someone or someone else helps you, and it’s purely platonic - wonwoo has no problem with it. you’re all friends, it’s all good. BUT, if he sees that the person you’re helping out is flirting with you, and is using the excuse of the perilla leaf or the shrimp - it’s a big no no. he wouldn’t say anything, he’d definitely stay silent, but his face would say it all. would eye the person from head to toe with his sharp eyes (bonus point if he takes off his glasses to be more dramatic). wonwoo is nice until someone tries to steal you from him.

𐙚🧸ྀི lee jihoon

jihoon does not give a fuck whether you help someone or if someone helps you. for one, it’s just basic manners to help someone if they’re struggling, and why would he get jealous over you peeling a shrimp of all things. he doesn’t really get the whole perilla leaf debate either, it’s just plainly stupid to make a discours over two leaves sticking together as if that could determine the loyalty of your partner.

𐙚🧸ྀི lee seokmin

seokmin’s first reaction would be to pout, because it looked kind of intimate how you helped your friend, and from anyone else’s perspective it looked like you and your friend were together, and not you and him (and as a romantic soul, he can’t help but be a bit sad because of that). but then a realisation would quickly dawn upon him - you were helping your friend because you cared about them, you were paying attention to them, and your first and only reaction was to immediately help them. so in the end dk kind of melts over you , and your attentiveness.

𐙚🧸ྀི kim mingyu

my man does not care, he’s there for the food. so what if you help someone, or someone helps you, you’re all friends, right? it’s kind of stupid to get jealous over a literal leaf or a shrimp, like - if you help someone out it means you’re polite, and that you pay attention to those around you, which mingyu finds so much more attractive than being territorial over your partner. as someone whose main love language are acts of service, mingyu is all for helping those around you.

𐙚🧸ྀི xu minghao

doesn’t care either. even if said friend would have troubles with peeling the perilla leaf, and would ask you for help just to flirt with you, hao would not care at all. he is too confident in your relationship, like the trust he has in you and your love is so hot. besides, using a literal leaf as an excuse to flirt is pathetic. either way - flirting or not, minghao would not pay any attention to you peeling the leaf or a shrimp.

𐙚🧸ྀི boo seungkwan

wouldn’t say anything out loud, but would definitely side eye the person that would ask you for your help with the shrimp. like, can’t you just peel it yourself? you really have to ask my partner to do it for you? but seungkwan wouldn’t make a scene out of it, it’s not that serious anyway, so why waste his energy on a shrimp. there’s a small chance boo would give you an attitude for a while, though, but that’s just because he wants your attention on him, not on someone that’s not able to peel a shrimp on their own.

𐙚🧸ྀི vernon chwe

vernon would not even notice you helping your friend with the leaf, because it’s literally your friend - he’d do the same if he saw someone struggling. we know he’s very laid back about this kind of stuff, it’s not like you’re going to fall in love with your friend just because of a leaf or a shrimp, so it’s not something he would pay much attention to.

𐙚🧸ྀི lee chan

would probably swat your hand away from peeling that shrimp, not because he’s jealous or bothered by it - but because he wants you to keep eating your own food. chan is a little love bug that thrives off helping those around him, so in general he would not mind you helping others, whether it’d be peeling perilla leaves, shrimps, and whatnot. but he would still gently take your hand away, and encourage you to eat, and he’d help the person in need himself.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot

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straylightdream · 3 months ago

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dancing with our hands tied

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: boss!choi seungcheol x employee!f.reader

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it. I had a bad feeling, and darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, secret lovers, office romance

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lots of tension, smut warning below.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

𝐚𝐧: inspired by the Taylor swift song of the same name. I might make a loose connecting series to this with other seventeen boys. Let me know if you’re interested in any other boys stories mentioned in this. You can also fill out this form helping me pick songs for the other boys.

here is my SVT taglist if you’re interested being add please fill out this form.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex (reader is on birth control), dirty talk, oral male receiving, big dick cheol, size kink (cheol is big and the mc loves how it feels), nicknames: baby (mc’s), sir (his)

From the moment you met Seungcheol you knew you were in trouble. You both worked for a big tech company in the city. When you first started working there Seungcheol didn’t have the huge promotion he had now. He ran a small department that you technically weren’t a part of when you started what was supposed to be a little fling. Fast forward to three months later and Seungcheol is in charge of fifty percent of the company. You originally tried to end your secret relationship but he swore nothing could happen if you stayed together. It had been ten months and your secret romance was still going strong.

Walking into his office you closed and locked the door behind you. The moment the door locked he pushed up his glasses and closed his laptop. The smirk that plays across his lips is enough to make you weak. A few times you’ve you been bold enough to crawl under his desk and give him head, but that wasn’t your plan today.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” You love when he tries to act professional when he speaks to you at work. Silently you walk over sitting the paper work on his desk.

“What time are you leaving the office tonight?” If you don’t ask him you know he’ll stay late at work like he always does.

“According to Soonyoung I have to go to the office party tonight so I have to leave at a reasonable time.”

“I guess I should probably go.” You actually didn’t want to go. You originally planned on staying home but Seungcheol has been bugging you for the last week to go.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says smirking.

“Do you think it’s a good idea we go together?”

“Yes.” He stands up walking around his desk. You turn around so you’re leaning against his desk. “The door is locked right?” He leans in closer as your lips brush. Silently you nod. His hands grip your hips helping you sit on the edge of his desk. He stands between your parted thighs. Tangling your fingers in his hair while your lips move together for a heated kiss. His strong hands grip your hips grinding against your parted legs.

“I want to fuck you so badly right,” he moans against your lips.

“You should wait to do it when we’re not in the office,” you pull back smiling at him.

A large hand rests on your cheek as he tilts your head back. “Is this your way of teasing me?”

“No sir, but I think it’s best for my job if I don’t fuck my boss at work,” you gently push on his chest getting him to step backwards. The look on his face lets you know you’re in trouble once you’re fully alone tonight.

“I’m not your boss, technically Jeonghan is in charge of you,” he always tries to remind you of this. Him and Jeonghan have the same position, but Jeonghan is in charge of your division that’s in his part of the company.

Pushing yourself off the desk you walk past him. Before you could leave his office he grabs your wrist stopping you in your tracks. “By the end of the night I’m going to have you screaming my name.”

Work parties always tended to be a little crazy But when Soonyoung and Joshua are put in charge of planning the parties they tend to get wild. They have a knack for hosting parties filled with people you’ve never even seen at the office.

You were walking closely with Seungcheol. Your hands brushing as you walked through the crowded club that was in a fancy hotel. With the small touch of his hand brushing yours you felt electricity run through your veins. Glancing over at him you see him wearing a smirk looking in your direction.

There was something thrilling about being in public with your secret lover. Nobody knew what you did behind closed doors. You made the choice to keep your relationship secret because Seungcheol and you didn’t want your friends questioning what was going on. Technically you could get in trouble at work since he was your boss.

You normally never went to anything work related with him, but he practically begged you to go to this one. When Joshua mentioned throwing a huge company party at this fancy hotel you originally didn’t even plan on going. Seungcheol somehow sweet talked you into not only going but riding with him. He swore to you nobody would know you were together. That you could come to the party as his friend. Everyone at work knew you were friends before he received his huge promotion. Everyone always joked that once Seungcheol was promoted he would become completely different, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s still the same kind hearted goofy guy you met the first day at the office. He just has a lot more money now.

You were standing by the window on the balcony talking to Minghao about your job. He worked in a different division of the company. You became friends through Mingyu who you have both worked with. Minghao was asking you tons of questions about your new position that you had been promoted to recently. Minghao has always been interested in knowing more about you.

“I’m gonna go find Cheol,” you say to Minghao before heading inside.

You make your way through the crowded room looking for your secret lover. You glanced around and found him standing at the bar talking to Wonwoo with a huge smile on his face. You stared for a long moment before his dark eyes locked on to yours. He bit his bottom and stared at you as you walked towards the dance floor.

The feeling of his dark eyes burning into your back couldn’t be missed as you walked through the crowd. You found a couple of the girls who you’ve met before these parties. Most of them work with Minghao. You all started dancing together along to the beat. The music easily melts away your worries as you’re lost in the sound. Swaying your hips to the beat and you smiled singing along with some of the girls. You of the girls called cheers as one of them walked over with shots to pass around. You took the shot glass filled with gold liquid and looked over your shoulder to find Seungcheol eyes still locked on you.

“Cheers,” you all shouted as you knocked back the shots.

“So are you and Cheol finally together?” The blonde who seemed very interested in Wonwoo asked, taking the shot glass from your hand.

You looked at her for a long moment trying to figure out if you should lie and say no or come clean. Seungcheol and you had been living in the bubble and you figured the less people that knew the better.

“Nope were really good friends,” you lied because for some reason it felt like the safest bet.

“Well if you guys ever do get together I think you would make a cute couple,” she smiled before walking away.

You glanced back at Seungcheol to see that he was attempting to make conversation with Wonwoo while staring at you. You started swaying your hips to the beat again.

You felt as if you once again got lost in the music and next thing you knew you were being tapped on the shoulder by Cheol who had walked over and joined the group with Minghao and Soonyoung. The beat of the music picked up and everyone was dancing and having fun. Seungcheol kept his distance from you, dancing and having fun with the group. Even though you were like five feet apart you could still feel your connection as he kept looking at you. Even in a crowded room he seemed to only see you.

Pretty soon another round of shots were being passed around. This time with a clear liquid. You bit your bottom lip and held the glass up to cheers with the rest of the group. Seungcheol nodded his head to you before taking the shot.

The dance floor had seemed to get more crowded and your group was forced to dance closer together. Soon enough you were swaying to the beat of the music with Seungcheol less than a foot from you.

Both your eyes were filled with lust as you moved to the beat. It’s as if you were dancing with your hands tied trying not to touch. You couldn’t let people know that you were together. You wanted nothing more in that moment to just hold his hand or to even just touch him how you have been dying to touch him.

You turned your body around and started moving your butt against him. At that moment you didn’t care who saw. His large hand brushed against your hip sending a shiver down your spine.

“I need more alcohol,” you said as you turned around to face him.

He moved his face closer to yours and whispered into your ear, “let’s get drinks.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder and led you off the dance floor towards the bar. You felt like everyone was staring at you, even though you knew you were probably just being paranoid.

“Do you think people know?” You asked, leaning against the bar.

He shrugged his shoulders, “at this point I don’t care.”

“But you’re my boss?”

He shrugs his shoulders as he waves down the bartender ordering you each a drink. “Technically I’m a boss. I’m not directly your boss. That would be Jeonghan.”

The two drinks are placed in front of you. You stare at the dark liquid before glancing up at Seungcheol who is watching you carefully. You waste no time drinking half the strong liquor.

“I don’t like this being a secret,” you sigh.

He gives you a sad smile before quickly drinking his dark liquor. “It doesn’t have to be a secret.”

You bit your lip wondering if it was worth keeping this relationship hidden from the world. It has been the best ten months of your life. But you want to be able to proudly walk around with the man you’re in love with.

“Let’s go up to the room I booked,” he leaned over and whispered into your ear.

“People are gonna notice us leaving,” you sighed as he traced his finger up and down your arm.

“At this point babe I want people to know you’re mine,” he whispered in your ear.

A shiver went down your spine as you stared at him. He looked at you in that moment as if you were his whole entire world. You wanted nothing more in that moment to steal a kiss from him.

“Let’s go,” reaching down and lacing your fingers together.

You moved through the crowded room towards the elevator. Looking over at him he smiled and pulled your hands close to him.

You hadn’t done anything more than just hold hands walking through the room but you knew your secret was now out. People would now know you were together. People would officially know you’re sleeping with one of the bosses. But the thing is you don’t care. People can gossip all they want. It doesn’t matter because you’re happy.

He held your hand tight while you waited for the elevator. He held your hand as if he was afraid that you would disappear if he let go. You stepped out into the hallway and you gave him a smile. You looked out into the crowd and found Jeonghan smiling as if he was proud to see you together. As the doors closed he leaned over and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. You leaned into his chest feeling safe with him. Your secret was officially out.

The doors to the elevator opened and he laced his fingers with yours and led you into the hallway at a hurried pace. You could tell he was ready to get you into his room. He flung the door open and wasted no time pressing you against the wall. Your lips are roughly connected. He held onto your face as your lips danced. His lips pulled away from yours giving you a moment to breathe. Your lusted filled eyes stayed locked onto his as he moved his largest hands from your face down to your shoulders. You stood in silence for a long moment before he slowly started to pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders. You bit your bottom lip as he slid the dress off you. His eyes looked like he was intoxicated by the sight of you.

As the dress you had been wearing fell off you and pooled in a circle around your feet. You wore nothing but a pale rose colored bra and a pair of cheeky panties. Slowly you reached between the two of you to start unbuttoning his dress shirt. He took your cue and quickly got out of his dress shirt. You reached between you and worked on getting his pants unbuckled.

Quickly he undid his pants and stood there in him his boxers and a grin on his face. Roughly he connected his lips to yours. Wrapping your arms around him you pulled him in close to you. His rough hands gripped your hips as your lips moved together.

Large hands roamed your back as he moved them towards your bra. With little effort he unclasped your bra letting it fall to the floor. Pulling his lips away from yours he started kissing your neck while his hands moved up and start massaging your breast. Leaning your head back against the wall you can’t help but moan, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your body. No matter how many times you do this he makes you fall apart effortlessly.

He moved his lips across your skin as you tangled yours fingers in his long hair. His lips moved lower and lower as he sunk down onto his knees in front of you. He placed a trail of kissed from your breast down to the top of your panties. He looked up at you with hungry eyes as he licked his lips slowly. His large hands slowly gripped the top of your panties and slowly pulled them down. Stepping out of them you stood completely naked in front of him while he sat on his knees looking like he was ready to eat you alive.

“Why am I the only naked one here?” You asked grinning. You love these little moments you get to tease him.

Silently he stood up and made quick work of taking his boxers off. He stood there naked and proud with his erection point straight at you. Biting your lip you sank down onto your knees in front of him. Reaching up and slowly stroking his already hardened erection. Leaning forward you slowly licked the tip. In the ten months you’ve been together you’ve learned all the ways to make him fall apart, just like he knows every way to make you scream. The faint gasp passed his lips is enough to make you wet. Your tongue moved down his length and he tangled his fingers in your hair. Taking him in your mouth you slowly bobbed your head taking in his large dick as much as you could. Seungcheol is the biggest dick you’ve ever had. The first time you hooked up you weren’t even sure he would fit inside you.

He kept moaning your name letting you know that you’re doing a good job. You release him with a pop and lick along his length again your tongue brushes the prominent vein that runs along the side of his cock. Bobbing your head again, taking in his length as you worked your hands at his base. A mixture of moans and whimpers keep passing his lips.

You’re caught off guard when he pulls your hair lightly.“Baby I don’t wanna finish in your mouth,” he looked down at you dazed, and on the brink of falling apart.

He pulled you to your feet and connected his lips to yours roughly. Your back was against the wall within moments. Roughly he lifted you up so you was pressed against the wall. You pulled your lips away from his biting on his bottom lip. He grinned and reached between you and lined his erection up with your entrance.

A loud gasp passed your lips as he thrust into you never giving you a chance to adjust to his size. Wrapping your arms around him as he thrust into you over and over again. Rolling your head back and resting it against the wall as you moaned.

“Fuck- you’re so big,” you moan.

“Sorry baby-“ he pauses like he’s trying to calm down. “I should have gone slower.”

“Fuck- it’s fine. Please keep moving,” you beg.

Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of him stretching you over and over again. His hands roughly held your ass bringing you towards him with every thrust. “Oh my god,” a loud moan passes your lips. You aren’t sure if you’re even able to coherently speak. He’s left you practically brain dead with how good he’s fucking you. You’ll never get over the feeling of how big he is and how good it feels when he stretches you out.

“I'm a close baby,” he groaned.

He pressed you against the wall a little harder and started thrusting a little rougher. He’s not normally this rough but you won’t complain. You’re so cock drunk and lust filled he could practically do anything to you and you would beg for more.

“Cheol,” you moaned as your walls tightened around him. You fall apart quickly and you practically black out with how hard your orgasm hits you.

He got one more thrust in before he moaned your name loudly. You wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the party heard you even from the bottom floor.

“So I think people know we’re together now,” you said softly as he slowly sat you down. Your legs felt like jello and leaned against him for support.

“Good I don’t wanna hide you anymore,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact you weren’t hiding anymore.

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cheeseceli · 7 months ago

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When you struggle to eat

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, reactions

Request: reader thinking she eats "too much" and decides to eat way less for her body image, and how the skz boys would react to that.

Warnings: eating struggles will be discussed; reader has body image issues; mentions of food multiple times; use of petnames in Chan and Changbin's

Disclaimer: this was made with the purpose to comfort anyone who's going through a similar situation. If I made a mistake and made someone uncomfortable/aggravated the situation, please do tell me and I'll correct or delete this post immediately, whatever is preferred. Topics related to eating disorders will be discussed here, please don't read if that's something that triggers you.

Bang Chan - is ready to listen to all your worries

‌We all remember Chan's Room right?

‌He's ready to spend hours if needed just to understand what you're going through ‌and where your insecurities are coming from

‌At the same time, he will never judge you

‌So you know he's your safe place

Constantly checks up on you even if he's far away through texts and calls

And if there's someone who's aggravating the situation or making you insecure, you can bet he's gonna solve the situation himself

"Talk to me baby. What's going on in that mind of yours, hm?"

Lee Know - eats with you

Probably the first to realise something's off, considering food is almost his love language atp

Likes to have as many meals with you as possible

‌He usually makes a mountain of food in his plate, so you don't worry about the amount of food in yours

‌And he also runs errands with you

‌Especially those like buying food

‌You don't even gotta ask, he would be volunteering on the first opportunity

‌Also cooks for you, whatever you want

"Do you want to eat anything? I can cook"

Changbin - Hype man

‌Your personal hype man fr

‌Is ready to compliment you in absolutely everything

‌The best part is that you know that his compliments are always genuine

‌What do you mean you didn't like that trousers?? You looked fantastic in it! That shirt made you look even more gorgeous

‌He has known you for so long and still, he always finds something new to compliment you on

But even if after all the reassurance you want to change the way you look, he will be by your side to help you do it in a safe and healthy way

"You look perfect, baby. I promise. Actually, I still don't believe I managed to pull someone so beautiful like that"

Hyunjin - has all meals with you

‌And with that, I really mean all meals

‌Breakfast, lunch, dinner, you name it

‌Even if you can't really get out of your work place or your university, he's going there then

‌He just doesn't want you to be by yourself

‌He also always has something to say during those meals

‌News about their comeback, gossip at jyp, stories from his childhood...

He never fails to admire you a lot in those moments as well, never letting you forget how much he loves and appreciates you

‌He does that hoping it will distract you from the food, so you can be more at ease

"Have I ever told you about the time Kkami bit my ankle? I think I still have the scar."

Han - makes you feel beautiful

‌He truly doesn't understand how you don't think you're the most beautiful human being to ever set foot on this earth

‌In his eyes, you were born perfect

‌So, naturally, he makes it his mission to make you see yourself in his point of view

‌Compliments and adores you

‌Will make you feel beautiful, pretty, sexy, cute... Whatever you wanna be

‌Above all, he'll make you feel loved

"No matter what size, you'll always be my love. Don't forget that."

Felix - distracts you

‌With that, I mean that he tries to take your attention off food and body image related subjects

‌Before and after eating, he will always bring you along to activities where your mind can be turned off

‌So many fun dates!!

‌Even during the meals he'll have a similar idea to hyunjin and simply won't shut up

‌Most of his compliments don't involve around your body, so you really don't think about it

"I love this hairstyle of yours. It looks wonderful"

Seungmin - protects you

‌In a sense that no one even dares to comment on your looks/habits

Even if he isn't there with you

‌That because he made it very clear that everyone should watch their mouths around you

‌For as long as he's around you, he will do his best and more to protect you from harmful comment

Also tries to experiment a lot of different foods with you all the time, so you never feel like that's a burden or a bad thing

"Hey, have you heard about the new restaurant close to home? The food is peruvian. We could have dinner there tonight."

I.N - physically reassures you

‌He loves you and every single part of you, including your looks

I believe he was a bit lost in the beginning, not exactly sure on how to help you

‌But even if his words aren't exactly his biggest strength, he still wants to reassure you as much as he can

‌So he does that with his touch

‌Holding you on his lap, kissing all of your "imperfections" and tracing patterns in your skin

‌Anything that can ground, reassure and give you comfort at the same time

"Have I ever told you how perfect you are? I should tell you that more."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: when you're overworked (ateez comfort)

Thank you for reading<3 I hope this was able to help someone

» I won't put the taglist on this one as I don't want to tag anyone in something that can possibly trigger them «

Dividers by @/cafekitsune, images 1 2 3

Thank you so much for the beta readers: @duhgurl @beebee18 @applekiwi3202 @elqivxstxr @mrsunshine999 @msauthor

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scene-iii · 2 months ago

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OKAY WAIT. (i only have a loose idea of the tnbc event thanks to translations BUT WHAT IF)

Skully is one of the few members of Ramshackle Dorm, & during a trip to Foothill Town, he stumbles across the Nightmare Before Christmas book. He's sucked in and meets the NRC students. The story plays out and he's sent back to his time, centuries before any of his new friends are born.

He doesn't know this, of course, having forgotten everything. But there's this feeling of want in his chest, not only for a grand Halloween (a day full of life for the dead, much different from his previous ideals) but also for a friend.

He's always longed for friends, but why does his heart ache like he just lost one?

It takes some time, maybe a few weeks, as he tries to decipher his thoughts and feelings to figure out what's wrong. He spends most of his time planning the perfect Halloween to bring the holiday back onto the calendar; something more inviting, something that'll spread the joy he's recently begun to feel about the holiday.

"What gets people up and running? Hm... Perhaps music? Haunting and jaunty melodies would suffice... Why not dance as well...?!"

"Oh, I do adore a pitch-black pallet, but... There's no harm in adding color, right? It's all the rage these days anyways... Perhaps orange, to match pumpkins would be a good start?"

He's not quite sure where these ideas came from, but the ghosts of Ramshackle seem enthusiastic when he shares his thoughts. He has no one else to listen to his plans, and decides, what's the harm with talking to the ghosts? (The ghosts are pleasantly surprised at Skully's change of heart, and will do all they can to encourage this new path.)

Eventually, Skully begins to remember bits and pieces of his time in the book ("I could never forget an encounter with the lovely Jack-sama!" He says. Really, it's the idea of the friends he made that claw the event to the front of his mind).

Most of all, he remembers a magicless human. Oh, how sweet they were, even when he made some rash decisions. Among all the boys in his tale, the beast tamer was his closest companion—even if it were only for a little while.

He recounts the adventure in the book as best he can to the ghosts, seeing as no one else could believe him. A magical book that takes you far away? Who ever heard of that? The ghosts hang on his every word, laughing and gasping at the wonderous characters in Skully's story.

Halloween is a hit at NRC, and once he graduates, Skully decides to share Halloween with the rest of the world. The ghosts wave their old friend goodbye and safe travels, watching him part with spectral tears in their eyes.

The years pass, with Skully now departing from this world, and Ramshackle has fallen into ruin.

Until one day, a magicless beast tamer arrives in Twisted Wonderland, and is sent to live in Ramshackle.

The ghosts are overjoyed at having company after so long, but they can't help but be excited for a different reason.

After all, the King of Halloween's dearest friend has finally appeared.

#twst #twst yuu #twisted wonderland #twst skully #twst scully #skully j graves #ramshackle #ramshackle prefect #pen to paper #twst the nightmare before christmas

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heich0e · 10 months ago

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shouto has not stopped talking about his new nephew for an hour and fifty seven minutes.

you can't blame him, really, for not being able to stop rambling since he got home—you saw the photos he snapped on his phone, the sweet little boy is borderline cherubic. and it's his first nephew, after all, with touya being the first of the todoroki siblings to have any children. there's added novelty to this new arrival. the fact that the baby is so cute is just a serendipitous bonus.

"...and then he fell asleep right in my arms." shouto rinses his toothbrush under the stream of water flowing from the tap in your shared bathroom. half the story he'd just told had been lost to the froth of toothpaste in his mouth, talking around the toothbrush as he cleaned his teeth before bed, but he'd already told you this part of the story three times—so thankfully you didn't miss anything.

you smile as shouto wipes at the corner of his mouth with a towel hanging from the rail on one side of the bathroom, watching his reflection in the mirror. his eyes flicker up to meet yours in the surface of the glass, and he sees the mirthful twist at the corner of your mouth.

he turns to you in the narrow bathroom just off your bedroom and approaches you slowly, his arms winding around your waist as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. he's in his pajamas now, ready for bed, and without lifting his head or stepping away from you, he begins shuffling the two of you out the door towards your waiting bed in the next room. you can't help but giggle as you go, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck for balance, allowing him to guide you wherever he sees fit.

shouto leans you back gently once the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, crawling overtop of you to get to his side of the bed and then pulling you into his chest once more as he tugs the blankets up around you both.

"sounds like you had a lot of fun today," you remark quietly as you settle into bed, your fingers tracing idle patterns into the flat plane of shouto's sternum.

"i didn't expect him to be so small," shouto replies. "or to smell so good."

you want to laugh at his sincere tone of surprise, but hold it back.

"i hope i get to meet him soon, too," you say.

"touya says you're welcome any time," shouto insists. "he said i'm only welcome some of the time, though."

that really does make you laugh, because you can practically hear the eldest todoroki son's voice saying the words.

it's quiet for a while as you and shouto lay in bed, tangled up together.

"he's gonna make me the godfather," shouto finally says after a while—so softly you almost miss it. the remark, and the tenderness in his voice, makes something in your chest squeeze tight.

"that's so nice, sho," you answer.

"that means if anything ever happens to touya, we get the baby."

'we' he says—not i—like he doesn't for a second picture any future (even one where his beloved older brother has met some untimely demise) without you in it.

"don't wish anything ill on him just because you want to steal his cute baby," you tease him, lifting your head up and resting your chin against his chest so you can watch his face. he looks pensive, like he's really mulling over your words, and it makes you want to laugh again.

"but it would be nice, i think," shouto finally speaks again after his careful contemplation. "having the baby here with us."

heat floods up fast to your cheeks, and you glance away unconsciously. you're sure shouto has no idea what he's just said—still a little giddy from how smitten he is with his new nephew. but it still makes your mind go to places it shouldn't.

"no baby stealing," you reiterate firmly. flopping down again to go to sleep—if for no other reason than you suddenly find it hard to meet his gaze.

shouto sighs a little, but the sound is resigned like he's reluctantly agreeing to your terms. he eases you over onto your side so he can curl up behind you underneath the cover of your quilt, his strong arm looping over your waist.

the heat of shouto's breath hits the shell of your ear as his face rests on the pillow behind you, and you can still smell the spearmint from his toothpaste. his warmth seeps into you as he presses into your back. you close your eyes and luxuriate in the familiarity of it.

"we could have our own, you know," shouto's voice is much nearer to you than you expect it to be when he speaks again, his lips brushing against the back of your ear softly as they shape his words. his hand slips up underneath the t-shirt you wore to bed—the tips of his fingers feel scorching as they ghost across your skin. "and i bet our baby would be even cuter than touya's—no stealing required."

#shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha drabble #bnha writing #writing #todoroki 'lawful good except when it comes to annoying my family' shouto

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mellowyellow236 · 3 months ago

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How Would the TWST Boys react to a Yuu/Reader like the “Princess” in their movie?

While the reader is gender neutral, when I use the word “Princess”, I mean the leading female character in their movies, the exception being Savanaclaw (The Reader is based on Belle from Beauty and the Beast; I thought it fit more than Nala and most other characters are male or side characters) All drabbles are meant to be interpreted as romantic, except for those in Ramschakle, Ortho, or if otherwise stated, but most can also be read as platonic. Some are just headcanons, while others are more like a story.

This is not an idea unique to me! However, I’ve seen a lot of people do it so I’m not sure who the original was.

As always, if you have anything to add or any questions, please leave a comment or ask. Requests are open!

All parts below the cut :)

Heartslabyul: Alice from Alice In Wonderland

Riddle Rosehearts -

Pre-overblot Riddle isn’t the biggest fan of how you act. Why is he painting the roses? Because that’s the rule. Doesn’t it hurt them? No, it’s magic, obviously. Why is it a rule? Because it is, stop asking so many pointless questions.

He grew up in an environment where he wasn’t meant to question the rules, so to see someone question the rules and everything about the world? He doesn’t know how to handle it. You’re not breaking any rules, but would you if given the chance? Is that ground to collar you?

Post-overblot, Riddle finds that he quite likes you. He thinks you’re a positive influence, and can balance him out well. If he’s following the rules too hard, he just has to think like you do and ask why the rule exists. He has a little mini-you in his head to keep him in check.

He likes to walk around Heartslabyul with you. “You get lost too easily” is his main excuse, but he just wants to spend time with you. After all, you're his favorite troublemaker. He has to try to take care of you.

Platonic - If you were an actual child like Alice, he would try his best to give you all the treats and things he never got to have growing up. He’s pretty over-indulgent, all things considered. He has to stop himself from spoiling your dinner by giving you tarts...

Trey Clover -

Trey thinks that you’re very sweet, and bakes you lots of treats.

Can your questioning be annoying? Yes. Does that mean that he won’t often entertain your questions and try to find answers? No. If anyone in Heartslabyul is willing to answer all of your questions, or at least try to, it’s him.

The one thing is that he needs to hide all of his sweets from you... ‘Eat Me’ doesn’t actually mean you can eat whatever it is all the time, you know? He has treats you can eat here, just leave those for the unbirthday party later alone!

Platonic - If you’re the same age as Alice was, he goes full dad mode. He makes you lunches and dinners, gives you piggyback rides whenever you want, and invites you over to help you study. he probably has one of those toddler leashes people use for chaotic children for you so you don’t get lost in the garden again.

Cater Diamond -

Cater likes how curious you are. It makes him think of you as a younger sibling, and he gets to show you around. He might even hide you away from Riddle if he notices that you’ve been munching on one of his tarts.

Ask him whatever questions you’d like! He doesn’t have all the answers, but he’ll happily google it or ask MagiCam if they’ve got them.

Speaking of MagiCam, prepare to be put on there a lot. You have such pretty dresses, like a doll! He loves to take pictures of you in the garden, you blend right in with the other students. If he can get you to stay still for long enough, that is.

Platonic, Angst - If you’re the same age as Alice was, expect him to try and dote on you a lot. He knows what it’s like to move away from everything and everyone that you love, even if it’s different from you, and he wants to try to make it as easy as he can for you.

Ace Trapolla -

Ace thinks that you’re a funny person. You’re constantly asking stupid questions, you often eat treats, and you seem to know even less than he does about manners and the Queen of Hearts’ rules.

And you’re so fun to tease! You’ll get all mad and then run off, or skip the getting mad part to leave and go a different route whenever the garden gets a bit too wild.

Not to mention, you’ll try just about anything put your way. Expect plenty of pranks from him giving you magical cookies and drinks. They’ll wear off soon enough, but he still wants to have fun while he has to chance.

Not to mention, you’re just as bad at studying as he is. Talk about fate, you two can run away and skip class to go hang out in the hedge maze together. Just make sure Riddle doesn’t catch you two again...

Platonic - If you’re the same age as Alice was, then Ace somehow becomes a much better person to you. He doesn’t like getting teased by his older brother, so even if he does it to you a bit, it’s not too much. And then he gets you treats and will sometimes carry you around, so he more than makes up for it.

Deuce Spade -

Deuce sees you kind of as an enigma. You aren’t too concerned about getting home; You want to, but it doesn’t seem to concern you so much as finding answers to your immediate problems.

And yet, you still seem so interested in the world, never losing what you wanted to do. Yes, you’ll pout and glare when Riddle corrects you or Ace teases you, but soon enough you’ll go back to your lust for life. It’s commendable to him.

You’re one of his favorite people, and he wants to protect you. You don’t know how to defend yourself too well, from words or fists, and so he tries his best to do it for you.

Platonic - If you’re the same age as Alice was, you’ve got a very sweet Duece as an older brother. You’re his younger sibling in his head, and so he’s kind of protective. He tries to help you out to do things, even if he’s hopeless at all kinds of school as well, and makes sure you don’t go down the wrong path like he did.

Savanaclaw: Belle from Beauty And The Beast

Leona Kingscholar -

Leona... Oh, Leona. The first thing he wants to do is hit you. Why are you hanging around him? He’s done everything in his power to get away, and yet you refuse to. What is wrong with you?

And then he gets used to it. Oh the seven, he gets used to it. You’re not in the botanical gardens to read to him during your lunch break? Now you are. He went to the library to go get you, you better follow him. You have work to do so you can’t? Well, no one ever said he had to leave. They can’t tell him to, he’s a prince, anyway.

Speaking of being a prince, he once made an offhanded comment about his home having a library in the palace. Cue you gushing all about it and Leona trying to figure out if he’d rather take you home to see it or build you your own in Ramshackle. In the end, he does neither, but he does give you his and his brother's NRC and RSA textbooks, respectively. Now you have double the reading material, and Leona only had to sacrifice some of his pride to ask, rather than all of it by bringing you home.

He starts to fall for you before he realizes it. You’re so nice to him, and never see him as lesser even after he tells you that he doesn’t have the energy to study ever. You just read him the material, and he soon realizes that he picks up on it more when you’re reading. It doesn’t cure him, he still doesn’t show up to class, but at least he feels better about himself now that he’s able to learn something.

Angst - He doesn’t want to introduce you to his family, but he gets a little more tempted after you talk about your father. His parents weren’t the best, but hearing you talk about him makes him think of his older brother more than anything else. And if you talk about how he got lost badly in the woods once and you couldn’t find him, until the carriage found you, Leona is forced to think about how he and Checka felt when he left for NRC and started barely coming back. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to convince Leona that he can love not just you, and not just his family, but himself as well.

Ruggie Bucchi -

Ruggie gets you. You both came from places where money was often tight and with one guardian, even if you were in a small village and he was in the slums. Incredibly different in most ways, but similar in enough. He knows what it’s like to have someone tell you you can’t do or be something because of factors you can’t control.

He likes hearing you talk about yourself. It’s refreshing, to see someone just offering up information without expecting anything in return. He’s not afraid you’re going to hit him like he is at home, and you seem aghast if he brings it up. It’s a lot of fun being with you.

You read to him, too. Long stories and short ones, and for the first time he’s okay with sitting still for a couple of hours. He loves to nap on you while you read. It’s a great chance for him to relax and for you to be able to share whatever book has your interest at the time.

Jack Howl -

Jack thinks that you’re a pretty good person. After all, you treat everyone so nicely. But to him, that isn’t anything special. You’re just another face in the crowd at first.

But one day, he gets hurt while running near Ramshackle, and you find him. He’s surprised and enamored, not only by how you were able to walk all that way just to explore but also because of how you were able to patch him up so nicely. Someone who can do physical activity and knows enough to do first aid? He’s impressed.

Afterwards, he starts hanging around you more. He thinks that your love of learning and reading, as well as your adventurous spirit, is beautiful. He wants to get closer to you and become your friend or more.

Also, that one thing you hear people do where one guy’s doing pushups and the other’s sitting on their back and reading? He does that. Please read aloud to him, he likes hearing your voice and also knowing that you’re also happy when he spends time with you.

Octavinelle: Ariel from The Little Mermaid

Azul Ashengrotto -

Azul believes you to be rather useful. After all, you were willing to sign a contract immediately, if it hadn’t been for Grim pulling you out. He could get Ramshackle Dorm all for himself very quickly...

But then, he hears you singing to yourself, and he decides that he must have your voice. Above all else, he wants to listen to you sing. But that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with your voice. He thinks having you work for him would be just as good, at first.

And you trust him after that. He loves it, loves how you draw in customers, and how you don’t think he’s weird or ugly. You trust him, and you believe in him, and it’s wonderful.

Angst from here down - ...And then you start talking about a human boy. Someone from another dorm, he doesn’t care who. But they have your heart, and you love them, and he doesn't know what to do with himself. You loved him, but now there’s a pretty human boy that you love more, and you’re only coming to Azul for advice on courting? That’s not right.

In the end, Azul does offer you a contract that will give you a love potion in exchange for your voice. This is what he wanted at the start. This is what he wanted, right? Except he doesn’t want it anymore. He hates the fact that he has no excuses to see you, and you only come to Mostro Lounge for dates with your boyfriend, he hates how you only ever want to write to him about your lover rather than talk about any little thing as you used to.

In the end, he’s the one that turns into seafoam, alone in his office with only a voice to keep him company, having it repeat the only words he wanted to hear. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Jade Leech -

Jade thinks you to be an interesting subject. A merperson, so set on going up to land that you’re almost squealing for joy every minute. How odd. He wants to study you.

Once you’re working at the Mostro Lounge, he takes his chance to examine how you behave. He tries feeding you, but you use the forks to do your hair. Interesting, you seem to know much less about the human world than he did when coming here. And the names you come up with for them? How on Earth did you even think of something so out there...

Angst from here down - Out of the Octavinelle trio, he’s the least jealous on the outside. After all, you’re so cheerful and easily distracted, surely this boy must be just a stranger who’s caught your interest for a moment. Floyd does the same thing all the time, and the boy doesn’t even seem to like you back. You’ll be back to asking him about mushrooms in no time.

But you aren’t. That’s when he starts to go a bit crazy. You haven’t given up on this human boy, why? Because he has legs? You know that potions give Jade the same thing, right? You’re being silly. What does that boy have that he couldn’t give you, right here where you belong?

He takes it hardest when you lose your voice. Jade’s always loved control, and it’s something he’s always had. But now, he doesn’t. You’ve decided to leave him, and he wasn’t even given a chance at control. Not even a chance to fix whatever it was that he needed to fix.

He tries to play it off. Of course, he knew. You must have mentioned it, Azul must have told him. He gaslights himself into thinking it wasn’t any more than a snap decision, that you’ll come back within the week month year and make a contract for your voice back, and then Azul will make you stay. Yes, that’s what will happen. Of course, it will. Of course. It couldn’t be any other way.

Floyd Leech -

You’re a really fun Shrimpy. You sing, and you do funny stuff with forks and things. You make a great person to hang out around. You even name objects like he names people! “Dinglehopper”? That’s fun, he’s going to start doing it!

When you start singing for customers at the Mostro Lounge, he’s ecstatic. He gets more time around you, and more people come that he can squeeze, and Jade and Azul are happy! What more could he want? You’re a great, fun Shrimpy that he wants to spend so much time with and squeeze!

Angst from here down - And then you start talking about a boyfriend. What do you mean he’s not the most important person to you? Do you not care about all of the time you’ve spent together? Was he only ever a placeholder? It seems like it when all your hangout time is now time spent with him.

Floyd misses you, and when he finds out Azul has your voice, he’s mad. He doesn’t even get a little piece of you, the one thing you left here? You didn’t even tell him about it before you did it? Was he really nothing to you?

You aren’t able to come back to the Mostro Lounge. If you did, Floyd would either smother you in love or kick you out. He can’t stand the thought of you leaving, so why’d you do it? Why’d you have to up and leave him? Why, Shrimpy, why?

Scarabia: Jasmine from Aladin

Kalim Al-Asim -

You and Kalim hit it off right away. At least, from his perspective, you do. You might find him a little annoying, but you bringing your tiger and talking with him like he was your equal? Kalim is over the moon. You treat him like a Jamil that isn’t working for him! That’s a great friendship.

Speaking of your tiger, he loves him! He gives him lots of crackers until you have to stop him. That seems to make you mad, but now Kalim’s sneaking the tiger various treats that are healthy for tigers. Or, at least, definitely won’t make him sick.

You hate him, and Kalim... doesn’t get it. Until he goes to your balcony to take you on a carpet ride. For one reason or another, you decide to get onto the carpet, and it’s magical. Alone with only the sky and Kalim, as well as the carpet, it’s like a whole new world opens up.

Afterward, Kalim notices you treating him differently, but he’s not upset about it. If anything, he’s happy to get your adventurous side. Prepare to give Jamil a heart attack as you take Kalim out to visit the town without warning or preparations.

Kalim’s happy that he’s made a friend he can be himself around, without needing to worry about titles or politics. To him, you’re a friend for life.

Jamil Viper -

Jamil has mixed feelings for you. On one hand, you’re so wealthy that you seem to be wholly unaware of how the world works. But on the other? He is living for how you dislike Kalim. He’s never been so validated when he sees you roll your eyes or scoff, confirming that it’s not just him who finds him annoying.

You’re still nobility, though, and the fact that you also depend on Jamil for many things doesn’t make him very happy. What do you mean, just buy a new phone? It’s just a scratch, the phone works fine. What do you mean, it’s not that expensive? WHY IS EVERYONE HE INTERACTS WITH LIKE THIS?

Once you sneak out and Kalim makes him go to find you, though, Jamil is slightly more endeared to you. You may not know how the world works, but you clearly don’t want to be coddled, something he can appreciate, at the very least.

He starts teaching you how to cook and various other small tasks. He continues to like you more and more as the days go on, trying your best and trying to help him. And you actually pay attention and learn! He likes you a lot by the end of the first year you spend here, enough to let you do his hair if you really want.

Pomefiore: Snow White from Snow White

Vil Schoenheit -

Vil hates you more than Neige, somehow. He’s jealous, and this time, he can’t make some of it go away by saying that you just have a more attractive brand rather than that he just wasn’t prettier.

Wherever he goes, you’re the one that draws attention. He doesn’t need to worry about too many fans asking for autographs, but that’s only because they want yours instead. Worried that you’ll be bullied when a dating rumor starts? He was, but then it does and he’s the one being told he’s not good enough.

He ends up playing into it just because he wants to see what it’s like to date you he’s spiteful that his fans like you more than him. So, he’s going to play into it, then they’ll get used to it and he’ll get even more likes from you being in his photos. All of his problems get solved, easy.

It isn’t until midway through his plan that he starts to like you. You are genuinely kind to him, so sweet and nice that he can’t help but feel some kind of affection for you. You’re a good person, and in the world of stars, that’s rare. Vil loves that kindness, and even if he’s still ungodly jealous no matter the circumstance, he’s much more forgiving of your lack of flaws when he knows that he’s fallen for it as much as your other fans.

Rook Hunt -

Oh, mon Dieu! Quelle beauté! You’re gorgeous to Rook, as much as Vil or Neige. Truly, the Monarque de son cœur. You have a kind heart as much as you have a kind soul, and it’s something Rook finds equally endearing as he does anyone else.

Rook is well aware of the fact that you’re physically beautiful, as well. Often, he’ll come to you listing off every factor that he can about how gorgeous you are, just to let you know he appreciates it.

Out of everyone, Rook encourages people to praise you the most. He’s not jealous of your looks or of others appreciating you, he’s simply in love with you and wants everyone to be just as in love. After all, the more people that love you, the more confidence Rook hopes you’ll gain, and that would truly be the best accessory for your joyous soul.

Translations: (Done with Google Translate)

“Oh, mon Dieu! Quelle beauté!” - “Oh my God! What beauty!”

“Monarque de son cœur” - “Monarch of his heart”

Epel Felmeir -

Epel is mildly annoyed by your presence. You’re like everything Vil wants him to be. Feminine, sweet, soft-spoken, pretty, and whatever else. Everything that he doesn’t want to be.

But then you bring him an apple pie. Well, bring is the wrong word. It implies you were there. You had a group of singing bluejays deliver him slices of a pie you stored in your home so Vil wouldn’t notice. And he kind of gets why Vil wants him to be like you.

He doesn’t want to be like and he doesn’t dislike you for existing in the wrong space anymore. You’re your own person, and a very cute person at that. That just means that the manly thing to do is to take the sweeter person and protect them, right? So now Epel’s your protector, trying his best to make sure that you stay safe and be the best guardian that he can be.

Ignihyde: Megara from Hercules

Idia Shroud -

Idia is afraid of you. At first, he thought you were like him. A comrade, one that was afraid of talking to people. And then he realized the truth... You didn’t fear people. You just didn’t like them.

You were someone he couldn’t understand at all. Why wouldn’t you talk to people if you didn’t fear them? Why are you solo-leveling if you’ve got a great team? Are you secretly hiding some kind of special skill? Are you the final boss in disguise?

But the damage was done. He... Had told Ortho in passing that he thought you might be like him. It was too late for his sanity; His brother’s insistence on keeping his social bar full had kicked in. How was he supposed to interact with you after such a wrong assumption?

You were too snarky when he was gaming, too. What do you mean, ‘it doesn’t look that hard’?! Fine, then, you try! And while you’re at it, here’s his UID in every game he’s ever played! How you like it now, you’re just a level one newb and he’s- Oh the seven what has he done. Now you’ve got access to all his accounts.

Please just let him crawl into a hole and die a peaceful death. That would be preferable to you bursting into his room to demand answers as to how these games work or for him to invite you into a higher-level dungeon so you can get more rewards. And you don’t just stand to the side and let him fight! At least then it would be a challenge with what characters he could use, but no! You’re in distress, but then you tell him to leave and ‘Have a nice day’ once he tries to save you from the monsters! Why are you like this...

He does end up enjoying the time you spend with him, though. Once you two open up to each other, about your past lover’s and his brother’s deaths, he feels like he really has a friend. You can tell him that you owe him for getting you into games or for helping you out all you want, but to Idia, you’re the one that he owes.

Ortho Shroud -

Ortho loves you. Then again, Ortho loves most people. But especially you. You’re like another older sibling!

Yes, you’re a bit rude and you seem to send Idia into a state of panic every time you enter the room, but that’s okay! Everyone has their flaws, and to Ortho, you’re just another option for a friend. And his big brother’s, at that! Did you know Idia could make friends on his own? He seemed to have all of these guesses about your personality, but that’s more interest than he shows most people, so at least you’re something with a pulse he can look at!

He’s cheerful enough to break down your cold exterior. Not only is he a good person, but he’s also loyal and helpful, something you haven’t experienced in a long time. Give him a little while, and he might help bring your personality back to the kinder person you were before the world jaded you. Not in every way, of course, but as your self-appointed little brother, Ortho sure does try to bring you at least some joy.

Diasonia: Briar Rose/Aurora from Sleeping Beauty

Malleus Dracona -

You’re quite the friend for Malleus, and he appreciates you very much. You’re kind and sweet, and you aren’t afraid of him in the slightest. No, more than anything, you seem happy to discuss fairytales with him.

Malleus appreciates you falling asleep in front of him more than you realize, and more than he thought he would. It’s a form of trust to him. You trust that in your sleep, he won’t attack. He won’t hurt you or kidnap you. Considering the places you fall asleep in, he even sees it as you trusting him to protect you. He’s your guardian dragon now, and you’re never getting away from him.

If given the chance, he will marry you, especially knowing how you always dreamed of living inside of a fairytale. He wants to make you an actual prince or princess if you give him the chance. That way, your childhood dream can come true, and his modern one can.

Lilia Vanrouge -

Lilia loves you. You’re just like Silver! Kind, sleepy, and lovely to everyone. He’s a bat dad at heart, and he’ll try to father you like a broody chicken would a rock.

He likes to make you various outfits, mostly in pink or blue, or sometimes both, and also tries cooking for you. He doesn’t do very well, but once he almost manages to bake you a cake. It was half-baked and fell over after he tried to move it, but there was an attempt.

He likes to tease you about how much you sleep, but he’s always willing to help you out. If you ever fall asleep at Diasonia, you’ll wake up with a pillow under your head and a blanket covering you. Even if he doesn’t say it, it’s obvious who left them once you start finding him cuddled up to you.

Silver “Vanrouge” -

Silver thinks that you’re an endearing person. After all, you’re willing to watch over him while he’s napping or nap with him. He’s even woken up to you making flower crowns for him and the various animals in the woods! It was very nice of you all.

Expect stories from him. He loves to tell you stories, and then watch you laugh and smile with them.

And you get along with the forest creatures! They stole his jacket once, and when he woke up and you were in a clearing, dancing and humming with them, he fell for you so hard.

He’s happy that you’re willing to spend so much time with him even though he falls asleep so much. If you ever let him use you as a pillow, he’ll be eternally thankful.

Sebek Zigvolt -

Sebek does not like you. Not one bit.

He already has Silver to deal with, and now you’re falling asleep, too! What is he to do, having to defend you two when you’re tired AND Malleus!

But when you’re awake, he thinks that you’re fine.

You’re curious, but that’s good because you’re also observant. A fine thing to have when you’re with a knight.

Besides, you like listening to him talk about classic fae stories. You call them fairy tales, but you are more interested than most humans, and he gives you credit for recognizing how amazing the fae are.

Ramshackle: Belle (Scrooge’s Previous Fiance) from A Christmas Carol

Ghosts -

The ghosts think you’re a wonderful person.

You take care of things around the house, and you don’t mind the chills sometimes, or when they sneak up on you.

They wish that you weren’t so used to living without much, but that’s okay. They can protect you now that you’re here.

Telling them stories about your old world is lots of fun for them. After all, they don’t get out of Ramshackle dorm often. Hearing your love and subsequent tragedy is their new favorite story.

Grim -

Grim sees you like an older sibling figure.

You’re sweet, and you don’t care for money, but rather just want to have a good time living with him in Twisted Wonderland.

He finds your love of other people and kids annoying and takes it upon himself to become your protector of sorts. No one can break your heart again if he’s there to stop them!

Speaking of heartbreak, if you tell him stories of your previous fiance, and how greedy he was, he’ll take it upon himself to give you a bit of his tune. You’re his henchmen, you should know that makes you better than all the other humans! He was stupid for not marrying you when he had the chance!

745 notes · View notes

merrybloomwrites · 3 months ago

Text

When You're Lost, Just Look For Me

Summary: You’re not always good at asking for what you need. Luckily your bandmates know when you need a little extra love and are there to support you.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: mentions of: neglectful family, periods, little bit of online hate

This story is set in the 1D days, and therefore Liam is a main character just like the other boys. Wanted to give a heads up in case anyone wants to avoid stories with him in it.

AN: When the news broke last week I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue writing, and really didn’t know what I would write about if I did. But then Passing Contact doubled in notes so I took that as a hint that it’s what people might want to read right now. So I decided to write a part 2 in hopes that it can help people in any way.

I have a couple other ideas for stories of reader x one direction that would also take place back when they were touring, but if you have any requests please let me know

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It’s a day off in a random hotel room in a random city in the United States. Of that you’re sure. But you're not sure of much else at the moment.

You’re thinking back to the past few days. You’d messed up your backing vocals on stage, and had to re-record your parts for the next album because you just could not get it right. Numerous rumors were being spread about you being spotted with random boys, leading to renewed comments calling you all kinds of nasty things.

You’re still in your pajamas, which you realize somehow consist of a pair of Louis’ sweatpants, one of Zayn's t-shirts, and a sweatshirt Liam had given you a week ago that you have yet to return. You think about texting one of them to come hang out, but you don’t want your glum mood to bring them down. Instead you turn on the TV and wrap yourself in all your blankets.

It’s what you always did as a child when you were sad. Your family was never open with their emotions, and affection made them uncomfortable. From a young age you knew that going to your parents for comfort would end with rejection. So you’d learned how to comfort yourself.

The blanket nest barely does its job today, and you’re still lost in your thoughts of self doubt when a knock at the door startles you.

For a second you think about ignoring it, but odds are the person knocking wouldn’t just go away. So you pull yourself up and open the door, seeing Niall there waiting for you.

“Hey, haven’t heard from you today, wanted to see what you’re up to,” he says.

You’re hit with a wave of embarrassment, not wanting to admit that you've been wallowing all day.

“Just taking it easy,” you reply, “Catching up on sleep.” It’s believable enough, none of you sleep too well on the bus and this is your first hotel bed in over a week.

“I hear ya, think I slept twelve hours straight,” Niall says with a laugh.

Knowing that he’s hoping for an invitation you step aside and motion your arm, silently asking him to join you in your room. You glance around quickly, glad to see everything is neat except the bed. You hope that he doesn’t judge the mess of blankets, and considering he just kicks off his shoes and climbs into your bed, you assume he’s fine with it.

“What are we watching?” Is his next question so you sit on the other side of the bed and pass him the remote, allowing him to scroll through the channels until he finds some nature show that looks mildly interesting.

You stare at the screen but you’re not focusing on it. You’re more focused on Niall just a couple feet away from you.

During a celebration after the first tour, where you’d all indulged a bit with some drinks, you’d let slip about your family and your reluctance when it comes to physical affection. They listened and then made it a goal to help you be more comfortable with hugs, and hand holding, and all kinds of friendly contact.

And it was nice. You’d always known that babies could be touch deprived, but you’d learned that adults can be starved for human touch as well. There was no doubt that you fell into this category, so getting random bouts of touch and affection from your band members had been healing in a way.

But lately things have been so crazy that everyone has been focusing on themselves. Plus you’re older now, not the teens that you were when you started the band. As people in your early twenties, the casual physical affection has dwindled.

The boys seem to be coping with this, as though they haven’t even realized that the group hugs and cuddle piles have stopped. But you’ve noticed. And you’ll be the first to admit that you miss it.

Now especially, with all this stress and disappointment weighing you down, you can’t help but desire a hug, one so tight that you can just burrow into one of the boys for a little while and feel safe and loved.

But even though Niall is right there, you can’t bring yourself to ask. You can’t even move closer and get rid of the space between you. Because it was always the boys initiating the contact. You’re nervous to try, terrified that you might get rejected.

Niall can tell something is going on with you, but he’s not sure what. He’s never been the best at navigating other people’s emotions so he calls in backup by sending a text to Harry who arrives a little bit later. He brings lunch with him, and you’re grateful for that since you’ve barely eaten all day.

The three of you sit together at the table to eat. The food is good, and you’re grateful that Niall and Harry are talking to each other because you don’t have much to add right now. You don’t realize the way they’re watching you, communicating their worry through pointed looks.

When lunch is done you all head back to the bed and put on a movie. You’re sitting against the headboard, Niall on your left and Harry on your right. And somehow, they’re still not touching you. At this point you’d take a brush of their arm against yours. Anything to help you feel less alone. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to lean closer to either of them. It’s maddening.

“Y/N,” Harry says, catching your attention.

“Yea?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, not even sure why you’re lying to him.

“We know something is bothering you,” Niall adds.

You take a breath before spilling everything that’s been going on. They listen and reassure you and while you do feel better after talking with them, there’s still that part of you that’s so on edge.

“What do you need?” Harry asks.

You think about it for a moment and say, “What I need is for people to stop judging me.”

“That’s a fair point. But I want to know what you need right now. From us.” Harry says.

The thing is, he knows the answer. He’s already aware of what would make you feel better. But he wants you to say it. He wants you to be comfortable to voice your needs with him and the other boys.

Finally you blurt out, “I just need a hug.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says.

Now you’re confused. It’s what you want. You tapped into all your bravery to even say that. And now he’s telling you that’s not right?

“You want something more than that. Need something more than that,” he adds.

You think about it for a moment and you realize that he’s right. A little hug isn’t going to cut it.

“I need someone to hold me,” you say quietly. “I need to be held.”

Neither boy hesitates now, and you end up tucking into Harry's side with Niall wrapping around you. They hold you tight, hands gently rubbing your back or arms to soothe you.

It’s not often that you allow yourself to cry, but you do now. You heave out a sob and feel their arms tighten around you. They stay like that until your sobs turn into tears before finally drying up.

“Thank you,” you say quietly once you’ve calmed down fully.

“Of course, YN,” Niall says. “We’re always here for you. Whatever you need.”

“We’re in this together,” Harry adds. “And we take care of each other. Always.”

Their kindness, and comfort has you feeling so much better, but you remain in their hold just a bit longer. It feels so nice to have this type of physical contact after so long without it.

The three of you eventually get cleaned up and join the rest of the boys for dinner. You end the day feeling so much better than you did at the start, and you know it’s thanks to these boys you call family.

But despite how nice it felt to be held, thoughts of doubt and embarrassment fill your mind in the weeks that follow. When you look back at that afternoon you first think about how good it felt. And then you begin to feel weak that you even needed to be babied in the first place.

You vow to be stronger in the future and not ask for that again. They have their own things, they don’t need to be taking care of you too. At least, that’s what your parents had always said.

Tour continues, and one night you all have to stay at the venue for a while after the show. Security said something about it being unsafe to travel just yet, but you were too tired to listen to the details.

After more than an hour of hanging out backstage you finally get the all clear to head out. But in that time you’d practically fallen asleep on the sofa. You have zero desire to get up so you sleepily raise your arms and look at Liam who’s standing before you and say, “Carry me.”

He chuckles, and a sweet smile appears on his face. Without even saying a word he leans down and slides an arm behind your back, the other under your knees to scoop you up bridal style. You sling one arm around his neck and hold on as he adjusts his grip to make sure you are secure.

Once back on the bus he tucks you in, straightening your extra blanket and placing your stuffed cat in your arms. He runs a gentle hand through your hair until you fall asleep, once again feeling so safe and loved.

A couple weeks later your period hits, and for some reason this month is especially bad. It’s day two of non stop cramps, and as much as you try to keep this a secret from the boys, they always know when you’re feeling particularly bad.

Louis is the one to find you curled up on the couch. He brings chocolate, pain relievers, and some tea that’s supposed to help. You’d never heard of it before, but apparently his sisters swear by it.

When nothing helps right away he lays down with you. His hand goes to your stomach and begins to rub, somehow soothing more than just the pain. Once your cramps finally go away you turn so that you're facing Louis. You tuck your head under his chin and he puts his arm around your waist to keep you close.

It should be strange, being so close to him. But it just feels right, just like it does with the other boys. You let yourself enjoy the comfort as Louis’ hand rubs gentle circles on your back.

Not only are your cramps gone, but the feelings of sadness and anxiety that usually come with your period are gone too, all thanks to Louis’ compassion and gentleness.

A few days later you're sleeping in your bunk when a nightmare hits. It’s one that you used to get all the time, but now only comes when you’re extra exhausted or stressed. And with it being the last couple weeks of tour, you’re both of those things.

You wake up gasping, adrenaline coursing through your body. You hoped that you were quiet and didn’t wake anyone else, but a moment later Zayn appears and asks if you’re alright.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Just a dream. I’m good now.”

But of course these boys can read you like a book. And Zayn immediately knows you’re not fine.

“Scooch over,” he says, and you listen. As soon as there’s room he climbs in the bunk with you. He lays on his back and pulls you so your head is resting on his chest.

You get comfy but you can’t help but feel bad. These bunks are small, uncomfortable for just one person. Definitely cramped with two.

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine,” you say.

“Nonsense. No one should be alone when they don’t have to,” he replies.

You can't argue with that. The two of you hold each other close and fall into a peaceful sleep. He’s still there when you wake up in the morning and you snuggle closer, taking advantage of his comforting touch.

When tour ends you’re a weird mixture of relieved and sad. It had been exhausting, but so wonderful.

And you have to admit to yourself that you’re going to miss the boys. It’s only a couple of weeks apart before you come back together, but you’ll be back home with your family during that time.

And you’re realizing that they’re not really family to you.

Zayn, Niall, Louis, Liam, and Harry are your family. They care for you in ways your own parents never did. And you’re going to miss that while you’re all back home.

The boys know how you feel about going to stay with your family. That’s why they plan a night in rather than going out to party. You have some drinks and pizza, and spend the evening reminiscing about the past months you had together.

The later it gets, the more glum you feel. You know the goodbyes are coming soon, and that puts a damper on your mood.

Liam’s the first to notice how quiet you’ve gotten. He sits next to you on the couch and gently nudges you with his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

You don’t want to bring down the party, but you can’t ignore his pleading eyes so you reply, “I’m just going to miss you guys.”

He nods but continues to look at you, knowing there’s more to it. Sighing you add, “And you guys are so happy and so warm. At home everyone’s cold and distant.”

“What can we do to help?” He asks. A memory pops into your head. Another hotel room when you were feeling down. You know exactly what you need. And you’re no longer scared or embarrassed to ask for it.

“I need to be held,” you say.

“I think we can do that,” Liam says before once again picking you up and announcing, “Cuddle party on the bed!”

He gently tosses you onto the plush king bed and in no time you’re surrounded by your boys. That’s how the six of you sleep that night, all snuggled together in one big pile.

You’ve never before felt so safe, so loved. And you’ll forever be grateful for the opportunity you received that brought you close to these boys. Because they are the ones who taught you what love truly feels like.

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

AN: While I was working on this a butterfly landed next to me and stuck around for a while. Brought me a bit of peace.

To my readers, I hope you’re all doing okay, and if you need someone to talk to know that I’m here and willing to talk!

#harry styles x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #niall horan x reader #liam payne x reader #zayn malik x reader #one direction x reader #one direction fanfiction

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carakook · 11 months ago

Text

Shut Up .・。.・゜✭・.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

“If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

🔞FOR MATURE AUDIENCES🔞

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Synopsis: After taking a job as a co-writer, you quickly find that you and your “boss” just don’t get along. Constantly butting heads, disagreeing on things, and he isn’t even nice about it. He’s a fucking dick. He’s always criticizing you in embarrassing ways, but you’ve tried to be patient, ride it out. Over the short time you’ve worked here, the tension has built quickly, and it is clear both of you cannot stand each other. Unfortunately, today is the day you reach your limit after he humiliates you in front of several of your coworkers… and the “conflict resolution” is definitely something you did not expect.

Genre: Enemies to lovers (or hookup in this case), workplace affair.

Pairings: Boss/Writer!Namjoon x Co-writer!Reader

Word count: 7.5k+

Warnings: 18+, Heavy smut!! Hate sex, protected sex (wrap it up), rough sex, face fucking, light slapping (not in the face), a bit of spit play, face fucking, cussing, crying (sort of), heavy conflict, degradation, arguing, name calling, a bit of teasing, cum eating? (Sort of), dry humping, face humping, being slapped with dick (lightly), Let me know if I missed anything!

⚠Disclaimer⚠:This story does not in any way reflect the character of those who are mentioned, it is totally fiction and just for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.

A/N: Hiiii! This is my first one shot. I’ve actually had it in my drafts for a long time but never posted it, I decided to finish it recently and post it here. I hope you like it! I love writing, have soooo many drafted one shots/full on fanfics with each of the boys. A looot of them are with Jungkook, can’t help myself. He’s my lover… 😭 Anyway, if you guys end up liking this I’ll post more. Thank you so much for reading if you do!

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

There aren’t many things you regret in life. Because if you allow yourself to regret things, you overthink. Overthinking is never a good thing.

See, it wasn’t awful at first. But the moment you met Kim Namjoon, you could tell he had a problem with you. What? You didn’t know. You still don’t know. But he never bothered hiding it.

You powered through, because this was sort of like a dream job for you. You loved writing music, writing lyrics. It was hard to even find a job like this to begin with. So when you got the callback, you jumped at the chance. You were so excited to be working here, and you were familiar with Kim Namjoon. You thought his songs were beautiful, his writing style seemed similar to yours.

Boy, you were wrong.

Not even a week into working here he was heavily criticizing you. But again… you pushed through. Because you were new, he had a right to be picky. This was his studio, he was technically your boss… technically. So you tried to be patient and listen to his criticism.

Which didn’t last long. Because he was not subtle. Arguably, there is a difference between constructive criticism and being blatantly rude and picky. Namjoon was straight-up rude. And at times it was embarrassing.

Nothing you did seemed to satisfy him. Every single time you brainstormed with him and the team, he disagreed with you. Every time you proposed lyrics, he rejected your ideas. Every time you so as much opened your mouth, he had an issue with what you had to say.

You tried to be patient… you genuinely did. But you don’t like feeling disrespected or embarrassed. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. So the last two weeks you’ve both been bickering, and the tension is noticeable not only to you and Namjoon but to the entire damn team.

The worst part about it all? You are so fucking attracted to him. He makes your tummy swoop with butterflies. He smells good. He’s tall, his dimples are fucking adorable, and his body… god, he is to die for. The sexual tension is prominent.

If only he wasn’t such a dick.

Today pushed you to your limits. Never in your life have you been more embarrassed.

It all started with a song he was working on. He played the beat, and immediately you were inspired. You got excited. Your attitude was bright, and you immediately jotted the lyrics down on your paper when they came to mind. You seriously thought today would be the day he’d be proud. He would agree. You felt good about it.

Only for him to burst out laughing when he read the lyrics. That wasn’t even the worst part. It’s bad enough that he laughed at you in front of the entire team. But what he said next is what made you lose your shit.

“Oh- shit. You’re serious?”

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your very irritated expression. And then he fucking laughed again.

“Fuck, Y/N. I thought this was a joke. God, I wish it was a joke because it would be hilarious if it was. It sounds like a fucking kids-bop song. You can’t be serious.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

You went off on him. In front of everyone. For three minutes straight you cursed him out, waived your hands around, and made it clear how much you cannot stand him and how rude he has been. How humiliated you feel. You’ve always been praised for your writing, so why the fuck doesn’t he like it? You are fucking pissed.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuss your boss out in front of everyone… but at this point, you don’t care. If he gets you fired by the company, oh-fucking-well.

Namjoon stares at you for a moment once you’re done. Your chest is heaving, your cheeks are red, and your brows are furrowed angrily. Clearly, he didn’t expect your outburst. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tense, it even does the little tick thing that drives you crazy. Fuck him for being so hot. Fuck him for being so damn hot and such a dick.

He raises a brow at you, tongue in cheek, making that angry face that would be incredibly attractive if it weren’t directed at you. He lets out an angry huff of air before speaking.

“Studio. Now.”

He points at his studio as he says this as if you’re too stupid to understand his words. This pisses you off even more.

“You’re not my fucking boss.”

He scoffs at you, briefly smiling at your bold choice of words. You infuriate him just as much as he infuriates you.

“Actually, Y/N, I am. Studio. Now.”

You know that technically, he is your boss. But you refuse to listen to him after how humiliated he made you feel. In front of everyone, how dare he speak to you this way? Regardless of his weird hate for you. Besides, he can’t fire you. He may be able to request it, but you know that he won’t. From what you’ve heard, It took forever to fill this position. He was picky when it came to hiring someone… which makes this more confusing. You can’t figure out what his issue is with you, especially when he is the one who helped pick you for the job. Regardless, you know that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. He’s full of shit.

You stand your ground. You won’t back down this time. You’re tired of the disrespect.

“No, Namjoon. Whatever you want to say, you can say it here. You’ve already embarrassed me, so go ahead, do it some more. I’m sure you get off on it.”

No longer smiling, his gaze is dark. He’s pissed. Now he’s a bit embarrassed… that’s what he gets.

“I won’t ask again. You can march your ass upstairs, or I can carry you. Your choice.”

You say nothing, surely he wouldn’t do that. He’s bluffing. Regardless of how harsh he has been towards you, you know that he wouldn’t cross that line. You hope that he doesn’t. The last thing that you want is for him to touch you. Not because he makes you uncomfortable, but because you already have enough dirty thoughts about him. You hate him, yet he turns you on in a way you’ve never felt. Lust driven by pure hatred, it’s a dangerous thing.

But of course, you were wrong, and he never ceases to surprise you. Never underestimate Kim Namjoon.

You stay silent, secretly hoping that he will just back down and continue the brainstorming session. But is Kim Namjoon the type of man to back down? No. He never has been.

He strides over to you quickly, taking big steps in your direction, causing you to miss your chance to run.

He swiftly grabs your waist and hoists you over his shoulder, his fingers digging into your thighs. You don’t even have time to react before he starts carrying you upstairs to the studio. He has no trouble doing so either, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

You come to your senses and swat at his back while you yell profanities at him, demanding that he put you down, threatening to report him, and telling him that he’ll be fired by morning if he doesn’t stop.

But you know that he won’t. This company would never side with you, no matter what Namjoon did. They relied on him. They didn’t rely on you. You were replaceable, even if it would be difficult. Namjoon is not replaceable.

“Resume the session. If you finish before we’re done, you’re free to go. This may take a while. Don’t interrupt us.”

Hurried nods are sent in his direction, no one dares protest him or intervene. Cowards.

He kicks the door open to the studio, entering with ease, making sure not to hit your head on the doorframe as he walks in. You wish he would have hit your head, knocked you out, hell even thrown you over the staircase. Anything to avoid this humiliation he has cursed you with. You almost wish you would’ve just kept your damn mouth shut.

But the damage is done now. No point in backing down.

He throws you roughly on the couch sitting opposite his desk and then closes the door, locking it before facing you.

You glare at him, chest heaving, heart beating out of your chest. You’re just as pissed as he is. Yet, you still find yourself clenching your thighs together, irritated at the fact that he turns you on so much. You shouldn’t be horny right now… yet you are. The way he squeezed your thighs… fuck. Fuck him. God, fuck him to hell. You hate him.

“What the fuck was that?” You nearly growl at him.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down on you as if you’re nothing more than a pesky roach that he wants to squash.

“I told you, you could walk, or I could carry you. You made your choice, clearly.”

Fuck him.

“Fuck you, Namjoon. This is ridiculous.”

He laughs. He laughs at you.

Fuck him.

“You are ridiculous, Y/N. Why are you even here, if you can’t take criticism?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can take criticism, constructive criticism, something that you are apparently incapable of giving. You’re so fucking mean to me and I’ve done NOTHING to you.”

“No, I-“

You cut him off, unable to control your mouth.

“And another thing, it’s only me that you speak to this way. I’ve yet to see you speak to anyone else the way that you do me. What is your issue with me, why do you hate me so much?”

“Maybe if you-“

You cut him off again, and his jaw does the tick thing. He’s getting angrier, but you do not give a fuck.

“No, this isn’t on me. I earned my spot here, I was hired for a reason, and everyone else respects me, why don’t you?”

“Because-“

Again.

Fuck him.

“There is no reason, you obviously have some sort of sick vendetta against me. You’re fucking insufferable!”

“Me? No, you-“

Again.

And he’s had enough.

“No, fuck you Namjoon, fuck you and this weird ass game you’re playing, you—“

He borderline growls before he pins you on the couch.

You don’t even have time to register what he’s doing, and if you did, you’d slap the shit out of him.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

His lips crash into yours as he hovers over you, one knee perched in between your legs, while his other leg steadies him. He grabs your face with force, so rough that you swear he could break your jaw if he gripped you any harder. His other hand is on the back of the couch, steadying him the same and pinning you in place.

The kiss is no different. His lips assault yours, and he wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with vigor. A kiss unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only ever been kissed like this in your dreams, the same dreams that wake you up in the middle of the night leaving you touch-starved. It’s fucking aggressive and rough.

And of course, you kiss him back. You don’t want to. Yet you do. You don’t want to give in to him. But you do. You can’t help it. As soon as he made his move, you were under his control. He has that way about him, he’s easily able to affect people. You were a different story. You always defied him, disagreed with him, challenged him. Yet, this is the way that he tames you, even if only for a minute. Shit. You’re weaker than you thought.

He nips your bottom lip before pulling back, your jaw still in his grip. His nostrils are flared and his breathing is rigid, as if he’s just as shocked as you are at his actions.

And he is. He has no idea why he just kissed you. He has no idea what came over him. He just wanted you to shut the fuck up, and he acted on impulse. And now he has a raging hard-on, which pisses him off even more. He doesn’t want to want you, in the same way that you don’t want to want him. But you both do.

He whispers, searching your face, studying your reaction.

“Do you ever just shut the fuck up and listen?”

You clear your throat, still trying to come down from the rush of the kiss, adrenaline running through your veins.

“I-“

“Do you know how fucking irritated you make me?”

Suddenly, you have no fight left in you. You feel intimidated. Fuck him.

“Then why-“

“Am I gonna have to kiss you every time you need to shut the fuck up?”

You blink at him, unable to respond. You have no idea what to do, or how to react, and are becoming distracted by the puddle seeping between your thighs.

You haven’t had sex in over a year. You haven’t been able to grow interest in someone enough to give them that piece of yourself again. Your last situation-ship left you simply sick of men. Sex wasn’t appealing enough to go through that again. But, of course, as if the universe is punishing you, Namjoon awakens your sex drive.

You nervously bite your lip and clench your thighs, not even realizing what you’re doing. You’re on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger and lust. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon.

He looks down at your thighs, and you immediately unclench them. Your cheeks betray you by reddening, thanks to the smirk that very clearly gives away that he knows exactly what you’re feeling right now.

He keeps his eyes on your thighs for a moment before looking up at you. He smirks, raising a brow, giving you a crooked smile that tells you he knows your dirty little secret. Your jaw is still firmly in his grasp.

“Is that it? You’re sexually frustrated? Is that why you’re being such a bitch?”

You try to wriggle from his grasp, embarrassed, angry, horny. You’re starting to wish he would just fire you. Anything to save you the embarrassment of his knowing glare.

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath touch your lips.

“Yeah? Fuck me? If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

You blink at him again and say nothing. You want to protest, tell him how gross he is, tell him how much you hate him, tell him that he’s the worst. Yet, his idea just makes you hornier. You’ve never had hate sex, and oh fuck, you’re sure that it would improve your mood, even some of the tension between you two.

But it pains you to even admit that. It’s humiliating. He has humiliated you enough.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, angling it upwards so that he has better access to your neck. He places his lips on your jaw, running his teeth up it, leading to the crook of your neck, keeping his lips on you as he speaks his next words.

He grabs your wrist with his other hand, leading it to his crotch, coaxing you to feel him. And he’s hard. So hard that you’re certain a button will break on his jeans. Fuck. He feels giant… You’re so fucked.

“Do you see what you do to me? Never in my life have I had anyone piss me off to the point of getting a fucking boner.”

You can’t help but whimper at his dirty words, but you make sure to bite your lip, preventing yourself from begging him to take you as you so desperately want to. You aren’t one to beg for anything. And you hate him even more for bringing you to that point.

“I’ve thought about fucking you so many times, Y/N. Fucking you to the point that you don’t even remember your own name, and my name is the only thing that you can scream. I just wanna fuck you until you shut the fuck up.”

“Please, just… do it then.”

Word vomit. You thought it but didn’t intend to say it. Yet, you said it. Of course, you did. You’re on the brink of cumming just from his filthy words.

He kisses your neck before speaking. And you can feel him smile as he does so.

Fuck him.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, hearing you beg makes it so tempting. I never thought you’d be the type, considering the amount of shit you talk.”

You croak out, suddenly feeling defensive, “I’m not. I don’t beg for shit.” You weakly push at his chest, even though you both know damn well you don’t want him to stop.

He laughs, pulling back to look at you, keeping his face close.

“Yet, here you are, begging for my cock like a desperate whore.”

You frown at him, feigning offense, when in reality his degradation is making you even more desperate. Why? You don’t know. You’ve never liked being degraded, in fact, nothing turns you off more than being called names… but hearing it come out of Namjoon's mouth? Fuck.

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper.

He tilts his head at you, amused.

“Fucking obviously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched before. Are you this needy with other men?”

“There are no other men.”

He studies you for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. The way that he looks at you makes you feel insecure, as if he’s a judge on one of those cooking shows, trying to figure out whether he likes the taste of you or not. You have the urge to push him away and take off, his gaze is too goddamn intense.

He is too intense. Never met a man like him.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, looking away from him.

“Like what?” He asks, furrowing his brows. Amused.

“Like you think I’m the most vile thing on earth.”

He’s taken aback by your response, almost looking offended. Because that is the last thing he was thinking. If only you knew.

“Vile? Baby, I’m so hard for you right now that it hurts, do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed? Fucking annoying, but soooo hot.”

You squirm, your cheeks pinking again. You didn’t expect that. You expected him to laugh in your face and agree. He grunts as he takes in your facial expression. If only you knew what you truthfully do to him. He closes his eyes and scrunches his brows, taking a deep breath before he pulls away from you, leaving you considering getting on your damn knees and begging for him to touch you again.

He chuckles while shaking his head, eyes still closed as he speaks. As if he’s in pain from pulling away from you.

“Yeah, fuck, and you’re cute when you blush. This is fucked. I can’t stand you, yet you’re so fucking cute. What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?”

Fuck. He’s making this hard. You’re so overwhelmed. So pissed, so horny, you wanna push him away and cuss him out some more, but also you’ve never wanted another man more in your life than you do him right now.

Both of you stare at each other silently for a moment. His jaw keeps doing the tick thing, and you squeeze your thighs tighter, rubbing them together to relieve some pressure. His eyes flick to them, and you don’t even bother hiding it this time. As humiliating as it is, his cock is hard and bulging out of his jeans. So you can’t find yourself caring too much at the moment.

What really makes his resolve waver is the way you’re looking at him, which you don’t even realize. Normally you look at him with such disdain, as if he’s the vile one. But right now? Your eyes are wide and glossy, your lip stuck between your teeth. You’re looking at him almost sweetly. The desperation in your gaze is impossible to hide.

He loses it completely.

“Ah, fuck it.” He declares before grabbing you by your hair again as he sits on the couch. He tugs you roughly into his lap and starts devouring your mouth again.

You let out a little huff of air as he does this, not quite used to the rough handling. But god, it’s fucking divine. You feel as if all of the anger you’ve held for him comes rushing out in the form of kisses and touches. He feels the same.

His hand leaves your hair and he grips your hips, roughly grinding his hard cock onto your pussy. Dry humping like fucking teenagers as you make out aggressively.

Your hands come to rest on his face, framing it as they tremble slightly from the overwhelming emotions. You don’t hold back this time either, licking into his mouth wantonly, letting out little grunts and mewls that make his cock strain and twitch inside of his jeans.

His hands leave your hips to grip your ass, and he fucking groans into your mouth. He slaps it once, testing. When you let out a whine, he slaps it much harder this time, making your body jerk slightly.

He laughs into your mouth and says breathily, “Fuck, you really are a whore aren’t you?”

You bite his lip hard when he says this. You hate it. You love it. You grind down harder onto his clothed cock. He reaches back up to grip your hair and tugs your head back, pulling on it harshly and pulling you away from his mouth.

He grins when he hears you whine at the loss of his lips. “You wanna fucking bite me, huh? Uh-uh, fuck no you don’t.”

He pushes you off of his lap and lets go of your hair, you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and confusion. Honestly, you already look fucked out and he’s barely done anything. You’re just touch-starved, so every little kiss and touch is fucking you up. You’re craving relief from both your sexual frustration and the building irritation he’s caused you over the last month.

Before you even realize what he’s about to do, he grabs your hair again, his grip much firmer this time. It actually kind of hurts… yet you don’t stop him. He pushes your face roughly into his clothed cock, and grinds onto your face as he spreads his legs wider on the couch.

Oh fuck.

He grunts as he starts nearly smothering you. When he feels a bit of your drool gets onto his crotch, he yanks your head back, he laughs again, “Bet your big fucking mouth is great at sucking cock. Should we find out?”

You just glare at him. Don’t wanna give him the satisfaction even though every single thing he has done so far has made you borderline cream your pants.

He clicks his tongue, “No? Don’t have anything to say now? Isn’t that funny…”

Fuck him.

He keeps his grip tight on your hair as he uses his other hand to fumble with his zipper and button. Once it’s undone, he whips his cock out. It hits the fabric of his rumpled shirt and is already dripping precum.

Holy. Fuck. His cock is huge. A good nine inches.

He yanks your head forward again, literally smearing your face all over it, humping your face again. His head falls back and he grunts at the feeling. Your skin is just so soft, and the way your makeup is already becoming fucked up is making him go crazy. He’s always loved sloppy sex. And you are fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks.

He grabs his cock with his free hand as he tilts your head back, starts slapping your mouth with it, your cheeks too. The precum starts stringing from your cheek to the tip of his cock, and you can see his pupils dilate even bigger, he almost looks like he’s about to lose control.

He says uncharacteristically softly, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh real hard, yeah?”

If you had even a single moment of free thought, you would’ve probably been thankful that he gave you an out. You know despite him being a huge piece of work, he’s not a bad guy. So the fact he’s setting boundaries in your favor, even in the heat of the moment, is comforting. He cares about your safety and comfort. It’s the bare minimum of course, but most men lack even that. It’s why you stopped having casual sex to begin with.

But you don’t have a moment to think because pushes your lips down onto his cock abruptly, your mouth opens on instinct and he shoves himself inside. Doesn’t even ease into it, he just straight up plows his cock inside of your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

You cough, and gag, already drooling all over him. Fuck it’s hot. You’ve never been face fucked like this before, but you’re starting to think maybe you’ve been missing out on good sex if this is how good rough sex feels.

You can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you if it feels this good in your mouth.

When he sees tears start to form, he pulls your hair back, strings of spit and precum connecting from your mouth and onto the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt so good feeling your throat constrict around his cock. His resolve is wavering heavily. But he’s trying to remain patient. He smirks at you, stroking his spit-covered cock lazily directly onto your lips, causing beads of precum to escape his tip and cover your lips like lipgloss.

“Fuck, look at you. And you haven’t said a damn word. So pretty when you shut up.”

Your cheeks flush and you say petulantly, “Fuck you.” Because even now you don’t wanna give him the satisfaction.

That’s short-lived though because he starts fucking your mouth again. He shoves his cock inside and starts thrusting into your mouth as if it’s a goddamn sex toy. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, causing you to gag and cough, your hands squeezing his thighs hard but not pinching.

You can take it.

He grunts out, “Fuck… I swear to god I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth every goddamn time you mouth off from now on Y/N, since nothing else has worked so far.”

Each word punctuated by a harsh thrust, he grunts our, “Just shut. the. fuck. up. Fuuuck.”

He keeps fucking up into your mouth, not easing up even for a second. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can do is take it. His thrusts only become sloppier and wetter. His head is thrown back and his abdomen starts clenching hard. But he knows you need to breathe. As much as he wishes he could just cum down your throat; he has other plans…

He pulls your head back again, he’s already feeling a bit too close to cumming. He doesn’t wanna cum too fast, he’s certain it would give you more to talk shit about.

He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his breaths coming in fast. You look utterly fucked. Your makeup is ruined completely now, your eyes are red and teary, and your pretty pink lips are swollen. His stomach flutters, because he thinks you have never looked prettier.

He’s always thought you were so pretty. It’s one of the reasons he can’t stand you. He isn’t supposed to want you. You’re his coworker, technically his subordinate.

But none of that matters now, does it?

He doesn’t look much better, his shirt is covered in wet spit and his boxers are ruined too. He should’ve taken his clothes off… but luckily, he thinks it’s so much hotter this way.

His cock twitches against his belly, and he strokes your cheek with his free hand. He murmurs, “You good?”

You nod stupidly at him even as drool dribbles down your chin and your mascara runs onto your cheeks. There’s nothing to say really. You’ve never enjoyed having a dick down your throat so much. And he has effectively shut you up.

He nods and guides your head up, kisses you deeply. His eyes roll back as he tastes his precum on your tongue. So fucking good, he thinks.

He guides your pliant body to lay down on the couch, and then he settles in between your legs, his hands stroking up and down your thighs as he looks you over. God, there is so much he wants to do to you. He wants to use you but also wants to make you come undone as many times as possible.

Maybe then you’ll be more tolerable. Maybe this is what you both need, he rationalizes.

But he’s getting impatient. His cock is standing tall as he looks down at you, visibly pulsating, jerking upward now and then. And fuck, it’s making you impatient too. So much so that you whine at him, “Fuck, stop looking and just do something.”

His jaw ticks. He’s getting irritated. That’s what you think, anyway. But in reality, he’s preening on the fact you’re just as impatient as he is. It gives him an excuse to cut the foreplay and fuck you stupid.

You want him to do something? Oh, he will.

He lets out an almost mocking laugh, “Yeah? Want me to do something about it? You sure?”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, scooting your ass closer to his pelvis on the couch, his cock dripping so much precum, you have no idea how he’s not losing his mind right now. You certainly are. In fact, he’s starting to piss you off again.

Right as you’re about to talk shit, he can immediately tell. He grabs the front of your button-up and he rips it open. Doesn’t unbutton it like a normal person, but fucking rips it open, sending buttons flying on the floor of the studio. You let out a grunt, and blink at him in surprise with your mouth open.

You liked that shirt. Fuck him.

“Fucking seriously? You’re ruining my clothes now?”

Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You have drool and precum drying on your chin, you’re so horny it hurts, and he just ripped your shirt open like a wild fucking animal.

But him? It’s like he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are averted downward, tongue flicking over his lips. He looks almost stupid like this. What the fuck?

You look down to see what he’s gawking at, and… Oh. Oh. Kinda slipped your mind that you aren’t wearing a bra today. You were running late this morning and forgot to throw one on. Oops.

Namjoon doesn’t even look at your face at this point. His eyes are glued to your tits. He feels kind of ridiculous, getting this worked up over tits. He’s seen tits many times, it’s nothing new. But something about yours has him salivating, has his cock jerking upward.

He reaches down and starts lightly slapping the sides of your tits, watching them jiggle with a gaze full of hunger, he rasps out, “Not the only thing I’m gonna be ruining.”

One hand remains playing with your tits like they’re fucking stress balls, and Namjoon would argue that they absolutely are. The other hand reaches down and lifts your skirt, causing it to pool around your waist. He looks down a bit further, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from your perfect tits, his other hand pushing your ruined panties to the side. He groans, nearly growls when he notices how wet you are. Fuck. He’s so close to losing control.

He dips a single finger into your sopping heat, just barely. Moves the creamy juices around before pushing his finger fully inside, squeezing your tit hard in his other hand. Your hips buck up involuntarily and your head falls back against the couch. You fucking hate yourself for the desperate noise that claws out of your throat.

Namjoon is no better, the moment he feels how wet you truly are, he lets a sound that sounds no better than the one you just let out. His breathing picks up, his heart starts beating faster, and his cock is so hard at this point that it’s actually painful. God, you are just so tight. Your pussy is clenching around his finger as if it’s trying to swallow him whole.

“N-Namjoon— please. Fuck. Please.” You beg again, don’t even care how pathetic you sound. A single fucking finger isn’t enough for how badly you want him right now. Want to be filled up and fucked hard. He’s barely moving it too. Just lightly grazing your walls, and it’s so frustrating. You just want to cum. Get it all out.

Namjoons resolve finally breaks when he sees a trickle of creamy white drip out of your pussy and onto the couch, he can’t take it anymore. He genuinely wanted to tease you, make a fucking mess of you. Make you beg and cry for him because of how much you piss him off. But not even he is strong enough to stall, he needs you. Now.

One last slap to the tit, he pulls his hand away and hastily reaches over for his wallet on the side table next to the couch. He pulls a condom out, brings the wrapper up to his mouth, and tears it open. And fuck, that’s so sexy. Your pussy clenches his finger again at the sight, and then he jerks it out of your pussy with a grunt.

You whine at him, almost feeling offended. But Namjoon knows damn well he’s going a little crazy because he just got jealous. Jealous of his own fucking finger. Should be his cock, not his finger. What the fuck are you doing to him?

He doesn’t warn you before he stuffs the same finger, accompanied by another finger, into your mouth. Nearly making you choke just like you did on his cock. Then he tosses the wrapped condom onto your bare chest, “Put it on me. Quick.”

You don’t even hesitate, you grab the condom with shakey hands and fumble it out of the package, all while sucking his fingers clean of your own juices. It only turns you on more, tasting yourself on his skin.

You reach for his cock, grab it with one shaky hand and his hips buck into it a bit. He lets out a little hiss through his teeth because of how sensitive it is, neglected for too long. That’s how it feels, anyway.

You roll the condom onto his cock snuggly and then look up at him expectantly with a desperate but wrecked look. Give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you can muster up. He keeps his fingers in your mouth. Doesn’t even move. Again, drawing it out. Attempting to, anyway.

You whine against his fingers, and would probably be begging him if you could talk. But Namjoon can’t take it anymore, lucky for you. He moves his hips forward and uses his free hand to position his cock at your entrance.

The moment the tip is sucked into your tight hole, he snaps. Literally, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out even with your mouth around his fingers, sounding muffled and wet. Your back arched obscenely because fuck you didn’t expect him to just go in like that.

You’re not complaining though, fuck no.

His head falls back like yours, and he stays like that for a moment, his teeth grit and eyes clenched shut. He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs your face with one hand, smooshing your cheeks, the other hand coming back up to your tit and squeezing it harshly, as if he just can’t help himself. Squeezing so hard that it kinda hurts. But fuck, it feels so good. You’re starting to realize maybe you have a thing for shit like this.

Doesn’t help when you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It’s just enough stimulation to make your pussy start throbbing around him.

It’s pathetic how close you already are. But god, it feels like he edged you for hours. Even though he barely did anything. You guess you just kinda forgot what actual dick felt like compared to your fingers or a toy.

He starts moving his hips slowly, trying to be patient while your pussy adjusts to his size. But your patience left the moment he entered you.

“Fuck. Go faster, please.”

Your voice sounds high-pitched and a bit loud which you don’t even realize. You can’t control it. He clicks his tongue at this, gives your face a little shake as he says, “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up? Unless you want all of your coworkers to know you’re letting your boss fuck the shit out of you like a whore? That what you want?”

He pulls back out and then slams in again. You let out another cry, body jolting at the force. And he starts just pounding into you.

You asked for this.

How the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he goes from 0 to 100 like that? Holy fuck.

“Oh, so you do? You want them all to know I’m making you my slut after humiliating you for your shitty writing? C’mon, speak up. Can’t hear you. Use your fucking words.”

All while snapping his hips harshly into yours, out one moment, deep inside the next. You can barely take it. You swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach. Hardly even register his degrading words because you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even control the loud noises coming out of your mouth, although you desperately try.

Tears prickle your eyes, not because it hurts but because you’re overwhelmed. He’s so hard to figure out. Acting like he’s gonna tease you one moment, and then fucking you like he’s trying to split you in half the next.

He lets out a grunt at your lack of response and ends up squishing your cheeks harder, forcing your mouth open. He leans down slightly and fucking spits in your mouth and then stuffs his fingers back in your mouth, “Actually, just shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth busy and shut the fuck— ah, fuck— the fuck up.”

Fucking disgusting. Fucking hot.

The way his words falter and he loses train of thought for a second makes your pussy clench deliciously around him. Because it’s confirmation that he is just as affected as you are. Just as fucked up right now.

You both look a mess. Your shirt is torn open, your skirt all crooked and pushed up to your waist, and your panties aren’t even fully off. His shirt is still damp with spit, his pants only halfway pulled down and now there’s a creamy white stain on the front of them from your juices dripping down his dick.

It’s heaven, honestly. Or maybe hell. You aren’t sure. But it feels so fucking good.

His hips piston into your cunt hard and fast, and you do your best to focus on sucking his fingers, but the pressure is building fast. You can feel your pussy start to flutter, your clit throbbing, begging to be paid attention to. He can feel it too, it’s making him go crazy because of how responsive you are.

He slams home one more time before staying there, swiveling his hips in a circle so that his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, giving it the minimal amount of attention that has you nearly seeing stars, almost there, but not quite.

“Need more?” He pants out.

You nod your head quickly, his fingers covered in your saliva at this point. Dripping in the essence of you just like his cock. He nods back, removes his other hand from your hip, and settles it at the bottom of your belly, pushing down and placing his thumb over your clit. He starts flicking it fast and starts fucking into you again, picking up the pace so that the room fills with wet squelching noises and skin slapping.

The way he’s pushing onto your tummy while rubbing your clit, Jesus fuck… it’s intense. Makes it feel like he is inside of your stomach. So fucking deep.

Yup. That does it. The stagnant pressure starts building rapidly, he can feel it too. Your pussy starts tightening and fluttering beautifully around his girth. You’re making the prettiest noises, still quiet thanks to his fingers stuffed in your mouth but he can hear you the perfect amount.

God, it’s so perfect, he thinks.

You, you’re not thinking at all. He really is fucking you stupid. Your eyes are continuously rolling back and your hips buck into his thrusts desperately, quickly approaching your climax.

He flicks your clit back and forth, fast but precisely, “C’mon baby, give it to me. Fucking cum all over me. Make a mess. Ungh— god you’re such a fucking slut.”

And that sends you. Out of everything, something about Namjoon calling you a slut just fucking does it for you. You let out a muffled moan, that would be a scream most likely if his fingers weren’t sheathed into your mouth. Your legs tremble and your body shudders through the force of your orgasm.

Your pussy throbs violently, walls rippling around his cock as you finally see those stars. It feels fucking amazing, makes tears fall down your cheek. You can barely breathe because of the force of how fucking good it feels to cum on his cock.

This is his end too. He simply can’t hold back when he feels the vice grip of your pussy desperately trying to keep his cock in place, the rippling of your walls nearly feels like vibrations. He lets out another groan, but it almost comes out like a whine. Very subtly. His face is scrunched up and his mouth open as his hips stutter, his cock spilling and filling up the condom.

It goes on and on. Neither of you thinking about how much you hate each other, only thinking about how good it feels to be together like this. He swears he’s never had sex better than this. You feel the same.

The reality of it all is hate sex is unmatched. Especially when tensions build for so long and you both act as if you can’t stand each other… who knew a fuck could’ve helped with that?

At the last twitch of his cock, when your pussy becomes overstimulated and sore, he collapses on top of you. Both of you panting harshly, catching your breaths as your hearts beat in unison.

He removes his spit-covered fingers from your mouth, and he places lazy little kisses on your skin. He isn’t even sure where, too fucked out to pay attention, just anywhere he can reach while he rests on top of you. It’s an oddly tender gesture. A little sweet, even.

It’s silent for a few minutes. And you both start to realize what you’ve done. You just fucked your technical boss… he just fucked one of his co-writers.

Definitely shouldn’t have happened.

He can’t find himself regretting it though. He feels so light, that he could almost smile. As much of an excuse as it was at first, it genuinely helped with the tension. He’s not quite as irritated with you. Does he like you now? Fuck no.

But the more post-nut clarity comes to fruition… the more he thinks he can tolerate you. Maybe even work with you, compromise with you.

You on the other hand… you don’t know how to feel. You don’t regret it, because fuck, it did help with the tension. You feel lighter too. Not as sensitive. Not as hateful.

Maybe it was for the best. It’s not like anyone has to know, anyway. It’s like couples counseling sort of… except you’re definitely not a couple, and you both still cannot stand each other.

But you can tolerate each other now that most of the tension is gone for the time being.

“You good?”

He tears you away from your thoughts, and you look up at him with bleary eyes. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing despite his dislike for you, he’s still checking to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.

Well, he crossed several lines. But, you aren’t complaining. You’re glad he did. Glad he reduced you to this.

“I’m fucking great.”

That earns you a little chuckle. He sighs a breath of relief, was worried he went a bit too hard or did too much, especially since you didn’t set any boundaries beforehand. But you took what he gave you and you took it like a fucking champ, he thinks.

He reluctantly gets off of you because now that you’re both a bit more clear-headed, the couch feels a little too small, and he doesn’t wanna crush you.

His softening cock is still inside of you, so he braces a hand on the couch and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the feeling. He watches in awe as your juices flow freely out of you. God, what a pretty pussy, he thinks.

He dips a finger back into your heat, causing you to let out a little noise of surprise. But he removes it quickly, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, wiggling his brows.

Ugh.

He pats your thigh before getting off of the couch, taking the condom off, and tying it up to chuck it in the trash. He stuffs his soft and sensitive cock back into his underwear and pulls up his pants, feeling utterly satiated now. Bubbly and light, even though he won’t show it. He makes his way to the little fridge in his studio and he grabs two bottles of water, tosses you one which you barely catch.

You gulp down the water gratefully, parched considering he stole most of your fucking spit. Asshole.

He begins walking into the bathroom attached to his studio as he says, “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up. Then we can look at those lyrics again and see if it still sounds like kids bop now that I’ve fucked you stupid.”

At your immediate glare, he lets out a laugh, and shrugs innocently, “What? Pussy is magic, can change a man’s mind about a lot of things. Now hurry up, you’re a fucking mess.”

And with that, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

Yeah. Fuck him. Still insufferable.

But god, you really do hope to fuck him again.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon fanfic #smut #fiction #fanfic #kim namjoon fanfic #bts smut #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #faceclaim

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tinycoffeeroom · 6 months ago

Text

girlfriend of the enemy pt. 3 | charles leclerc

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

warnings: mentions of emotional cheating, break ups

part 1 | part 2

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You’d expected the revelation to shock you, shake you from this Charles centred stupor you had found yourself in, but instead you found yourself at peace with the idea.

In the 5 years since you’d known Charles, he had been nothing but kind, respectful and caring to everyone you had seen him interact with. Sure there were moments where his hotheaded side had come out, a bad race or a misguided comment from a reporter, but he was, underneath it all, a good guy.

The fact he’s effortlessly gorgeous helps too. High cheekbones, bright eyes and a deep cupid's bow. He was, in every sense of the word, gorgeous.

Grabbing your phone, you open the notes app and jot down the name of each driver, splitting them into teams, trying to compare them to Charles to see if you would feel the same sense of calm that knowing he liked you brought.

The McLarens. Oscar was immediately struck from the equation. Too young and too in love with Lily to even consider it. Lando would make you want to strangle him daily, something he already often does whenever the two of you are bickering.

VCARB. Yuki was in the same “too young” category as Oscar, and Daniel would infuriate you to no end with his pranks no matter how much you loved him deep down. The memory of a drunk Daniel stripped to his boxers and belting out a completely off tune Mariah Carey song sends a shudder down your spine.

The Alpines weren’t even a consideration. You’d spoken to Pierre maybe 3 times in the entire time he’d been on the grid, and only in the presence of Max. And despite the air being cleared long ago, you still remember the dirty looks you and Esteban would exchange post Brazil 2018.

The Haas duo had affectionately taken on the mantle of your grid dads and even the mere thought of a romantic situation between you and them made you wince.

Kick was another immediate no for you. Apart from pleasantries, you don’t think you’d ever had a full conversation with the elusive Zhou and as much as you were impressed by the flowing mullet of Valtteri, his wife and kids knocked him out of the running automatically.

The Williams boys were a kind pair. Logan, as sweet as he is, is grouped with Oscar and Yuki whilst Alex is very happy with Lily. If Lily ever confessed her love to you… that’s a whole other story. You chuckle softly to yourself at the fact that the only person so far to match the way Charles made you feel wasn’t even a member of the grid.

Aston Martin. Fernando was another one of your grid dads, and if Lance ever made any inclination to liking you, you fear his mob boss-esque dad would send you running for the hills.

Mercedes. Or more so affectionately named Britcedes. Like Alex, George was happy with Carmen. Lewis was probably the only person on the grid who brought anywhere close to the same amount of calm as Charles. Even after Abu Dhabi 2021, he had always been cordial with you, often including you in any conversation if you were nearby or making sure to separate you from the entity that is The Max Verstappen.

You took a moment. Do you measure Checo and Carlos as a mismatched unit, or consider them as half a team of their own? Sarcastically, you wonder if it would have been easier to be in this weird love triangle with Checo, at least then your team by team comparisons would be even.

Both of them had only ever been cordial with you, Checo hardly around unless it's for race week or publicity events whereas Carlos, whilst being a lovely guy, was too much of a playboy for your standards.

Staring at the list, you sigh. No name even came close to making your heart flutter the way it did the moment the puzzle pieces slotted into place.

Locking your phone and sliding it back onto the night stand, you close your eyes. Hopefully a good night's sleep would help your restless mind.

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You’re soon awoken by knocking. Automatically assuming it’s Max back from another night out, you roll over in bed, shoving your head into the pillows below you.

Another round of knocks rouse you from your bed, bleary eyes catching the alarm clock proudly showing 5:03AM in mocking bright green.

Stumbling hands unlatch the lock, pulling on the handle sleepily. “Max, I told you -”

Pausing your sentence, you eye the two individuals in front of your door, neither of which were your boyfriend. You scratch your head slowly at the sight of the two, briefly remembering a text Flavy had sent to you saying she would be coming over early today for a girls weekend.

Shaking your head at your own forgetfulness, you open the door fully, inviting the two in sheepishly. “Sorry, I kinda forgot you were coming…”

Flavy waves off your apology, dropping a kiss to each cheek as Esteban follows, a small suitcase in each hand.

He huffs as he drops them gently by the door, rolling his wrists out slowly. “I don’t know how you managed to pack so much into such tiny suitcases. If I get P20 in the next race, it’s from breaking my wrists carrying these things around.” He finishes his sentence by scuffing his foot softly against one of the suitcases, bright smile offsetting the tone in his voice.

Wrapping your arms around him in a brief hug, you guide them through to the kitchen, Jimmy and Sassy watching from their perches as the two take a seat on the sofa. Flavy fusses over her boyfriend's wrists sarcastically, biting the inside of his wrist playfully.

Your heart aches at the scene of blissful domesticity, trying to remember the last time you and Max joked around like that. Trying to distract yourself from bringing the mood down, you bring over two glasses of water for the pair, settling into the large armchair opposite.

Flavy clears her throat before facing you, eyes full of concern. “So, I’m not sure how much you want to say in front of Este, but we’re worried about you, Y/N. I may have known you the least amount of time out of all the girls, but I’d say we’re pretty close.”

You hum your agreement, eyes flitting between Flavy and Esteban.

“Whenever I see you in the paddock or at the girl’s catch ups, you always look… sad recently. And with the whole tweet thing, and Max’s general behaviour recently, I, well we, just wanted to check on you.” She drags herself up from the sofa, settling in beside you on the armchair. “You’re one of my favourite people, and it makes me sad to see you hurting. What’s going on, Y/N?”

You keep your eyes trained on the bracelet around your wrist, a 2 year anniversary gift from Max. A hand settles softly on your shoulder, the warmth seeping through your thin sleep shirt.

Before you can stop it, a sob tears through your throat, raw and visceral as it claws its way out into the world. The bracelet before you blurs behind swimming tears and that same warm hand pulls you into a cosy jumper.

You hear Esteban clear his throat, obviously unsure about what to do. Flavy wraps you tighter in her arms, whispering reassuring words in your ear as you heave breath after breath into your lungs, trying desperately to claw back your last few shards of dignity.

They slip through your fingers like sand, disappearing like whispers into the wind. Each sob racking through you amplifies the ache in your chest, and if you listened closely enough, you could hear the cracks scattered across your heart widen.

Seconds, minutes, maybe even hours pass before you can take a somewhat normal breath, face still buried in the warmth of Flavy’s jumper. Her other hand is now pressed to the back of your head, stroking gently over your hair as she murmurs something in French to Esteban. He responds with a hum, and you hear socked feet padding across the floor before a blanket is draped over your shoulders.

Peeking out from the cashmere threads, you dread to think of what you look like right now. Your eyes hurt to open, swollen from crying and your nose must be tinted red from how hard it was pressed into the jumper below.

You try to speak, to apologise for your outburst, but only a croak escapes before you stop, throat tender from use. Flavy shushes you, moving the hand from the back of your head to make a grabbing motion to Esteban who moves a glass of water into her grasp.

You welcome it greedily, taking gulp after gulp until it’s left empty. You feel her hand rubbing comforting circles on your back and sigh, pulling yourself partially from her grasp. Taking a moment to look between her and Esteban, you wince at the pity on their faces.

“So… that was embarrassing.” Laughing at Flavy’s noise of indignance, you sigh. It must be close to six in the morning at this point and you know Esteban will be tired after driving up from the French Riviera so early. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m exhausted and judging from the way Este is swaying on his feet, you guys are too. You can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. All that crying’s wiped me out.”

Esteban grabs the blanket from your shoulders, stretching out as much as possible on the sofa. “I��m quite comfy here. You and Flavy take the bed.”

You try to argue but Flavy pulls you up from the armchair. “As stubborn as you are, he is ten times more stubborn. It’s easier to accept defeat than argue, take it from someone with experience.” She nudges your hip with her own, trying to lighten your mood.

“But…” you gesture to Esteban’s legs, currently half hanging off the end of the sofa.

Esteban wiggles his toes in response, drawing them in so they rest on the edge of the sofa. “I’m fine, really, Y/N. Flavy gives the best post cry hugs so it would be cruel to separate the two of you right now.”

Admitting defeat, you offer him another pillow from the armchair, watching as he rises from the sofa to give Flavy a soft goodnight kiss before settling into his bed for the night. Despite the earlier affection nearly tipping you over the edge, you can’t help but smile softly. They were good to each other, so sweetly in love you can’t help but whistle teasingly as Flavy dragged you to the bedroom, cheeks ablaze under the glimpse of sunlight peeking through the curtains.

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Esteban had left a few hours later, having to get to Alpine for testing. You wince as he hobbles out the door, one hand supporting his back. Saying a silent apology to Bruno, you and Flavy laze about the flat, a text sent out to the girl’s groupchat for anyone to come join. Both Lily’s and Carmen reply quickly, already dragging their overnight bags out of their closets.

Your phone remains on the side, still silent with not even a read receipt from Max after you’d asked for his whereabouts. Huffing at his inability to communicate like an adult, you push him to the back of your mind, enjoying having your girls around you.

A few chick flicks and a lot of Mojito’s later, the five of you spread out across the sofa and armchair, Carmen currently propping you up as she braids strands of your hair gently.

Your eyes catch Flavy’s and you sigh, knowing what is about to come.

“So… you can probably tell I’ve been a bit off recently. Wait, one sec.” You grab your phone, opening up a facetime call and patching in Kika, Heidi and Rebecca. Once the three girls are all facing you on the screen, you set them up on a vase facing the room. “There we go, I feel like I should have all my girls here for this. So, I’ve obviously been a bit weird recently. Well, more than recently, for the past few years I think. I know you’ve all seen the tweet about Charles and Max from a while back and I asked Charles about what had happened.”

Dragging the sleeves of your jumper over your hands, you avoid eye contact with the girls around you and on the phone. “Charles asked Max where I was since a bunch of you were out with the guys and Max said he didn’t know and didn’t care.” A chorus of shocked gasps and affronted admissions of anger fly through the air. “I kind of knew that’s what he was thinking but to hear it come from someone else is another thing. Girls…” Gulping down a rising sob, you look to Flavy, making out her outline through teary eyes. “I think, no I know, it’s over. It has been for a while, I’ve just been too scared to accept it.”

Your voice cracks around the edges of your final sentence, inviting the girls in the room to crowd around you, hands reaching out to grab wherever they could. You can hear the girls on the phone murmuring in low tones, voices drowned out by the ones closest to you.

Kika’s voice calls out through tinny speakers. “Y/N, Pierre’s booking me a flight right now. I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

Heidi joins in. “I’ve already told Danny to drop me off, we’ll be 20 minutes max.”

Rebecca is silent for a moment longer before she patches back in. “I have a schedule in France next week but Carlos is looking at hotels for me to stay in so I can come to Monaco tomorrow, I’ll let you know about times.”

Despite the tears streaming down your cheeks, you smile widely. If all else fails, at least you have your girls.

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👤 flavy.barla, carmenmmundt, lilynzeimer, lilymhe liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt and 580,918 others

y/nstagram told carmen to bring pastries and she brings a whole ass cake? she knows the way to my heart

fan y/n again i ask, which kitty is that? ↳ y/nstagram jimmy! if you wanna know the difference, jimmy is bigger and also a lil darker than sassy ♥️

lilymhe what did you put in those mojitos? i'm sozzled at 3pm... ↳ y/nstagram i may have been a bit heavy handed with the vodka sorry babygirl x

flavy.barla pls come hold my hand i'm feeling fragile rn ↳ y/nstagram i am literally ten steps away i'll be there in a second you big baby ♥️

fan i love y/n and her girlfriends ♥️ y/nstagram

fan alcohol in the afternoon i dont think she's coping with that lestappen tweet ↳ fan maybe this was preplanned? we don't know her like that

fan no max like i am down on my knees ↳ fan lads i think we have to accept it may be over ↳ fan i hope y/n gets the cats ↳ fan those are max's babies watch your tone ↳ fan he couldn't even like the pic of one of his babies!!!!! >:(

fan wag meet ups are always my fave just live together already ↳ y/nstagram if i could pry my girls from those gremlin men, we would 100% have a commune ↳ lilynzeimer UM??? we are so doing that??? ↳ francisca.c.gomes omg can i come too? ↳ pierregasly we literally just bought a flat together? ↳ francisca.c.gomes i'm speaking to my wife hush ↳ pierregasly god give me STRENGTH. ↳ lilymhe y/n gf's commune Open ↳ alex_albon ???? our 23782 pets may disagree ↳ y/nstagram they're coming too wdym ↳ alex_albon you can't have my girl AND my pets??? thats just greedy y/n ↳ lilymhe we can share custody ↳ alex_albon STOP ACTING LIKE YOU'RE LEAVING ME ↳ y/nstagram she just wants an upgrade, something williams could do with too ↳ alex_albon you're actually evil ↳ y/nstagram logansargeant logie bear your teammates being mean to your mum ↳ logansargeant alex leave my mom alone or i'll run you off the track ↳ alex_albon not if williams give me your car again. ↳ y/nstagram alex apologise RIGHT NOW ↳ alex_albon HE SAID HE'D HIT ME WITH HIS CAR??? ↳ logansargeant :((( that was really mean alex ↳ y/nstagram alex so help me i will take your girl, your pets AND your manhood ↳ alex_albon 🙄 i'm sorry logan... ↳ logansargeant :))))) ↳ fan what just happened ↳ fan idk and at this point i'm too scared to ask

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y/npriv uploaded to their story

(caption: the way all my girls have sent this to me, i love you guys)

alex_albon ... given our last conversation i am hiding from lily ↳ y/nstagram it's not lily you need to watch out for ↳ alex_albon i am being THREATENED by my gf's gf i'm fuming ↳ y/nstagram it was more like a promise :)

logansargeant here for you whenever y/n!! i'm not too sure what's going on but we all love you ❤️ ↳ y/nstagram logie 🥹 thank you angel ! ❤️

landonorris he won't get off my fucking couch. please come and get your boyfriend before i do something violent ↳ y/nstagram he's a big boy, he can come back whenever he wants.

kevinmagnussen i can always hit him with my car if needed ↳ y/nstagram KEVIN NO ↳ kevinmagnussen 🙄 you're no fun y/n

nicohulkenberg can kevin hit him with his car ↳ y/nstagram nico not you too ... no hitting max with a car !!!!!!!!!! ↳ nicohulkenberg boooooring

estebanocon brazil 2018 may be resolved but i'll still crash into him again... just say the word ↳ y/nstagram why does everyone wanna hit him with their cars? 😭 esteban No! ↳ estebanocon i wont on purpose but if we meet on a free practice he's getting put in the barriers. ↳ estebanocon i know we haven't spoken in person much but flavy loves you (more than me admittedly) and so i also care about you. ↳ y/nstagram 🥹 big softie. ↳ y/nstagram but thank you esteban, it means a lot :)

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Max texts you a few hours later to let you know he would be coming back soon. Ushering the girls out of your flat, they all call over one another to let them know the moment you want them to come back.

The only issue is that you weren’t sure you would have an apartment for them to come back to after the conversation you’re about to have. Max wasn’t a cruel man despite everything, he would never leave you without a home, but you weren’t sure you would want to stay here afterwards.

Straightening up the blankets on the back of the sofa and putting the last few remaining glasses into the dishwasher, you pace around the flat briskly. The cats seem to sense your nervousness, slinking in and out of your legs as Jimmy nibbles lightly against your ankle when you finally come to a stop by the kitchen counter.

You hear Max turn his key in the lock, the sound of the door opening almost hesitantly. At least he hadn’t forgotten his keys this time. “Y/N?”

Tears well in your eyes, trying to remember the last time he’d said your name in a tone that wasn’t angry or bored. You take one deep breath, then another, trailing through to the living room where Max stood, still in the clothes he’d left in the night before.

“We need to talk, Max.”

He nods slowly, dropping his keys on the table as he perches on the edge of the sofa, as if he was a guest in his own house. You take a seat on the armchair again, the furniture slowly becoming a comfort piece for you.

You want to be standoffish, to unleash hell so you can give him even a small piece of how you’ve been feeling these past few months or years but looking at how Max is picking at the edges of his nails, the way he’s chewing on his lower lip, you sigh. Above everything, he’s still your boyfriend. The man you chose to spend 7 years with and hopefully you can both be mature about the situation at hand.

Max goes to speak but you hold a hand up, wanting to get everything off your chest. “Please, can I just go first?”

He nods again, hands wringing against one another from where they rest on his lap. One hand comes to scratch nervously at the stubble on his chin, a tell tale sign that he’s nervous.

“I’m sure you already know what I’m going to say. We…” You take a moment to wipe away a stray tear from your cheek, swallowing harshly to try and stop the rising cries. “We’re over. And I think you and I know we have been for a long time. I don’t know when exactly, but we haven’t been happy for years. I kept thinking it was just because the honeymoon phase was over and we would find our way around all the arguments but we’ve become strangers. I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

The tears come thick and fast now, your hands wiping viciously against your cheeks to try and clear them. Neither of you are looking at each other but you can tell Max is crying too, eyes trained on the way his clasped hands shake slightly.

“We live together, go to most of your races together, sleep in the same bed and yet to me, you’re a ghost. I can’t remember the last time we went on a date, the last time we were even remotely intimate or even the last time we were genuinely happy. I’m fucking miserable, Max. I don’t wanna do this anymore. I love you, and I always will but I can’t be with you, it’s killing me.”

You glance up at Max’s face, the way the tears slide silently down his cheeks and his lower lip trembles from where it’s tucked between his teeth. The ache in your chest grows stronger, pin pricks of pain where the sadness digs its claws deep into the cracks of your heart, ripping the two halves apart cruelly.

Max swallows, unlatches his lip from his teeth and looks up to meet your tearful eyes. “I know. I know and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I love you even if I don’t show it but I don’t think I’m in love with you and I don’t think you’re in love with me either.” He smiles sadly, eyes tracking your face as you nod in agreement. “

“But I haven’t been fair to you, I’ve blown you off time after time, I ran away to fucking Milton Keynes and left you alone in a country that isn’t your home and left you to try and keep this shitshow running. You deserve to be happy, and I know I can’t give that to you anymore.”

He reaches out to rest one shaking hand on top of yours. Despite the two of you currently being mid break up, you appreciate the show of affection, turning your hand in his grip so you can loosely link your fingers.

He sighs, tightening his grip on you. “I think I was trying to protect myself, to pretend none of this was happening and we were still the same Max and Y/N from 2018. All I can say is there will always be a part of me that loves you, and an even bigger part that will always be sorry for how I’ve treated you. I hope one day we can look back on the earlier years fondly and maybe you can find it in your heart to forgive me, even if I don’t deserve it.”

A small sob escapes you at the broken look on Max’s face. You were so wrapped up in how he was treating you that you never took a moment to think of how he was feeling. Of course, it doesn’t validate his actions, but imagining how hurt he must have also felt in those moments deepens the claws in your chest.

“Maxie, you’re not a bad person. We’ve just been in a bad situation. Yes, you have hurt me much more than I care to admit but I can see that deep down, you’re hurting too. I don’t blame you for how you chose to try and protect yourself. Relationships fail and people fall apart, I just wish it hadn’t taken us so long to finally bite the bullet.”

He nods solemnly, hand still grasped in yours. You know you need to bring up Charles, even if it breaks the sorrowful peace surrounding the two of you right now. Looking at Max silently berating himself in his head, you know it’s time to come clean. He may have treated you badly, but you’re the one who fell for someone else, even if you didn’t realise until last night.

“I have to be truthful. I want to preface by saying I would never, ever cheat on you but Charles… I think…” I like him. The unspoken words settle like thick smoke in your lungs, burning and smouldering. Tendrils crawl up your throat and settle heavy on your tongue, choking you in a layer of uncertainty and fear.

“I know. Me and Charles actually had an argument about it back in 2020, I think? I could see he liked you and it pissed me off, so we fought. Nothing physical but I didn’t exactly pull my punches verbally. I also know you had no idea you liked him too until recently.” He eyes you in a jestful manner, the teasing gesture a warm balm across your aching heart. “You’ve always put your everything into this relationship, even when you were the only one to do so. I’m not mad, I promise.”

He smiles softly at you, squeezing your hand one last time before pulling his back to rest on his lap again. This is the Max you wished to see. The Max you fell in love with. It just stings knowing it took the two of you breaking up for this Max to show himself to you once more.

You try to crack a joke to lighten the mood. “2018 Max would never have been this calm in a breakup.”

“2018 Max wouldn’t have had a reason to.” His tone is solemn but his eyes are warm, most likely remembering how the two of you were at the beginning of your relationship.

He sighs, rubbing his hands against his thighs before standing. “You can stay here. The flat is fully paid off and I can easily find somewhere else. I’m gonna go stay at a hotel, I think Lando would beat me over the head with a padel racket if I tried to go back to his.”

You laugh, the sound warbled in your throat. “You don’t have to do that, Max. This is your home too.” It stings, reminding yourself that these 4 walls were still his too.

He shakes his head, picking at the loose thread of his jeans. “This has been more your home than mine these last few years. It would be nice to get a fresh start. I mean, if you want to do that too, you can always sell this place and find somewhere new?”

Taking in the living room, you take a moment to contemplate. Despite the loneliness you were shrouded in here, it was your home. The dents in the walls from you moving furniture at 3 in the morning, the flaked paint from Jimmy scratching up the walls instead of their scratching post, the little bits and pieces you had collected over the years to make the place seem more cosy.

“I think I’ll stay. I like it and there are plenty of good memories here.” You nod towards him, flashes of the younger version of you two running through the rooms, a game of chase he would always win.

Chuckling, he moves into the bedroom, most likely to pack a suitcase. You remain seated, welcoming Sassy who curls up tightly in your lap, her purrs calming your erratic heart.

Max emerges 5 minutes laters, packed suitcase wheeled alongside him. You eye it briefly before turning back to look up at him. “Didn’t take you long.”

He shrugs, gesturing to the bedroom behind him. “Mostly Red Bull t-shirts and skinny jeans in there, it’s not like I wear much else.”

The two of you share a laugh, recalling the amount of times you would beg him to just wear a plain shirt instead of one of those logo ridden nightmares.

He shuffles awkwardly on his feet before tucking his hands into his pockets. “Now that we’ve broken up, d’ya think I can be added to your private instagram? Been dying to know what’s on there.”

You chuckle, slightly surprised that he knows about your private instagram. “And how did you find out about my best kept secret?”

He shrugs, grinning slightly. “Saw it on Lando’s phone once. He refused to show me it on the grounds that you would beat him up, which I don’t doubt. I understand if you don’t want me on there, but I think it would be funny to see the others reactions.”

Scoffing, you pull out your phone, gesturing for him to do the same. “You’re evil, but correct. Go on then, send me the request.”

You accept his follow request, watching as he pockets the phone immediately after. “I’ll look through it when I’m alone and can beat myself up over how shittily I’ve treated you.”

Levelling him with a look, you lock your phone. You have half a mind to delete some of the posts but know it wouldn’t help the situation.

He leaves his suitcase by the door, coming over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry and I love you.”

You grin back at him, reaching up to squeeze his forearm. “I’m sorry and I love you too.”

You watch as he says goodbye to the cats, the two of them more interested in a toy on the floor, then he’s gone, the sound of the door closing echoing through the quiet apartment.

Sending a quick text to the girls group chat, you settle back into the armchair, tears falling silently but a smile on your face.

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liked by carmenmmundt, francisca.c.gomes and 25 others

y/npriv carmen brought over another cake, i'm gonna kiss her guys (also jsyk me and max broke up but it was amicable guys, pls don't hit him with your car)

iamrebeccad i'm just about to board my love, see you soon 💜 ↳ y/npriv see you soon becs 🩷

francisca.c.gomes y'all broke up? more like he broke, you up! ↳ y/npriv he is a multi millionaire 😭 ↳ francisca.c.gomes sending you enough money to make you one too x ↳ y/npriv you do that kiks xx

charles_leclerc sending you happy thoughts x ↳ y/npriv thank you charlie :) that's very nice of you ↳ landonorris ik he's foaming at the mouth right now ↳ charles_leclerc delete you rat. ↳ y/npriv ???? ↳ charles_leclerc nothing ignore that y/n :)

nicohulkenberg i feel like that caption is aimed at me... ↳ y/npriv you and half the bloody grid 😭 ↳ kevinmagnussen i'll get him when you're not looking ↳ y/npriv kevin i WILL tell louise don't try me kevin ↳ kevinmagnussen ... mean ↳ estebanocon ok i won't hit him with my car... again ↳ y/npriv flavy.barla you better hold him to that ↳ flavy.barla trust me he knows not to get on my bad side ↳ estebanocon i am terrified of her ↳ y/npriv good ↳ flavy.barla good

maxverstappen1 why is everyone threatening to hit me with their car? ↳ lilymhe y/npriv what is he doing here ↳ y/npriv 🤷🏼‍♀️ amicable break up = add to the priv ↳ y/npriv and maybe i thrive on chaos ↳ maxverstappen1 looking through your posts maybe they should hit me with their car ↳ y/npriv hey none of that max. ↳ kevinmagnussen i have permission! ↳ y/npriv KEVIN thats it logjorup come get your husband ↳ logjorup kevin no we talked about this. ↳ kevinmagnussen i can't have shit.

georgerussell63 please dont kiss my girlfriend she'll leave me ↳ y/npriv too late x ↳ georgerussell63 carmenmmundt ??? ↳ carmenmmundt what happens in y/ns flat stays in y/ns flat (we got married last year) ↳ georgerussell63 cant even say im shocked ↳ lilymhe i officiated it :) ↳ georgerussell63 didn't think you'd want anyone snatching your gf ↳ lilymhe bold to assume carmen didn't officiate mine and y/ns marriage right after ↳ georgerussell63 bigamist ↳ y/npriv and proud x

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The girls had come round soon after, Heidi in tow, mentioning how they’d been camping in the cafe down the street.

You think about the kind lady there and how you’re going to break the news that she won’t see you and Max together anymore. She often joked about the two of you getting married and bringing little ones around to see her. You think she’ll be more heartbroken about the situation than you and Max.

Rebecca and Kika had come round soon after, the boys having managed to book a car service between the two of them as the girls’ flights landed at similar times.

Your phone had been pinging non stop, text after text from drivers and their partners coming in sending their condolences for you and Max. You’d replied to the first few, soon feeling overwhelmed and hiding the phone underneath one of the sofa pillows, ignoring the never ending buzz.

One of the first to text you privately had been Charles, short and sweet and to the point.

Hi Y/N. I really am sorry to hear that you and Max broke up. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.

You’d sent back a generic reply, not wanting to think for too long about the man who had unknowingly been a catalyst to the break up.

Heidi appears next to you on the armchair, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Dragging your eyes away from the buzzing pillow, you smile at her softly.

“What’s going on up there?” Using the hand slung around your shoulder, she taps twice against your temple. The interaction draws the attention of the other girls, all conversations muting down to listen to your response.

Sighing, you shuffle so Heidi can sit more comfortably beside you. “I don’t know. I’m sad, y’know, me and Max were together a long time. But I’m also relieved? It sounds so horrible to say but I didn’t realise just how much this whole situation was weighing on me until it was over.”

Shuffling in your spot, you take a quick sip of the margherita Carmen had made you. “Like, I love him and I always will but at the same time, I’m glad we ended it amicably. You hear so many horror stories of break ups being shouting matches and accusations flying around but it was like saying goodbye to an, albeit distant, friend. We both admitted to where we’d gone wrong and we apologised. It was… nice? I’m not sure if that’s the best way to describe a break up but honestly, I don’t know how else to explain.”

Heidi hums, the girls all sitting round in contemplative silence. Kika takes a quick sip of her drink, setting it down on the floor. “So, we all know Max didn’t treat you the best towards the end.” She tuts as you go to interrupt her. “I’m not going to go on an anti-Max rant, don’t worry. But you said where you’d both gone wrong. If you don’t mind me asking, where do you think you messed up?”

Chewing on your lower lip, you glance across at Flavy, who gives you an encouraging nod.

“Well, I fell for someone else.” You wince, bracing for impact as the girls digest what you just said.

Lily looks up from where her and the younger Lily are entangled on the sofa. “Charles?”

Shocked, you look at the other girls. None of them are looking at you in disdain, only quiet observation.

“Was it that obvious?”

Lily shakes her head, pulling herself up to sit normally on the sofa. “Not obvious, but there were signs. We’re not gonna shame you or anything.” She pauses, waiting for the other girls to agree. The room is filled with noises of confirmation. “I mean, it was blatantly obvious Charles fancied you but it’s only been the last… 6 months or so that I thought there may be a chance you liked him back.”

Groaning, you sink back into the soft cushions, pulling your shirt up to hide your face. “I’m a horrible person.”

A hand reaches out and pulls the top from your grip gently. You look down and see Rebecca giving you a reassuring smile, hand disentangling from your shirt to grab your hand and give it a quick squeeze. “You’re not. Trust me, we wouldn’t all be here if we thought that. You were in a tough situation, it’s not like you and Max were going anywhere,” she winces at her own bluntness, startling a chuckle from you.

“You deserve to be happy, and the relationship you were in wasn’t giving you that. Wanting to be with someone who makes you happy doesn’t make you a horrible person, it makes you human.” She squeezes your hand once more before pulling away, reaching for her drink on the floor.

Looking around, you take a second to let her words sink in. You do deserve happiness, it's just unfortunate that happiness wasn’t with Max. “So, when did you all figure out Charles liked me? Because none of you seemed shocked when Lily mentioned him.”

Lily speaks up first. “I’ll go first. It was 2019 and Max and Charles were 1-2 in Spielberg. I watched the podium with Alex below since, y’know, he was Red Bull adjacent, and neither Max nor Charles could take their eyes off you. At first, I thought Charles was looking towards the Ferrari staff, but then I noticed his eyes followed you when you walked away with the Red Bull team.”

Kika joins next, hand waving around her cocktail glass. “Mine was similar, it was Jeddah 2022. Ferrari had a 2-3, yet Charles was nowhere to be found after the celebrations. Pierre went to go find him to congratulate him and I followed. He was sat in the paddock, his phone open on your instagram. He kept glancing between it and you and Max who were celebrating his 7 millionth win.”

You tut, reaching out to knock her lightly with your foot. She grabs your ankle, squeezing once before letting go, joining you in laughter.

Heidi, younger Lily, Rebecca, Flavy and Carmen follow in suit, all giving examples of when Charles was simply ‘enamoured’, Carmen’s phrasing, with you. You think back to each moment they mention, trying to remember if you had realised the same thing as them at the time.

In the earlier years, you hadn’t, too wrapped up in Max. But when Rebecca mentions a moment last year when Charles had accidentally spilled hot coffee over himself when you’d shown up in a slightly low cut dress, the recognition starts to fall into place.

You remember rushing over to him, grabbing a napkin and wetting it before pressing it to his hand. At the time, you thought nothing of the way he blushed deep red and avoided eye contact, eyes remaining on the carpet below. But now, you smile softly, remembering how he had stumbled over a compliment for you before rushing away to the medic tent.

The girls let you take a moment to think through what they had said, small conversations starting between them, the murmurs filling the warm air of your apartment. Heidi remained quiet next to you, hand running through the ends of your hair gently.

Sending her an appreciative glance, you reach under the now silent cushion, opening yours and Charles’ text thread. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her nod reassuringly.

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a/n: part 3 is here! i know i said this would be the final part but i felt that it needs a part 4 to really wrap everything up, sorry and thank you all for being so patient! any spelling mistakes shh ignore them i don't have a beta reader and if i had to reread my own writing one more time i was going to cry! let me know if you would like to be added / removed from the taglist <3

taglist: @veryicyandspicey @oliviarodrigostan13 @fyegyall @inevesgf @brakingboundaries @boywondrgrayson @pand-de-pandora-blog @emily-b @barcelonaloverf1life @entr4p3 @asparklysoul @elia-the-bibliophile @ruebennett89 @sheslikeacurse @angywritesstuff @honethatty12 @hs-is-loml @krishasworld @velentine @weekendlusting @vintagefucksstuff @yourfreezing-hands @sinofwriting @cmleitora @ladyoflynx @zvrjkb @anuksunamon @sarahedwards16 @janeh22 @awritingtree @reguluscrystals @headinthecloudssblog @ralshatos @formulaal @daisyfreecs @acesofspadess @mehrmonga @velentine @norrisainz33 @honethatty12 @ananyasr1bughead @asparklysoul @slutforpablogavi @tomatana @cmleitora @forevercaffeinated-lee @myescapefromthislife @cluvsya @dorothea47 @santanasaintmendes @blossomlilly @saachiep81 @l-sofiamia-l

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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