#and when we got to our cars he turned to me and paused in the way you do when there's an Important goodbye to say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 6 months ago

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Let the World Burn

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari driver!Reader

Summary: a brake failure sends Charles’ world spinning out of control

Warnings: crash, partial paralysis, brain injury, and plenty of angst (with a happy ending because I’m still me)

Based on this request

The paddock thrums with energy as you make your way to your car, adrenaline already coursing through your veins. Charles falls into step beside you, his presence as familiar and comforting as the roar of engines.

“Ready to show them how it’s done, mon amour?” His voice is a low rumble, eyes alight with competitive fire.

You grin, leaning in to press a swift kiss to his lips. “Always. You’ll be the one watching my rear wing this time.”

Charles laughs, the sound rich and warm. “We’ll see about that.” He squeezes your hand, calloused fingers intertwining with yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words carry the weight of a thousand unspoken promises, a vow as binding as the wedding bands you can’t yet wear.

All too soon, you’re parting ways, disappearing into the organized chaos of the garage. You slide into the snug confines of the cockpit, the car’s familiar lines an extension of your own body. A flurry of final checks, the high-pitched whine of the engine firing up, and then you’re rolling onto the grid, the tension crackling like static electricity.

The lights go out, and the world narrows to the scream of tires on tarmac, the high-pitched howl of the engine, and the razor-sharp focus that has carried you this far. You and Charles trade positions with every corner, locked in an exhilarating duel that has the crowd on its feet.

And then, without warning, your world fractures.

The pedal goes soft underfoot, your instincts screaming even before the telltale high-pitched whine cuts through the roar of the engine. You slam on the brakes, but the response is sickening— a bare fraction of the deceleration you need.

“Ricky?” Your voice is tight, the adrenaline surging as the implications crash over you in waves. “I’ve got a brake issue here. A big one.”

“Copy that.” Ricky’s tone is clipped, professional, even as your heart rabbits in your chest. “Okay, let’s try cycling the systems-”

You follow his instructions with mechanical precision, but the results are the same: negligible braking force, the car still hurtling forward at murderous speeds. A hairpin looms ahead, the barriers terrifyingly close, and you fight the wheel with everything you have, desperate to keep the bucking machine on track.

“Ricky, is this being broadcast?” The words tumble out in a breathless rush as the Turn looms closer, closer.

“Affirmative.” There’s a pause, the faintest tremor in Ricky’s voice. “It’s going out live.”

You exhale, a shuddering breath that shakes your entire frame. There’s only one person you need to reach now.

“Charles.” His name catches in your throat, thick with emotion. “If you’re listening to this-”

The tears come then, hot and blinding as you wrestle with the uncontrollable car. This can’t be how it ends, not like this, not when you’d imagined decades more by his side.

“In some other life, maybe we would have grown old together.” The words are torn from the depths of your soul, raw and wrenched free by the stark reality bearing down on you. “I wish I could have given you babies and watched our children grow up and lived a long life by your side like we always dreamed.”

Your vision blurs, the turn now a void of unforgiving concrete rushing up to meet you. You fight the wheel with everything you have, but there’s no stopping the inevitable now.

“You deserve every happiness, my love. If … if I don’t make it, please … please find someone else to love and cherish. Don't grieve forever. Be happy.” The brake pedal is useless under your foot, the barriers skimming past in a blur of terror. “Because you deserve all the love in this world and so much more.”

“I hope you’ll hear this,” you force out in a cracked whisper. "And I need you to know, my heart, that even if things end here … even if I don’t get to grow old with you … you have been the brightest light in my life these past five years. You made me happier than I ever dreamed. And I will never, ever stop loving you, Charles. Not in this life or the next. You are everything-”

The impact is a cosmic force, obliterating breath and thought and everything else in a blinding flare of darkness. But still, you cling to awareness, to the phantom thread of love that binds you to the one person who matters most.

“I’ll always-” The anguished vow catches, cut brutally short as oblivion rises to claim you. In those final heartbeats, a fleeting kaleidoscope of memories sparks behind your eyes: unmistakable laughter, stolen kisses, quiet moments wrapped in each other’s arms.

Five years of loving Charles, of being loved by him in a way you’d never dared dream possible.

It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.

But it was everything.

“I love-”

Then, nothing.

***

The world fragments around Charles as his gaze locks onto the shattered remains of the familiar red car. One heartbeat — an endless, merciless instant suspended in time — and then his instincts take over with the force of a tidal wave.

“No … no, no, no!” The anguished words rip from his throat as he wrenches the steering wheel, the shriek of tires on tarmac drowned out by the roar of his own pulse thundering in his ears.

The race, the championship, every ambition and dream that has driven him to this point — it all fades into insignificance as he tears down the pitlane, desperation clawing at his throat. “Y/N! Hold on!”

Flames lick hungrily at the twisted wreckage as he sprints towards the mangled chassis, heedless of the searing heat or the choking smoke that burns his lungs. There’s only one thought, one driving need that propels him forward: reach you, get you out, pull you back from the precipice that has opened up beneath his feet.

“Y/N!”

Your name rips from his lips, a hoarse plea swallowed up by the crackle of fire. He skids to a halt beside the wreckage, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the warped metal that has become your cage, your tomb. “Talk to me, mon cœur! I’m here!”

Coherent thought fractures, replaced by blind panic and the soul-deep terror of losing the one light that guides him through this life.

Your eyes are closed, features lax and far too still against the vivid crimson that stains your skin. Charles’ breath catches in his throat, a raw, animal sound clawing its way free as his trembling hands reach for you, desperate to find a flutter of life, a spark of the brilliant fire he knows blazes within you.

“No, no, no … please, stay with me!” He cups your cheek, fingers smearing crimson as they search in vain for a pulse. “I can’t … I can’t lose you!”

Hands grasp at him then, voices raised in shouts he can’t comprehend. He wrestles against the restraints, a feral need to reach you overriding all reason. “Get off me! She needs help!”

But the marshals are insistent, pushing him back with grim determination until he can only watch, helpless, as they douse the ravenous flames.

It feels like an eternity, each gasping breath torn from a soul being flayed apart piece by torturous piece. And then, finally, they move in, the screech of metal and the hiss of hydraulics barely registering over the roar in Charles’ ears.

You’re so still as they work, pale and frighteningly fragile amidst the tangle of debris. A thin rivulet of red trails from the corner of your lips, each sluggish drip a struck match against the powder keg of Charles’ sanity. He takes a shuddering step forward, then another, his world narrowing to the trembling rise and fall of your chest.

“Please … please, stay with me,” he rasps, fingers closing around the rigid lines of the barrier as if it’s the only tether holding him to reality.

A marshal’s hand on his chest, forceful but lacking the strength to halt the unstoppable forward momentum of a man staring into the abyss. “Back off! Let them work!”

But how can he stand back? How can he simply watch as your life’s flame gutters and fades before his eyes? The words climb his throat, tangling into desperate pleas and vows that he’ll burn the world to keep you here, to keep you safe.

Except, no words come. There’s only the taste of ashes on his tongue and the sight of you, broken and bloodied on the unforgiving grass.

The medics arrive in a whirlwind of crisp efficiency, barking terse orders and assessments that slice into Charles with each clipped syllable. He’s dimly aware of the confirmation that you still live, that there’s a chance — but it’s a flicker, fleeting in the face of the reality unfolding before him.

“What are her chances?” The question rasps out, little more than a graveled whisper as he strains against the restraining hands.

You need an airlift, treatment beyond what can be rendered here on this blood-stained stage. Charles knows it, can see the franticness in the medics’ eyes as they work, but the knowledge brings no comfort.

Only an agonizing cycle of seconds hand-cranked like a Medieval torture device, each one stripping another layer of sanity as he watches you slip away.

“Just hang on, mon amour. I’m here … I’m right here.” His voice cracks, breaking on a devastated keen as they load you onto the backboard.

The whine of rotor blades cuts through the static in his head, a cold metallic slice that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. He sucks in a breath, lungs burning with the effort as the helicopter circles in a raucous descent.

“Please, let me go with her!” He wrenches against the hands with renewed desperation.

They’re taking you away.

He tries to follow, legs turned to lead weights, only to be held back once more by the wall of marshals. There’s shouting, words and pleas and anguished vows all tangled into an incomprehensible madness. “No! Y/N!”

And then, you’re gone.

Lifted skyward in a cloud of downdraft, growing smaller and more indistinct until the sleek lines of the helicopter grow razor-thin before disappearing completely.

“No … no, no, no!” Charles’ legs buckle, sending him crashing to his knees in the scorched swath of earth where you were just lying. His hands fist in the grass, heedless of the crimson that stains his fingers, his palms, every inch of shredded skin and broken soul.

The world has ended. His universe has imploded.

And all he can do is kneel in the ashes and scream your name into the uncaring void.

***

The deafening roar of engines fades to a dull thrum as Charles staggers away from the wreckage, his world reduced to a kaleidoscope of fractured images and white noise. He doesn’t register the shouts, the hands grasping at his shoulders as he stumbles blindly towards the track’s perimeter.

Racing. Championships. It all feels like a cruel cosmic joke in the face of what he’s just witnessed.

A chain-link fence looms ahead, the flimsy barrier doing nothing to impede his forward momentum. Figures materialize on the other side — fans, their faces twisted in shock and concern—and then hands are reaching through, steadying him as he clambers over the top with a desperation bordering on madness.

He has to get to you. Nothing else matters.

The parking lot stretches out before him, a maze of gleaming supercars and sleek team transporters. His feet move without conscious thought, propelled by a single-minded determination to reach his haven, his sole remaining tether in this swiftly unraveling realm.

Except, when he arrives at his Ferrari, chest heaving with exertion and the first tendrils of panic starting to set in, the awful truth crashes over him like a tsunami.

No keys.

A choking sound tears from his throat, part sob and part anguished growl of frustration. He can’t break down here, not now, not when every fiber of his being screams at him to keep moving, to fight, to-

“Charles!”

The familiar voice cuts through the din, offering a lifeline just as the darkness threatens to swell and consume him utterly. Andrea skids to a halt beside him, chest heaving and face flushed from his own desperate sprint across the paddock.

In his outstretched hand, the keys dangle and glint in the harsh sunlight.

“I had a feeling,” the trainer pants, thrusting the keys towards Charles with a knowing look.

No other words are needed. Charles snatches them with a terse nod, every agonizing second weighing like an eternity as the engine roars to life beneath his expert touch.

His knuckles whiten on the steering wheel as he wrenches the car into gear, jaw clenched to keep the scream of agony caged behind his teeth. Andrea hardly has time to slam the door before they’re peeling out of the lot in a spray of gravel and burnt rubber.

Except, the awful truth rears its head once more as the speedometer climbs past ludicrous speeds, the blur of the Italian countryside offering no reprieve from the maelstrom tearing him apart from the inside.

“Shit!” Charles’ palm cracks against the steering wheel, knuckles screaming in protest. “Where did they take her?”

Of course Andrea knows what he’s asking. The performance coach doesn’t even hesitate, already dialing his phone with the same razor-sharp focus that has guided Charles through so many battles over the years. “Fred? It’s Andrea. Where did they take Y/N?”

The next few seconds stretch into an eternity, each rattling breath searing Charles’ lungs. The line must still be ringing because Charles can’t make out any other voice, just the muffled hum of the connection and Andrea’s terse breathing. He casts a sidelong glance, jaw clenched so tightly he can feel the tendons straining beneath his skin.

Then, a response — clipped and authoritative even through the tinny speakerphone crackle. “They’ve airlifted her to the trauma center in Milan. She’s still en route.”

No other words are needed. The Ferrari leaps forward with a howl, devouring the asphalt as Charles whites out every other thought, every scrap of sense and reason. All that exists is the burning need to reach you before the unthinkable becomes reality.

Highway signs whip by in a blur, red taillights and shrill horns little more than background noise as he tears down the roads, uncaring of speed limits or lane markers or any of the trifling rules governing the everyday world he’s left behind. Just an animalistic need propelling him forward, the destination the only thing that matters.

Get to her. Don’t be too late. Please, god, don’t let me be too late ...

And then, finally, the looming skyline of Milan rears into view.

Tires squeal in protest as Charles wrenches the steering wheel, the Ferrari fishtailing wildly before rocketing down the street towards the distinctive profile of the hospital. He doesn’t even bother looking for a proper spot, swinging the car up over the curb and leaving it stranded halfway on the sidewalk in a blatant obstruction.

But he doesn’t care. Can’t care about anything beyond reaching you.

The chaos of the emergency room hits them in a crashing wave of noise and activity, but Charles forges ahead undeterred. Shouts and rebuffs part around him like a river around a boulder, falling away as staff recognize the wild-eyed visage barreling towards them.

It’s Italy. It’s the Grand Prix. Of course they know his face, the name that every tifoso here would sell their soul to claim as a native son. A path opens before them, whispers and pointing fingers trailing in their wake.

“Leclerc!”

“Did you hear what happened?”

“Code Red from the Autodromo ..”

The words slice at Charles, both too loud and too indistinct to comprehend beyond the implication that you’re here, somewhere through these endless, claustrophobic hallways. A nurse in seafoam scrubs appears at his side, ushering them with brisk efficiency. He follows without a word, legs fueled by pure desperation as they weave deeper into the sprawling facility.

At last, they’re led into a waiting room, the nurse pivoting to face them with a carefully composed expression. “The patient was brought in approximately thirty minutes ago with severe trauma from the crash. She’s currently in surgery, but there are no further updates I can provide right now.”

Surgery.

The weight of that single word hits like a sledgehammer, sending Charles reeling until his back slams against the nearest wall. He sucks in a ragged gasp, fingers tangling in his sweat-damp curls as the magnitude of what’s unfolding threatens to drag him under completely.

There are voices, murmurs of concern as figures materialize from the edges of his frayed vision. Hands grasp at him, trying in vain to offer comfort or reassurance or something, anything to tether him to this reality that has become his waking nightmare.

But there is no solace to be found.

With a shudder that wracks his entire frame, Charles slides down the wall, knees tucking up in a pitiful facsimile of the bright-eyed young man who had stood on that sunbaked grid only hours ago. His head drops into his upraised palms, fingers tightening in his hair until the pain is the only thing anchoring him against the relentless maelstrom of grief and terror threatening to sweep him away.

The rest of the world falls away until all that remains is the hollow ache in his chest and the silent pleas to someone — anyone — tumbling through his mind on an endless refrain.

A hand rests on his shoulder, grounding him, and he registers Andrea’s presence beside him, the other man’s face drawn in anguish. Tears track down the trainer’s cheeks, glittering in the harsh fluorescent light.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of their mingled breaths, of a silent understanding too profound for words.

Neither speaks. There are no more words to be said, no prayers to voice beyond the torrent of desperate pleas echoing through their fractured psyches.

All that remains is to wait, and steel themselves against the soul-shattering eventuality awaiting them no matter which way the scales of existence tip.

So they wait. And Charles breaks.

***

The fluorescent lights hum a discordant drone, casting stark shadows that seem to leach the warmth from every surface. Charles stares unseeing at the scuffed linoleum tiles inches from his boots, the clinical smell of disinfectant burning his nostrils with each shallow breath.

Beside him, Andrea’s presence is a fixed point amidst the whirling currents of nurses, orderlies, and grim-faced family members that swirl through the waiting room. A bottle of water is pressed into Charles’ hand at some point, the plastic slick with condensation against his palm.

He doesn’t drink. Doesn’t move or speak or show any reaction to the flickering passage of time.

The flow of bodies ebbs and swells like the tide, more familiar faces appearing in scuttling clusters. First the Ferrari personnel, then other teams’ crew, and finally the drivers themselves, one by one. Gasps and muffled curses drift past as the scope of the situation sinks in. Whispers, a bitten-off sob from somewhere across the room.

Charles hears none of it.

He’s adrift in a sea of his own spiraling thoughts, each cresting wave dragging him deeper into the all-consuming torment. Memories mingle with fragments of overheard updates, snippets of frantic phone conversations from those trying to unravel the events of the race.

Blood, so much blood staining the grass, her lips, matting her hair in crimson streaks as she lay unmoving, unbreathing.

Internal bleeding, fractures, neural trauma.

Laughter muffled by the sheets, lazy mornings spent tangled in each other as the world continued its inexorable spin beyond their bedroom walls.

Code Red from the Autodromo ...

The last words she’d tried to force out, little more than a whispered breath over the roar of the racetrack: “I love-”

The purgatory crawls on, each sluggish second carved raw against his tattered nerves. Charles is vaguely aware of the others filtering in and out in shifts, some speaking to him in murmurs too soft to understand, others simply sitting in silence as the minutes bled together into hours.

Some indeterminable span of time later, a ripple works its way through the room, crystallizing into a gathered hush as figures in pale green scrubs appear. One steps forward — a man with graying hair and a craggy face lined by decades of triaging human lives.

The hush deepens to an utter stillness as every eye turns towards him, a held breath drawn taut to the breaking point. Charles lifts his head, forces his gaze to focus on the man’s lips as they part, the moment elongating like a length of rubber pulled to the edge of its tensile strength.

“The patient-” A pause as the surgeon’s eyes flick across the sea of apprehension before settling on Charles with deliberate weight. “-has been stabilized after undergoing extensive surgery to address the trauma sustained in the crash.”

A soft exhalation moves through the room, instinctive reactions barely bridled by the undercurrent of anxiety that keeps them taut, waiting.

“She suffered a severe brain bleed which resulted in significant swelling. In order to alleviate the pressure on her brain, we were forced to put her into a medically-induced coma.”

The words lance through Charles like jagged shards of ice, locking the breath in his lungs. Unconscious, unresponsive. Alive, but without any way of reaching out to reassure himself that the spark still flickers in those endlessly warm eyes. He swallows hard, the room swimming in and out of focus as the surgeon continues in a measured cadence.

“We’ve also had to repair multiple internal injuries and fractures, including her spine. The next forty-eight hours will be critical for monitoring her condition and responses.”

And there it is, the crux they’ve all been tensed in agonizing anticipation to receive. In two days, they’ll know if the fight — your fight — is over before it’s truly begun. The flip of a cosmic coin will determine whether Charles’ entire universe continues to spin … or falls into the black void opening up beneath his feet.

Peripherally, he’s aware of the questions starting, the anguished pleas for more details and reassurances as the others process the impassive surgeon’s words through their own lenses of experience. But Charles hears none of it, only the deafening rush of his own pulse echoing in his ears as the grains of sand in fate’s diabolical hourglass begin their insidious trek.

A blink, and the surgeon is gone, the rest of the somber scrub-clad figures dispersing back towards the swinging doors of the surgical ward. Just like that, they’re alone again, adrift in the limbo of both desperation and dread.

Charles sags, his tenuous grip on composure fracturing like a dam rupturing beneath the crushing weight of reality. A broken whimper rasps from deep within his chest, guttural and visceral and utterly devoid of anything resembling hope.

A hand finds his shoulder, grounding him enough to keep him tethered to the earth as the universe he knows compresses into the torturous rhythm of a mechanized ventilator breathing life into your battered form.

He can see you so clearly, even with his eyes screwed shut against the harsh fluorescents bleaching every surface to the same antiseptic pallor. Fragile, fighting, hooked up to the cold indifference of technology while it works to preserve what he knows to be the brightest, most brilliant soul ever breathed into existence.

The thought of those sparkling eyes, your eyes clouded with unresponsive stillness … it rips the last tattered shred of restraint from his unraveling core. A desolate wail tears free, strangled and raw and utterly devoid of resignation or peace.

He’s loved you for years, months, days, lifetimes — and still it will never be enough to prepare him for a world in which you don’t exist. A breath where he is forced to simply survive without the steady radiance of your presence illuminating every step along his path. Without living.

Andrea’s arms encircle him, a brotherly embrace that does little to quell the flood of anguish now pouring from him in heaving torrents. The others retreat with quiet steps, allowing themselves to fade into the shadows, mere ghosts slipping from the devastation of a man confronting the whispered dread that inhabits every driver’s subconscious.

A love and a life, both hanging suspended by whatever cosmic forces govern their fleeting existences.

You are his gravity, his sun, his guiding starlight.

If you burn out, his universe will go forever dark.

***

The antiseptic haze of the ICU feels like a vice around Charles’ chest as he follows the nurse down the sterile hallway. Each shuffling step is leaden, tinged with an unreality that weighs heavier with every closed door they pass.

Part of him doesn’t want to go through with this. Doesn’t want to face the reality that awaits on the other side of that threshold and shatter the tenuous equilibrium he’s managed to cling to since the moment everything disintegrated on the racetrack.

“She’s just through here.”

The nurse’s words are a wrench, jerking Charles from his reverie with a sobering lurch. Ahead, a nondescript door with a window barely cracked — the entrance to a realm he’s not sure his soul can withstand traversing.

“I’ll give you a few minutes.” Her voice has taken on that too-gentle lilt, the one that says she’s borne witness to too many lives fractured.

Charles nods automatically, not meeting her gaze as she retreats on soft-soled steps. Then it’s just him, alone in the dimly lit hallway with only the muffled noise of machines and murmured voices beyond the door to keep him tethered.

With a fortifying breath that does little to settle the jackhammer pounding in his chest, he grasps the handle and pushes through into your room.

And then … there you are.

Pale and hauntingly still against the sterile sheets, a sickly garden of tubes and wires cocooning your form. There’s barely a rise and fall of your chest, just the robotic ebb and flow of life being pumped through the mask clamped across your face. Dark crescents of bruising mar the fragile skin beneath your eyes, blossoming in vivid shades of yellow and violet across your cheekbones.

You’re so devastatingly still. As if all your vibrant essence has retreated inward, abandoning your corporeal shell in favor of waging an unseen war to simply continue existing.

Charles sucks in a shuddering breath, fingers spasming against his thigh as the first hairline fractures split through the dam he’s erected around his emotions. Part of him wants to flee, to escape back into the blissful naivete of the world before this became his reality. Another part is rooted to the spot with magnetic inevitability, drawn in helpless orbit around your pale, unmoving form.

Slowly, one foot drags in front of the other, carrying him across the room to hover beside your bedside. The blanket of tubes and wires prevents him from seeing much beyond your face and the barest suggestion of a shoulder through the loose neckline of the hospital gown. He reaches out, fingertips trembling as he ghosts them over the exposed skin just above the jutting notch of your collarbone.

You’re so still. And so, so cold.

That’s what breaks him.

His knees hit the tile with a dull thud, unheeded tears already streaking down his cheeks by the time he presses his forehead to the mattress edge. One hand finds yours, enveloping it in a desperate grasp as his entire being crumbles inward like a spent force of nature.

“No, no, no ...” The words are a mantra intermingled with broken gasps as the dam ruptures completely and the anguish pours free in ragged waves. “This can’t … you can’t ...”

Coherent thought deserts him, spiraling into the endless dark of a life without you at his side. These last few days have been a mere fleeting taste of that desolate actuality, uncomprehending glimpses into a reality too obliterating to fully process.

A universe without your light? Your radiance and warmth suffusing his world with color and texture and meaning? It feels like a black hole has opened its maw inside of his chest, hungry to devour everything until nothing remains.

“Please ...”

The plea rasps out in a guttural whisper, little more than carbon scoring the back of his throat. Head bowed, he crushes his brow to your knuckles, each etchings of bone an anchor weight lashing him to this merciless reality.

“Come back to me ...”

The words splinter apart, shredded into woeful gasps as the dam of his fragile composure ruptures. Great, racking sobs claw their way free, tearing through him from the center of his hollow core.

“Take everything else.” The words fracture anew, dissolving into heaving sobs as another piece of his soul splinters away. “Take every trophy, every podium, every championship I will ever win ...”

His voice cracks, seizing in his throat as he drags in a ragged breath, leaning his brow harder against the bedside to ground himself in some last anchor of solidity. Anything to keep from shattering into a million irretrievable pieces as he pours out the final offering, the ultimate sacrifice any driver or athlete can make against the cruel cosmic joke of mortality.

“Take my career, my records ... everything racing has ever meant to me ...” His fingers spasm around yours, clinging on with everything he has left as the darkness closes in. “Just ... please, let her wake up. Let me have more than just these memories of her smile and her laugh and the way she makes everything brighter just by existing.”

The sobs come harder now, racking his frame with deep shudders as his voice dissolves into jagged keening. Tears scald rivulets down his cheeks and drip from his chin to patter against the utilitarian sheets in glimmering droplets. He cries for the unfairness of it all, for the loss that is so brutally imminent it’s already written into his very bones, for the gaping hole that is soon to hollow out his very existence.

Eventually, the racking sobs subside into muted whimpers, the storm ebbing into a quieter desolation as he clings to the thin lifeline of your hand still cradled in his own. A bitter laugh claws its way up his throat, raw and devoid of any trace of humor.

“You’d probably kick my ass if you could see me making deals with the devil like this.”

The silence is deafening, broken only by the measured hiss-pause-exhale of the machines mercilessly keeping that precious flicker of life from extinguishing completely. Another laugh escapes, rough and graveled with the weight of a million shattered pieces of himself littering the floor around him.

“You’ve always been the stronger one between us, haven’t you?”

He angles his head, pressing his lips to your knuckles in a lingering kiss as a fresh deluge of tears gather in his eyes. “So wake up, mon cœur. Wake up and show me how to keep going ...”

The whisper hangs in the air, suspended in the limbo of waiting and dread as the machines continue their indifferent monotony. Charles lingers there, forehead pressed to your palm as the minutes drag onward and the final flickers of day fade from the window.

He’s here. He’ll always be right here.

No matter how many nights and days and eternities that ceaseless tide must crash over him until your eyes open once more.

The quiet is shattered by a stifled gasp at the threshold, a swell of fresh emotion that causes Charles to lift his head, scrubbing futilely at his eyes with the back of his free hand. Two figures have appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by the dimmer light of the hallway beyond.

Footsteps, two sets. Familiar yet not, like ghosts drifting through the periphery of a dream. He knows instinctively who has stepped into the claustrophobic bubble of vigil, but cannot summon the energy to turn, to confront them.

There’s only you. Only you, and this carcass of shattered promises and devastation that he’s been reduced to by the simple fact of your absence.

Until …

Motions in the corner of his vision, the slide of fabric and muted footfalls amidst the monotonous cadence of technology. Then, a pair of weathered hands — hands he recognizes like the veins pulsing with life beneath his own skin — come into view, cupping his bowed head in a cradle of reassurance and shared infinitudes of anguish.

Your parents’ voices carry in the wake of their touch, whispers ragged with the same bone-deep desolation bleeding from Charles’ shattered core. Indistinct murmurs of comfort, of empathy, of that level of understanding that only those poised on the precipice can ever understand.

He doesn’t resist as they draw him into the circle of their arms, enveloping him until their shared warmth banishes some of the chill snaking through his soul. Hot tears streak down his cheeks again, but these aren’t solitary, bitter shed of a man abandoned in the void of loss.

Their mingled anguish binds them together on this fevered plane of suffering, a communion of the damned begging with whatever beneficent forces might hear their pleas.

Please.

Please give them back the spark of light they all crave with every fiber of their beings.

Please, because this ...

This is no life. Not without you.

***

The fluorescent lights seem to dim with every passing hour, the edges of reality blurring together into an indistinct smear. Time has lost all meaning amidst the monotonous cycle of machines and muffled hospital ambiance swirling through your room.

Charles is adrift in a wakeful dream state, his world compressed into the miniscule shifts across your features. The steady beep of the heart monitor, the almost imperceptible rise and fall of your chest, the flutter of your eyelids as your mind navigates whatever ethereal paths separate you from him.

He hasn’t left your bedside. Not for food or rest or even the most basic of human needs. It’s all he can do to simply exist in this liminal space with you, unwilling to surrender a single breath or blink to the cruelty of a reality in which your presence doesn’t illuminate every crevice.

His thumb traces idle circles over your knuckles, the motion as robotic as the whoosh of the ventilator forcing air in and out of your lungs. Voices drift through from the hallway, clinical and detached. More tests and updates being murmured without context or depth of feeling.

None of it matters. The only metric capable of penetrating the fog enshrouding Charles is the ghost of sensation where his calloused fingers brush your skin.

He’s acutely attuned to the details of your condition at any given moment, no matter how inconsequential it may seem to the professionals at their stations monitoring labs and scans. A slight spike in temperature or blood pressure, the faintest twitching muscle or brow-furrow. All of it feels magnified a thousandfold as he clings to every indication, every little shift that might signal a turn for the better.

Or … for the worse

The thought skitters away the instant it surfaces, instinctively repressed by the force of Charles’ sheer desperation. He’s been here, motionless and steadfast, as the forty-eight hour milestone stretched into seventy-two, ninety-six, a hundred and twenty. With each passing day, the doctors grew more optimistic, more positive in their assessments as the swelling in your brain gradually abated.

Until this morning. The preliminary preparations to rouse you from the protective shroud of the medically induced coma began. Rounds of testing, consults from specialists, hushed asides between the scrub-clad personnel that Charles couldn’t parse beyond the undercurrent of anticipation that rippled through the ward.

Now they wait. He and the contingent of nurses and doctors hovering at stations like sentries guarding the gateway to the only world that matters. Watching, observing, as your eyelids begin to stir and the heart monitor’s pattern shifts just slightly from its metronomic rhythm.

Charles holds his breath, fingers tightening around yours as his gaze fixes on your face, the first pinpricks of awareness flickering there. Your eyelids flutter, brow furrowing as if straining against unseen barriers holding you back. Flashes of animation, of unvoiced struggle, play out in rapid succession and his world constricts into that singular point of reality unwinding.

Your fingers twitch, a spasmodic shudder, before settling into a steady movement in his grasp. The change in pressure is minute, featherweight, but it’s enough to electrify every nerve in Charles’ body. His head whips toward the observation window, breath sawing from his lungs.

“She’s waking up!”

It’s little more than a raw exhalation, the spark that ignites the room into urgent, yet controlled, flurries of activity. A nurse slips inside, tapping briskly at monitors and checking lines with an instinctive flow of motion. Charles barely registers her presence, his world distilled down to that singular point of lifeline linking him to you as the fog of unconsciousness finally begins to lift.

Your first inhale tugs at something primal within him, hauls the breath from his lungs even as unfettered joy spills through his chest. There’s movement beneath the fluttering of your eyelids, the rustle of lashes and tiny furrows creasing the delicate skin around your eyes. The seconds stretch out like an eternity until finally ...

They open.

Slitted and hazy, but undeniably open and aware. For an endless heartbeat, Charles is frozen, hands still wrapped around your fingers as afraid to move as a cave explorer plunged into impermeable black.

Then the world rushes in with all the chaos and color he’s been robbed of for far too long. A desperate sound tears itself free of his throat, as his body releases the suspended tension flooding from every pore. He sways forward, bracing his other hand on the mattress edge to keep from utterly crumpling at your very first flutter of life.

“Oh god ...” The fractured keen catches with a gasping sob. “Dieu merci, I thought I-”

But the words fracture, tumble away into lost coherence as you shift, throat bobbing with visible effort before the slurred shape of words escapes past chapped lips.

“C-can’t … f-feel ...”

Charles freezes, the world contracting back into stark lines and hyper-focused clarity. You’re struggling, the effort of speech clear across features still slack with the vestiges of your ordeal.

Panic claws its way up his throat, instinct sounding the call to seek help, to rally every force of medicine at their disposal toward solving this new, horrifying complication. He turns, mouth already open in a shout toward the observation window-

Only to find the room already flooding with personnel, summoned by some unseen alert the moment you stirred. Voices begin filtering through the dissonance clogging his senses — clipped, professional directives lancing through the feedback loop skipping inside his skull.

“Keep her calm-”

“... signs of paralysis ...”

“... damage to the motor cortex ...”

The final phrase lands like a weighted punch, sending Charles reeling back a half-step as the implications unspool into his consciousness. Your face twists in distress, breath sawing as the tube mask fogs with each panicked exhalation.

“I … n-no ...” You try to move, to shift position, but whatever spinal injury incurred in the wreck limits you to feeble twitches and whimpers.

Charles is at your side in an instant, features etched in silent agony as he brushes back the hair feathering across your forehead. His other hand finds yours, solid and grounding as he wills every iota of strength into the contact.

“Shhh, it’s alright. It’ll be alright, just stay calm.”

A cursory glance over his shoulder confirms a flurry of activity unfolding behind the glass as neurologists and specialists filter in. Tests will be run, evaluations and diagnostics to chart out whatever neural trauma has wrought such devastating effects upon your mobility.

In this moment, none of it matters beyond the trembling whimpers parting your lips and the glimmer of tears streaking your cheeks to dampen the pillow beneath your head. Charles wants nothing more than to gather you into his arms, to shield you from this fresh cruelty that has robbed you of yet another piece of your spirit.

Instead, he leans in close, cradling your face in his palm as you struggle to latch onto his presence amidst the waves of fear and distress no doubt crashing through your psyche.

“F-feel my … can’t ....” The disjointed words catch in racking sobs, your eyes squeezing shut against a torrent of emotion he recognizes all too well.

“I know, I know ...” The platitudes feel hollow, meaningless verbal gestures against the enormity of the situation closing its grip around them. But Charles speaks them regardless, murmuring soft reassurances against your anguish.

“Just focus on me, mon cœur. Only me.” His thumb swipes the moisture from your cheekbones, smearing tear tracks through the pallor there as his voice drops to a soft rasp. “You’re still here, still fighting ...”

Your eyes open at that, lashes spiked and heavy with more saline that slips free to streak down your temples. Those depths are oceans of heartache, roiling with a tempest of emotion that momentarily banishes every scrap of reason or logic from Charles’ mind.

All that matters is easing your suffering. Doing anything to lift the veil of anguish smothering the radiant light that marked your essence, that wondrous spark responsible for thawing every one of his defenses and opening a pathway to the heart he’d resigned himself to never sharing.

“I’m here and I’m not leaving. Not ever.” The words scorch themselves into his very soul as he presses his brow to yours. The antiseptic smells of your surroundings fade, the two of you cocooned in the intimate embrace of making your entire world his, if only for these fleeting seconds.

“We’ll get through this together,” he murmurs against your hairline, drinking in the simple euphoria of your closeness, of being able to impart even an inkling of comfort through his presence alone. “I promise.”

The words hang there for a suspended eternity, no response beyond the quiet hiccup of your breathing evening out the tiniest bit. A sliver of solace in the storm to cling to, no matter how tenuous.

Then the retinue of doctors and nurses sweeps in, their voices raised in directives and instructions. It shatters the moment, the outside world crashing back into their reality with all its cold indifference and clinical calculation.

Charles is ushered back, stumbling on legs turned to rubber as he watches you drag your reddened gaze from his, focusing inward as the onslaught of testing begins. He wants to refuse, to dig in his heels and remain steadfastly at your side through whatever fresh torments this throws your way.

But that defiance dies before it can form, snuffed out by the fragility written in the slump of your shoulders and the dull, haunted glaze muting your formerly vibrant spirit. All of his instincts scream at him to protect you, to rally against any external forces bent on inflicting more cruelty upon your already overburdened existence.

Instead, with a leaden heart and bile burning the back of his throat, Charles can only slip from the room and let the white coats encircle you with their machines and sterile indifference.

It’s a wait that lasts an eternity condensed into seconds, the rubber soles of his sneakers tracing grooves into the linoleum as he paces the hallway with increasing franticness. Snatches of conversation drift out from behind the closed door — clinical assessments devoid of context or feeling.

Then, as abruptly as it began, the door sweeps open and a group of personnel file out, scribbling notations and conversing in terse murmurs. One of them, a woman with cropped silver hair and piercing eyes, breaks off to approach Charles. Her expression is carefully neutral, devoid of any emotional tells.

“Mr. Leclerc.” It’s not a question, but an acknowledgment of who he is … and what is owed to him. “Your … partner has suffered extensive trauma to her spinal cord and central nervous system in the crash. The amount of nerve damage we’re detecting suggests paralysis of both lower extremities.”

The words shatter into coherent syllables and empty static all at once. Charles nods numbly, awaiting the verdict he can feel looming above them all.

“We can’t say with any certainty whether this condition is temporary or … permanent.” There’s a pause, the ghost of empathy flickering across her hawkish features before the professional mask reasserts itself. “Only time will tell if there’s any chance of full recovery once the other injuries have mended and treatment can begin in earnest.”

The finality hangs in the air for a stretched tautness of heartbeats, crystalline and utterly devoid of warmth. Charles forces himself to meet her gaze, to hold her clinical detachment within his own eyes as the world drifts further and further away.

“Okay.” It’s little more than a whisper, but it feels like tearing out his own throat to give voice to the thing that shatters his heart for you. “Can I … see her?”

A dip of the woman’s chin, a wordless assent as she steps aside to allow Charles to pass. He manages only a few weighted strides before halting, hand braced against the doorframe as he ghosts his gaze over your prostrate form.

You’re crying, quiet and bereft as the blankets rise and fall in time with your shuddering breaths. Something animal and feral keens low in Charles’ chest at the sight, every scrap of resolve threatening to unravel in the wake of your desolation.

Before he can think of second-guess the impulse, he crosses the space in two strides and drops to his knees beside the mattress. You startle at the sudden motion, eyelids fluttering in shock before recognition blazes through the emptiness shrouding your features. It’s Charles’ undoing.

“No, no … no tears.” His voice cracks like splintered glass, adrift on waves of his own withheld emotion. “You’re still here. You’re still with me, mon amour.”

He finds your hand with his own, fingers dwarfed in his calloused grip as he brings them to his brow. Outside, the doctors and specialists confer in low murmurs, their indifference too jagged to apply to the wounds here in this sanctuary where only you exist.

“You’ll be okay.” The promise burns itself into the verse he’s scribed on his heart, a vow etched in trails of moisture searing his cheeks. “No matter what it takes.”

His lips find your forehead, brushing against the clammy skin there as you sag towards him, drawn together by the gravity of an understanding too profound for the empty hallways and clinical trappings circling them. For this stolen breath, it’s simply you and him in all your wounded radiance.

“I almost lost you.” The confession rattles free, sent skyward on exhaled plumes that stir the fine baby hairs framing your brow. “And I’ll fight like hell to keep you beside me for as long as this life will allow.”

Your eyes find his, fractured mirrors reflecting all the heartache and dashed hopes ricocheting between you. But there’s something else there too.

Hope. Defiance. That unquenchable spark that first lured Charles toward you like a moth begging for the flame’s obliterating caress.

He’ll cling to that inner fire. Pour every ounce of his being into nurturing the smoldering coals until they flare again, banishing the darkness fate has chosen to drape them in at every turn. They’ll get through this, finding whatever reserves the cruelest pockets of despair have yet to strip away to sustain them.

Paralysis, brain damage, unthinkable trauma ...

None of it matters.

Not as long as you’re still drawing those precious, rasping breaths beside him.

Not as long as that beautifully battered heart beats on, refusing to surrender to the abyss.

“Je t’aime.” The oath clings to his lips, pressed against your temple as he holds you close. “Always and forever. No matter what.”

***

The sleek, modern lines of the therapy center bisect the Monegasque sky, all glass and steel rising toward the blue expanse. Charles pauses a moment as he strides across the courtyard, drawing in a steadying breath of the crisp early-winter air before continuing on toward the entrance.

The motion-triggered doors sweep open with a whisper, ushering him into the pristine lobby adorned with the fixtures of understated elegance. Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting everything in muted ambers and golds that warm the precision-engineered decor.

Charles crosses the space with economical purpose, gaze sweeping the sitting areas arranged with studied nonchalance until he pinpoints the familiar silhouette awaiting him. You’re positioned with your back angled toward him, the faint shudder of your shoulders visible as you shift position in the high-backed wheelchair.

For a heartbeat, the sight freezes him in place, the old swell of emotions threatening to spiral into rampant chaos until he can taste the acrid tang of panic curdling on his tongue.

Then the moment passes, brought up short by the instinctive reflex to compartmentalize that’s carried him through so many darknesses since the day his entire universe fragmented beyond repair. He shakes it off, squaring his shoulders as he resumes his trajectory, clearing the distance between you in a handful of strides.

You must sense his presence behind you because a tremor shivers across your frame a half-second before you begin to crane your neck towards the source of the approaching footfalls. Charles times his approach to intercept the motion, stepping neatly into your peripheral line of sight with a warm smile ghosting across his features.

“Mon amour.”

The endearment falls from his lips like silk across skin, the richly-textured syllables suffusing the air between you until it feels thick with emotion and the grounding sense of home. Of course, you react to the sound, lips already parting in anticipation of reply that has yet to fully manifest.

The struggle is still so pronounced, hewn into the furrows creasing your brow and the deliberate concentration sharpening the elegant lines of your profile as you wrestle with the disconnect between neural synapses and musculature. Each time Charles bears witness to these trials, it rekindles the enduring fury and heartache enough to steal the air from his lungs.

How cruel could fate be to hurt the brightest soul he’s ever known?

The questions circle endlessly, gnawing their way across his subconscious in a constant cycle of what-ifs and unvoiced anguish. So he clings to patience as your sole solace, willing every ounce of unspoken encouragement into the sliver of contact where his calloused fingers sit atop your knuckles.

“It’s-” The fragmented sound tugs his focus back to your profile in time to catch the flickering hint of frustration tightening the muscles along your jaw as the words elude their trajectory once more. He watches your chest rise and fall with the effort of measured breathing, sees the war being waged behind blown pupils as your nerves strive to reestablish an equilibrium so brutally ruptured by trauma.

And then … a breakthrough.

“I ...” Barely more than an exhale, shaped on the barest puff of air passing your lips. But the simple vowel ignites something beneath Charles’ breastbone, a frisson of hope and pride and a thousand other tangled emotions combining into unadulterated exhilaration.

“L-love ...” Another pause, infinitesimal in the grand cosmic span yet stretched endless as the consonants parse themselves into recognizable sounds. Your eyes find his, glimmering pinpricks of desperate adoration blazing through the sullen cloud of anguish that’s settled in their depths.

The final whisper crystallizes into the air with the reverent weight of an answered prayer, “... you.”

Charles is across the space in an instant, crashing to his knees before you with a breathless sound that parts his lips on a broken rasp. Trembling hands map along the delicate slopes of your cheeks, cradling your face as a single tear spills free to chart a glistening trail down his cheek.

“Oh god ...” The prayer shivers past his lips, half sob and half keening breath as he presses his brow to yours, drowning in your presence and surrounding himself with the singularity of your existence. “You did it. You said it ...”

He trails off, lost to the beautifully battered rhythm of your exhales gusting across his features. This close, you’re all he sees, all he needs to survive this moment of solace among the anguished trials you’ve endured to forge this path back toward him. With painstaking care, he leans in to dust trembling kisses across your brow, your temples, the feathered crescents of your eyelashes as they flutter shut beneath the reverent onslaught.

Until finally, his lips find yours in a searing confession of worship — no urgency or fire, just two souls colliding into the singularity that first kindled their union. Charles slants his mouth across your own, breathing you in deeply until his senses are awash in the familiar scent of your skin and the dizzying tranquility of becoming something so much more than the sum of fragmented parts.

It both is and isn’t a kiss, just the barest brush of sensitive flesh and shared breath. Yet all of Charles’ fortitude strains against the tidal surge of emotion crashing through his bones … devotion and heartache, fervent pride and the nauseating chaser of reality.

Because even as you persevere, rising like a phoenix from each trial along this endless road toward recovery, he knows the path ahead remains strewn with obstacles and shadowed pockets into which the darkness always lurks.

When he finally tears himself away, it’s with another shuddering breath and two crystalline trails of moisture etched into the hollows beneath his eyes. He drinks in your features with the starving desperation of one lost to the merciless desert of life, maps every nuanced shift of line and breath and expression to catalog the miracles unfolding before him.

“You incredible, impossible thing ...” The endearment slips free on a choked laugh, more for his sake than any lack of comprehension on your part. Even after everything, Charles knows you understand the timbre and shape of his words as deeply as if they were your own thoughts.

But before he can bask in the fleeting warmth of this tiny victory, you’re drawing him back in. Delicate fingertips brushing the moisture from his cheekbones as you struggle to translate thought into sound once more.

“This … isn’t ...” A pregnant pause, brow furrowing with the strain before the rest comes in a tumbling rush. “What you wanted. For us.”

The words land like craters against Charles’ ribs, disjointed bombs stripping away the last threads of cheerfulness with each syllable. He stills, mouth parting on a protest that never materializes as you forge onward in the wake of his stunned silence.

“Y-you gave up ...” Another tiny hesitation, your chest rising and falling as you suck in a fortifying breath, “... everything.”

A fresh sheen of moisture wells in your eyes, slick with too many fractured hopes and dreams to ever assemble into coherent utterances. Still, Charles recognizes each shred of meaning, every whispered subtext behind the fragments you offer up as if stilling him for the inevitable strike to come.

Except this time, the blow he expects never arrives. Instead, you lean in, fingertips trailing lightly across the sharp angles of his jaw as the rest of the thought emerges with painstaking care.

“It’s … okay. To find someone ...” Your voice cracks, throat bobbing against the torrent of naked vulnerability suffusing each word. “... new.”

For an endless instant, the world spins on its axis, that single, shattered confession shearing through all of Charles’ deeply-ingrained instincts and defenses. This is the thing he’s dreaded since the first moment fate’s vicious hand tore the very fabric of your radiance into parts — the inevitability of you shouldering the blame for what has unfolded.

Unacceptable.

Unthinkable.

His hands are on you again before he consciously wills them to move, palms cradling your face like he’s the one in constant danger of crumbling into a billion undone pieces. It’s both anchor and lifeline as he pulls you flush against him, mouth trembling for purchase against the rush of sentiment crashing through his veins.

“Never.” The oath has never felt so feather-light yet absolute all at once. He rasps it out like a scrap of prayer, the shape of the sound rippling through the air between them.

“This life? You are everything I want.” The words feel torn from some primal place he had thought cauterized in the aftermath of all that has transpired between them. But still, Charles lays himself bare in their wake, baring every shred of anguish and love and reverence bleeding from his heart.

“Not the career or the glory or any other pursuit I might have thrown myself toward ...” He drags in a ragged inhale, feeling your quivering breaths ghosting across his lips like a light breeze stoked from embers. “Just you, mon cœur. All of you — from your brilliant mind to your determined spirit.”

His thumb traces the supple curve of your cheekbone, rough calluses snagging lightly against satin-smooth skin as his voice skips toward a halting rasp.

“I don’t know what the future holds.” This final mortal truth lingers in the thrall of hushed vulnerability shrouding them. “But I’m not leaving this existence without you by my side through every second of it. Not willingly.”

In the suspended heartbeats that follow, Charles watches the onslaught of emotion crest through the otherworldly depths of your eyes. He swallows hard, aching to fend off whatever final resistance lingers behind those storm-tossed features. Except his throat has grown too thick, too clogged with unshed tears to give voice to the hundreds upon thousands of fractured promises unspooling toward each other.

So he kisses you instead — harder this time, with the desperate exhilaration of a drowning man breaking surface to taste the first gasps of oxygen-rich air. He pours himself into the connection, igniting the spark that first smoldered between you years and lifetimes ago until his entire being resonates with the radiant warmth.

When at last he drags himself back, it’s with a swipe of his thumb to brush away the shimmering track of tears he’s unwittingly drawn to your cheek. “I love you,” he rumbles, the sound resonating from the depths of his core to embed in the very foundations of his soul. “Nothing else matters.”

And as if summoned by nothing more than the simmering weight of his epiphanies, you offer up one final exhalation shimmering with promise and budding hope.

“Race.” A broken sound, little more than a whispered caress against the tide of all that has gone unsaid. “Win for … f-for us.”

Charles’ lips part, trembling with too many half-born replies in that stretched moment of realization.

You’re right. Of course you’re right, focused as always upon rekindling the vibrant sparks threatening to gutter beneath his gaze. It’s yet more proof of why he resolved to kneel before you and bind his existence to your own — from now until the last glimmers of twilight.

He curls a hand behind your neck, prizing this beautiful connection above all the momentary triumphs and thrills his boyhood dreams ever convinced him to pursue. Red-painted carbon and shrieking downshifts, roars of acclaim and champagne spilled as if raining down from the heavens … none of it could ever hope to fill the sacred spaces you’ve already occupied with your quiet strength and luminous resilience.

“For you,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, leaving goosebumps in its wake along the exposed column of your throat. “And only for you, mon ange. I’ll make the world itself hold its breath if that’s what you need.”

He seals the promise with a final brush of his mouth, lingering until every ounce of the sacred vow sears itself into your skin and memory alike.

By the time he draws back to drink in your features one more time, there’s a spark flickering through the storm clouds rimming your gaze. A dazzling flicker in the instant before it flares into something inextinguishable, something potent enough to blind out every shadow threatening to swallow him whole.

It sears through him like a lightning strike, melting every ounce of resolve into something more precious than any trophy or accolade his profession could ever bestow.

A vow you return with a simple promise. “I’ll be your ...” Your voice falters. But your eyes blaze with the words, with that same inevitable fire that forged those first fateful sparks between your souls, “... biggest fan.”

***

The grand hall seems to hum with the collective intake of a thousand bated breaths as Charles turns to face the gathering. Sunlight streams through towering windows in cascading sheets of amber warmth, gilding everything in honeyed refractions that lend an ethereal glow to the floral arrangements and pristine altar dominating the space.

He sucks in a steadying breath of his own, rolling his shoulders beneath the crisp lines of his tailored tuxedo. Anticipation thrums through every fiber of his being, vibrating in synchrony with the symphony of tremulous breaths rippling through their assembled friends and loved ones.

This moment has been too long in manifesting, too brutally tested by the cruelties of fate to be anything but utterly perfect in execution.

Behind him, the faint rustle of his groomsmen shifting into place provides the barest murmur of ambient sound. Joris, Andrea, Pierre, Arthur, and Lorenzo — all united by the gravity of this singular instance reshaping the trajectory of Charles’ existence. He chances the briefest glance over his shoulder, meeting their steadying nods of encouragement with a fleeting ghost of a smile.

It anchors him, draws together those final errant threads of composure in time for the first swell of the processional to filter through the sprawling chamber. The gentle symphony of strings and woven harmonies crashes over Charles in a physical caress, setting his nerves alight with anticipation as every eye tracks toward the grand archway dominating the far end of the hall.

He doesn’t immediately register the diminutive figure emerging in a sweep of ivory chiffon and pale lace. Only after the sharp inhalation of breath fluttering through the assembled does his gaze lock onto your silhouette, resplendent even through the sheer flutter of the veil haloing your shoulders.

He expects the wheelchair, the familiar sleek metallic lines and measured rolls ushering you towards him. Expects the sight that’s become so achingly you, even as it never fails to tighten every muscle in his body with the urge to shelter you in his arms from every cruelty the merciless universe has seen fit to inflict.

Except … there is no chair.

The shuddering breath that leaves his lips might as well have been torn from the depths of his very essence in that suspended heartbeat of dawning realization.

You’re walking.

With slow, tiny strides, flanked on either side by bridesmaids in burnished golds — but not supported or aided in any functional sense of the movements.

No, these halting footfalls are all your own. A monumental effort of sheer force of will and gritty determination honed across months of exhaustive perseverance through some of the darkest shadows ever spanning your shared existences.

Each trembling step, every inch traveled across that endless-seeming expanse of polished marble floor, is both defiant proof of your resilience and a blazing triumph over pain and hardship and loss echoed ten thousandfold.

Charles cannot breathe. Can barely remain upright as his entire world both manifests and dissolves around this singular progression unfolding before him in strangled increments. Others have begun to weep in earnest, muffled sobs billowing through the gathered assembly like ripples across a pond’s placid surface.

He’s vaguely aware of his groomsmen shifting behind him, of shocked gasps ghosting across their stunned features as they grasp the significance of what’s unfolding before their eyes. Andrea’s palm finds the small of Charles’ back, steadying his frame against the sudden influx of vertigo and exhilaration threatening to collapse his consciousness.

Because all that exists in this shuddering span of fractured instants is you. Nothing more, nothing less than the endless radiance of your soul as you stride toward him.

Toward your destiny.

Toward the culmination of all the strength and beauty and determination he’s revered with every ounce of his being since the first time he met you.

He’s crying in earnest now, can feel the streaking trails of moisture searing molten paths down his cheeks to dampen the crisp cotton stretched across his chest. Yet the tears hardly register as anything more than a bodily necessity to expel the rising tsunami of l elation cresting inside his core.

You’re within arm’s reach now, only a handful of quavering paces separating your joined paths. Charles’ hands tremble where they hang at his sides, fingers spasming around the desperation to move, to reach, to hold you against him and pour every ounce of adoration into you.

Willpower alone is what roots him in place, keeps him tethered until every shift and flex of muscle is committed to memory. Until your forward momentum carries you into his gravitational embrace in a sweeping collision of souls reunited.

He feels your hands first, slightly clammy where they land against his shoulders and chest in search of purchase. Then the subtlest hint of perfume, that floral-tinged elixir unique only to the slope of your neck and the crown of your hair when he dips to brush his lips across your brow in reverence.

The dam breaks and Charles crumples inward, folding himself around your form with only the vaguest cognition of the groomsmen forming a sheltering web around you both as he sinks to his knees in a thunderous impact of boneless limbs.

Words either fail him or escape articulation as the only sounds to pass his lips become a stream of fevered, jumbled endearments and throaty praises poured directly against the fevered warmth of your skin. His hands map every trembling plane in frantic sweeps, nails skirting intricate embroidery and dewy satin as each heated exhale shudders harsh against your neck, your cheeks, your brow ...

“Mon cœur ...” The title is prayer and confession, ground out from the friction of his entire belief system being forged anew around you. “You incredible thing ... dieu, look at you ...”

He silences the reflexive protests before they can rise by slanting his mouth across yours. There’s nothing carnal or profane in the gesture, simply the coming together of two souls.

You taste of elation and salt, of budding promise and fond tenacity. Of incandescent joy and the shredded velvet of nights spent paralleling the loneliest infinities as your fingers clutched each other like dual magnets anchored across the universe’s expanse.

“So strong … my warrior … perfect ...” The muted words ghost over your trembling form. Somewhere distant, a chorus of cheers and applause has erupted beyond the bubble forming around you.

But none of it truly registers, not when compared to this shattering merging of everything either of you has struggled and strained and wept to reach.

Nothing else matters in the sweeping catharsis cascading around you both. Not the hoarse prayers still shuddering past his lips, or the moisture from your own lashes streaking down his cheeks in silence.

It’s only when the dizzying euphoria begins to ebb that Charles slowly drags his gaze upwards to find yours — those beautiful depths drowning in reverence and bliss mirroring his own. The spark flickering there banishes all shadows in an instant, forging incandescence enough for a lifetime no matter what fresh trials fate might see fit to test your devotion.

He drinks you in, committing the flawless canvas of your features to permanence before reaching up to brush trembling fingertips across the sheer lace obscuring your radiance. The sweep of fabric pools around your shoulders and Charles finds himself very nearly undone again by the sight of your unveiled beauty.

“So ...” He swallows hard, fingers tracing the delicate curve of your jaw as words fail him for a what feels like an eternity. “... beautiful. Like the first dawn cutting through the blackest oblivion.”

A tremulous smile sweeps across your lips, the ghost of a promise he absorbs with every pore as you lean into the reverent sweep of his touch. He could stay like this forever, knees grinding against the ornate tile. Anything to capture how eternal he feels right here with you.

Charles drags in a rallying breath, forcing his widened gaze from yours just long enough to call his groomsmen to attention with a look. They rally behind him, steadying him as he rises on legs turned bowstring-taut with adrenaline.

And then, with every eye once more centered upon you two, Charles bends at the waist and sweeps you into his embrace, cradling your trembling frame against his chest with the paradoxical delicacy and unyielding reverence that lives so unbridled within his very bones. Your breath catches audibly, a soft hitch of sound that adorns the sacred silence as he turns away from the guests.

The officiant’s features are flushed and lined, rimed with moisture that glistens unabashedly as he gathers himself to proceed.

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc and Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” he begins. “You have been called here as an acknowledgment of the next chapter in your lives together ...”

The ceremony begins, the words spilling forth as you tuck your cheek against Charles’ thundering pulse, fingers curling into the lapel of his tuxedo in a white-knuckled embrace. He lives in the rise and fall of your mingling breaths, in the warmth of your form pressed seamlessly against the shelter of his body as you bear witness to the eternal scripture neither of you could have fathomed even existing upon first crossing paths.

Then, the officiant turns his attention towards Charles, chin dipped in grave deference. “You may recite your vows.”

The command punches through him, sawing the breath from his lungs in a ragged exhalation that shivers across your crown. He swallows hard, blinks back the fresh deluge of tears that threatens to escape his faltering restraint. But when he opens his mouth, the words spill out like they were always meant to.

“I have dreamed of you since before the first moments of my existence.” The syllables echo across the hall, spiraling forth to caress every rapt attendee in their wake. “Of a love conceived in the heart of a collapsing star and given breath in our adjoined forms to shine forth into the darkness.”

His lips brush your hairline, absorbing the scent of your fragrance and feeling the thrumming rhythm of life radiating from your temples. Here, cocooned in the intimate heart of their unity, the world holds its breath along with the gathered witnesses.

“Nothing could have prepared my soul to be scoured by your brilliance, your resilience … let alone knitted together from the fraying remnants when our path shattered across the cruel stones of fate.” A tremulous inhale, steadying as his gaze flicks across the faces assembled before you — a sweep encompassing every expression of empathy and shared joy piercing back at him.

“Yet here we stand, mon amour ...” The endearment spills forth like rich velvet, textured and avowed as his mouth finds the top of your head once more, the taste of reverence sweet on his tongue. “United into something sacred, something woven from those endless nights clinging to each other across the desolate chasm that could so easily have swallowed us whole.”

He savors the simple elation of your response, of knowing his words resonate through every quivering fiber with the promise of finally reaching what you’ve been steadily ascending to all along.

So he breathes you in once more, chasing the familiar scent of your skin until his very lungs burn with the delight of your proximity. The depths of his gaze find yours again, irises rimmed in the faintest remnants dampness as one final promise takes shape.

“I will love you to the final molecule ...” Quieter now, a molten rasp uttered into the hollow between your brows as fingertips sift through the intricate sweeps of your tresses. “I will walk beside you through each breath and season, every triumph and shadow that marks this existence as uniquely ours. With all that I am, all that lingers when the inconsequential has stripped from my shell — I am yours. Until the last spark is extinguished from this universe and beyond.”

The promise hangs in the reverent stillness as he takes his first full breath after, filling his lungs with the ozone and wildflowers commingling from your respective scents until his senses reel. Only then does he draw back enough to drink in the sight before him — the ethereal swaths of your veil now skirting the contours of your features, the downy lashes beaded with moisture, the trembling swell of your lips as the first stuttered shapes of sound begin forming upon them.

Your reciprocation is a hushed, halting stream of sounds that carry all the solemn gravity of prayers finally granted voice. Each syllable pitches forward, low and overflowing with the fevered weight of their reverence until they resonate through Charles’ bei by like physical sensations trailing electricity along his nerves.

“In the beginning, there was nothing,” you breathe, fingers flexing restlessly against the solid plate of his chest as you struggle to channel the turbulent swell of emotion cascading through every aspect of your existence. “An endless and lightless oblivion that should have terrified me ...”

A faint smile blooms across Charles’ features as he watches the story of a lifetime together play out in miniature across your expression.

“Yet it didn’t.” The syllables part on a whisper of revelation, a new wave of tears flickering in the gleam of your eyes as you find his gaze. “Because I knew you even then.”

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hoshifighting · 1 month ago

Note

Ya’know how they say: “Dino never bows”… what if reader makes him… ?? 😋

“dino never bows” until you make him

WARNINGS: reader and chan are each others booty calls, dom!reader x sub!chan, smut, power play, finger sucking, cock/balls squeezing-punishment?, cock riding, oral (f. receiving), hair pulling, degradation, praising, arms pinning, dirty talk, dry hump, jealousy, reader is called by ''noona'', bowing.

“ya! dino never bows!!!!!”

hoshi’s voice pierced through the restaurant, loud enough to make you pause mid-laugh at jeonghan’s joke. you looked over your shoulder, just in time to see chan stomping back to the table, his jaw tight and his hands shoved into his pockets. behind him, a girl you vaguely recognized from campus was walking the opposite direction, her head held high like she’d just won a pageant.

wonwoo raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between chan and the girl. “what was that about?”

“he just got dumped,” seungkwan snorted, not even trying to lower his voice.

“i didn’t get dumped,” chan snapped, dropping into the seat at the farthest corner of the table. his arms crossed over his chest, and he glared at the drink menu like it would soothe his ego flames.

“then what was that, huh?” jeonghan chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “looked like a classic walk of shame to me.”

“it’s not a walk of shame if i wasn’t even interested in her,” chan shot back, rolling his eyes. but the tips of his ears were burning red, and everyone knew it.

hoshi leaned across the table, eyes wide with fake sympathy. “oh no… our poor dino… bowing to rejection for the first time…”

“i said i didn’t get dumped!” chan’s voice cracked halfway through, and the whole table burst into laughter.

you raised an eyebrow at him, your lips twitching as you fought to keep a straight face. “what’s with the attitude, chan? you mad or something?”

his eyes flicked to you, narrowing slightly. “why would i be mad? can we not do this right now?”

“oh, we’re doing this,” seungkwan said, his grin practically splitting his face in half. “because ‘dino never bows,’ right? except now he’s sulking like a kicked puppy.”

“i’m not sulking,” chan mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands.

“okay, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you teased, turning back to jeonghan. but out of the corner of your eye, you could see chan glaring daggers at you, and it only made your smile grow wider.

the car ride home was tense, to say the least. chan hadn’t said a word since you both left the restaurant, but the way he slumped in the passenger seat, arms crossed and face scrunched up, was louder than any tantrum he could’ve thrown.

“where are we going?” he finally snapped, his tone sharp.

“my place,” you said simply, not even glancing at him.

“your place?!” he sat up straighter, glaring at you. “why the hell are we going to your place? you were supposed to drop me off at home.”

“yeah, well,” you said, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, “plans change.”

“you can’t just—”

“shush,” you interrupted, cutting him off. “you’re being annoying.”

his jaw dropped again, and for a moment, he was too stunned to respond. but the second you parked the car in your driveway, he was back to sulking.

you got out without a word, leaving him to follow you up to the front door like a kicked puppy. when you finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, you turned to him, crossing your arms.

“bow,” you commanded, your voice firm.

chan blinked. “what?”

“you heard me,” you said, tilting your head. “bow.”

“are you serious right now?” he asked, his tone incredulous.

“as serious as you were when you tried to make me jealous earlier,” you shot back, smirking.

his face flushed, and he looked away. “i wasn’t—”

“bow,” you repeated, cutting him off.

“fuck no! i won’t!”

chan’s voice shot up an octave, like a toddler who’d just been told no more screen time. he crossed his arms and planted his feet firmly on your living room floor, his pout so exaggerated you almost expected him to stomp his foot.

you raised an eyebrow, your expression shifting into something that could only be described as menacing. chan froze, his breath hitching as he caught the way your eyes darkened—almost black, like a storm cloud about to burst.

“excuse me?” your tone was mean enough to slice through his little tantrum.

he stammered, backtracking immediately. “i mean—uh, i just—”

your arm shot out faster than he could process, your hand finding its target with exactitude that made his knees buckle. you grabbed a handful of his cock and balls through his jeans, squeezing just enough to send the poor boy to hell.

“oh my god—fuck!” he moaned, his head snapping back as his whole body curled forward, instinctively trying to escape the pressure. but you didn’t let go

“what was that? didn’t quite catch that.”

“i said—” his words were cut off by another involuntary moan, this one louder and more desperate. it was, admittedly, the best sound you’d ever pulled from him. his hands flew to your wrist, not to stop you, but to ground his shit, his fingers trembling as he gripped you.

“thought so,” you murmured, loosening your hold just enough for him to breathe. “dino never bows, huh? looks like dino’s about to fold.”

his eyes snapped up to yours, wide and pleading, his lips parted as he panted. “you—fuck—you’re evil,” he managed, though there was no real bite to his words.

“evil?” you echoed, tilting your head like you were contemplating the idea. “nah, i’m just practical. someone’s gotta keep your cocky ass in check.”

he whined—a genuine, high-pitched whine that made your stomach flip—and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

“you’re insane,” he gasped, his knees wobbling as you finally released him. he staggered back, his hands flying to his thighs as he tried to collect himself, but his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes betrayed him.

“insane?” you repeated, crossing your arms. “coming from the guy who just moaned like i handed him the meaning of life?”

“shut up,” he grumbled, his voice shaky. but the way he bit his lip and avoided your gaze told you everything you needed to know.

“say it,” you said, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you.

“say what?”

you grabbed his chin, tilting his head up so he had no choice but to look at you. “say you’re sorry. and say you’ll bow.”

his lips parted, a soft gasp escaping before he quickly clamped his mouth shut. he stared at you for a long moment, his pride and submission warring in his head. but when your thumb brushed against his jaw, his resolve cracked.

“…i’m sorry y/n-nie”

“and?”

he swallowed hard, his cheeks flaming. “and i’ll… bow.”

you tilted your chin higher, arms crossed tight as you stared him down, the very picture of authority. “and you better bow with your waist, not like some punk. i’m your noona, after all.”

chan blinked, his mouth parting slightly like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. then, like the good little brat he was, he dropped his gaze and bowed low, his hands clasped nervously in front of him, hovering over the space between his legs.

“good,” you hummed, circling him like you were inspecting a new recruit. “at least you know how to listen sometimes.”

he stayed bowed, head low, but you could feel the tension radiating off him—his pride battling against the heat creeping up his neck.

“what?” you teased, stopping in front of him. “you gonna cry?”

his head snapped up, eyes blazing. “no!”

you smirked, stepping closer, your fingers brushing under his chin to tilt his head back up. “then what’s with the face, huh? all red and flustered. you look like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

“you’re so—” he started, but you cut him off, pressing a finger against his lips.

“ah, ah,” you tutted. “no backtalk.”

his eyes widened, the defiance fading intothe face of someone who was growing needy he licked his lips, his tongue just barely brushing against your finger, and you felt the shift—the moment he gave in.

“that’s better,” you said softly, leaning down until your faces were inches apart. “show me what that mouth of yours is really good for.”

his breath hitched, but he nodded, sinking to his knees without another word. his hands found your thighs, steadying himself as he looked up at you, waiting for permission. you let him wait a moment, savoring the sight of him like this—wide-eyed, obedient, and completely at your mercy. then you reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair. “go ahead.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. his hands slid up to your hips as he pressed his face between your legs, no panties—chan doesn't even get surprised anymore—his lips and tongue immediately find you with a desperation that made you sit slightly on his face. you moaned, your fingers tightening in his hair as you rocked against him.

he groaned against you, the vibration making you gasp, mainly because his tongue is rolling inside your little hole, and you knew he was doing it on purpose.

“careful,” you warned, tugging his hair hard enough to make him pull back. his lips were swollen, his eyes glassy, and you could see the smugness lurking beneath the glossy lips.

“what?” he asked, his voice rough. “you’re the one who told me to use my mouth.”

“and you’re the one who’s about to regret getting smart with me,” you shot back, pulling him up by his hair and dragging him to the couch.

you pushed him down, climbing onto his lap and pinning his wrists above his head. “you think you’re so clever, huh?”

“i—fu-u-uck—” he stammered as you rolled your hips against him, the friction pulling a low, desperate sound from his throat.

your hands made quick work of unbuckling his belt, fingers steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. you pulled his pants down just enough to let his cock spring free from the navy blue briefs he was wearing, the fabric dampened at the tip where he’d been leaking. his abs flexed involuntarily as the cool air hit him, and you couldn’t help yourself—your hands slid under his shirt, pushing it up to expose his toned chest.

“god, chan,” you murmured, tracing the ridges of his abs with your fingertips. “you’re so fucking hot. like, unfairly hot. it’s distracting, y’know that?”

he froze for a moment, his ears turning bright red. he remembered the first time you’d said something like that—half-drunk at a party, your fingers poking at his stomach while you laughed about how annoying it was that someone could be this good-looking and have abs.

“you like my muscles, noona?” he asked, his voice pulling you back to the present.

you rolled your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “obviously, i do. doesn’t mean i’m gonna let you off the hook for being a little shit earlier.”

you licked your palm, wrapping it around his length and smearing the precum that had already gathered at the tip. his hips bucked slightly into your hand, and you tightened your grip just enough to make him gasp.

“noona,” he whined, his voice already high-pitched and needy.

“shh,” you soothed, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. “be good for me, baby boy.”

chan nodded, his hands gripping the couch cushions like they were his lifeline as you lined him up with your entrance. you dragged the tip of his cock through your slick folds, teasing him, making him squirm beneath you.

“please,” he begged, his eyes wide and glassy. “please, noona, i’ll be good, i promise.”

you sank down on him slowly, the stretch making you both moan. his hands flew to your hips, but you slapped them away, pinning his wrists to his sides.

“don’t move.”

“yes, noona,” he said, biting his lip to keep from making too much noise.

you started to ride him, your hips rolling in a rhythm that had him whimpering beneath you.

“sorry,” he choked out, his head falling back against the couch. “sorry, noona.”

“say it again,” you demanded, your nails digging into his chest. “say you’re sorry, and that you’ll never pull that shit again.”

“i’m sorry,” he whimpered, his voice cracking. “i’ll never do it again, i swear.”

“good,” you said, leaning down until your lips brushed against his ear. “because if you ever make me jealous like that again, i’ll rip that girl’s throat out with my nails.”

chan’s eyes fluttered open, a small, breathless laugh escaping him despite the situation. “you’re scary, noona.”

“damn right i am,” you replied, nipping at his earlobe. “but don’t forget, i’m yours. i don’t want anyone else—not your hyungs, not anyone. just you, my handsome baby boy.”

his breath hitched at your words, his hips jerking involuntarily as you rode him harder, faster, chasing both of your highs. “ahh noona,” he gasped, his voice desperate and broken. “d-dont say that! i—fuck, i’m so close.”

“hold it,” you commanded, your fingers wrapping around his throat lightly. “don’t you dare cum until i say you can.”

his entire body trembled, his hands fisting the couch cushions as he fought to obey you. you could see the effort it took, his muscles taut, sweat dripping down his temples.

“good boy, cum.” you praised, finally letting yourself fall over the edge. your orgasm crashed over you, your walls clenching around him and pulling him over with you.

“noona,” he cried out, his hips bucking as he spilled inside you, his moans muffled when you pressed your fingers to his lips. he sucked them obediently, his eyes locked on yours as he rode out his high.

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scoupsakakitty · 2 months ago

Text

The Edge of Us | idol!S.coups x reader | angst, fluff

It was nearing 1 a.m., and the apartment was shrouded in a tense, almost oppressive silence. Choi Seungcheol sat on the couch, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. He stared at the app on his screen, the small dot marking y/n’s location at an unfamiliar address in the city.

For weeks, his life had revolved around the comeback—early mornings, late nights, endless rehearsals. He barely came home except to sleep, and even then, their moments together were fleeting. He hated it, but he’d told himself she understood. She always had.

Now, though, as he sat in the dark apartment, his chest tightened with unease. She hadn’t mentioned going out tonight. She hadn’t answered any of his calls.

His thumb hovered over her number again before he let out a frustrated sigh, grabbed his jacket, and left the apartment.

————————————————————————————

The drive was short but tense, his mind running wild with thoughts. He wasn’t proud of tracking her location, but the nagging fear in his gut outweighed any guilt. She hadn’t told him where she was going. Why? Was she angry? Trying to avoid him?

When he arrived, he parked a few houses down and stared at the modest, warmly lit home. His jaw clenched as scenarios filled his head. Was she with someone else? Was this the beginning of the end he’d been too afraid to face?

He dialed her number again, his heart pounding when she finally picked up.

“Seungcheol?” she answered, her voice laced with confusion.

“I’m outside,” he said curtly. “Come out.”

There was a pause. “What do you mean, you’re outside?”

“I mean, I’m outside. At this random house you’re at,” he said, his frustration bleeding through his words. “Come out. Now.”

Another pause, this one longer. Then a heavy sigh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.”

The line went dead, and a minute later, the front door opened. Y/n stepped out, visibly annoyed, her arms crossed as she walked toward his car. She climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door harder than necessary.

“Explain,” she demanded, glaring at him.

“Where were you?” he shot back, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“At my friend’s house,” she said, her tone defensive. “Why are you even here, Seungcheol? Why couldn’t you just trust me?”

“You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “You didn’t answer my calls. What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to think that maybe I needed a break,” she snapped. “Or maybe you’d realize that I’ve been sitting at home alone for weeks while you’re too busy to even notice me!”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t let it show. “You could have still told me,” he said, his voice rising. “Instead, you sneak off and leave me to figure out where you are through your location? Do you even understand how worried I was?”

“Worried?” she repeated, laughing bitterly. “No, Seungcheol. You weren’t worried. You were paranoid. There’s a difference.”

The car fell into heavy silence as her words lingered between them.

————————————————————————————

When they got back to the apartment, the argument picked up right where it left off.

“You think I haven’t noticed how distant you’ve been?” she said, pacing the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “For weeks, it’s been nothing but your comeback. You leave before I’m awake, you come home after I’m asleep, and when you’re here, it’s like I don’t even exist!”

“I’ve been working, Y/n,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m doing this for us. For our future.”

“No,” she said, her voice shaking. “You’re doing this for you. Don’t pretend this is about me when I haven’t even been part of your life lately.”

“That’s not fair,” he argued, his frustration mounting. “You knew what you were signing up for when we got together. You knew how demanding my job is.”

“And I’ve been nothing but supportive!” she shot back, her voice cracking. “But I’m human, Seungcheol. I have limits. I can only take so much before I start feeling like I don’t matter to you anymore.”

His chest tightened at her words, and for a moment, his mask of frustration cracked. “You do matter,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “You matter more than anything.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. “Why is it that the only time you care is when you think I’m slipping away?”

Her words cut deeper than she knew, slicing through the fear and guilt he’d been carrying for weeks.

“I’m scared, okay?” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’m scared that one day you’ll realize I’m not enough for you. That you’ll leave because I’m too busy or too selfish or too—” He stopped himself, his throat tight with emotion.

Y/n’s anger softened slightly, but the hurt in her eyes didn’t fade. “Seungcheol, you’re not losing me because of your job. You’re losing me because you don’t let me in anymore. I can handle the late nights and the busy schedules, but I can’t handle feeling like I’m not a part of your life.”

He stared at her, his heart aching with regret, but he didn’t know what to say.

“I can’t do this right now,” she said finally, her voice small and tired. “I need space. Sleep on the couch tonight.”

She turned and walked into the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

————————————————————————————

The couch felt like punishment, but Seungcheol knew he deserved it. Sleep was impossible as he replayed their argument in his head, her words haunting him.

When the clock struck 3 a.m., he couldn’t take it anymore. Quietly, he got up and slipped into the bedroom.

Y/n was asleep, curled up on her side. The soft rise and fall of her breathing was the only sound in the room. He crawled into bed carefully, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry for shutting you out. For making you feel like you’re not enough. You’re everything to me, Y/n. Please don’t leave me. I’ll do better. I’ll make this right.”

She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, leaning instinctively into his touch. He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, his heart aching with guilt and love.

————————————————————————————

The next morning, Y/n woke to the smell of coffee. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, surprised to find the bed empty.

When she walked into the kitchen, she saw Seungcheol standing at the counter, a plate of eggs and toast waiting for her. He looked up when he heard her, his expression filled with nervous hope.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

“Morning,” she replied cautiously.

“I took the day off,” he said, fidgeting slightly. “I thought we could spend it together. If you want to.”

She crossed her arms, studying him. “Why now?”

“Because you’re right,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I’ve been so focused on work that I haven’t been there for you. And I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t a priority. You are, Y/n. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

Her eyes softened, and after a moment, she let out a small sigh. “I missed you, Seungcheol. I just need you to let me in.”

“I will,” he promised, stepping closer. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She hesitated, then reached out to take his hand. “Okay.”

Relief washed over his face, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. For the first time in weeks, the distance between them felt like it was finally starting to close.

————————————————————————————

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harrysfolklore · 1 year ago

Text

ring hard launch - blurb

the content we got today just SCREAMS fiancé!harry for me so i came up with this, enjoy !

gif by @sunkissedlouis <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If there was something that was definitely at the top of your list of favorite activities, was spending time with Harry.

It didn't matter if it was getting groceries, joining him for a bike ride or simply laying on the couch together, every moment that you spent together brought you contentment and joy that you couldn't find anywhere else.

And now that he was your fiancé, it was safe to say that both of you wanted to be glued to each other every single minute.

Harry proposed the morning of New Year's Eve, in the comfort of your home with both of you in your pajamas as you enjoyed homemade breakfast bagels, and it was absolutely perfect.

Ever since, you had been happier than ever, sharing the news with your family and closest friends and enjoying your engagement in private without prying eyes from paparazzi, fans and media.

"We better win tonight," Your train of thought was interrupted by Harry's voice, you were currently heading to the Luton vs Man United game, and even though you couldn't care less about football, your need to be close to him all the time made you say yes when he asked you to join him, "Thank you for tagging along, baby. I know this is not your scene so it's nice you came."

"I'm just here for the drinks and snacks," you teased, watching him roll his eyes at you, "And to enjoy the evening with my handsome fiancé, of course."

"There we go," he smiled now, grabbing your hand and placing a small kiss to the ring on your finger.

Ever since you got engaged, that had became his favorite habit, and it made your heart flutter every single time.

"It sucks that I have to take it off," you said, making him look at you with a raised eyebrow, "The ring, I mean. I have to take it off before we get out of the car, otherwise headlines will go crazy and Jeff is going to freak out."

"Mm-hmm," he paused to think, eyes darting for the road to you, "What if... you don't have to take it off?"

"What do you mean?" you said, noticing that you were about to enter the back of the stadium.

"I mean..." he grabbed your hand again, tugging the ring affectionately, "What if we let the world know about it? I talked to Jeff and the rest of the team last week, they said we could make it public whenever we felt like it, at our own terms. So why don't we do it today?"

Harry parked the car at the spot that was reserved for him and turned to look at you with a wide smile, waiting for your answer.

"Are you sure?" you smiled back at him, noticing the glow in his eyes that almost made you melt.

"Couldn't be more sure, love. Besides, the album is coming soon and everyone is going to connect the dots as soon as they listen to the first song, might as well give them an early heads up."

"Let's do it," you said, leaning over to kiss him, "I feel like everyone is going to focus on the fact that you're finally outside and with brand new hair, they won't even notice the rock on my finger."

Harry rolled his eyes again and gave you another kiss, "I swear to god, woman. You're something else."

You headed inside of the stadium to the VIP suit you were going to watch the game in, walking hand in hand with your engagement ring glistening on your finger, cameras around filming and taking pictures of both of you.

"Do you think twitter is freaking out yet?" you asked Harry as you settled on your seats.

"No idea, baby, I don't use that app," he shrugged, "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Would you get me something fruity that has alcohol that doesn't quite taste like alcohol? That's the only way I won't be bored to death."

"Sure thing." Harry laughed and kissed the side of your head before standing up to get your drink, coming back a few minutes later with exactly what you asked and a bottle of sparkling water for himself.

"So we're rooting for Man U, right?" you asked as you took a sip from your drink.

"Seven years together, months away from getting married, yet you still don't know I'm a Man U ride or die," he put a hand on his chest, "I don't think this is going to work."

"I was just teasing, drama queen," you pecked his cheek, "I know your true loves are Man U, the Green Bay Packers, peas and Fleetwood Mac."

"And you," he winked, making you roll your eyes with affection and take another sip from your drink.

A few minutes into the game, you found yourself quite invested on it, constantly asking Harry about the stuff you didn't understand and getting nervous when the other team was about to score or your team missed a goal.

"Lord, I don't want to watch," you said as a player from the opposite team was getting ready to hit a penalty, hiding your face against Harry's shoulder, "Harry! You're supposed to be watching the game, you've been staring at me for half of it now."

"Sorry, you're just too cute," he kissed the crown of your head, "You can watch now, he failed it."

"Thank god."

By the end of the game, you were both on your feet, cheering as Man United secured a win. Harry was ecstatic, and you found yourself caught up in the excitement, cheering alongside him.

While you were engulfed in your own bubble during the game, cameras has caught up on the ring of your finger, and Harry and you immediately became a world trending topic, with fans speculating whether you were actually engaged or not.

As you laid in bed scrolling through the millions of tweets about the game Harry finally emerged from the bathroom, ready to get in the covers.

"Are you reading about us?" he asked, sliding into bed beside you.

"Yeah," you replied, showing him some of the tweets, "But I don't think it was quite clear for some of your fans, some of them don't think we're really engaged."

"Well, I guess it'll be clear when the album comes out."

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multifandomfanficss · 5 months ago

Text

Don’t Stop My Heart

Tyler Owens x Reader

Prompt: You and Tyler take a road trip up to Iowa to catch some of the last tornadoes of the season, but he takes the teasing a little too far.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of car crashes, swerving, shitty ex boyfriends. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Hello! I didn’t proofread this one as many times as I usually do. I’m coming off a 4 and a half month writers block so I really just wanted to write and post while I was excited to do it. My job has been draining me as of late, so I’m trying to write when I get the impulse. I have so many Tyler ideas and no time to write them. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

It was still fairly early, the sun was still rising. Last night you’d planned an impromptu trip up north to Iowa. It was about a 7 hour trip from Oklahoma, so you were on the road before 6. You were hoping to get there around noon. You didn’t love getting up that early, but Tyler promised he’d drive you and you could sleep in the truck. Tornado season was pretty much over aside from an isolated storm or two, but Iowa had been having very unusual storm activity all week. Tyler couldn’t resist hitting a couple more tornadoes in late August when the season was supposed to be pretty much over with.

You stayed awake for a little bit. You wanted to watch as you crossed into Missouri.

“Missouri welcomes you.” Tyler reads out loud.

“Yes! Finally!” You giggle.

“I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of Missouri.” Tyler comments.

“Oh, I’m not.” You pause, looking out your window.

“First you’re hypin’ her up, now you’re gonna disappoint her.” He jokes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure Missouri’s fine, but I’m more excited about that.” You point to a Hardee’s down the street.

“Really? We’re crossin’ state lines and you’re gonna make me take you to Hardee’s? You can get Carl’s Jr. anytime you want back home. That’s basically the same thing.” He argues.

“Take that back! You’re just saying that because you’re a Texas boy! You’ve never had the luxury of Hardee’s.” You joke.

“If Carl’s Jr. is better, I’m not letting you pick where we eat for the rest of the trip.” Tyler puts on his turn signal and sighs.

“How is that fair? I’ve never eaten at this location. What if it sucks?” You laugh.

“You picked your Hardee’s hill and now you’re gonna die on it. Now keep your trap closed and tell me what’s good on the menu.” Tyler makes a pretend threatening face towards you as he pulls into the drive thru.

“How am I supposed to not talk and at the same time tell you what’s good?” You tease back.

“Hi welcome to Hardee’s, may I take your order?” The drive thru speaker cuts you off. Tyler shushes you and you giggle.

After getting your food you start unwrapping the straws and putting them in both drinks.

“Whatever score we give this we need to give it extra points to account for how good the curly fries would be if they were serving lunch.” You try to bargain, taking a bite.

“No, you can’t just change the rules after we already got our food, that’s cheating. Just because you’re from the north, doesn’t mean you can cheat me.” He argues. He continues driving, leaving behind the paved roads of the small town.

“You’re acting like I’m Canadian!” You giggle.

“Well, Upper Midwest is basically Canada. There’s literally a town in Iowa called Toronto!” He smirks, taking the last bite of his food, continuing to drive through the middle of nowhere Missouri, back onto the gravel roads through the soybean fields.

“Shut up!” You playfully hit his arm. He jokingly swerves and your stomach flips. You gasp air. “Tyler, knock it off.”

“You’re the one who hit me.” He pleas innocent.

“I didn’t hit you that hard.” You defend.

“I thought you were gonna sleep on the drive.” He says, smirking.

“I might later, I’m not tired.” You answer, falling for his bit. He does a big fake yawn.

“Well if you’re not tired, I might take a little nap.” He lightly swerves again.

“Tyler, this isn’t funny!” You plead.

“What? Oh. Do you mind watching the road? We woke up so early and I’m pretty tired.” He jokes before swerving again. He’s taking the joke way too far. Once was one thing, twice was too much. You start hyperventilating.

“Tyler, STOP!” You yell, tears starting to come to your eyes.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” He has a concerned look on his face. He knew he had taken it too far.

“It’s not funny.” You cry.

“You’re right, it’s not funny. I would never-a done it if I’d known it would make you feel unsafe. I do it all the time on chases and that don’t seem to bother you. I didn’t realize-“

“That’s different! The roads and the fields when there��s no storms are different! We’re on an actual road! What- what if there were other people?! What if you hit somebody?! What if a sherif saw?!” You say, obviously still panicking. Tyler decides to pull over.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was way outta line, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no cars or tractors around. We’re safe.” His voice is soft. “Just breathe, Darlin’. Just you and me.” He takes your hand, rubbing small circles in it. “I feel bad. I wanted a reaction outta you, but not like this. I never want you to feel unsafe with me.”

“I know.” You were still struggling to breathe. Tyler places your hand on his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breathing. He hopes you can sync yours with his own.

“Take it easy, sweetheart. You’re okay. Feel me breathing? We’re both okay.” He places a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry… it’s not you. When I was in high school I had a crazy ex boyfriend who used to swerve in town just to scare me because he knew I was afraid of car crashes. He almost killed us a couple times, I think. I guess no matter how much time’s passed, dumb high school bullshit still affects me into my adult years.”

“Hey, that’s not okay. It’s not dumb bullshit. It’s trauma.” You lean over the console to be closer to him and he wraps his arms around you. “I would never put you in danger like that for the sake of a joke.” You could tell his blood was boiling on the inside, but he was trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t want to upset you more. He knew this was about you feeling better, not him.

“We gotta get going if we wanna try to make it by 1.” You wipe your tears.

“I don’t care how long we’re pulled over. Hell, we can even turn around if you’re not up to anymore. I don’t care about the chase. I care about you.” He moves your hair out of your face. “I can call the rest of the team and tell them to turn around right now or go without us.”

“What happened to Mr. If You Feel It, Chase It?” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. He looks into your eyes. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him so serious.

“The only feeling that matters is the one I get when I’m with you.“

Tears start creeping up again. These tears aren’t bad, though.

“Tyler, I’m in love with you.” It just slips out, like the easiest confession you’ve ever made in your life. You both knew there was something there, but neither one of you were willing to say it. It had always been heavy flirting, awkward mornings after cuddling in the only bed left at the motel, a drunk kiss or two.

After a moment of staring in silence Tyler kisses you. Everything happened in slow motion, but in truth it was probably just the adrenaline slowing everything down. Tyler wasted no time in kissing you. It was the quickest decision he’s ever made. You don’t know how long the kiss was. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough. You’d swear off oxygen for the rest of your life if it meant this moment never had to end. You’d been pinning after your best friend for so long and finally the moment was here.

“I’m so glad you said something because you’re one of the best navigators I know and I really didn’t wanna risk losing you from the team by telling you I was in love with you.” Tyler laughs.

“Is that the only reason you didn’t tell me?” You ask.

“No, I was scared. Losing you from the team would be a bummer, but I couldn’t lose you from my life. We see a lot of loss in this business. Whenever I thought about it, the thing I couldn’t stand to lose most was you.” He runs his fingers through your hair, moving to cup your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was nice to finally say it. You’d waited a long time to tell him.

“Let’s get back on the road. This time just don’t stop my heart.” You give a small laugh.

“You’re safe with me.”

“I know. You’re not like those other guys, Ty.”

You hold hands and rest on his other arm as he drives. He’s lucky he’s good at driving with one hand because he’s happy to see about 30 minutes later you’ve finally fallen asleep. Today was going to be a long day, but Tyler knew forcing the team to wake up so early was worth it. He may have had to bribe Boone 20 bucks to drive the other car up with Lily, but at least he didn’t have a third wheel sitting in the back seat. Tyler didn’t get a lot of alone time with you. Now he had 7 hours of it. It was worth it.

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #twisters #twisters fanfic #twisters fanfiction #twisters oneshot #Tyler Owens fanfiction #tyler Owens fanfic #tyler owens oneshot #tyler owens imagine #twisters imagine #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #Glen Powell fanfiction #Glen powell oneshot #glen powell x reader #twister #twisters 2024

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athenamikaelson · 6 months ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!reader x Elijah Mikaelson Part 12

Warnings- 4.2k

Word Count- Swearing, violence, mentions of sex

“Is he my father or not,” My voice seems to echo throughout our family's little living room as I glare at my mother.

“It’s not that simple, Y/N,” My mother raises her hands in surrender as she begins to take a step closer to me. The dark glare on my face seems to halt her movements and she closes her eyes and sighs.

“He’s the man that raised you, he-”

“You. Know. What. I. Mean,” I cut her off, biting out each of my words, “I want the truthful answer. Is Y/F/N Y/L/N my biological father?”

I seem to lose all the air in my chest as I watch my mother drop down onto the couch and look up at me with tears running down her face. And that’s all I need to have my answer.

“Oh my god,” I cover my mouth as my chest starts concaving on itself. Tears cloud my vision as I stare at my mother. Her tears mimicked my own. And a wave of anger flows through my body. She was crying as if she was the victim here. She was crying in front of her emotionally and physically wounded daughter as if this wasn’t her fault.

I sit on the dark coffee table in front of my mother, our knees touching as I stare at her, “You’re going to tell me everything. And don’t even try lying to me.”

My mother looks up at me and nods as she puts her head in her hands, “Eighteen years ago your father and I were having problems. We’d been married 3 years and still couldn’t conceive. It took a toll on both of us. I got depressed and well… you know how your father gets when he is upset,” She looks up at me and I slightly nod as a wave of nausea passes over me, “Your father was out of town for the night and so I thought I would go down to a little bar outside of town. I was there for about an hour before I thought of leaving. But right when I was about to,” she pauses in thought for a moment then continues, “The most beautiful man I’d ever seen approached me. We talked throughout the night and then,” She looks at me to see if I understand where she was going and I nod disgusted.

“After I did what I had done I had never felt more disgusted with myself in my entire life. You have to believe me Y/N,” She reaches out to take my hand but I flinch away from her.

“Does Dad…or your husband know,” I ask but a part of me already knows the answer.

“When I fell pregnant with you soon after, you have to understand how happy your father was, I had never seen him that in love with something in the time I’d known him. You saved our marriage, Y/N. But… as you got older and you developed more of your own features and personality, neither of which were like me or him… I think your father realized or suspected that you weren’t his.”

My eyebrows furrow as I try to hold back my tears and sobs, “Is that why he…am I the reason he left?”

My question has my mother quickly shaking her head, “Your father and I had our own problems and even if it was because of that, it still isn’t your fault. He is still your father, he is the one who raised you.”

I stand up quickly, making sure not to move too much to upset my wounded arm, which is currently in a sling, and I huff out an angry laugh, “Raised me! Raised me?! I saw that man maybe once or twice a month for 16 years and in those few moments, all he caused was torture and heartbreak in my life. That man didn’t raise me! And looking at you now… I realize that you barely raised me too… I raised myself. Just like I’ve raised Theo,” I walk backward out of the living room as I shake my head at my mother, “I’ll never forgive you for this. Never.”

I hear my mother call out to me as I grab my keys and run out of the house. Rain pours down on me, dampening my clothes as I throw open my car door and turn it on.

I drive around trying to decide my next move, and somehow I end up in the Salvatore’s driveway.

I’m practically on auto-pilot as I walk up the stairs to the front door, I bring my hand up and knock, and within a moment it slams open and Damon stares down at me.

“What the hell do you…Y/N,” He pauses as he stares at my tear-filled eyes, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

I just stare at him and he takes a step forward and brings a hand to my arm. His touch seems to bring me out of my stupor and tears explode from my eyes as I throw myself into Damon’s arms. He doesn’t react for a moment as I cry into his shirt, but after a moment I feel his arms come and wrap around me.

“You want to…um, talk about it,” Damon asks quietly as if he’s not really sure how to comfort a teenage girl.

“My dad,” I hiccup out a sob, “Isn’t my dad!”

I feel Damon nod and he hums, “Um, sure, ok. Not entirely sure what that means,” He says the last part under his breath.

“I can’t go home. I can’t see my mom,” I pull away from Damon and I wipe the tears away from my face with my t-shirt sleeve.

Damon looks down at me for a moment before he turns sideways and gestures to the living room, “Then you’re going to stay here. For as long as needed.”

—

-2 months later-

“Hurry up hoe! This party isn’t going to decorate itself,” Caroline’s cheery voice calls up to me as I leave my bedroom at the Salvatore’s.

“I’m coming Caroline, chill out,” I laugh to myself as I descend the stairs to where Caroline is standing. She shoots me a bright smile that rivals the sun when she sees me.

“I can’t believe you’re still living here,” Caroline says as she grabs my hand and pulls me down the hall.

I laugh awkwardly, “Ya, I guess I just like the bed here better than the one at my house.”

“And your mother really doesn’t care,” Caroline asks and I flinch at the mention of the woman I haven’t talked to in two months.

“Um, ya. Theo’s away at some football camp until school starts and my mom’s always working so she doesn’t care.”

“You’re so lucky that you’re mom is so chill,” I laugh at the irony of that. My mom being “too chill” is the reason I’m not living at home right now. Caroline doesn’t know that though so she shoots me an odd look as she must’ve heard me laughing to myself.

After finding out about my paternal issues and moving in with Damon I made up a lie to all my friends that the reason I was living with him was that I needed a little vacation from my life, and not that I’m pissed off at my mom and scared to go home because it means I’ll have to face the reality of my life now.

Damon is currently the only one who knows of my new “bastard” status. Even though sometimes I feel like strangling him, he has honestly been kind of a great friend these past two months. He’s gone along with my lie, not even telling Elena, who he is totally in love with. Damon and I have even started our own movie nights. Right now we’re bingeing the TV show Supernatural. He and I both like Dean, but our reasonings are a little different. God, I love Jensen Ackles.

We’re postponing our movie night tonight because Caroline and I, mostly Caroline, are throwing Elena her 18th birthday party. Elena told me to promise her that we wouldn’t make the party too big, but I kind of had to cross my fingers behind my back when I made that promise because when it comes to Caroline Forbes, no one will get in the way of her party making plans.

“Good morning,” I look over to see the birthday girl smiling up at me as Caroline and I enter the living room. She and Tyler, who nods hello at me, are going through boxes upon boxes of party supplies.

“It’s 1 pm,” I say back to her and she frowns and checks her watch.

“Oh… Good afternoon then,” She laughs sheepishly.

I walk down the steps and bring her into a hug, “Happy birthday, Elena!”

I can hear Elena sigh and she pulls away from me, “Thank you,” Her vision goes from me to the boxes surrounding us, “I thought you said this was going to be lowkey?”

It’s my turn to smile sheepishly at her as I gesture towards Caroline, who is currently bitching to Tyler about hanging a streamer wrong, “You try getting in the way of her planning something. I love you Elena, but I’m more scared of her.”

Elena turns to look at Caroline as well and we both cringe when she hits Tyler over the head with a hard plastic plate.

“Good point,” Elena whispers out.

—

“I feel like I have to fight Damon every single time we get a lead on Stefan,” Elena’s complaints have me side-eyeing both Caroline and her. I try to busy myself with unraveling some string lights, trying not to seem suspicious in any manner. I’m the only one here who knows really just how much Damon knows about Stefan’s “activities” this summer.

About 3 weeks ago I found the articles about Stefan and he who shall not be named in Damon’s closet when I was going through Damon’s things. He’d gone through my things so I thought I’d return the favor.

When Damon found out I knew he made me promise to keep it to myself. Only he, myself, and Ric could know. Damon didn’t want to worry Elena about all the killing Stefan had been doing. So “The Squad,” as I like to call us, have been researching different “animal killings” around the US this summer. Unfortunately, Damon and Ric won’t let me go on any of the road trips with them so I’ve been stuck at the Salvatore house this summer.

“Maybe he doesn’t wanna find him,” Tyler’s comment makes me cringe slightly at the irony.

“Tyler!”

“What? He’s into you. Isn’t he” He asks Elena.

“The only reason Stefan left with Klaus was so that he could save Damon’s life,” Elena explains as she takes the supplies Tyler handed her, “I mean, trust me Damon wants to find him.”

You have no idea.

“But…you kissed him. Probably screwed with his head,” Tyler says and Caroline and Elena whip around to look at him while I hover a hand over my mouth to keep me from giggling. I’ve made fun of both Elena and Damon on multiple occasions this summer about the “kiss of death,’’ as I like to call it.

“Tyler,” Caroline exclaims and Elena shoots her an “Are you serious” look.

“I’m sorry,” Caroline apologies wholeheartedly.

Elena raises her hand and shakes it, “I…Don’t worry about it. Look, yes, I kissed him, but it was a…”

“Kiss of death,” I say under my breath, but Elena still hears me and shoots me a glare.

“It was a goodbye kiss. I thought he was gonna die,” She tries to explain herself but Tyler shoots me a look and I have to fight off a laugh.

Elena fishes her phone out of her pocket, “I just missed a call from Bonnie,” She says.

At the mention of my witch friend, I perk up, “Tell her I say hi!”

Elena nods in agreement as she leaves the room. As soon as she goes, Caroline groans and whips around to stare at the werewolf.

“Just because I tell you things, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to know them,” She exclaims at him to which he apologizes.

“I gotta run if I’m gonna change and pick up Sophie in time,” He says as he waves goodbye to me.

“Wait, you’re bringing a date? Slutty Sophie is your date,” Caroline asks and I frown at the nickname she gave her.

“Hey,” Tyler turns around, “It’s been kinda slow in that department. And… I’m horny all the time now.”

“Ya, tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna explode” Caroline agrees and I gag out loud.

“Ok, has no one here ever heard of too much information,” I say as I make a show of covering my ears. I go back to decorating trying to block out the obvious sexual tension between the vampire and wolf as they talk about their sex lives, or lack of.

“Bye Y/N,” Tyler’s voice calls out to me and I just wave him off, which makes him laugh.

I turn around and watch Tyler walk out of the room and then I turn to my blonde friend, “Well, that was painful to watch…and hear.”

Caroline groans and throws the cups she has in her hands back onto the table in front of us, “Tell me about it. I just…ugh, I don’t know,” She groans in annoyance again as she picks up some streamers and tape.

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

I laugh slightly at her pleading tone and nod, “Sure, what about?”

Caroline thinks for a moment before turning to me and smirking, “About the guy you’re bringing tonight.”

I roll my eyes at the insinuation in her voice, “It’s not like that at all. Alastair is a work friend. He’s new to town and I thought he could use some more friends.”

“Is he cute,” She raises her eyebrows suggestively and I shoot her a look.

“Some might say that but I’m not into him like that, and he’s definitely not into me like that either,” I respond.

“And how would you know that,” She questions.

I think back to all the times I’ve seen him ogling the male customers at work and smile to myself, “Just a hunch.”

“When did you meet the guy again?”

“Around the start of the summer when I started working at The Grill. He got a job right after me and we’ve been put on the same schedules at pretty much the same times, oddly enough. He moved from Louisana, I believe.”

Caroline nods, “And he doesn’t know about…you know what?”

I shake my head, “As far as I can tell he’s a perfectly normal NON-supernatural guy.”

“Unlike Elijah right,” I glare at Caroline because of her comment which only makes the smirk on her face deepen.

“And unlike Tyler, right,” I smirk back at her and we both drop the subject on both of those men. Caroline got the jist about my little “friendship” or whatever it was with Elijah when she, Elena, and I, accidentally got into Jenna’s wine supply a few weeks ago. He also told me about her confusing feelings about Tyler.

“Okay fine, changing the subject again,” She thinks to herself before frowning and looking at me, “Wait…when did you say your birthday was again?”

I frown at the question, “I didn’t say it.”

Caroline shoots her hands up in the air like a mad woman, “Well then tell me, hoe!”

I fight back a groan at her question and I don't want to answer but knowing Caroline she won’t stop bringing it up unless I tell her, “It was a few weeks ago.”

Caroline stares at me in shock as she drops the streams she currently holding. A wee bit dramatic might I add.

“Excuse me! Why didn’t you tell anyone,” She practically screeches at me.

I shrug as I go back to untangling the lights I’ve been working on, “Elena has asked but I always just brush it off. Damon also knows, but he doesn’t celebrate birthdays either so I didn’t have to worry about him throwing me a party.”

Caroline’s eyes practically fall out of her head at my words, “So you did absolutely nothing for your birthday!?”

I just shake my head as if it’s nothing, “I don’t ever celebrate my birthday, Care. I haven't in years… I mean Damon and I had a pizza night, but other than that, no not really.”

Caroline continues to stare at me in shock as she comes over to me and throws her hands onto my shoulders, “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N I solemnly swear I will be throwing you a huge 18th birthday party very soon. And it will make you change your mind about not celebrating.”

I go to argue but she puts a finger to my lips, “Hush hoe. I’ve already started planning in my head.”

Someone kill me now.

—

“Well, don't you just look Darling,” Damon's sarcastic voice sounds from behind me as I flatten out my dark blue dress.

I turn around and see him wearing the same color top, “We’re matching!”

Damon looks at his top and then the color of my dress and groans, “You really need to move out. We’re starting to become the same person.”

I frown slightly at his comment and I think he notices because he clears his throat, “That was a joke, Pukey. You practically have already made this entire place yours I doubt you’re moving out anytime soon.”

“And yet you still won’t let me paint the walls,” I gesture to the wooden walls of my bedroom.

Damon shoots me a glare as he raises his arm for me to take, “The wood on these walls costs more than some of the houses in this town. I’d rather die than let you paint them.”

I walk over and grab his arm and he leads me out of my room and down the hall where I can hear dozens of people yelling and music blaring.

“Did you find anything about-” Damon shushes me before I can finish my sentence.

“No talk about that tonight. Only happy drunk thoughts tonight,” I want to argue but I notice the tension in his shoulders and drop the topic for a later time.

“Where’s the birthday girl?”

Damon slightly glares at the young teens that surround us, “With Blondey. Somewhere.”

“Y/N!”

The sound of someone calling my name has me turning around. I smile once I’ve found the caller. Alastair’s bright smile shines at me as he pushes through the hordes of people. His dark skin contrasts beautifully with the white button-up shirt he’s wearing. Dark slacks cover his long legs and I have to fight back a laugh at how put together he looks compared to the rest of the people around us who look like they picked out the first piece of clothing they could find in their closets.

Alastair slightly grabs me out of Damon’s arms and brings me into a hug, “You look beautiful.”

His compliment makes a warm feeling coat my cheeks as I look at him. “You don't look so bad yourself,” And I’m not lying either. He’s shaved down his hair again since the last time I saw him so he’s rocking a buzz cut that makes him appear even more striking and his dark brown eyes sparkle against the bright lights that Caroline and I had previously hung up around the house.

“I fear I might’ve overdone it a bit. It has been awhile since I’ve been to a highschool party” He jokes as he gestures toward his attire.

“You think,” Damon’s sarcastic tone has me turning to glare at him.

“Alastair this is Damon,” I gesture to the man beside me.

Alastair who is usually all smiles seems to glare at the vampire next to me for a moment before brightly smiling at him, “Pleasure to meet you, Damon.”

Damon just stares at him for a moment, “Y/N lives here with me. So if I find you in her room later I will kill you,” He threatens and then shoots him a fake smile, “Other than that, enjoy the party.”

My eyes practically fly out of my head as I watch Damon’s retreating figure leave the room and I quickly turn back to Alastair to apologize.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s good he’s protective over you,” He smiles at me and reaches out his hand for me to take, “Want to get a drink?”

“Oh definitely,” I sigh dramatically as I put my hand in his.

We start walking but I catch Alastair and a blonde guy staring at each other as we walk by him. I smirk to myself and then look up to my friend with a raised eyebrow.

“Not a word,” He laughs out.

“I didn’t say anything!”

Alastair rolls his eyes as we approach the refreshments table and he hands me a bottle of water and I shoot him a questioning look.

“We’re so not drinking whatever is in that punch. Who knows if someone spiked it with something? Water is a safe choice,” I begin to laugh thinking he’s joking but at the serious look on my friend’s face I stop.

“A little worried are you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little cautious,” He opens up my bottle of water for me and smiles, “Also what’s with the text I got from your blonde friend this afternoon about you having a birthday party?”

I groan loudly and I can hear Alastair laugh, “How did she even get your number?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I’d like to know as well,” He looks down at me for a moment then frowns, “You really didn’t tell anyone about your birthday?”

I just shrug, “I told Damon. But other than that no. I don’t celebrate it, and whatever Caroline is planning you definitely don’t have to come.”

Alastair shakes his head defiantly, “Oh you bet your ass I’ll be there. Going to get you a pretty present with a bow and everything.”

I put my head in my hands and sighed, “I hate you.”

Alastair laughs and takes my hands away from my face, “You love me and now you’re going to dance with me.”

I’m surprised at the strength of my friend as he leads me to the dance floor that's filled with teens dancing and grinding together.

“You sure you don’t want to go and find that blonde guy,” I yell to him over the music and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re stuck with me, babe. I’m not going anywhere”

—-

“Call me if you need anything alright,” Alastair says to me as I walk him to his car. After dancing for about an hour the party started to die down when people couldn’t find the hostess or the birthday girl.

“I’m going to see you tomorrow at work. I think I’ll be fine until then,” I smile at him as he gets into his car.

“I know, just making sure you know you can call me for anything,” He says through his open window as he starts his car.

“I know.”

“Ok, I’ll wait for you to get back inside before leaving,” He nods towards the front door.

“Ok, bye,” I wave to him and start walking to the front door, I turn to look over my shoulder and find that he hasn’t taken his focus off me for a second it makes me unnerved but I shake it off and open the front door.

As soon as I step a foot inside I hear the squealing of tires and I turn to see Alastair peeling out of the driveway. Guess someone’s in a rush.

I walk into the living room and sigh as I see the damage that was done by the hordes of kids. Bottles and trash line the walls as streamers and the decorations we had worked so hard to put up are lying all around the floor. I start to walk down the steps to start picking up when a loud bang comes from upstairs.

I frown as I start walking towards the stairs, but as soon as I hear another loud bang I start running. I find myself in front of Damon’s bedroom as I watch the vampire throw and break anything he can get his hands on. I call out to him but he seems to be in his own world of destruction right now. I start to approach him like someone would a rabid animal and I freeze as he turns to look at me. Dark veins appear under his eyes as he glares at me. He starts walking towards me and I put up my hands.

“Damon, what’s wrong? What happened,” He gets closer and I’m about to run off but he grabs me. I shriek escapes my mouth before I realize what he's doing. He's hugging me.

“Damon? What’s wrong,” I slowly wrap my hands around his waist as he holds me tighter. Almost tight enough to bruise, “What happened?”Damon is quiet for a moment before he whispers out a growl, “Stefan.”

493 notes · View notes

seokgyuu · 6 days ago

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→ GENRE: smut, college au, crack, angst, bits of fluff MDNI! → PAIRING: Jeonghan x Afab!Fem!Reader (Feat. Seokmin x Afab!Fem!Reader & Seungcheol x Afab!Fem!Reader) → SYNOPSIS: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

→ WARNINGS: mentions of death and funerals, alcohol consumption, angst, lowkey depression or at least depressive phase, multiple smut scenes, p in v sex, unprotected sex (who would have thought!), degradation (usage of words: slut, whore), car sex, fingering, more p in v sex, more fingering but in a public space, anal sex, cum play, tell me if i missed anything! → RATING: M

→ WORD COUNT: 17k

previous ; masterlist ; next A/N: oh... hi! guess what!! this is the last chapter before the epilogue!!! oh my god. thank you to everyone who has been reading this absolute chaos of a fic. as always i wanna thank @wongyuseokie for the amazing banner & divider! i also wanna thank @bitchlessdino for betaing this for me! ilysm! also @starlightkyeom for knowing nothing about the fic but reading over a portion for me i wasn't so sure about!! ily jess <3 alright, i have decided to put the taglist at the end for once, so don't be alarmed!! have fun reading and remember we writers thrive on replies, reblogs and asks about our work! (also lets pretend i was punctually with the date)

The atmosphere was gloomy. The rows were filled with people, quiet classical music was accompanying the figures walking into the room one by one. With everyone dressed in black, it almost felt like a black and white movie had it not been for the ray of sunshine shining onto the casket standing at the front of the room.

When everyone found a place to sit, Soonyoung slowly walked over to the podium, completely dressed in black - he had even dyed his hair for the occasion. He held onto the wood in front of him and looked over at the casket, a single tear dropping from his eye that he was quick to wipe away.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “I am sure she would be thankful for every single one of you.”

The faces in the front rows looked sad, not a single smile to be seen. Seungcheol next to Vernon, Seungkwan to his right. Then there were Jihoon and Joshua, Mingyu and Wonwoo. Chan and Minghao, Jun and Seokmin. Even Jeonghan sat there, a tissue tapping onto his eyes.

“Y/N was a kind, kind soul,” Soonyoung continues. “Kind and outgoing, she would always be there for her friends.” He paused and looked into the audience, searching for one specific face he didn’t seem to find. Clearing his throat, he got back on track.

“She was funny and adventurous, and her biggest priority in life was that stupid fucking challenge that now has brought her into the grave.”

“Even before I could hit!” Jeonghan shouted and threw his used tissue at the casket.

The casket you were laying in.

Wait what?

Soonyoung nodded, pointing his index at Jeonghan with a sob.

“Yes! Yes, Jeonghan, before you could hit. Before she could finish that challenge that destroyed her long year friendship with-“

As if on cue, the doors to the room flew open, a brightly smiling Jiwoo walking in a pink sparkly dress on her small frame in her hands a basket filled with petals of flowers the same color as her dress. She spun around once, letting the petals fall on top of her and onto the floor.

“We are free of her! Finally, finally free!” She cheered and without any hesitation, the whole party of people joined in, music blasting from invisible speakers, everyone’s clothes suddenly in the brightest colors.

That’s when your body jolted awake, a cold sweat running down your back as you stared into the darkness of your bedroom. Your heart was pounding at triple its usual speed, your hair a mess around your face and it took you a good thirty seconds to understand all of it had been a dream. A dream that, probably, wouldn’t even be too far off in case you did end up dying tomorrow. You fell back down onto the mattress with a sigh, hands rubbing over your face. How awful to dream about your own funeral. And how even more awful to know that your best friend wasn’t your best friend anymore.

You had never struggled with being alone before. You liked your time alone, liked to be by yourself. Or at least it used to be that way. Because now, as you walked through the busy university campus, you suddenly felt like there was nothing worse than being alone. That was how your days went on, how the last few weeks of the semester flew by. Alone with deadlines that at least kept you busy enough to really notice. You had dropped your Friday class to avoid seeing Mingyu at all costs, and your new go-to coffee shop did not have a barista with the name of Joshua working there. It all could have gone back to normal, avoiding men and doing work for your classes.If only there wasn’t Seungcheol checking in with you every few days, making sure you were okay and not beating yourself up too much.

He was somehow the only person not making you feel worse even though he probably should have been the number one man to avoid. His calls lifted you up, and made you feel like at least one person still cared about you in this mess. Made you feel like you didn’t completely fuck up your life, your friendships, and possibly the relationships between several people. Whenever you asked him about him and Jiwoo, he would just say that it was going to get better eventually, that she couldn’t be mad at him forever. You hoped he was right. Not because you had any hope left she would ever stop being mad at you (since you were mad at her too and didn’t think that would change for a while), but because Seungcheol didn’t deserve to be hated by his sister for something you caused.

“Thank you.” The barista smiled as she handed you your coffee. The pastel colors of the interior soothed you as they always did and when you sat down at one of the tables in the back, your headphones back on your head, you finally allowed yourself to be glad the semester was over. Well, classes were over. The semester technically lasted until the new one started in a couple of months.

Settled in your seat with a book and some good music blasting in your ear, you were ready to spend the afternoon in the coffee shop - but destiny had a different plan. Your phone went off, a call came in, and your eyes flickered to your screen, your heart jumping when you saw the caller ID.

“Hi,” you spoke into your phone, your hands clasping around your coffee mug.

“Hey, you.” Cheol’s voice once again calmed you down almost immediately.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to congratulate you on finishing your classes.” The way his voice sounded you knew there was more than just that. You kept quiet, eyebrows slowly raising as you waited for him to keep going.

“And I was wondering if you’d like to join me on a business trip to Singapore for four days. Before you say anything, this trip has been planned for months and my sister was supposed to join but, you know. So, it is already paid for. We have a beautiful hotel with a beautiful pool, the ocean right outside. I think a vacation would be good for you, baby.”

Baby. You couldn’t even fight the heat spreading through your body. You quickly shook your head and cleared your throat, considering his offer for a second. A trip to Singapore with Cheol, already paid for. Taking Jiwoo’s place… it all sounded like a disaster disguised as a free vacation. But then again, you had never been to Singapore before. In fact, you didn’t even remember the last time when you had been on a vacation. Chewing on your bottom lip, you fought with yourself internally. Did you really deserve to go on a vacation? It wasn’t like you weren’t the one responsible for all the damage that had been done, after all.

This wasn’t an easy decision to make, surely. Your thoughts ran through your mind like they were taking part in a marathon, making it hard to keep track of them. On one hand, a free vacation to one of the most beautiful countries definitely wasn’t in your own budget. On the other hand, though, Seungcheol would be there. Maybe even Seokmin. Jeonghan, perhaps. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

“I’ll join the trip on one condition.”

“Condition?” Seungcheol sounded surprised. For good reason - he was offering you a free trip and you had a condition. Talk about brazen.

“I’ll come on the trip if you agree we won’t have sex.”

There was silence on the other side and you shoved your mug between your hands, glancing around the room and happily noticing that no one was paying you any attention. The other guests were either engulfed in their own conversations or working on their laptops with headphones on.

“Okay. If that’s what you want, I’ll respect that.”

Now, it took you a few seconds to understand that Seungcheol had agreed without any interference. Your eyebrows lifted and a smile tugged on your lips.

“Alright then. When do we take off?”

It was two days later, when you got another text from Seungcheol.

Buy yourself some nice things, baby. My treat, of course ;)

The second the ‘ping’ announcing the text had finished ringing in your ears, the doorbell followed suit. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised, considering who you were going on vacation with. Quickly, you pressed on Cheol’s contact, calling him as you walked over to your door, calling up whoever was down there. It must have been one of Seungcheol’s men, you were sure. You just didn’t know who it might be.

“Yes, darling?”

God, the sound of his voice… mixed with the words he said - there was no doubt he didn’t know what he was doing.

“I thought the whole trip is ‘your treat’, Cheol? What is this about?”

The small chuckle he let out on the other end of the line made your stomach turn and flip.

“And it is. But… can a man not want the girl he is courting to have some new clothes to accompany her on the trip?”

Heat immediately started making its way through your body. ‘The girl he is courting’? This little…

“So, what? You’re just deciding I need a new wardrobe for our trip?”

“It doesn’t have to be just clothes, darling. Buy jewelry, a hat, a water bottle. Just let Vernon drive you around the shopping district, alright? Pick whatever you like.”

Vernon was coming? You felt another wave of heat, but this time mixed with ice as well. You hadn’t seen Vernon since that night. Did Seungcheol know about that? He probably did. As much as you wished it wasn’t affecting you anymore - the whole weight of the challenge and what had happened during it caused yet another wave of shame and guilt to almost run you over. Seungcheol was really trying here. Taking you on this trip, even sending someone he most likely knew had slept with you to take you shopping. It felt surreal and it took you a second to notice the knocking on your door.

“Fine, I’ll go with him. I just-,” you stopped mid sentence, once you had opened the door, expecting to see Vernon and being completely thrown off by it being someone else.

“You just?” Seungcheol sounded a bit confused.

“I just- uh, I just don’t really know what to say.”

Seokmin was standing in front of your door in a simple gray suit, white button up underneath the jacket. His warm eyes were filled with silent wariness and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

“That’s okay. Just enjoy yourself, Y/N. Call me later, if you like.”

You nodded as a response, slowly lowering your phone and hanging up the call.

“You’re not Vernon,” you finally said and Seokmin coughed through a laugh.

“Yeah, that, uh, that’s true.”

Silence filled the space between the two of you for a few moments.

Just like Vernon, you also hadn’t really seen Seokmin since the two of you had slept together. Only that day when you had met Jeonghan and saw Jiwoo again, he had been there as well. He had been there and seen you angry and hurt and, god, he had wanted to take you far away from all of it; from Seungcheol and his sick way of feeling like he was helping you, from Jeonghan who turned out to be someone you knew from your past, someone who had hurt you so deeply, and finally from Jiwoo and her hypocritical way of thinking.

Seeing you again only made Seokmin realize how badly he had missed you. And how fucked up it was that he had.

“So, where is Vernon?” You finally broke the silence and Seokmin cleared his throat.

“He’s home. Something in his family came up and he asked me if I could take you instead.”

It was true - Vernon’s mum had needed help with something at their house and so he had asked Seokmin to take over the driving duties, obviously not aware of what kind of door he had just opened. Seokmin hadn’t told anyone about the feelings he harbored for you, in fact, he hadn’t even really admitted them to himself.

But seeing you again, alone without Seungcheol or Vernon or anyone else present… it kind of made it hard to keep pushing away the inevitable.

“Right. Uhm,” you felt your face heat up, not prepared to leave your apartment in the slightest, “come in, I’ll get ready.”

The treacherous heart inside Seokmin’s chest jumped at the invite. He nodded and walked past you, trying to ignore your scent and the way it made him feel. Stop being pathetic, he tried to tell himself as he continued inside, taking his shoes off once the door closed between the two of you.

“Do you want some water? Or coffee?”

How you managed to sound casual - you truly couldn’t tell. It wasn’t like the two of you had left off awkwardly back then. At least not really. But then again, what about your life right now wasn’t awkward? Seokmin and you had slept together and then he had kissed you after, helping you back into your underwear, saying sweet things, and giggling against your cheek.

The memory crept back into your brain and you swallowed it down, trying to forget how you felt when he had been so gentle, so kind. It had almost felt more intimate than the sex itself.

“Water is fine, thank you.”

You nodded at his response and made your way into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from one of the cupboards. There were a thousand thoughts in your head, spiraling and forming new ones with every passing second, but you decided to ignore them.

It was silent between the two of you as you got his water ready, finally placing the glass in front of him on the table. He looked up at you, thanking you quietly. Then, just as you were about to turn, his fingers grabbed around your wrist gently.

“Y/N,” he said, “are you okay?”

Something about the way he asked this question… it touched a part of you, you hadn’t known was there. The part of you that was still young and scared and ashamed. Of course, you had come to terms with most if not all of it being your own fault, your pride had been more important to you than anyone’s feelings - including your own best friend.

All the calls with Seungcheol, yes, they had helped you. He was someone you admired, someone you maybe even felt something for that went beyond admiration. And as much as he eased the aching in your heart, as much as he cared about you and told you not to beat yourself up too much - whenever the call ended it all went back to zero. Seungcheol was still Jiwoo’s brother, he was her family. And when push came to shove, he would always choose her. And that was fine, that was how it should be! In this case, you guessed, it was thanks to Jiwoo not giving him that ultimatum that he still called you, still allowed himself to care about you.

No one else had asked you if you were okay besides Seungcheol. And now Seokmin had and you almost let the dam you had built so carefully break down.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You replied finally, pulling your hand out of his grasp and giving him a small smile over your shoulder. Seeing his face, his eyes, the way he seemed to really want to know your pain, wanted to take it away from you as good as he could - tears were close to spilling down your cheeks.

“Y/N-,” he began again, but you just cleared your throat.

“I should get ready. I’ll be right there.”

Seokmin watched you hurry into your room and pressed his lips together, deciding to ignore the glass on the table and your obvious lie. Instead, he followed you, opening the door you had just shut and watching you turn around to him with wide eyes.

“Seokmin-,” but he was the one to interrupt you this time.

“You’re not okay, are you?” He came to a halt in front of you and placed his hand on your cheek, staring into your eyes so intensely it almost caused your knees to give in.

“It doesn’t matter, Seokmin,” you whispered then, “I am the one who caused all of this. I made everyone miserable.”

“That’s not true. You can’t keep blaming yourself for things other people played a part in as well, Y/N, that’s not fair.”

“Fair to whom? To me? Seokmin, I… I hurt so many people and for what? A stupid challenge that means absolutely nothing! It was nothing but my pride that was on the line, Seokmin. I let my pride win over anyone else’s well-being. I hurt people, I broke friendships apart, I made siblings hate each other, I-”,

“You can’t seriously think that all of that is just your fault, Y/N. There were other people involved, people who knew better than you. Seungcheol should have known sleeping with you would make Jiwoo uncomfortable. He did it anyway! He didn’t care about her feelings just as much as you. I don’t see him beating himself up half as much as you, I don’t see him shutting out everyone. I don’t know everything that happened, but I promise you, Y/N, it’s not all your own fault. You made mistakes and that’s okay, that’s human. You’re just human, you are allowed to make mistakes.”

Now, tears were rolling down your cheeks, your heart swelling and hurting just the same as you listened to Seokmin’s words.

“If it’s okay, why does it feel so incredibly shitty?” Once again, your voice was merely more than a whisper. Seokmin wiped away your tears with his thumb, his eyes still staring into yours.

“Because you care. You care about those you’ve hurt, Y/N. You’re not even close to the horrible person you think you are.”

The first sob escaped you and you fell against Seokmin’s chest, his arms quick to catch and hold you against him. He patted the back of your head, letting you sob into his jacket without a second thought.

Maybe, just maybe, he felt a little too comfortable with you in his arms considering you were crying. But he allowed himself to feel this way for just a while. Allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy of you choosing him over Seungcheol. How many hours had he spent doing that in the time he knew you? He didn’t dare to count.

For a while, you stayed like this. Crying in Seokmin’s arms, feeling comforted by his warmth and his worry. It was different than with Cheol - Seokmin genuinely seemed to try to understand you while his boss stayed on the surface of it all. He acknowledged your pain but never tried to dig into it, or figure out where it was all coming from. It was refreshing, especially after you hadn’t seen Soonyoung in a good while, ever since that fateful party at Joshua and Mingyu’s place.

“Thank you,” you finally breathed out after a good ten minutes of standing there, slowly parting from Seokmin to look up at him. It almost took your breath away - how he looked at you.

“No need to thank me, I am glad to have helped you let some of it out.” He smiled down at you, his hand moving from the back of your head back to your face, slowly caressing your cheek before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

This is dangerous.

Suddenly, his proximity dawned on you. His touch tingled on your skin and your stomach turned, heartbeat speeding up. His face was so close, if you moved just a little closer…

And then he did move, just slowly with his lips slightly parted, his eyes unsure and yet so full of determination to take what he wanted. He wanted to kiss you so bad, wanted to feel the softness of your lips, show you how much he cared for you.

You turned your head. Cleared your throat and tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

“I should get ready. Wash the crying off my face and change. You, uhm, you can wait in the living room.”

Seokmin felt himself blush, nodding and quickly moving back, parting from you in the process. Probably for the best.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll wait there. Take your time.”

And when he turned around and left, you sank down onto your bed for a few seconds trying to catch your breath. How did you always end up in situations like these? You shook your head, ignoring the thoughts for now, and got back up, walking into the bathroom to wash your face.

As Seokmin and you strode through the shopping street in silence, you couldn’t help but feel lighter. While still worried the internal crisis and weight had subdued immensely all thanks to one push from the man on your right.

You glanced at him, taking in his tall frame and focused eyes. Earlier, when he had asked if you were looking for something specific, you had suggested evening wear, considering the trip would contain a few business dinners you’d probably attend as… well, as Seungcheols date. If you could even call it that. At this point, being “just” his date felt… odd. Not entirely how you saw yourself in his life, but then again, how did you see yourself in his life? As of right now, you were merely the girl responsible for his strained relationship with his sister, the girl he wasn’t allowed to sleep with for the next couple of days and perhaps even ever again. You hadn’t really made your mind up about that yet.

Seokmin held the door for you when you reached the first store you had decided to go into. Normally, you would never go into a high fashion place like this to buy clothes, but considering Seungcheol was paying and he was loaded… why not.

“Welcome”, a nice looking woman with a black bob and shining white teeth greeted you. Seokmin presented her with a slight bow and a smile himself and you quickly followed him, letting your eyes roam over the shelves right after.

Everything in here was beautiful. There wasn’t much on display - something high end shops apparently all did the same way.

Quickly, Seokmin filled the woman in on what you were looking for and once the words “budget doesn’t matter”, she suddenly became your new best friend.

You were thrown into a private room where she and two other women in the same elegant work uniforms as her, offered you and Seokmin champagne and continued to bring in small cakes and finally dresses in all sorts of colours and shapes.

“Jesus,” you mumbled under your breath and Seokmin chuckled next to you on the light red velvet couch, bringing the glass of champagne to his lips.

“Anything catch your eye?” He pointed at the rack of dresses the women had just brought in. Biting down on your bottom lip, you got up from the couch and looked at them more closely, a few of them definitely up your alley.

One was long and dark red like wine, a slit on the side and no sleeves. You told the woman from before, who had introduced herself as Soyeon once the budget had been made clear, and she immediately brought it to the changing room hidden behind a thick cream colored curtain to your right.

You also chose a short yellow dress embroidered with white roses and a mid length hazel off shoulder one that looked incredibly beautiful.

Seokmin watched you thanking Soyeon with a smile on your lips, disappearing behind the curtain a second later to try on the dresses you had picked out. Also presenting Soyeon with a thankful smile, he finally sat in one of the comfortable looking light pink armchairs facing the dressing room.

It took you a few moments, but soon you came out in the first dress. The air around Seokmin became suffocating. You looked stunning. The red dress fit you like a glove, every curve of yours on display. Seokmin had trouble staying seated, shifting on the armchair.

“What do you think?” You asked, turning around once and looking at the handsome man again. He cleared his throat.

“I think you look beautiful.”

Now, it was you who felt suffocated by the air around you. Heat rose in your body and you felt a smile creep onto your lips.

“Thank you. I quite like it myself, too.” You turned to face the full-body mirror to the left framed in gold and took yourself in once more. Yeah, it definitely was beautiful - you were beautiful.

“Would you like some champagne?” Soyeon came back, holding a tray with two glasses of champagne, giving the two of you a wide smile. Seokmin declined as he was still driving, while you accepted with yet another smile.

Soyeon’s eyes stayed on you once you’ve taken the glass from her.

“Miss, this dress looks like it was made for you!” She announced, placing the tray down on the end table between the armchairs. Your smile grew and you turned to look at yourself again.

“Thank you, Soyeon. I think I’ll try on the others as well, but this definitely makes the next round.”

Seokmin chuckled.

“Y/N. If you like them all, you can get them all.” He raised a brow and you slowly moved to face him.

“I- are you sure?”

“Of course.” Seokmin gave you a warm smile and you couldn’t help a happy giggle escaping you. Soyeon let her gaze dart from you to Seokmin and back.

“The two of you make a lovely couple.” She chuckled, giving you a wink.

Immediately, your smile died and made room for widened eyes and a dropped mouth. A lovely couple?

“That’s very kind of you to say, Soyeon, but we actually aren’t a couple.” Seokmin rose from the chair and walked over to you, “WWe’re just… friends.”

Somehow your eyes found his and you felt like you were back in your bedroom earlier. It wasn’t scary to be vulnerable around him, more so the opposite. Maybe, in another life, you could have met under different circumstances and be what Soyeon had thought you were.

“Oh, of course. I apologize." Soyeon left shortly after and you found your way back into the dressing room, trying on another dress. You ignored the yearning feeling for what could have been and moved on, shoving the feeling as far back into your mind as you possibly could.

Seokmin looked at some other dresses and picked out a few, asking Soyeon for skirts and tops as well, which she brought over just a couple minutes later.

Trying on pretty clothes lifted your spirits and almost made you forget all your worries. For a while you could just be as you had been before, a normal girl with nothing on her mind but clothes and getting her degree. You didn’t let any negativity creep up on you for as long as you could - only losing your composure when you tried on a short black dress and found the zipper to be stuck.

Cursing under your breath, you tried to pull it up once more only to fail.

“Seokmin? Could you help me in here?” You called out for the assistant and he immediately rushed in, pushing the curtain back and finding you clad in the sexiest little black dress he had ever seen. When the curtain fell shut behind him, he swallowed.

“What- uhm, what’s up?”

“I can’t get the zipper up, I think it’s stuck.” You explained and he nodded slowly, walking closer and bringing his hands to your back and the zipper.

Fuck, this is torture, he thought, his eyes scanning the smooth skin of your back, noticing you weren’t wearing a bra, which only made this situation so much worse. He swallowed again, clearing his throat before trying to get the zipper up. His fingers graced your skin as he succeeded on the first try, his free hand carefully pushing your hair over your shoulder, causing you to shiver. In fact, all of the current predicament made you shiver. Seokmin’s fingers on your skin, his breath on your neck, his proximity. Your heartbeat sped up, nails digging into your palms. When did you become so weak?

Once the zipper was up, Seokmin knew he should move. He couldn’t, though. Not when your perfume tickled his nose, not when your body heat was slowly mixing with his. Not when all he had to do was lean forward to kiss your neck. He allowed himself to wonder, allowed his mind to go there - his lips on your neck, your eyes falling shut as you enjoyed how he felt. His hands on your waist, caressing you softly. Allowed himself to think about turning you around and kissing your lips, still remembering the taste of them. Oh, how much he wished to kiss you again and if it was only that. Kiss you breathless, kiss you until your mouth was red and swollen, kiss you until you begged him to never stop.

He didn’t let any of that happen, of course.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t wish for him to.

While not being able to read his thoughts, the tension in the air surrounding you tasted just like his thoughts. Sweet and hot and forbidden. His touch burned you like fire but instead of it hurting you, you craved more.

Your eyes flashed to his in the mirror and an image of him taking you right there pierced through your mind. Judging by the way he looked at you, you figured his own thoughts weren’t far off from your own.

“Done,” he breathed and you found yourself turning around to face him, his eyes boring into yours. Every inch of your body was burning for him, yearning for his touch. He was so close, just like in your bedroom, if you just raised your hands to his nape you could bring him down to you, could kiss him the way you wanted to…

“Thanks,” you mumbled back, the tips of your fingers itching to touch him.

It took every bit of self restraint Seokmin had in him to avert his gaze and take a deep breath.

“I think you should take this dress, Y/N. Seungcheol will love it.”

Then, he walked out.

Oh.

You blinked a few times, staring at where he had just stood before. He had left. Really just… left you here. While a part of you was hurt another one was relieved. He had made the right call.

Or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Something changed after that. After leaving the store with four new dresses, two new skirts and a good amount of new tops and a blazer, Seokmin and you visited five more stores before calling it a day. You had gotten more clothes and purses and accessories than you would probably ever need, but considering it was all on Seungcheol… You were more than fine with it.

Seokmin drove you home, your bags on the backseat and you envied them. As lifeless objects, they weren’t submitted to the unspoken words, the thick tension and the longing in the car. Your eyes were glued to the windshield, not daring to even look at Seokmin.

Feeling about the same way as you, Seokmin was glad he was driving, focusing on the street and traffic instead of you. His heart was heavy in his chest and he realized just how fucked he was.

When he parked in front of your building, the engine stopped and nothing to distract him anymore, Seokmin took it upon himself to leave the car first, moving around it to open the door for you. It took all of his willpower not to kiss you when your eyes met his. His mind raced with inappropriate thoughts again and he quickly averted his eyes, hurrying to get the bags out of the car.

“Thanks for bringing me home, Seokmin.” You said, biting down on your lip. He coughed.

“Of course, let me help you get these upstairs.”

It hung in the air, growing more and more dangerous the closer you came to your apartment. The elevator ride was almost unbearable, worse than the car and you hoped and prayed you could get this over with smoothly. Bring him inside to just put the bags down and bid him goodbye.

The second the elevator doors opened with a ‘ping’, you almost sprinted to your door, opening it as quickly as you could. Seokmin was on your heels and you let him in first, closing the door behind you and regretting it immediately.

Now, Seokmin and you weren’t just in close proximity but also in private close proximity.

The bags found their way onto the couch table, Seokmin not yet having turned around to face you since he had entered the apartment.

“Well, that’s all,” he said with a strained voice. He sounded just like you felt. A subtle nod followed his words and when he turned around, his eyes immediately landed on yours.

“Yeah, th-thanks again.” You stumbled over your words, feet glued to the floor. Even if you had wanted to, you wouldn’t have been able to move. Seokmin, though, he did move. He moved closer to you, looked like he floated, coming to a halt when all that separated you was one arm length.

“Anytime, Y/N.”

You were suffocating. All air was leaving your lungs instead making room for another wave of longing. Your hands were once again balled at your sides and your body was still frozen, your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“I should probably leave.” He said but didn’t move.

“Probably, yeah.” Your response was merely a breath. Seokmin swallowed.

Then, he was suddenly right there in your space, his hands on your waist and his head just inches from yours.

“Tell me to go and I will,” he breathed, “Tell me you don’t want me and I will never look back.”

“I-,” you blinked up at him, the itching back in your fingertips, “I can’t do that.”

He sucked in his breath, eyes roaming your face for just a second before he finally closed the last few inches between you.

His lips were still as soft back then. Soft and warm and perfect and, god, where did he learn to kiss like this?

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pushing your body as close to his as possible. His tongue slid over your bottom lip and you allowed him in without hesitation, melting against him.

He moved his hands to the small of your back, feeling your heat meeting his and he couldn’t hold back a moan when your tongue met his. How long had he craved you? How many times had he dreamt of this moment – of you back in his arms, of your lips on his, of your body pressed against him?

All coherent thoughts having left your mind, you lead him to your bedroom, not parting from his lips even once. Your hands ran through his hair, feeling his soft strands between your fingers.

The kissing didn’t stop until your legs hit the bed. While you fell down onto it, your back on the soft mattress, Seokmin looked at you with eyes full of hunger and need but also affection so strong it made your skin tingle. He rid himself of his suit jacket and his shoes, helping you discard your own right after. Then, he got on top of you, his elbows keeping up as he kissed you again. Your hands moved over his back, feeling his muscles under his shirt. He was built like a god, like someone people worshipped back in the day. Someone who deserved to be worshipped now as well.

His thigh slipped between yours and you moaned against his lips, hands now resting on his cheeks as you moved your hips against his thigh, earning a moan from him in return. You needed to feel all of him, needed to feel how hot his skin was, how his skin tasted. So, you moved your fingers to his dress shirt, unbuttoning it with ease and Seokmin moved to kiss your neck, biting into your sensitive skin and making your pussy throb with even more need.

Shoving his shirt off his shoulders only moments later, your nails dragged along his back, the softness of his skin confirming your suspicions. He was perfect.

Nothing about this felt like back at the office when the two of you had fucked the first time. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t full of only sexual tension. There was more this time - but you refused to acknowledge it at this moment. Instead, you kept rubbing your core against his thigh, feeling him flex.

He remembered you doing that the last time too. Remembered your whimpers and moans, remembered how beautifully you had come around his cock. Twice. He growled and moved back up, kissing you hard. He sat up slightly, taking you with him and helping you out of your shirt. Your bra was back on your body and he began kissing your soft skin while you moved your hands to your back shortly, unclasping your bra and letting it fall off your frame.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Seokmin took one of your nipples into his mouth while his hand squeezed the other, your back arching against him. There were no words to describe how much you wanted, needed him and your core throbbed pathetically.

Pushing you back into the pillows, Seokmin let his mouth roam over your neck and chest, moving down and ridding you of your pants as well. He could smell your arousal, his head dizzy. Oh, how ready he was to taste you.

Sliding between your legs, he pressed his thumb against your clothed folds, feeling just how wet you were. He groaned as he circled his thumb on your clit, your moans becoming more desperate. His hunger only rose, fingers slipping your panties down, allowing him the perfect view of your glistening pussy.

Without hesitation, he dove in, tongue lapping at your juices. Your hands flew to his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you cried out his name, hips rolling against his face as he devoured you.

Tongue flicking against your clit, circling and sucking it into his mouth. If it were up to him, he’d eat you out for days on end. You tasted sweet and bitter at the same time, had him addicted to you within seconds. He reveled in the way you tasted, one of his fingers sneaking up your thigh and finally sinking into your awaiting hole. You gasped, hips rolling harder against him now. He chuckled.

“You want it bad, don’t you, darling?” His breath hit your core and you nodded, eyes rolling back into your skull when his finger began thrusting into you. But you needed more, needed all of him.

“Seokmin, need more, please.”

He obeyed, pushing another finger inside of you, two fingers now filling you over and over. And yet, you still craved more. You wanted him.

“N-not enough!” You cried and Seokmin licked up your folds, a shiver running down your spine.

“Tell me what you need, baby. What do you want?”

“You, need you, Seok!”

Seok. The nickname made his cock twitch.

“You have me, baby.” He was teasing you. And you were falling for it.

“Your cock, Seok, p-please, need it so bad.”

“There we go, was that so hard, my love?”

Quickly, Seokmin pushed down his pants and underwear, heaving himself up, one hand grabbing your thigh and pushing it back as he settled between your legs again. Kneeling in front of you now, he took his cock into his hand, precum already dripping onto your duvet, and brought it to your entrance.

Inch by inch, he pushed himself inside of you, his eyes never leaving your face. You just looked too fucking breathtaking. Arousal so clearly displayed on your features, his cock twitching once he bottomed out. The way your pussy clenched around him, as if to suck him even deeper had him moaning your name desperately.

“Move, Seok, please move,” you whined, hands grabbing for his forearms and he let out a low chuckle.

“Anything for you.” He thrusted once, both of you moaning in unison.

Then, he thrusted again, thrusted slowly and controlled, his cock feeling perfectly smug between your walls. Your legs hooked around his hips and he fell forward, his lips finding yours again in a desperate kiss. Along with the kiss, his thrusts also became less controlled, the pace picking up. His hand roamed your face, grabbing it possessively, his tongue thrusting into your mouth, your own tongue getting entangled with it in the most delicious way.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he whispered against your lips and you bit down on his lip, kissing him harder. His hips moved at perfect speed, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. He held you like you were precious, like he never wanted to let you go again. And perhaps that was true.

Feeling himself nearing his climax, Seokmin moved quicker, groans now escaping him every few seconds. His sounds were bringing you closer to your own climax, hips chasing his movements as you licked into his mouth, nails back to leaving marks on his broad back and shoulders.

Oh, how good he took you, how perfect he held you. How gone you were for him.

Your climax rushed over you when he thrusted especially hard, your pussy clenching and twitching, engulfing his cock in another wave of wetness. You moaned loudly, nails digging into his skin and he hissed, sitting back up and leading his hands to your hips. His eyes had gone dark and wild.

The way he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own was just like his eyes. He was quick and hard, chasing his own high like a madman, like you were nothing but his little perfect toy. And you loved every second of it. Your back arched from the bed and your moans turned into screams of pleasure. A second climax followed you first and this time you allowed yourself to fall even harder - squirts of liquid shooting out of you and onto his cock and your bed, making him see stars as he finally came, pulling out of your warm heat and letting his ropes of white paint your stomach and breasts.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, falling down onto the bed next to you, pulling you into an embrace, head resting on top of yours. You were still breathing heavily and his drying release started to feel uncomfortable on your skin, but you didn’t dare move out of his arms. Despite the realization beginning to creep into your mind, you decided to just pretend. Pretend like you hadn’t just made everything so much more complicated.

The promise you had made yourself to not pursue any of the men you had slept with for the challenge was broken, forgotten and didn’t matter anymore. You should have felt horrible. Defeated and disappointed in yourself.

But you didn’t feel any of those things as you felt Seokmin’s heartbeat against your own, his arms pulling you even closer and his lips pressing a kiss onto the crown of your head. No, you didn’t feel bad at all. And that scared you.

You didn’t stop Seokmin from leaving to get a washing cloth to clean you up. You also didn’t stop him from slipping back into bed with you. And when you both fell asleep, you didn’t stop that either.

When you woke up, there was no trace of Seokmin in your bed or your apartment except for a note pinned to the fridge.

Duty called, I’m sorry. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow - Seokmin

You stared at the note for a few moments, letting the day before play over in your mind. There was no doubt that the decision to sleep with Seokmin and let him spend the night didn't look too good on your track record. And that didn’t even involve how much you had felt during the sex with him. How different it had been from the first time back in Seungcheol’s firm, how different it had been from any of your last sexual encounters.

Sighing, you averted your eyes from Seokmin’s note (and any thoughts about him) and instead looked over to the couch table where all of your bags from the shopping trip were neatly organized. Seokmin had really taken the time to clean up the mess from the day before. God, he was just too… good. In all honesty, you didn’t deserve the goodness of that man in the slightest, he had to be aware of that as well, right?

After turning to make some coffee and drinking it on your little armchair deep in thought, it was an hour later when another ringing disturbed your bit of inner peace.

Someone was at your door and whoever it was softly knocked now, causing you to frown. It couldn’t be Chan, right? He wouldn’t dare to come here when the past few weeks you had successfully avoided each other, would he?

Slowly, you made your way to the door, looking through the peephole with your heart beating like a drum in your chest.

But it wasn’t Chan standing in front of your door, but Soonyoung. Your eyes widened for a second, before you opened the door with a swing, catching Soonyoung by surprise.

“Soonyoung,” you said, “what are you doing here?”

“I-,” the man before you cleared his throat, “well, I missed you. Not- not in like a, uh, romantic sense. Just… hanging out with you. I miss that.”

There was no stopping the warmth around your heart. It captured you and swallowed you whole. Made you jump into Soonyoung’s arms, pressing your face into his neck, hugging him closely.

“I missed you too, Soonyoungie.”

It truly felt like there hadn’t even been weeks of no contact. You and Sooyoung sat down on your couch, talking about everything you had missed in each other’s lives during the time of no talking. As it turned out, Jiwoo had tried to win Soonyoung back but he had turned her down. You felt a slight sting in your stomach hearing him talk about her. As much as you tried not to think about her, it wasn’t exactly easy. She had been your best friend for so many years and somehow all it took was a few months for it to break apart.

“So, you’re really going on vacation with Seungcheol and Seokmin?” Soonyoung was chewing on his bottom lip, his legs pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around them.

You nodded.

“Yup. And Jeonghan, most likely.”

“Oh shit, that’s gonna be… tough.” He scratched his head. Something about his eyes avoiding yours was suspicious.

“What?” You raised your brows.

“Well… you could finish the challenge, right? if he’s coming too, I mean.”

You opened your mouth, only to close it again. Then you shook your head.

“No. I’m done with that challenge. If I weren’t so attached to this apartment I would have left it weeks ago. Just leave everyone behind and start anew - maybe even move to a different city.”

“Even me?” Soonyoung pouted and you rolled your eyes, laughing slightly.

“No, of course not.” You patted his shoulder.

He smiled.

“But still, Y/N. It would kinda… be the perfect end to all of this, don’t you think? Just finally putting the last nail in the coffin. Not to mention it would piss Jiwoo off so much.”

His smile had turned into a grin. You scoffed.

“I don’t want to piss her off, Soonyoung. I think I’ve done enough of that for a lifetime. And also, what makes you think I’d even want to sleep with Jeonghan after all that happened with him?” You grimaced.

“Maybe because he’s hot?” Soonyoung tilted his head, giving you a knowing grin. Groaning, you threw a pillow at his head.

“Okay, and? You make me sound so shallow.”

“You are, at least in this specific, uh, situation. You wouldn’t have slept with all of us if we weren’t at least somewhat hot.”

Now, he wasn’t wrong about that. Clicking your tongue, you gave in.

“Fine, I admit that my main focus during the challenge was to, well, bed people I found hot. Happy now?”

Soonyoung laughed, throwing the pillow right back at you.

“Bed? Pretty sure we’ve done it on this couch as well as the shower and the dining table, Y/N.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, shaking your head.

“It’s just a random saying, don’t be so literal, Soonyoung.”

The two of you talked for the rest of the evening, Soonyoung deciding to stay the night (on the couch!) and drive you to the airport in the morning. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you’d be fine taking a cab, he still insisted. How wonderful to have at least one friend bring some familiarity back into your life.

Your suitcase barely closed, but it still found its way into Soonyoung’s trunk, joined by your backpack and a small handbag. For now, you didn’t allow the nerves to get the best of you. Sure, this was most likely an idea set up to fail, but it could still be fun!

It had been quite the talk you had with Seungcheol about letting someone come pick you up that had not been pre-approved by him, but after pointing out that he was not your boyfriend (and neither was Soonyoung) he gave in and sent you the correct address you had to come to. Because, of course, the man only flew private.

Music was playing quietly in the background as you and Soonyoung sat in the car, waiting for the light to turn green.

“So,” he began then, Dua Lipa’s voice singing about not giving an ex another chance in the background, “you and Seokmin, what’s that about?”

You could feel his eyes on you, burning a hole into your cheek. Clearing your throat, you attempted to play it cool.

“What do you mean? We just had sex, you know, like I had with you.”

“Yeah, but no.” Soonyoung raised his brows, looking back at the windshield when the light switched colors. “You and I fucked, Christian Grey style and all. No “making love” or something. But what you told me about Seokmin and you two nights ago… that’s different.”

Oh, how badly you wanted to disagree. Tell him it wasn’t different. That just because you and Seokmin had slow and intimate sex didn’t mean there was anything else going on. But perhaps starting to be true to your feelings and discussing them with someone you trusted wasn’t the worst idea.

So, you sighed.

“It’s complicated. Yes, there definitely was something. Ever since I met him for the first time there has been… something. When Seungcheol made him and Vernon watch, I was extremely focused on Seokmin and it irked me that he didn’t… you know, do anything. And after I left, he still stayed on my mind. Even with Mingyu, I-,” you took another deep breath, “it doesn’t make sense, it truly doesn’t. Seokmin and I had only so many encounters and yet he somehow managed to linger in my mind the same way Cheol or Mingyu have.”

“Doesn’t that mean something then? That maybe he’s the one?”

The one? What did that even imply? That you fell for him? That you should be with him?

“I don’t believe any of the guys used for the challenge can be ‘the one’, Soonyoung.” You told him, your face serious. “There is too much baggage there. My baggage that I’m not ready to face yet.”

Soonyoung allowed himself to dwell on your words for a few moments, taking a left to enter the highway and taking you to the airport.

“You know, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. No one will deny that some of the choices you made weren’t idea, but you’re aware of that. You faced the consequences of your actions and realized your mistakes – and I think that says much more about you than anything else.” He switches lanes and glances over to you for a second.

“Y/N, it is not your fault these guys fell for you. You didn’t lead them on, you didn’t promise them anything - and that includes me. You need to stop blaming yourself for our feelings when you can’t change anything about them. Wonwoo took everything the way he did because that’s who he is - not because you told him to react that way. Granted, you could have not fucked Chan at Mingyu and Shua’s party, but it happened and what’s done is done. From what I’ve heard and what you’ve told me you never told anyone you wanted something you ended up taking back. You were always true to yourself and your needs and wants even when you got caught up in your feelings sometimes. All of that does not make you a bad person.”

His words hung in the air, swirling around your head and leaving your mouth to dry and your eyes to water. This sounded a lot like what Seokmin had told you. Making mistakes was human and facing your own was a step in the right direction.

“That’s what Seokmin said, too.” You wiped over your eyes with the back of your hand. “He told me I was being too hard on myself, just like you.”

Soonyoung smiled.

“See, two against one, Y/N. We live in a democracy after all.”

You laughed, shaking your head and looking out the window to your right. Just like with Seokmin, you felt lighter, happy that Soonyoung was back in your life and there when you needed him.

“Fine. I’ll… just see what this trip brings. As much as I’d love to forget about my feelings for Cheol, they do exist. And as long as I haven’t figured that out, I don’t know how smart it was to sleep with Seokmin.”

“Don’t forget your feelings for Mingyu.” Soonyoung took the exit for the airport, a grin playing on his lips. You clicked your tongue.

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“Oh, you are very welcome.”

Five minutes later, Soonyoung’s car was waved through to the part of the airport that was reserved for private fliers. He parked his car outside the main building and helped you get your suitcase out of the trunk, all while you glanced at the glass entrance door every few seconds. You knew Seungcheol was already there - was Seokmin with him? And what about Jeonghan?

“Alright,” Soonyoung held out his arms, “have a safe trip and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You laughed, accepting the offer of a hug, and patted him on the back when your arms were wrapped around him.

“Thank you, Soonie. I’ll text you when we land.”

A big part of you longed for Soonyoung to join you, to be the one person you could confide in during what was surely going to be an eventful trip.

But alas you watched him drive away, taking with him all the confidence you had hoped to keep. Confidence, you would surely need to survive the upcoming days. Heaving a sigh, you grabbed your suitcase and bag, finally making your way over to the entrance door, smiling and slightly bowing at the security standing in front of them.

After giving them your name and handing them your hand luggage, you walked through the glass doors and into a grand hall with only three gates. Two of them were empty, one was a little crowded with people you knew all too well.

Seungcheol had not yet spotted you, too deep in a conversation with Seokmin.

Vernon was sitting on one of the rows of comfortable looking chairs, head down and focused on his phone.

Your eyes looked from Seungcheol and Seokmin to Vernon and further to the left - and you couldn’t help but stop in your steps and gape.

Jeonghan was talking to a tall figure in a well fitted white dress shirt and black dress pants and there was no way this was happening right now.

“Y/N!” Seungcheol had spotted you, a bright smile on his gorgeous face as he jogged over to you, his hand landing on the small of your back as he leaned forward to plant a kiss on your cheek.

A kiss that should have felt sweet and nice in any other situation, but not when Jeonghan’s earlier conversation counterpart stared at you with wide, pretty brown puppy eyes. Not when you had not been prepared to meet him here at the same time as Cheol and Seokmin. Not when you had done everything in your power to forget him.

“Ah yes,” Jeonghan smirked, “meet our German translator. I think you go to the same university, Y/N - do you know Kim Mingyu?”

This little shit. He asked a question he already knew the answer to. There was no way Jiwoo hadn’t told him about Mingyu, nor was there any chance this hadn’t been his doing.

Seungcheol’s smile didn’t falter when he looked down at you, but it did once he saw the look on your face. Something stirred within him then. Jeonghan had been the one to bring Mingyu on board - best of his year, TA for a well known professor, almost fluent in German. Seungcheol didn’t think much about it, after all, Kim Mingyu was a common name in Korea. But now, seeing the way you stared at the man he hired… it wasn’t hard to connect the dots.

Mingyu, meanwhile, let his gaze wander from your face to the arm Seungcheol had around you. His body heated up, all these moments of missing and trying to get over you suddenly plummeting to his feet, joined by his broken heart. How many nights had he contemplated calling you? How often had he thought about driving over to your apartment and making you understand how much you meant to him? How wrong you were about cutting him out of your life? And now you stood here, in front of him and his new boss touched you like he knew you, like he had done this a thousand times before. Mingyu’s hands balled.

“The captain just informed me, they are ready for us.”

Seokmin’s voice disrupted the awkward silence and all of you looked over at him. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, a big part of you wanting to run out of the hall and chase after Soonyoung.

You didn’t though. You followed the others outside and onto the private jet, going for the seat furthest in the back, happy when it was only Vernon who sat in the seat opposite yours with a sheepish smile.

Singapore was incredible.

Driving from the airport to your hotel had already taken your breath away. Your eyes had been glued to the window and for a while, you forgot about the rather uncomfortable situation you found yourself in. Thankfully, you shared the car with Seungcheol who was busy on a phone call and didn’t really pay you any mind, while Vernon was driving. Seokmin was in the car ahead with Mingyu and Jeonghan going over the schedule for the week.

Once you reached the hotel, Seokmin checked all of you in, giving you your roomkey in the form of a card first, his eyes meeting yours for only a second. You admired his ability to act like nothing had happened between you as much as you hated it. Rationally, it was better for him to act nonchalant toward you. But your heart told you something different.

Then again, your heart was doing a lot of things at the moment - jumping between the sexy CEO still on the phone, his suit jacket hanging over his arm and shades on his perfect nose, the newly hired translator with his hands buried in his pants and his eyes searching for yours, and finally the assistant who handed out keycards to everyone and looked amazing in his beige linen two piece.

Getting out of the lobby and into the safety of your own room was undoubtedly the best decision right now. And yes, once the door was closed behind you and no one else was around anymore, you finally felt like you could breathe again. The plane ride over had been horrible - the only thing holding you back from somehow jumping out of the plane had been Vernon who told you about this girl he had met and was going to go on a date with and the book you brought.

Six hours had felt like seventeen and only now were you able to actually reflect what was going on. Walking further into the room, you took out your phone and connected it to the wifi, immediately shooting Soonyoung a message.

You: Major SOS, MINGYU is here!!!!

Soonyoung: Mingyu??? WHAT???

You: He was hired as the fucking translator

You: I think I’m gonna be sick

You: Worst part is… I’m pretty sure Jeonghan planned this. Little fucker.

Soonyoung: Jeonghan???? Woah, what the fuck?? I’m so sorry

Soonyoung: What are you gonna do?

You: I have absolutely no idea. I have to get ready for an event in a few hours, I might just… idk… die or smth

Soonyoung: okay first of all, no dying on my watch. you’ll be fine, just… talk to them. maybe its good they are all there? maybe you can like, you know, figure out who you want

You: …

You: yeah no, i’m taking a shower now, bye!!

Locking your phone and throwing it onto the bed, you realized Soonyoung had sadly not helped you with the situation. Fine, maybe you had only talked to him for like… five seconds, but still! You truly didn’t expect yourself to be realistic right now.

Hopping into the shower made you at least feel somewhat better. Washing the flight and the guilt off your body while redirecting your thoughts to the fun you’d surely have at the dinner party; dressing up and doing your make-up and feeling pretty always helped you feel better. And a twisted part of your brain was even excited about looking your best with Seokmin, Seungcheol, and Mingyu to see. Maybe even Jeonghan - showing him what he missed out on and such.

Yes, you decided then when you sat in front of the mirror in the hotel room, you wouldn’t let this tear you down. You wouldn’t let them see how much this affected you. Instead, you’d look your absolute best and make them wish they had you for the night, when in reality none of them would.

Just as you’re about to finish your makeup, still wrapped in the soft white bathrobe the hotel provided, you heard a knock on your door. Quickly, you got up and stalked over to the door, opening it with a swing.

Seokmin stood in front of you, his face hard like stone, not even the slightest emotion creeping over his features when your eyes met. You hate to admit that your heart stung at that.

“Mr. Choi has asked me to let you know you’ll be riding in the car with him again. And for you to be ready in half an hour. Does that work for you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe.

“What’s going on with you?” You asked him, ignoring his question.

“I asked you a question.” He dodged you. Your jaw tightened.

“Fine. Yes, that works for me. Now, what’s going on with you?”

Now, you spot a shift in his face, just a millisecond, but you’re sure it was there: pain.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing is going on with me, everything is fine.”

“Why are you lying to me?” You almost reached out, your fingers itching to touch him - just like two days ago. While the tension wasn’t as loaded as back then, you could still feel the invisible string that tugged you toward him.

“I am not lying,” he responded now, his eyes staring into yours, “I’m truly fine.”

He wasn’t fine. He was the opposite of fine. But how could he tell you? How could he let you know that Seungcheol had found out about him picking you up for the shopping spree instead of Vernon and how he had belittled him because of it? How could he let you know that he was nothing compared to Seungcheol. Not to mention Mingyu now showing up, handsome, tall, perfectly built Mingyu with the same interest as you. How could he tell you his heart was hurting and screaming for you to want him the way he wanted you?

There was no way he could ever share that with you, not here, not now. Not when he knew your history with Seungcheol and judging by the way you and Mingyu had looked at each other - there surely was history with him, too. And Seokmin? He was just… someone you slept with twice. Someone you had seen three, maybe four times at best and he really thought he could compare with that?

“Seokmin…,” the soft sound of your voice almost broke him. But he just cleared his throat.

“Like I said. Be ready in half an hour and come down to the lobby.”

When he turned around and walked away, you felt like he had taken a part of you with him.

In the black dress you had bought with Seokmin, you stepped out of the elevator. There was no doubt that you’d take the men’s breath away once they spotted you - and that was exactly what you were going for. With your best poker face, you clutched your purse and strode over to where you saw them all standing in the lobby in fine suits.

Seokmin was focused on his phone, Seungcheol was talking to the hotel manager and Mingyu was speaking with Vernon. Jeonghan was seated on one of the comfortable looking dark green velvet sofas and spotted you first. Sucking in a breath, his eyes roamed over your body - taking in every curve, the dress hugging you like it was made for you. He licked over his bottom lip and got up, walking over to you.

“Now, would you look at that.” He tilted his head when he reached you, eyes glinting in the light of the lobby. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Want to take a picture? It’d last longer.”

Jeonghan chuckled, raising his hand to his chin, rubbing it softly as he continued to look at you.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll have you looking like this saved in my mind forever now.”

The other men now became aware of you too, all of them close to losing their composure when they saw you.

Ignoring Jeonghan, you walked past him and stopped in front of Seungcheol.

“I heard I’m driving with you?”

He looked dashing. But then, when did he not? A dark red suit fitting him perfectly, a black dress shirt underneath, open just a few buttons and showing a silver chain. He was really testing your “no sex” rule.

“Indeed, you are.” He held out his arm, his eyes never leaving you and your hand found its way around his biceps, letting him lead you outside.

It took everything in you not to glance at Mingyu or Seokmin.

Vernon was in the driver’s seat in the limousine, but the window between him and you and Seungcheol was shut. The second Seungcheol got into the car after you, the door shut, he effortlessly grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap.

You yelped at the sudden lifting and stared down at him with wide eyes. His hands were holding you down thigh and yours flew to his shoulders when Vernon started the car and began to drive.

“Seungcheol, what-,” you began, but the man beneath you shook his head.

“I do the talking, princess,” he scanned your face, “you and Mingyu, what is the situation there? And don’t lie to me.”

A lump formed in your throat. Of course, he’d ask about MIngyu. Cheol wasn’t stupid, more so the opposite. You bit down on your lip.

“He was… one of the first few people I slept with for the challenge,” you began to explain, “but we kind of, well, had a thing going on. Nothing exclusive, obviously, but still. We continued to see each other and sleep together.”

“So, like us?” Cheol’s eyes couldn’t hide the hurt and you felt your stomach drop.

“Yes, but also no. It was different with him and-,”

“Easier, you mean.” Cheol’s face hardened and so did his grab on your waist, “it was easier because he’s not your best friend’s brother.”

God, he was being more dramatic than he needed to be. You sighed, hands moving to his nape.

“Cheol, listen to me. Yes, it was easier, I won’t lie to you about that. But just because it was easier doesn’t mean I feel anything more for him than I do for you.”

What you had considered to be soothing words, only made the stone on Cheol’s face turn even harder. His hands moved, one of them lying on your thigh, while the other moved further up, making your eyes widen again. His fingers brushed against your breasts, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Then, he was on your face, softly caressing your cheek. But while his touch was soft, his face surely wasn’t.

“I told you before, Y/N,” he whispered, “you are mine. You’ve said so yourself. Every time I fuck you, you scream you’re mine.” The hand on your thigh moved up, goosebumps erupting on your skin as he stroked the inside of your thigh, fingertips finding your core. You gasped slightly.

“Seungcheol- I- I told you the condit-,”

“That was before I knew another man who you feel something for will be on this trip,” he shoved your panties to the side and it was utterly embarrassing how wet you had already become from just these few touches.

“I need to remind you, princess, need to show you that only I, only Daddy can take care of you. Will you let Daddy take care of you, princess?”

You couldn’t have stopped the nod even if you had tried.

He crashed his lips against yours right then, and your brain short circuited. It all went so fast. Fingers shoving your panties to the side to slide into your cunt, fucking into you at no mercy, your fingers nearly cramping from how hard you dug them into his nape.

“Look at you, look at how easy it is for me to fuck my fingers into you, princess. How willing you are for Daddy, isn’t that right?”

Your eyes rolled back, a long moan escaping your lips. This man really knew how to push your buttons, how to get you dripping, how to crave more.

His lips moved from your lips to your neck, sucking on your skin and licking over the small marks he left. Motherfucker, you think, marking me right before an event? Is he for real?

The thought vanished though, when he pulled his fingers out of you to open his pants, getting out his cock in record speed. Eyelashes fluttered as you looked down, mouth watering as you saw his big cock, red angry tip with precum inviting you to lick it off. Swallowing, you let your tongue run over your bottom lip, luring a chuckle from Cheol.

“Aw, does daddy’s little slut want to suck his big cock? Are you hungry for it, baby?” You felt your cheeks heat and you raised your head to look at him again, eyes saying more than words could. Cheol swore under his breath, hands back to your hips.

“As much as I’d love to have your mouth on my cock, we don’t have long and I intend to fuck your pussy full of my cum.”

With one quick move, he got your hole right where he needed it, shoving his cock upwards into you. You cried out, nails now digging into his clothed shoulders. Bottoming out, Cheol licked over your lips, your own tongue meeting his and inviting him into your mouth. His hips began their restless pace, holding you down with his one hand, while the other cupped your cheek, the kiss becoming more and more desperate and hot. Your body heated, the coil in your stomach already beginning to tighten.

“Fuck, you don’t even know how much I missed this pussy,” Seungcheol groaned against your lips, his cock fucking up into you hard and quick, hitting you right where you needed him.

“D-Daddy, f-feels so good!” Your voice was whiny and loud and you were pretty sure Vernon could hear you, praying to the universe he didn’t get affected by this and drove you into a car. But then, maybe this wouldn’t even be a bad death - split open on Seungcheol’s cock.

“Yeah, you like getting fucked like a cheap whore, isn’t that right?” His lips searched for yours again, tongue and teeth getting caught up as his cock twitched inside of you. Your cunt clenched around him, craving his release as much as your own.

“No one can fuck you as good as me, princess. Daddy is the one who can give you exactly what you need.”

Vernon took a very sharp left turn, making Cheol lose his balance. Quickly, he saved the two of you from falling to the floor of the limousine, you finding yourself on your back, your dress completely raised up and Cheol on top of you, his cock still buried inside of you. He groaned at the different angle, his head falling back as his hips chased his own high. You grabbed for his arms again, crying out his name and arching your back, needing him deeper, needing him closer.

But Cheol fucked you the way he wanted, fucked you to reach his climax, to claim you as his. He wanted you to walk around that dinner party (read as: around Mingyu) with his cum dripping into your lacey panties.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he breathed out, the mere image of you on his arm saying hello to his business partners with his seed inside of you bringing him much closer to the edge.

“Yes, yes, Daddy, pump me full, fuck,” your head was spinning at this point, your pussy throbbing, stomach tightening. You were close, too, ready to give him your all.

Just that, when Cheol came with your name on his lips, thick ropes of white filling you, he pulled out right when his own orgasm was over, his fingers only pushing his cum back into you, his lips turned to a menacing grin.

“Wha-,” you blinked up at him, but Seungcheol only leaned back, your panties springing back to their place. He wiped his fingers on the inside of his suit jacket and chuckled.

“Oh, you thought you were allowed to cum, princess? After fucking Seokmin the other day?” His eyebrows shot up and your face turned pale. So, that was why Seokmin had behaved that way. Seungcheol had found out.

“Cheol, I can explain.”

“No need, my dear,” he pulled a hand through his hair, checking himself out in the tinted window. He looked ethereal as always. “But for the record, when you finally come to your senses and choose me, my cock is the only one you’ll be choking on, got it?” His eyes shot you a look full of rigour that, funnily enough, just made your pussy throb even harder.

“S-Sir, we- we have arrived.” Vernon’s voice now sounded through the limousine and your head only became hotter.

“Wonderful,” Cheol smiled, “I’ll wait outside the car, darling, maybe check your makeup and hair, you look a little… ravaged.”

The party was an absolute bummer.

At least for you.

Seungcheol had lead you inside, a smirk on his face you wished you could punch right off. With your brain back on inside your head and not down between your legs, you realized just how fucked up the car ride had been. Seungcheol was possessive and rude and you- and you were a complete fool. A fool that was too easily swayed by the man now standing a few feet away, Mingyu next to him and talking to the men he had actually flown here to meet.

You stood in the corner of the room, a standing table in front of you. A glass of white wine stood before you and you lazily sipped on it once in a while, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs and Cheol’s release soaking your already drenched panties. Not exactly the perfect predicament for a fun evening.

And it was just about to get worse.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jeonghan placed his glass of what looked a lot like whiskey on ice next to your wine and leaned forward, elbows propped on the table.

“Go away.” You just mumbled, bringing your glass back to your lips. Jeonghan pouted slightly.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so mean to me.”

“You hired Mingyu because you knew exactly who he was. Tell me why that’s not enough reason to be mean to you, even if we leave out everything else you’ve done?”

Jeonghan clicked his tongue, standing back up, his back straight.

“You’re a smart woman, Y/N.” He looked at you, took in you body in the dress, let his eyes wander down your back and to your ass, to the way you had your thighs pressed together, shifting slightly on your feet. His eyebrows rose.

“Well, thanks. Now, leave me alone.”

“Should I really? You look like you could use some help.”

Your head turned to look at him and the knowing smirk on his lips nearly caused you to lose your footing.

“What are you talking about?” You shot at him, placing the glass back down.

Now, Jeonghan slowly leaned forward his mouth only inches from your ear. You hated the effect it had on you - how his breath on your neck suddenly intensified the throbbing in your core, how your nipples stiffened against the soft fabric of your dress.

“I have seen enough horny women to spot them from a mile away, darling.” He licked over his lips. “And I would not mind at all to get you out of this… unfortunate situation.”

As if to underline his statement, his fingers graced your back and you flinched slightly, eyes widening as you stared at him.

“I’m- I’m not-,”

“What? You’re not horny?” He tilted his head, fingers slowly traveling down, brushing against your ass. “I feel like that’s just a very bad lie, Y/N.”

Fuck. His touch truly made electricity shoot through your body. Your need for release was going to win the battle, you already knew. And when you dared to look over at Seungcheol, finding him still focused on his business talk, remembering it was his fault you were feeling this way, you knew there was absolutely no need for you to fight anymore.

“Just so you know, though,” you looked back at him, voice low for only him to hear, “I’m full of Seungcheol’s cum.”

It most definitely shouldn’t have made his cock twitch as hard as it did, hearing these words from you. Jeonghan moved closer to you, his fingers now finally finding their way between your legs. And, holy fuck, you truly were drenched.

“Only makes it wetter, who am I to complain?”

And then his fingers shoved your panties to the side, just like Cheol had earlier. He didn’t wait, didn’t hesitate, no, he just shoved them right into you, your body jerking forward a little, both of your hands holding onto the edges of the table to steady yourself.

“Now, now. Behave yourself,” Jeonghan whispered into your ear, his body placed behind yours, one arm leaning against the table. From an outsider's perspective it just looked like you two were having a very intimate conversation.

He worked his fingers quick and hard, your legs spreading even more for him. It almost made you angry how good he was. How he was about to make you cum with seemingly no effort at all.

“You like this? All these people around us?” His breath truly was going to get you over the edge. “Are you into people possibly catching you? Secretly want them to know what a pretty little whore you are, getting finger fucked in the middle of a million dollar deal?” His lips now met your nape and you literally felt your soul leave your body. Holding back your moan, your fingers cramped around the edges of the table, your hips meeting his thrusts as subtle as you could.

“Are you close, darling? About to cum all over my fingers, hm?” Now, he licked over your sweet skin, your eyes falling shut as you concentrated on the way his fingers hit your sweet spot over and over again, and only a few seconds later-

“Fuck, don’t stop”,” you cried as quietly as you could. The whimper you let out made Jeonghan rock hard in his pants. His eyes were looking down on where his fingers sunk into you at perfect speed, his own low moan making your orgasm rush over you, pussy pulsating around his fingers as he fucked you through it, his eyes glassy as he wondered how good you’d feel around his cock.

“Good girl, came so prettily on my fingers.” Pulling them out, he discreetly turned around, sucking them clean and seeing heaven. How could you smell and taste so goddamn perfect?

Your eyes slowly fluttered open again, relief washing over you when you saw that no one had noticed what had just happened. You cleared your throat and sat back up, drinking another big sip of wine.

“Come to my room,” Jeonghan’s hands were on your hips, his erection pressing against your ass. You hated the small cry stumbling over your lips.

“As much as I… appreciate your help, Jeonghan, I will not sleep with you.” You hoped your tone came across more serious than you actually felt about the statement. Jeonghan groaned lowly, bringing his forehead to your shoulder.

“I know how much you want me, darling. You were practically begging for my cock with your pussy. Fingers aren’t enough for you, you need to be filled with cock, need to be pumped full, that’s what you’re into, isn’t it? I can give that to you.”

His cock was so fucking hard against you. And even though you had just climaxed, your body burned with want. Still, this was Jeonghan. And you wouldn’t fuck him. You couldn’t.

“N-No. I- I don’t want you.” Pathetic. Everyone could tell you were lying. Especially Jeonghan. He chuckled now.

“Fine. I’ll be waiting, though. In case you, you know, change your mind.”

Then, he walked off. And you were desperately needing some fresh air.

You couldn’t catch a break that night.

Standing at the reiling of the balcony, staring out at the magnificent skyline of Singapore was Mingyu.

You wanted to turn around and leave, but just as you were about to, he moved his head, catching you in the corner of his eye. He immediately turned around, his eyes searching for yours.

“Y/N.” The way he said your name, so full of longing and hurt and love made your heart flutter and break at the same time.

“Mingyu.” You felt yet another lump forming in your throat.

He walked over now, his long legs bringing him to you in only three steps. For a minute, neither of you spoke. Only your eyes seemed to communicate. All the memories of the two of you played behind your eyes and you knew, deep down, you missed him.

“I- I wanted to call you so many times.” Mingyu finally broke the silence. You lowered your head.

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Don’t say that.” His hand was trembling as he placed it onto your cheek, bringing your head up to look at him again. “Don’t say that you didn’t miss me.”

Shit. Could he read your mind?

“I told you-,”

“Is it because of him?” The pain in his voice made you want to rip your ears out and throw them off the balcony. “Are you in love with him?”

“Mingyu, this-,”

“Answer me, Y/N. Are you in love with Seokmin?”

Wait, what?

“Seokmin?” You asked, your eyes blinking up at him.

“Yes. I saw the way you look at him. The way he looks at you. I walked out of my room earlier today and you were talking to him. He seemed… in pain. He looked just like how I felt.”

Your head began racing and so did your heart. In love with… Seokmin? Not Seungcheol? He didn’t ask you about Seungcheol, but Seokmin? Something seemed wrong and at the same time…

“I- I don’t know. Mingyu, I am… I am in no headspace to be in love with anyone.” You shook your head, grabbing his wrist with both of your hands and pulling his hand from your face. It almost killed you to see the look in his eyes.

“You felt something for me, didn’t you? You… you had feelings for me, right?” He was asking for too much. He might not know, but he did. Shaking off your hands, he now brought both his hands back to your face, taking a step closer to you.

“Tell me right now, Y/N, that you never had feelings for me. That I was never on your mind as more than just a friend with benefits. If you can’t tell me that, I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

The heart in your chest was about to stop. His words reminded you too much of Seokmin and what he had said before you had given into your longing. Everything inside of you screamed at you to say something, to tell him you never felt anything. But just like Seungcheol, you know he’d see right through your lies. So, you pressed your lips together and lowered your gaze.

“You can’t, can you?” Mingyu whispered, thumb caressing your cheek. Then, he dipped his head and kissed you, kissed you with all of his might, with his heart and soul, with all he could ever give you.

And for a moment, you let him. Let him kiss you, and kissed him back. Arms hanging down your body, but your eyes closed and your head tilted up. You let his tongue swirl around yours, let his hands grab your face like he never wanted to let go.

But then you remember Wonwoo. Remembers Chan. Remember what he’d lose and how foolish it would be of him to choose you over friendships. Remember that he might not even be the one you want, that your heart is torn and divided between three. So, you pushed him away.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just- I need to go.”

You turned away from him and ran, not caring when he called after you, not caring when your feet brought you back to the party and you downed another three glasses of wine.

And when you saw Jeonghan leave, it only took you five minutes to follow him up the elevator.

The knock on the door was drowned out by your own heartbeat. On a scale from one to ten, this was probably a ten on how dumb this decision was. And yet. Sleeping with Jeonghan would, (a) distract you from your pain and, (b) mean you had finished the Challenge after all. You allowed yourself to concentrate on those two arguments and bit down on your lip when the door finally swung open, revealing Jeonghan with his suit jacket discarded and the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

He looked absolutely angelic. Or as angelic as a devil could look, at least.

And the second he realized it was you, the angelic aura changed into the one of what he actually was. His grin made him almost look feral.

“I knew you’d come.” He said before pulling you against him, the door falling shut behind you. Your breath left your body and your eyes looked up at him, big and round, and Jeonghan wanted nothing more than to devour you.

“This doesn’t change the fact that I hate you,” you mumbled, eyes glued to his. His grin only grew.

“I always thought hate-sex to be the absolute best.”

His kiss made your body shake, your hands flying to his hair, digging your fingers into his scalp. His hands grabbed your thighs, lifting you up, your legs immediately finding their way around his waist. You could feel him against your core, your dress shoved up to your stomach.

He walked over to the bed, dropping you down onto it. You looked at him, eyes dark and mouth red, and he only grinned, flipping you over the next second. You let out a surprised yelp, which turned into a moan when you felt his lips on your nape, kissing down your back and down to the zipper of your dress, opening it with nimble fingers. Every inch of skin he set free, his lips found and kissed, shivers continuously running down your spine.

Together, you freed yourself of the dress, leaving you in only your ruined panties. Jeonghan stared down at you, at your perfect body on his bed, hair sprawled over the sheets, goosebumps on your skin. He kneeled down onto the bed, leaning over you and kissing down your back again, fingers caressing your sides as he moved.

Delicious moans escaped your throat, only making Jeonghan grow even harder in his pants. Kissing and licking his way down, he stopped at the waistband of your underwear, telling you to lift your hips. Said and done, he pulled the underwear off you, leaving you completely bare before him.

“God, aren’t you just beautiful, darling.” He licked over his lips, hands now groping your ass, making you cry out in pleasure. He groaned as well, the firm skin off your ass making his cock twitch. He quickly moved down, pushing your hips forward and heading face first into your soaked folds.

You let out a high-pitched moan when you felt his tongue on you, his nose bumping against your throbbing entrance. He devoured you like you were his favorite meal, hands still kneading your ass and thumb carefully pressing down on your rim. You jerked forward, pleasure shooting through your whole body like an electric shock. He chuckled against your folds, licking through your folds and finally letting his tongue thrust into your cunt, thumb applying more pressure against your rim.

“Oh, gods”, you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help when you came just then for the second time that evening, your orgasm rushing over you. Jeonghan was more than happy to collect your release with his tongue, your taste addicting. He thrusted his tongue back into you, only to pull back and move up, his tongue finding where his thumb had been before. Your fingers gripped the bedsheets and an even louder moan was heard throughout the room, having you hoping and praying the room was soundproof.

Jeonghan thrived on your sounds and continued his spiel, tongue flicking around your rim, getting it nice and wet, very slowly letting it sink into you, all while his right hand moved to your pussy, thumb finding your clit and circling it the same way his tongue was fucking into your rim.

“Fuck- fuck!” You saw stars around your head, saw your next orgasm only minutes away. Licking over your rim one more time, Jeonghan moved back, using his hands now to get rid of his own clothes.

“Who would have thought you like it up the ass, darling. What do you say? Should I prep you and fuck you pretty ass?” As if to underline his question, he slapped your asscheek, making you whimper.

“Y-yes, please, f-fuck,” your mind was clouded with desire and Jeonghan groaned, hands now getting rid of his pants and briefs, throwing them down to your clothes on the floor. Fully naked now, he let his fingers brush over your back again, finally grabbing ahold of your hair and pulling you up. You let out a breathless sound, pussy throbbing.

“Mhm, then I shall do just that… but first.” His hand grabbed around his cock, jerking it off a couple times before bringing it to your pussy and pushing into you. Your moans were music to his ears. You sounded even better than he had ever allowed himself to believe.

He began to fuck your pussy then, his hand still pulling your hair back as his hips moved against yours, his balls slapping against your ass over and over as he sped up his pace.

“Fuck, even with Seungcheol’s cum still inside you, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” He breathed against your ear, biting down on your earlobe. You shuddered and nodded, not entirely sure what you should say or if you even could at this point.

Jeonghan’s movements became more rapid, chasing your high more than his, knowing he was still going to get your ass and come all over it later. The thought alone almost made him spill into you, his cock twitching dangerously.

“Come on, darling, come on my cock. Don’t you want me to fuck your ass? Want me to spill all over it later, hm?”

As much as he would have loved to pump you full, he’d be more than happy with getting his load onto your body. You cried out, pussy pulsating as your third orgasm neared. And when Jeonghan brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles onto it harshly, black dots appeared in front of your eyes when you reached your high, cunt vibrating around Jeonghan as wave after wave of pleasure hit you.

“Yes, that’s right, come on my cock, my pretty little whore.” He fucked you through it, mouth hanging open as he watched the way his cock kept disappearing into you.

When he let go of your hair moments later, you fell down on youR hands and knees, your body still tingling from your orgasm. Jeonghan quickly got down from the bed and opened his suitcase, finding what he needed right then.

“Stay like that, darling.” He hurried to the bathroom, quickly dampening a towel and cleaning his cock of your juices. He might be an ass, but he still didn’t want to endanger you or him. Once he was done, he practically ran back to you, grabbing the lube he had put on the bed earlier.

“Be a doll and lay down, just your ass up in the air- exactly like that, good girl.” You found your head in the pillows, your breath ragged as you wiggled your hips. You really craved him inside you.

Jeonghan made good work of preparing you. Lube on your hole, on his fingers, slowly working you open enough for him to finally sink his aching cock into you.

And when he did, he swore he saw the gates of heaven.

“God, fucking hell,” he groaned, his nails digging into your lower back as he bottomed out. Your eyes rolled back and you felt yourself shiver from pleasure.

Doing his first thrust, Jeonghan almost felt himself spill right then and there.

“You feel so fucking good.”

One, two, three more slow thrusts and he felt like you were ready for what he needed. He tried his first harder and quicker thrust and you whimpered, shoving your hips against his.

“M-more.”

Oh, he was very willing to give you more. Placing his hands on your waist, he threw his head back and fucked into you hard and quick, your walls squeezing him so absolutely fucking perfect he almost believed it to be a dream.

“Fuck yeah, such a good girl, letting me fuck her ass like that.” He leaned forward, sinking even deeper into you and his head hung low as he couldn’t control his groans. His hips crashed against yours over and over, your body needing another release. And when your own finger found your clit, rubbing it desperately, you felt another blackout coming.

“Fuck, are you coming again?” Jeonghan bit down on his lip, eyes rolling back and he pulled out at the exact moment his cock squirted out his load, thick and white and looking like art on your perfect ass. You came just then, your body quivering and you fell forward onto the bed, Jeonghan collapsing right beside you, his chest heaving.

Five minutes, you told yourself. You were just going to give yourself five minutes before you’d leave to your own room.

Just that, when Jeonghan got up and got a towel to clean you up, five minutes hadn’t even been over and you were already fast asleep.

–

How easy it would be to blame it on the alcohol. But sadly, you hadn’t even been that drunk. Jeonghan was already awake when you sat up in his bed, the blanket pressed to your still naked body.

“Sleep well?” He asked over his shoulder. He had already showered, hair still a little wet.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You asked, ignoring that he was naked from the waist up and getting up. Big mistake, you realized, when you felt an ache in between your legs and… further back.

Jesus, you really let him fuck your ass.

“For what reason?” Jeonghan chuckled.

“Pretty sure people who had hate-sex don’t spend the night in each other’s rooms.” Mumbling, you searched for your clothes on the floor, growing slightly panicked when you didn’t find them.

“Look over there,” Jeonghan pointed at the closet, “your dress is in there. Your underwear, though, I fear that didn’t quite survive yesterday.”

The heat in your cheeks was almost laughable. Continuing to ignore him you grabbed your dress from the closet and quickly slipped into it, thankfully succeeding again to zip it up yourself.

“Well, uhm, I should go then.”

“Breakfast is already over downstairs, but I’d be happy to take you to my favorite brunch place.” Jeonghan smirked at you, knowing full well you were not going to accept his invitation.

“I think I’d rather starve, thank you very much.”

Funny thing, this timing.

Opening the door to Jeonghan’s room and stumbling out, your shoes dangling from your hand and your body still sore, you felt all the color wash away from your face.

Seungcheol, Seokmin and Mingyu all stood in the hallway, probably waiting for Jeonghan. Your breath got stuck in your throat, all their eyes set on you.

“You forgot your pur-,” Jeonghan came out after you now, his eyes immediately catching the three men standing there. His smirk came back when he handed you the handbag.

“Guys, I’ll be right there, just need to put on some shoes!” He winked at them and disappeared back into his room.

The sound of the door closing brought you back to the here and now. Without even second guessing it, you turned away from the three men who haunted your fragile heart and began walking to your own room.

Of course, they followed you.

Of course, they called your name.

And of course, they all stood there with their eyes on you as you looked for the keycard in your purse right outside your door.

“Please tell me you didn’t actually sleep with Jeonghan.” Seungcheol.

“Why would you do that? After the balcony, I- I thought…” Mingyu.

“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, please- please tell me this is not what it looks like.” Seokmin.

Fuck, your head was hurting.

Everything around you was a blur and you finally found the keycard, taking it out and pressing it against the pad, pushing the door open.

“Y/N!” All three said in unison. And finally, you turned and looked at them. One by one.

Mingyu, on the far right. Tall and handsome and with hurt on his face like you hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t you told him? That you weren’t good for him? That he deserved better? Yet, he was here, standing in front of you and still wanting you. Your heart squeezed inside your chest, in fact, all of your insides felt like they were squished together. Mingyu, who had given you a sense of normal, who had made you laugh, who had understood your desire to finish the challenge, who had stayed by your side and promised to wait for you.

Seungcheol, in the middle. Broad and beautiful and with sadness in his eyes you didn’t think he even had in him. In some twisted way, you knew he loved you. He wanted to be yours and was sure you were his. But he was also the reason you and Jiwoo weren’t friends anymore. He and his charm and the way he made butterflies erupt in your stomach whenever he touched you. He, who matched your energy and who wanted to take care of you.

Seokmin, on the left. Strong and pretty and just as pained as the other two. But there was more behind his eyes. More longing and regret, more needing to be reassured he hadn’t imagined all that had happened between you two. You weren’t stupid and you also weren’t blind. Of course, you had felt it too, of course the encounter at your place had been more than anything you had ever thought could happen to you. But you didn’t really know him, did you? Seokmin wanted to know you. He wanted to know every bit of you. Seokmin wanted to be with you, wanted to be what you needed at all times.

And you?

You, in front of them, took a slow step to the side with trembling lips and let them walk past you one by one into what would be the most important decision of your life.

taglist @ariachavez168, @sandcasltes, @amiga-qmilagraso, @learnthisfeeling, @cersti-mo0, @nixtape-foryou, @minahoeshi, @listxn, @starlight-night0, @havetaeminforbreakfast, @kwonranghae, @haogyuslut, @a-dramatic-girl, @lovercuff, @grapefruithan, @whyokoa, @lovercheol, @cosmicupoftea, @learnthisfeeling, @knucklesdeepmingi, @wonusworldd, @baldi-2, @seventeencaratworld, @kingalls00, @1-800-jeonwonwoo, @hoeforhao, @p-dwiddle-blog, @tsukimiyuukun, @urfavtallgirl222 @Jordand2012, @lcvejordyn, @Jeanjacketjesus, @gaebestie, @hara-98-fan, @human-wthout-dreams, @eburneon, @xiusmarshmallow, @spbrax, @speaknowlwt, @lvlyjisung @yogurttea, @novalpha, @woo8hao, @hgma @akemiixx01@tsukimiyuukun @volitina @haoxiaoba @justhere4kpop @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken, @miriamxsworld, @lexix001, @avyskai @punkhazardlaw, @lostmembrane @magicshop1913 @tigerhoshii @wonuskie, @myseokjinji, @mrtyhqr, @becarat, @f4airyjjosh, @taellien, @lovelyakane, @mauge92, @teeskz, @Kayjcozz, @xyren1, @jeonjungkaka, @nsfwseungcheol, @babybae-shisui, @djisfantastic, @wakandabiitch2, @mailight (if your user is crossed out, i means tumblr is a bitch and wont let me tag you)

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allthingsfangirl101 · 7 months ago

Text

*Perfect Revenge – Steve Harrington

Warnings: cheated on and cheating with, underage drinking, rough sex, unprotected sex, language

I walked around the house, not entirely sure whose house I was at. With my one and only beer in my hand, I roamed the house looking for my boyfriend. Johnathan and I have been together for about three months. This party was his idea. I'm not sure why he insisted on coming. He usually hated parties.

I headed down the hallway and opened random doors. I wish I had never checked the last door. I covered my mouth as I gasped when my eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Johnathan?!" I yelled when the shock wore off.

"Y/N," he stuttered. "It's not what it looks like."

"Really?" I scoffed. "So you're not fucking Nancy Wheeler?!"

"Y/N. . ."

"Shut up, bitch!"

I turned around and stormed out of the room. I ignored their calls and focused on getting out of there. My mind was racing as I rushed down the hallway. I gasped when I bumped into someone.

"Whoa," Steve laughed. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

"I'm fine," I said, slowly and softly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"I don't really believe you," he mumbled, "but anyway, have you seen Nancy?"

"Yes," I whispered. "But you're not gonna want to know."

"Why?" He paused. "Y/N," he elongated, "what's going on?"

I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. So instead, I pointed. He sent me a look before walking into the room I just left. I knew he was there when I heard Nancy gasp his name.

Wow. . . They didn't bother stopping.

When he reappeared in front of me, I could see the anger in his eyes. He looked at me and that anger softened.

"Let's go," he said through clenched teeth.

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" He said harshly. He cleared his throat and changed his tone. "I'm sorry, Y/N. When I said 'let's go', I meant let's get out of here before I beat your boyfriend's ass."

"Ex-boyfriend," I mumbled. "I mean I haven't actually broken up with him. He was a little. . . busy. But I think it's pretty obvious. Right?"

Steve smiled softly at me as he stepped closer and grabbed my hand. "Right," he whispered. "Let me try this again; wanna get out of here and go get a drink somewhere we aren't being cheated on?"

"I'd like that," I tried to laugh but my voice cracked. He intertwined our fingers and led me to his car. He turned it on but didn't leave the house.

"I don't know where to go," he mumbled.

"I know a place," I said softly.

"What do you mean? Neither one of us is twenty-one."

"My cousin owns a bar," I explained. "He'll serve us if you're with me."

"Good to know," he smirked.

As Steve drove us to my cousin's bar, I couldn't get the image of Johnathan and Nancy out of my head. I cleared my throat, trying to get the frog out of my throat.

"You okay?" He asked, pulling me out of my head.

"Nope."

"Me either."

When we got there, we got out of the car and headed inside. "Hey, Y/N," my cousin greeted us from behind the bar.

"We need a drink," I said, sitting on the bar stool in front of him. "Now."

"Wow," he laughed. "What's wrong with you two?"

"My boyfriend cheated on me tonight."

"Damn," he sighed as he instantly grabbed a glass and started making me my usual.

"With his girlfriend," I finished as I pointed at Steve.

"Double damn."

"Steve, this is my cousin, Mark," I introduced. "He's gonna get us drunk."

"Just don't tell anyone," Mark said, sending us a smirk. "What'll you have, Steve?"

* * * * *

About an hour later, Steve and I were deliriously drunk.

"What are we gonna do about this?" Steve drunkenly sighed.

"I don't know," I pouted. "But. . ."

"But what?" He asked when I didn't continue. He swiveled his stool toward me.

"But whatever we do. . ."

"Tell me, Y/N," Steve chuckled.

"Promise you won't judge me?" I asked.

"I promise," he said, crossing his heart.

"I want to make them hurt," I said, not meaning to make my voice sound darker. "I want to make them feel as shitty as we feel."

"What did you have in mind?" Steve smirked.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "We can't actually hurt them."

"True," he chuckled. "But we can do to them what they did to us."

"You mean. . ."

I held my breath as Steve grabbed my knees and spun me toward him. I gasped as he slowly slid his hands higher. I stopped focusing on how high his hands were going as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

As soon as my body flooded with endorphins, I grabbed his face and deepened the kiss. We scooted as close as we could get without falling off our stools. I gasped when Steve pulled on my legs, making my stool scoot closer to his. It still wasn't close enough to him so he slid off his stool. I moaned against his lips as he opened my thighs and stood between my legs.

"Steve," I moaned as soon as he broke the kiss and started kissing my neck. "Maybe we should. . . Don't you think. . ."

I gasped when he bit my neck, making me shiver with pleasure.

"Let's get out of here," I said quickly. Steve slowly pulled away with a dirty smirk on his face.

"I like the sound of that."

Without another word, Steve grabbed my hand and pulled me with him. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy as he led me to his car. We got in and started driving us somewhere. I didn't bother to ask him where we were going. The truth was, I didn't care where we were going.

I smirked when Steve pulled onto a hiking trail. My stomach flipped when I realized where we were going.

"I've always wanted to come here," I said under my breath.

"Johnathan never brought you to Skull Rock?" He asked, smirking in a way that made my whole body burn.

"He thought it was your spot," I whispered, "and he didn't want to run into you and. . . Nancy."

I looked away when I connected the dots and figured out the real reason he never wanted to come here. With tears in my eyes, I looked down and started playing with my fingers. I held my breath when Steve reached over and put his hand on top of mine.

"Let's not think about them," he whispered. "Besides, we're here."

I looked up to see Steve had parked. He got out and sent me a wink before opening my door for me. He grabbed my hand but I didn't go with him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his face dropping. "I thought you. . ."

I got out of the front seat but immediately turned and started getting in the back seat. Steve smirked as he leaned against the car.

"Y/N," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you know the whole point of Skull Rock is to make out at, on, and against Skull Rock?"

"I know," I shrugged. Steve swallowed hard when I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it into the front seat. "But what's the harm in getting started here?"

"Nothing," he said through clenched teeth. "Absolutely fucking nothing."

I laughed when he got into the back, instantly climbing on top of me. When he was straddling me, he tore his shirt off and tossed it toward mine. Steve made me gasp as he pressed his lips roughly to mine.

We didn't waste any time. Soon, we were only in our underwear, our bodies dancing against each other.

I gasped and arched my back when Steve leaned down and pressed his face between my breasts. I have never wanted to get rid of a piece of clothing as much as I have wanted to tear off my bra.

Luckily, Steve beat me to it. He slid his hand under my body and was able to undo it with one hand. The second he got it undone, I tore it off and tossed it somewhere.

"Fuck!" I moaned loudly as his lips wrapped around my nipple. "Shit, Steve Harrington," I moaned. "I used to hear about what you did to the girls you brought here."

I gaped when he roughly pulled away. He looked me straight in the eyes as he said, "All of them were nothing compared to you, gorgeous. They were just pointless and useless fucks. Not you."

Steve leaned down and smashed his lips onto mine. I ran my fingers through his hair, slightly pulling on strands until he groaned. When I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed the hem of his boxers and tore them down his thighs. The second he was free, I kicked off my underwear.

Before either one of us could really think this through, I opened my legs and Steve positioned himself. I gasped, breaking the kiss and arching my back when he pushed into me. Things sped up as our lips moved in sync as our bodies danced. We did different things, changing whenever we made the other moan.

We lost track of time as we only focused on each other. Out of the different sexual experiences I've had, Steve Harrington was something else.

"I know why all the girls at school call you the King of Hawkins High," I moaned. My moan turned into a gasp when he pulled out of me.

Steve chuckled as he leaned down and returned his face to my favorite spot. "Fuck," I groaned as he started massaging my breast with his mouth.

Without moving his mouth, Steve grabbed my leg and wrapped my thigh around his waist. I swore under my breath when he was able to push back into me while making out with my chest.

"Oh Steve," I moaned. I grabbed his face and brought it back to mine. Our lips instantly started devouring each other and our tongues battled for dominance.

"Squeeze," he moaned into my mouth.

"Harder," I moaned back. It seemed like we both held our breaths as we fulfilled the other's request. We let out releasing moans as we gave into our rising orgasms.

As we slowly pulled apart, we looked into each other's eyes. The butterflies went crazy as he reached up and moved some hair out of my face. I wanted to say something sweet, something to tell him how much the night meant to me, but nothing came to mind. So instead, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Guess we never made it to Skull Rock."

* * * * *

After Steve and I got our revenge, he drove me home and I figured it would end there.

It didn't.

A couple of days later, I was in my room finishing my report when someone knocked on my window. I looked up and my heart jumped in my throat.

"Steve?" I panicked. I quickly stood up, went to my window, and opened it. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he shrugged like it was obvious. I watched as he climbed through my window.

"Why?" I couldn't help but ask. When Steve turned around, he grabbed my waist and pulled me into his chest.

"Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he said, his voice low. "You, my backseat, and the hiking trail parking lot half a mile from Skull Rock."

I moaned when he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. Without breaking the kiss, Steve walked us toward my bed. We gasped, slightly chuckling as we fell backward.

Instead of kissing me again, he stopped. He reached over and moved some hair out of my face.

"You really haven't stopped thinking about me?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Of course not," he whispered. "I have thought about absolutely everything that happened that night."

"Everything?"

"Well, not everything," he smirked. "But only the important parts."

"Like?" I baited. I moaned when he slipped his hand under my shirt, searching for my breast. When he squeezed, I let out another moan.

"Like the feel of your skin against mine," he started listing off. "Like the feel of your body underneath mine. Like the feeling of my lips on your skin. Like the feeling of other body parts pressed and intertwined."

"But what about. . ." I started to ask but couldn't get myself to finish it.

"I broke up with her after I dropped you off."

"Wait, what?" I asked, slightly readjusting under him. He sat up and pulled me with him.

"After I took you home the other night," he explained, "I went by her house. She wasn't there, so I waited. The second she got home, I went to talk to her. I demanded answers and asked her about her and Johnathan. I won't tell you. . ."

"Please," I cut him off. "Tell me."

Steve sighed as he reached up and moved a piece of hair behind my ear. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he started, "but they've been hooking up for months."

"Months?"

He slowly nodded. "Wow," I whispered as I looked down.

"I know this sucks," he said gently, "but it's a blessing in disguise."

"How?" I asked, my voice breaking. Steve used his finger to lift my head. Without saying anything, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

"Because it got us together," he whispered as he broke the kiss and kept his forehead pressed to mine. "It made me realize that you are so much better for me than Nancy Wheeler."

"Really?" I asked, the butterflies from a couple of days woke up. He didn't kiss me. Instead, he started kissing my jaw. I felt the hickeys form as he explored my neck.

"What did you say?" I stuttered, trying to get my head back on straight.

"What do you mean?" He moaned against my collarbone.

"The other night," I barely got out, "with Nancy."

"Oh yeah," he smirked as he pulled away. "I ended it. I also told her you and Johnathan were over so she could have him." His smirk dropped. "Was that okay?"

"Yes," I said softly. "It is. Besides, those two cheaters deserve each other."

Steve leaned in but didn't press his lips to mine. Instead, he whispered, "Just like how we deserve each other."

"You really believe that?"

To answer me, Steve closed the gap between us and kissed me. I ran my fingers through his hair as our lips moved in sync. We broke the kiss with matching moans.

"I really do," he whispered. "I know Johnathan hurt you. And honestly, I want to beat the shit out of him for making you cry. But I won't do that. Instead, I'll get back at him by treating you better. Way better, Y/N. The way you deserve to be treated. I promise."

Steve put his hand on my stomach and laid me down, hovering over me. I arched my back when he started kissing and biting my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut as he explored my skin.

"Have you ever done it in the shower?" I asked between moans. Steve pulled away and smirked down at me. "I've never done it, but I hear it's pretty amazing."

"It's fucking unbelievable," he growled, grinding his body against mine. "I can show you the ropes."

"Ropes?" I teased. "Is that your kink, Harrington?"

"Not really," he shrugged teasingly. "My kink is more sneaking around and doing it when and where I know I shouldn't."

"Well then," I moaned as I slid my hands under his shirt and started slowly unbuttoning his pants. "I can show you the ropes."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #joe keery #joe keery smut

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notsopersonalcharlie · 7 months ago

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Work Divorce - The Interlude

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader angst (with a happy ending of course)

Summary: The bridge of Work Divorce

Notes: I was feeling the angst. Obviously we all know how this ends, but enjoy! Gif is not mine

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Aaron,” you repeated. Your said it what felt like a hundred times since you got off the jet. Aaron was driving, his knuckles white on the wheel, eyes straight ahead.

“We have to talk about this.” He was still just as angry as you were, his lips pressed into a line. Your arms were crossed over your chest, knees pointed away from him, eyes out the side window. It didn't take a profiler to figure that one out.

“No! I’m upset and I’m angry and nothing I say right now will be at all productive! Leave me alone!” Your nose tickled with the precursor to tears and you swallowed around the lump that had remained in your throat since Aaron helped you out of the cave. Your eyes stung with tears and you closed them, letting the little lurch in the road at the end of your street remind you that you were almost home.

“No!” Aaron could be difficult to argue with. He brought every lawyer skill he had to your screaming matches.

“Fuck you, Hotchner. You wouldn’t let me do something and it resulted in two people dying. I have every right to be fucking furious.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have every right to ignore me! We’re supposed to talk about things.” Aaron pulled the car into the driveway, parking outside the garage since your car was inside.

“That is not fucking fair right now and you know it. If we were supposed to talk about things you wouldn’t have shut me down at the station.” You slammed the door to the car, harder than needed but driving home a point. You stalked to the front door as Aaron locked the car and brought in your bags.

“You were putting yourself in danger.” You turned around once the door to your house was closed, trapping the sound of your screaming.

“That’s our fucking JOB Aaron. You have to deal with that. You put yourself in danger all the fucking time. I have to be able to do my job!” You snatched your bag from his hands and stormed upstairs, once again unnecessarily slamming the bedroom door shut. You stewed for a moment, taking deep breaths and staring at the bed the two of you had left unmade on the way to work almost two weeks ago. You heard Aaron's footsteps near the door and then they carried away into the house. You dropped your bag where you always did in the closet, tossing the dirty clothes into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom.

Aaron finally came in when you were done showering and had laid down in the bed face first. You couldn’t get that poor girl off your mind. It was a process, you both knew it, but it took time.

“I don’t want to be near you right now,” you huffed when he sat down on the bed.

“Where am I supposed to go, huh?” His hand traveled closer to you on the bed, a peace offering. You tucked your hand under your chest, turning your head away from him.

“Jack has a bed.”

“It’s for a seven year old.”

“Go away.”

“Fine.” He got up and set down his bag beside your. He had packed the dirt stained clothes you were wearing in the cave into his own bag on your way out of town and he dropped it into the basket before taking it out to wash. You didn't move.

The laundry kicked on and Aaron returned, heading straight to the bathroom. He showered and put clothes on in the closet. As he walked out, he paused in the doorway, hand on the doorframe and muttered softly, "I love you."

You were laying on your back now, staring at the lines in the ceiling.

"I love you too." He tapped the doorway once, like he was deciding to continue, but thought better of it and continued out.

The sun had set a long while before when you got up to turn out the lights and get ready for bed. Your footsteps must have clued him in, because Aaron came up the stairs slowly and louder than normal as if to announce his presence.

"Can I come back now?" You turned from where you were moving the pillows around and fixing the blankets.

"Yeah... I guess." He let out a little sigh that made your lips twist into a small smile. He sat down on his side of the bed, plugging his phone in to charge.

"Can we finish fighting tomorrow? I'm exhausted." The tiny curve in your lips turned into a full smile and you snorted a laugh.

"Me too. C'mere." You flopped onto the bed, Aaron pulling the covers up around the both of you and pressing his face into your shoulder. He slept nuzzled into you like you were his missing piece every night he could, and he had never slept better before he met you.

"I'm still mad," you whispered into his damp hair.

"I know. Me too."

"We can fight more tomorrow." He nodded a little bit, his breaths already steadying. You thought he was asleep after a few minutes of quiet, your mind still replaying the case over in your head.

"I'm sorry." Your heart beat must have jumped because he ran a soothing hand over your waist where it was tucked under your pajama shirt.

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too."

-/-/-/-/-

You woke up after Aaron, as always. You were still mad, though now it was tamped down with layers of logic. You had known all along that this day was coming. There had been moments of it, when you were just getting together, and right before your wedding, but there had never been a time where it was solely up to Aaron to decide if you went into danger or not. It had been years, and you had let it go when he decided to keep you in the station or sent you to the crime scene instead of after an unsub. You knew it was coming all along though.

Aaron had already left for work, but your lunch was packed in the fridge and there was coffee left for you, but no note.

You arrived not much later than him, said a good morning to Reid, who was usually first in the office after the two of you. He looked as exhausted as you felt and you plopped down at your desk to complete your paperwork from the case.

The whole team had filtered in by the time you got through it. Not because it was actually difficult to complete, but because you were still replaying the girl's voice. 'Why didn't you come?' echoed in your head and your rage had returned. You stood up, maybe more abruptly than you needed to given Emily's little jump, and you took a deep breath before stalking up the stairs towards Aaron's office.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the whole team looking at you with wide eyes.

Aaron looked up from the files on his desk

"Wha- Oh." You closed the door behind you, crossing your arms.

"Back to fighting," you started, "Because I could have saved her, and I could have gotten him to turn himself in. He wa-"

"You have no idea if he would have stepped down. He could have tried to take you instead." Your cheeks heated up.

"I am not some precious little thing you have to keep safe! I have to be able to do my job just like you and all the rest of the agents on your team!" He stood up from his desk, leaning forward braced by his hands, his face drawn into a scowl.

"You are something precious I have to protect. There was no way of knowing if he was being serious about his demands and if you had gone in without a weapon and he had one..." He didn't deign the result with an explanation.

"This isn't working, Aaron." He stared at you, the sudden stillness in his limbs and chest only lasted two or three blinks, but you'd done it on purpose, remind him what he was actually fighting with.

"You don-"

"No. I don't." You wanted to kiss him for the relief that washed across his face, the relaxing of his shoulders, the slight shocked blinking.

"I do mean though that I can't stay on this team. I can't let you restrict my instincts and I can't tell you to fight yours."

"I was afraid you'd say that." He pointed to the chair across from him with his chin and you sat down at the same time as him.

"I think it's time to cash in that promotion I have been putting off." He nodded, leaning forward.

"I'm sorry. I know you love this job." You smirked, leaning across his desk till your noses were near touching.

"I love you more."

#notsopersonalcharlie #charliewrites #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner angst #hotch x reader #hotch angst #hotch imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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pucksandpower · 11 months ago

Text

Bet on It

Charles Leclerc x Marko!Reader

Summary: Charles will do anything for you to finally give him the time of day … even if that means betting on himself to pull off the impossible in exchange for a date with you

“Charles, don’t even start,” you raise your hand to stop him before he can get the words out.

His mouth closes and he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, like a sad little boy who just got told he can’t have ice cream before dinner.

You have to resist the urge to laugh. Does he really think that’s going to work on you? You’ve seen that look a hundred times before, whenever you turn him down for a date.

Which is every time he’s asked.

“Come on, Y/N,” he pleads. “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking for.”

You shake your head, arms crossed over your chest. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. That tousled mop looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in days. Somehow he manages to make the just-rolled-out-of-bed look work.

“Give me one good reason why not,” he challenges.

“I’ll give you three,” you fire back. “One, you’re an F1 driver, which means you have an ego the size of a not-so-small country. Two, you’re my team’s biggest rival. And three, you’re a player.”

He puts a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Moi? I would never.”

You fix him with a pointed stare and his innocent act crumbles.

“Okay fine, maybe I used to be,” he admits. “But I’m not like that anymore. I’m ready to settle down, and I want to do that with you.”

“Uh huh, sure you are,” you say skeptically. “I’m not some pitlane groupie. I don’t just fall all over myself for handsome drivers with dreamy eyes.”

His face lights up. “You think I have dreamy eyes?”

You feel your cheeks flush. Crap. You did not mean to let that slip out.

“That’s not the point,” you say quickly. “The point is, the answer is no. It’s always going to be no. So you can stop asking me out already.”

You turn on your heel to walk away, but he reaches out and gently grabs your wrist. You pause, looking back at him.

“Just one date,” he says again, green eyes boring into yours. “Give me a chance to prove myself. If you don’t have a good time, I’ll never ask you out again.”

You consider his offer. One date, that’s all he’s asking for. And really, what’s the harm? It’s not like you have to marry the guy if you go to dinner with him once.

Still … this is Charles Leclerc you’re dealing with. Who knows what kind of charms and flirtatious tricks he’d pull out to try and win you over? You know you find him attractive — those eyes really are dreamy — but getting involved with him would be messy, to say the least. Your grandfather would flip.

“I don’t think so,” you say firmly. “Like I already told you, it’s not going to happen.”

His face falls. For a second you feel a twinge of guilt. He looks so dejected. But then that spark of mischief is back in his eyes. Uh oh. You know that look. The wheels are turning. He’s got an idea.

“Okay, how about we make this interesting,” he says slowly. “If I win the race this weekend, you have to go on a date with me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Is he serious right now?

“Let me get this straight … you want to make a bet involving the outcome of the race, when it’s at the Red Bull Ring, our team’s home track, where Max has won four times in the last six seasons? With the rocket ship of a car that is the RB20?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “I never said it was a sure thing. But if I manage to pull it off, then you have to hold up your end of the bargain.”

You consider his proposition. On the one hand, the chances of him winning in the Ferrari this weekend are not great. Statistically, Max is the clear favorite. So there’s really no risk of you actually having to go on a date with Charles.

On the other hand, you have to admit the idea is intriguing. And knowing Charles beat the odds to win would be kinda hot ...

Wait, what are you thinking? Get it together, Y/N! This is a terrible idea.

But before you can talk yourself out of it, you hear yourself saying, “Alright, you’re on.”

A wide grin spreads across Charles’ handsome face. “Yeah? We have a bet then?”

You nod, already wondering if you’ve made a huge mistake. “Yep. But don’t look so cocky. The chances of you winning are like a million to one.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wink. Then he glances down at his watch. “I better go. See you in part fermé after the race.”

He turns and saunters off. You watch him go, heart sinking. What on earth have you just agreed to?

***

Your stomach is in knots on race day. You tried to play it cool in front of Charles, but the truth is, you are desperately hoping he does not win this race. One date with him and you know you’ll be a goner. You’re already more attracted to him than you want to admit.

You watch from the Red Bull garage as the cars go around on the formation lap. Charles is starting P5, with Max on pole. The odds are heavily in the World Champion’s favor.

But still … plenty of drivers have won from worse positions. And this is Charles Leclerc you’re talking about. When he sets his mind to something, he’s unstoppable.

The red lights go out and Max gets a clean start, streaking away into the lead. Charles has a decent launch off the line too, but he can’t challenge Max going into turn 1. He slots into P5 behind Lando Norris as they thunder down the straight for the first time.

Your grandfather shoots you a look from across the garage, one eyebrow quirked. He knows about the bet. He wasn’t exactly thrilled when you told him, but amusement seemed to win out over anger in the end. Probably because he’s just as confident as you are that Charles has no chance today.

The race unfolds lap after lap. Max opens up a huge gap while fighting rages behind him. Charles battles with the Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton, exchanging positions several times. By lap 20, Charles is up to P4, having pulled off a stellar overtake around the outside of turn 7.

Half distance comes and goes. Charles is closing in on Checo and George Russell ahead of him. He’s clearly got the bit between his teeth today. You watch with bated breath as he pulls alongside the Red Bull and Mercedes into turn 4, the three drivers going wheel to wheel with barely any room to spare. Charles emerges ahead and suddenly he’s P2.

Your grandfather shoots you another look. “He’s on the podium,” he remarks.

You bite your lip. You don’t need the reminder. Ugh, you knew you shouldn’t have agreed to this.

With 15 laps to go, Max’s engine unexpectedly lets go in a plume of smoke. Your grandfather curses while the Red Bull mechanics stare at the screens in disbelief. Charles swoops through into P1 with Checo behind him, the Ferrari now running up a solid lead.

Barring disaster, Charles is going to win this race. Which means you’re going to have to go on a date with him.

You watch the final laps tick down with growing dread. The checkered flag waves and the Ferrari garage erupts in celebration. Charles pulls the car to a stop and rips off his helmet, beaming from ear to ear. Even from here you can see the pure joy and elation on his face.

He jumps out of the cockpit and is immediately mobbed by his team. You try to slip away unnoticed, but one of the Ferrari press officers flags you down.

“Charles wants to see you for the podium celebration,” he says.

You close your eyes briefly in defeat. There’s no getting out of this now. Slowly you follow the man out to the cool down room. Charles is just coming out, still flushed with victory. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“I told you I could do it,” he crows, pulling you into an exuberant hug before you can protest. He smells like petrol and sweat.

“Yeah, yeah, congratulations,” you mumble into his race suit.

He grins down at you. “Don’t look so sad. I promise you’ll have fun.”

You force a smile, but inside your heart is sinking. One date with Charles and you know you’ll never be able to resist him again.

The podium passes in a blur. You manage to avoid any interviews, not trusting yourself not to say something you’ll regret on camera. Like what a cocky, arrogant, too-handsome-for-his-own-good flirt Charles is.

After what feels like an eternity of spraying champagne and cheering crowds, Charles finally finds you again. His hair is still damp and curled wildly from the celebratory drink.

Charles playfully wipes a splash of sparkling wine from your cheek, his touch lingering for a moment.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

You just shake your head, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. His joy is infectious.

“I believe you owe me a date,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself.

You sigh, resigned to your fate. “I guess I did make a deal. When do you want to do this?”

“No time like the present.” He glances at his watch. “I’ll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.”

Your eyes widen. Tonight? You were hoping to have a little more time to mentally prepare yourself. But before you can object, he leans in and presses a swift kiss to your cheek.

“See you tonight, Y/N.”

Then he’s gone, strolling back to the Ferrari garage like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, your heart is thudding against your ribs. You touch your cheek where his lips branded your skin.

You just hope you have the strength not to give in to his charms completely. One date. That’s it. You are not going to fall for Charles Leclerc.

No matter how dreamy his eyes are.

***

The doorbell rings at 7pm sharp. You take a deep breath and smooth down your dress before opening the door.

Charles stands there looking unfairly handsome in a sharp charcoal suit. His eyes light up when he sees you.

“Wow,” he says, gaze traveling appreciatively over you. “You look amazing.”

You feel yourself blush. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He grins and offers you his arm. “Shall we?”

You loop your hand through his elbow and let him lead you to his car. He opens the door for you like a true gentleman. This sweet, chivalrous side is one you’ve never seen before. Already he’s subverting your expectations.

During the drive, Charles asks you questions and listens intently to your answers. He’s completely focused on you, making you feel like the most fascinating person in the world. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, a lovely Italian place near the city center, you’re feeling much more at ease.

Dinner passes enjoyably with playful, flirtatious conversation. Charles has you laughing one minute and blushing the next with his charm and undivided attention. He seems to know just what to say to make you smile. Not an ounce of cockiness or ego shows through.

After you polish off a shared tiramisu, Charles suggests a walk through the nearby park. You happily agree. As you stroll beneath the trees, he tentatively reaches for your hand. When you thread your fingers through his, the smile that lights up his face melts your heart.

You talk softly, learning more about each other. He asks thoughtful questions and shares things about himself that surprise you. Like his close relationship with his family, his secret talent for cooking (which you don’t believe for a second), and his love for composing music.

When he shyly admits he’s never felt this way about anyone before, you don’t doubt his sincerity for a moment. He means every word.

Too soon you’ve looped back to where you started and flag down the valet before making the drive back to the hotel. Charles walks you to your door, still holding your hand like he never wants to let go.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you say softly.

“Me too.” He moves closer, searching your eyes. “I’d really like to see you again.”

Your breath catches at his closeness and the intensity in his gaze. The wise thing would be to end this now before it goes any further. But his hopeful, heart eyes crumble your resolve.

“I’d like that too,” you whisper.

A smile blooms on his face right before he leans in and kisses you. It’s soft and sweet, sending tingles down to your toes. When he pulls back, eyes shining, you know you’re a goner.

One date turns into two, then three, then suddenly you’re spending every weekend together, traveling between races. Charles goes out of his way to meet up with you, even when it means long flights in between events. Holding you in his arms seems to be the only thing that matters.

When he shyly asks you to be his girlfriend, you don’t hesitate a second before saying yes. The kiss he gives you leaves no doubt about his happiness.

Your grandfather is wary at first, but Charles is relentless, assuring him at every chance how deeply he cares about you. Eventually Helmut accepts that the man gazing at you like you hung the stars is nothing like the flirtatious playboy he assumed.

This is the real Charles — sweet, thoughtful, and absolutely devoted.

The two of you become inseparable. Charles arrives at every race with your hand clasped in his, making sure to greet your grandfather before and after with a handshake and sincere well wishes. He stays close through successes and disappointments, as you become his steadfast supporter.

At night you lay tangled together, talking late into the darkness. He whispers secrets no one else knows and you bare your soul in return. You’ve never felt more understood by someone. In his arms is your favorite place in the world.

When he shyly gives you a key to his Monaco apartment, tears fill your eyes. Calling it home feels as natural as breathing.

Whenever you walk through the door, his eyes light up like you’re the answer to every prayer. He sweeps you into his arms, holding you close as he whispers “I missed you.”

Charles looks at you like he’s seeing his future. “I want this forever,” he murmurs against your lips.

You look into those watercolor eyes and know you never stood a chance at resisting. “Me too.”

***

The new season kicks off and you’re thrilled to be back in the paddock with Charles. The only downside is having to part ways when you reach the garages, going to opposite sides of the divide.

You’ve gotten used to your Red Bull team gear. The colors are familiar, almost comforting. Charles has gently brought up the idea of you wearing Ferrari red instead, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. That would feel like the ultimate betrayal.

Charles accepts your decision with his usual grace. He knows how difficult this situation is for you, caught between loyalties. But the gleam in his eye tells you he hasn’t given up on swaying you yet.

Sure enough, as Monza approaches, Charles issues a new challenge.

“If I win our home race, you have to wear Ferrari merch next time,” he coaxes, punctuating his request with a kiss.

You pretend to think about it. “Hmm, I guess I could do that.” Seeing his smile light up melts your reluctance.

Charles takes pole position on Saturday, amping up the pressure. Still, you’re not too worried. Max has this in the bag.

Famous last words. You really should have learned better the first time.

Only Max doesn’t have it in the bag. Charles drives a flawless race and takes the victory, the Tifosi crowd exploding with delirious joy. Charles standing proudly atop the podium in front of the sea of fans is a sight you’ll never forget.

Now you have to hold up your end of the bargain.

The next race weekend you show up with a red Ferrari team shirt stretched across your shoulders, a matching cap gracing your head. You feel like a fraud, but a deal’s a deal.

You’re trying to sneak through the paddock unnoticed when a reporter flags you down.

“Y/N, care to explain the new look?” She asks, eyeing your outfit.

You shift awkwardly, grasping for words. “Oh, um, well ...”

Before you can formulate a response, an excited voice interrupts. “That’s my girl!”

Charles appears out of nowhere and throws an arm around you, beaming at the camera.

“Everybody’s a Ferrari fan.” He declares. “Even if they say they’re not, they are Ferrari fans.”

He emphasizes this point by planting a kiss directly on your mouth. You flush crimson but can’t help smiling against his lips.

Pulling back, he winks and shoots the camera a million dollar grin. “She looks good in red, no?”

With that he steers you away, leaving the reporter chuckling behind you.

“You’re terrible,” you scold Charles, but you’re laughing too.

He just grins and kisses your temple. “Maybe so, but I’m your terrible boyfriend who you love very much, yes?”

You roll your eyes but snuggle closer into his side. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Tomorrow you’ll be back in dark blue, but right now, wrapped in Charles’ embrace and seeing how happy it makes him, you can’t bring yourself to mind the color change too much.

Maybe eventually you’ll get used to alternating depending on whose garage you’re watching from that day. It seems Charles Leclerc has more sway over you than you ever could have imagined, enough to override even a lifetime of team loyalties.

And, as he looks at you like you’re the only woman on earth, you can’t find it in yourself to regret that fact one bit.

***

After the stunt Charles pulled with the interview, you decide turnabout is fair play. An idea starts forming, bringing a devious smile to your lips. Time for a little payback.

You bide your time, waiting for the perfect moment. Finally, an off weekend arrives where Charles is staying at your place. When he goes out to run errands on Saturday morning, you set your plan in motion.

A quick trip to Agent Provocateur provides the supplies you need. After Charles leaves, you slip into the dressing room and emerge wearing a sexy red lace teddy that leaves little to the imagination.

Checking yourself in the mirror, you make a few adjustments. The color is Ferrari red through and through. Charles’ eyes are going to bug out of his head when he sees you in this.

You hear the front door open right on cue. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls.

“In here!” You reply, reclining casually across the bed. You arrange yourself in a tempting pose and wait.

A moment later Charles appears in the doorway, loaded down with his own shopping bags. When he spots you, he freezes, jaw dropping. The bags tumble unheeded to the floor.

You bite your lip coyly. “Welcome home.”

“What … I … you …” Charles stammers, eyes round as saucers as they rove over you. He seems incapable of forming a coherent thought.

You toss your hair back with exaggerated nonchalance. “Oh this old thing? Just trying on some new clothes. What do you think?”

Charles makes a strangled noise, still rooted to the spot.

You take pity on him and pat the bed. “Why don’t you come over here and show me how much you like it?”

That snaps him out of his stupor. In two strides he’s across the room, mouth capturing yours hungrily. You melt into his kiss, winding your arms around his neck.

When you finally come up for air, his eyes are blazing. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You trail a fingertip down his chest. “Payback for your little stunt.”

He grins sheepishly. “Okay, I deserved that. But this ...” His heated gaze travels over you again. “You look incredible. Only one thing would make it better ...”

He hurries over to his gear bag, rummaging excitedly. With a flourish, he produces his cap, a large 16 prominently embroidered on the front. Plopping it on your head, he steps back to admire the effect.

“Perfect,” he declares. Taking your hand, he tugs you to the full length mirror.

The vision staring back makes you catch your breath. The red teddy clinging to every curve, paired with Charles’ cap tilted rakishly on top of cascading hair … you have to admit it’s hot. No wonder Charles looks ready to combust.

His arms slide around you from behind, lips finding that sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Have I mentioned how sexy you look in red?” He murmurs.

You tilt your head to give him better access, sighing with pleasure. “Mmm, I think you better show me some more.”

Charles grins against your skin. “With pleasure.”

Scooping you up, he deposits you back on the bed and proceeds to worship every inch of the tantalizing red lingerie with hands, lips, and devoted words.

By the time he finally peels it off you, the teddy is a tattered scrap. But the awed look in his eyes makes it clear the effect is unforgettable.

Laying wrapped in each other’s arms afterward, you kiss the tip of his nose playfully. “So I take it you liked your surprise?”

“Liked it?” He shakes his head in wonder. “I absolutely loved it. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You snuggle into his chest, satisfied. “Well in that case, expect to see more Ferrari red in my collection in the future.”

His eyes light up. “You’re going to be the death of me. But what a way to go.”

You’ll have to add some rosso corsa to your closet. Not that you mind.

A small price to pay to see that look in his eyes, like you’re the answer to his wildest fantasies come true.

2K notes · View notes

asscaverns · 7 months ago

Text

Long Time Coming - Daryl Dixon x FEM!reader

Synopsis: Reader and Daryl have been together for a long time, but have never been able to have sex. 3.8k words

minors dni/18+

Warnings: smut, fluff. So much praise! Oral f!receiving. Protected sex (kinda? they use a condom but it's expired bc duh). Daryl cums fast. I've never written smut before, I've never published anything either so go easy on me. Probably OOC Daryl. Not great writing, sorry.

“It’s quiet,” Daryl starts from his position on the couch, one of his legs propped up on the coffee table.

“Yeah, it’s a little unsettling. Even back in the prison there was always growling, or Beth singing, or Carol snoring all night,” you joke lightly mimicking her snores. You plopped down on the couch next to him and leaned into him, making him put an arm around your shoulders. “It feels safe though, yeah? Safest I've felt since the outbreak at least,” you wonder out loud, trying to gauge his feelings of your new home.

“Yeah, I guess,” he pauses. “Just feels like I'm waiting for the shoe, y'know.”

“The other shoe?” You ask, laying your hand on his knee, glancing up at him.

“Mhm, waitin’ for the shoe to drop.”

You hum in understanding. “I think. . .” you trailed off thinking of your next words carefully, “I think, there’s no use in just sittin around and waiting. Maybe we should enjoy what we have, while we have it.”

He sat up and turns to look at you like you were crazy. “And what? What about when these picket fence bastards decide we’re not good enough, we don’t contribute enough, or whatever the hell other reason they decide is fit enough to throw us to the wolves? We just let them blindside us?” he seemed incredulous.

“No, honey, of course not. I’m just saying,” you take a deep breath trying to make sure you are clear. “This is maybe our last chance, our only chance, to live a life without running from the dead every damn day. We got used to that, it was, or maybe it still is, our new normal, but this can be too.”

“I understand, sweetheart, I'm just. . .” he trails off.

“Nervous? On edge?” you finish for him after a moment.

“You could say that,” he answers, picking up a cup of water off the coffee table, taking a sip, and sitting it back down, then leaning back onto the couch and throwing an arm over your shoulder again.

“I know. You run for your life, hunker down in empty houses, broke down cars, and caves for lord knows how long. Next thing you know, someone offers you not only a home, but a house? To ourselves? And food, water, walls and defenses, plus people patrolling 24/7? It’s a big change, but this is the safest we’ve been for a while. I just think we should enjoy it while we can. We can stay on edge, sleep with a gun under our pillow or whatever, but we should enjoy what we have while we have it. We can live here for a while, when shit hits the fan we can run, like we always have.”

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right, y/n,” he admits, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Kinda boring though, innit? This whole ‘american dream’ life.”

You glanced at him and saw a small smile. “Boring?” you giggle, “I can think of something to entertain us.” You slide your hand from your lap over to his, putting your hand back on his knee and sliding it half way up his thigh.

“Yeah? What’s that sweetheart?” He questions innocently, but you can see the way his cheeks are redder than earlier, and you can see the way he looks at your lips.

You jumped up and offered him your hand with a wink, “Come with me and I'll show you.”

“Don’ need to ask me twice,” he jumped to his feet, grabbing your hand and letting you lead him up the stairs and into the bathroom. You open the door with your spare hand and spin around pulling at his shirt and winking at him.

“Oh I get it, you just want to see me naked, don’ ya?” Daryl teased, pulling his t-shirt off.

“You know I do, baby,” you flirted, grabbing his naked waist and pulling him closer for a moment, before pushing him away and leaning over to start the water, Daryl taking the opportunity to smack your ass. You giggle and turn around with your finger pointed, ready to scold him jokingly, but he grabs your hips before you can. He yanks you into his chest and kisses you hard, trying to slip his tongue into your mouth.

“At least let me get in the shower first, you horny bastard!” You laugh at him and pull away, yanking your shirt over your head and pulling your pants down and off. You feel the water to test its temperature and upon deciding it warm enough, you turn around to see him still in his pants. You reach towards his belt and pull on it, “You joining? Or are you gonna stand there and watch?”

“I’m happy to watch but I’d much rather join,” he responds, watching you step into the warm water. He tugs his belt undone and his pants down while you turn and let the water run over you.

Truth is, you were a little nervous, you knew what you were initiating. Sure you’d spent most of the apocalypse together, started ‘dating’ not long after arriving at the prison. Though you’d never officially talked labels, it’s been long assumed, by you and the rest of the group, that you were together. So, you’ve been ‘together’ a long time, but despite that you’d never really gone farther than oral or handjobs. If you’d had the time, then you hadn’t had the solitude. If you’d had the solitude, then you hadn’t had the safety. If you’d had the safety, then you hadn’t had the time. It had worked out fine, in the midst of the end of the world, sexual frustration wasn’t your biggest concern, you’d go as far as to say it wasn’t even in the top 15. This was your third night alone in Alexandria, your group had all slept in the same house for a while before gradually settling into your own.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve done this, huh?” you question, rubbing soap all over your body. You feel his arms wrap around you and pull your back to his chest, you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“You’re sexier every time,” he whispers, nipping at your ear. His hands grab the fat of your hips and grip it to pull you even closer.

“Really? You don’t think I looked better when we were covered in walker guts and months of filth?” You tease him, pushing away and signaling for him to turn his back to you, and begin to clean his back with a soapy towel.

“You get prettier every day, Y/N, with or without running water,” he hums out, enjoying the soft scratch of the washcloth on his body. It had taken him a long time to get comfortable being this vulnerable, but years of relying on each other has built a trust unlike any other in his life. He trusts you fully, to see him wholly and unfiltered, who he truly was inside and out.

Once you both had been scrubbed you wrap your arms around his neck and push him against the wall. You brush your lips over his, testing the waters first. He grabs your face and spins you around, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You moan into his mouth and pull him closer. His arms wind around your waist when his tongue slips into your mouth, your grasp the hair at the base of his neck tightly in your fingers when you feel his leg slot between yours.

You grind down on his leg and gasp, throwing your head back against the wall. He takes the opportunity to kiss your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking little marks on your collar bones. You feel his hand slide from your waist up your torso to grab at your breast and your hands grab at the strong muscles of his back. He kneads your soft breast before rubbing your nipple with his thumb, he places sloppy kisses on the junction of your neck and down your shoulder. You whimper and grind harder on his leg when he pinches your nipple between his fingers, Daryl kisses back up your neck and puts his hands on either side of your face, pulling it to his to kiss it harshly.

“Please, Daryl, I want you,” you whimper against his lips, he hums into your mouth and slips his tongue into your mouth. “Daryl, please,” you whine as he willfully ignores your begging.

You keep kissing, clawing at his back with your short nails, just trying to pull him impossibly closer to you, his arms wrap tight around your waist, holding you down on his leg to help you grind harder against his knee. One of his arms abandons your waist to grab a fistful of your wet hair and he lets it tangle around his fingers, while he kisses you even deeper.

“You ready to get outta here, pretty girl?” He smirks at you. Before waiting for your answer he shuts the water off, grumbling about how you’re just gonna have to take another one later, and slides open the curtain. Daryl steps out and hands you a towel.

You rush past him into the bedroom, drying off and discarding your towel, then jumping on your shared bed. He walks in a few moments later, dropping the towel he had wrapped around his waist. You whistle at him teasingly, “How on earth did I get so lucky?”

He chuckles at you and sits on the bed beside your feet, running his hands up your calf, “I think I should be the one asking that, Y/N.” He crawls up to your body, pressing light kisses from your knees to your neck. If it weren’t for the lust in his eyes and the way he looks at you like you were prettiest damn woman he’s ever seen you might feel insecurity creeping in.

Daryl pecks your mouth, leaving you chasing his mouth until kisses back down your stomach, notching himself between your thighs. He peppers kisses all over the inside of your thighs, avoiding the one place you’re needing him the most. He finally caves, running his thumb up your slit, brushing away the soft hair that covers your cunt.

“You’re the sexiest damn woman I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, not giving you a chance to respond before he dives in, placing one long lick from your hole to your clit. The surprise movement leaves you gasping and squeezing his head between his thighs, which he softly pushes away. He does another long lick before focusing on your clit, alternating between gentle licks and circling it with his tongue. He wraps his lips around it and sucks, smiling when he hears you whimpering above him. He goes back to gentle licks and sucks, Daryl moves farther south until licking at our hole, he looks up at you for approval and instead sees a sight so beautiful he wonders what he did to deserve this. You, your back arched the perfect amount for him to see the soft expanse of your stomach leading to your breasts that were pushed into the air, one hand grasping clumsily at one of them, pulling at your nipple. With the image of you and your salty taste on his tongue he swore he could bust right then and there.

Daryl pushes his tongue into your hole, the mix of your wetness and his saliva creating a mess of your groin. He fucks his tongue into you, soft and steady.

It’s so much, his wet tongue sliding in and out of you, his hands gripping your thighs, his nose nudging your clit every now and then. It was too much and not enough. You gasp out, “Oh, my god, Daryl,” between your moans and heavy breathing. “D, you feel so good, I need more, please.”

He moves one hand from your thigh up to your mouth, pulling away to whisper, “suck on my fingers, baby.” You oblige, leaning forward eagerly to pull his thick fingers into your mouth and moan around them when he uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh. He fucks his fingers in and out of your mouth, coming up to press his mouth to yours, his tongue mingles with yours around his fingers. He pulls his fingers out and drops them to your cunt, using them to circle your clit, then sliding one inside of you, swallowing your gasps and moans in your shared kiss. He works his second finger into your pussy and abandons your lips to kiss down your chest, stopping to suck a nipple into his mouth briefly, but then continuing all the way back to your clit. Your hands grasp at his hair and push his face into your cunt, his tongue going back to playing with your clit while his eyes flicker up to see yours squeezed shut and mouth hanging open in ecstasy. Your hands wind in his hair so you have something to hold on to, his tongue and fingers making your head swim. He could ask you anything right now and you’d do it in a heartbeat as long as he didn’t stop. His fingers stretched you open just right and the drag of his knuckles in your pussy had you gasping for air.

His fingers were fucking into you hard enough in just the right spot that you were breathless, gasping each time they hit that spot. He groaned against your cunt and it left you whining and grinding against him, his spare arm wrapped around your hips drawing you even closer and holding you still against his mouth. He pulled away from you, protests falling from your lips at his withdrawal, “You’re doin’ so good for me, Y/N, sound so fuckin’ pretty. Perfect little cunt too, you know how much I love eating your pussy, don’ ya, baby?’ He draws, pressing more kisses and sucking little marks against the sensitive parts of your thighs, while his fingers slowly thrust in and out of you. You hum in response, hands trying to pull his head back to where you want- no need him most. “I want you to tell me, Y/N, tell me what you want,’ He insists, his dark, brown eyes boring into yours.

“You- you know what I want, honey,” you reply, face heating up, suddenly feeling almost bashful at your desperation for your partner. He pulls his fingers out of you at your less-than-satisfactory response.

“Oh, I do, baby, trust me,” he insists. “But I need to hear you say it. I want to hear you. Don’t go getting shy on me now. There’s no reason to, I know you love when I give you head, you know how much I adore buryin’ my head between your sexy thighs, feeling them squeeze me while i devour you,” he pauses to slide his fingers back into you, smiling at your quiet moan. “Hell, you should see the mess my cock is makin’ down here, leaking all over the blanket I just washed. I’m humping the bed like a damn virgin while I’m tongue deep in your pussy, sweetheart. I can feel how close you are, clenchin’ like a vice on my fingers. Now I’d love to have you make a mess on my face, but I want you to tell me what you want first. No need in getting all bashful, sweetheart, we’ve been here a dozen times before. Want to see your pretty face when you tell me, too.”

You lean up on your elbows, head foggy with need. “Daryl, I need you to make me cum, make me- make me cum all over your face,” you manage to stutter out. “Then, I need you to fuck-” your words are interrupted by a broken gasp as he dives back in, licking and sucking at your clit for all his worth. Your arms give out from behind making you drop onto your back, arching it and trying to wriggle your hips against his hold and let out breathless praises for the man eating you out like his life depends on it.

“Fuck! Daryl, you make me feel so good,” you gasp out when he goes back to licking circles on your clit. His fingers are curling into you just right, his tongue is circling your clit perfectly, your mind is buzzing and all you can think about is him. You feel your orgasm creeping up, warmth building and muscles tightening. “I- I’m so close, I-, oh my god, just like that, baby. Fuck, Daryl, please!”

You let out more whimpers and moans, a few nearly incoherent begs, although what you were begging for was unclear, all you knew is that you were so, so close to cumming on the fingers of the man you loved more than anything. Your fingers tighten their grip on his hair, which makes him groan into you and grind harder against the blanket under him, the vibrations of his groan make you buck your hips, so he tightens his hold on you. He was lapping at your cunt like it was water and he was dying of thirst. His fingers are pressing harder into you with every little thrust and you’re sobbing out as your orgasm finally washes over you. You can feel the pleasure wash over your body, making chills erupt all over you, the heat that’s been building in your core finally explodes and you’re shaking all over, back almost arching off the bed as he keeps lapping at you. You cunt is milking his fingers, legs shaking around his head as you moan out little gasps of his name. His fingers fuck you through the shock waves of your orgasm, but he doesn’t stop his movements. Your moans turn into little high pitched gasps when he pulls his fingers out of you once you stop pulsing around them, only to slide his tongue into your opening and fuck into you. It’s all too much, you can feel the rough drag of stubble on your soft inner thighs and his harsh grip on your ass as you come back down to reality. He finally lets up when you start to pull away from him and your grip on his hair loosens. He pulls away from you, his face glistening in the soft moon light peering in from the window. You grab at the back of his head and yank him into a rough kiss, tongues clash and the taste of your fluids on his lips and tongue make you moan into his mouth again.

“You’re too good for me, Daryl, honestly. You’re so good with your mouth, I’d let you eat me out for hours,” you breathlessly praise him once he pulls away to catch his breath, letting his forehead rest on yours.

“That can be arranged, darling,” he muses, starting to lower himself back to your pussy.

“No! No, not right now. I need you. I need more of you. I want your cock, please, Daryl,” you stutter, desperation fogging your brain. “Lay down, let me blow you.”

“No, sunshine, I’m not gonna last that long,” he insists, hissing when your hand wraps around his aching dick, using his own precum to stroke loosely. You reach into your bedside drawer for the condoms you had placed there a few days ago, they were past the expiration date, but it’s not like you can find any new ones any more, you had both decided you might as well try to use the protection.

“You sure?” You ask, looking at him with hooded eyes, licking your lips and ripping open the condom.

“Yes, Y/N,” he affirms. You slide the condom down his length and then use that hand to guide his cock to your entrance.

You can’t help but notice his shaky breath and the way his hands are shaking beside your head, “Daryl, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop now, we can go to bed, or I can jerk you off, if you’d rather wait.”

“I want to fuck ya, it’s just. . .” he trails off.

“Been a long time?” You finish for him. He nods to confirm your suspicion.

Before you can respond he begins to push into you, your pussy aching as he stretches you out, feeling every vein of his cock as it fills you up to the hilt. Above you, he’s grunting, arms damn near giving out as he rests most of his weight on you. He’s grunting into your ear, muttering a quiet “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he adjusts to the tightness of your pussy around him, as you grind and squeeze against him, your body begging for me.

“Hey, sunshine, look at me,” he’s leaning back to look you in the eye, once he got his bearings He brushes the hair out of your eyes, presses a kiss to your nose. “You feel good, better than I coulda imagined.”

“Please, Daryl.”

In lieu of a response, he crashes his lips on yours. Pulling out almost completely and pushing back in with a broken moan, your hand flies to his hair as he begins to rut into you. Short, fast thrusts that leave you gasping with your arms tight around his shoulders. He slows his pace when your nails start to scratch down his back. “I-I’m not gonna last long, y/n,” he moans, pulling all the way back and then thrusting back into you hard.

“That’s perfect, baby, please, that’s all I want. Jus’ want to make you feel good, yeah?” You pant out. Your legs wrapped tightly around him, his thrusts hitting so deep inside of you, you were seeing stars, his hips pushing flush against your own, you could feel his balls slap against your ass. He drops his head to kiss and suck on your neck, you tighten around him and reach down to rub our clit.

Daryl’s moans and thrusts get more erratic, a sign you know means he’s close. “Fuck, baby, I-” he gasps out.

“I know, I know, me too.”

“I’m sorry, you just feel so damn good-”

“Shut up and let me feel you cum inside of me,” you demand, your voice breathless and broken, he’s stretching you out so nicely and you’re rubbing fast, eager circles on our clit. “Oh- I- I’m cumming. Oh, my god, fuck! I love you so much, Daryl.”

The rhythmic squeezing of your tight pussy and your blissed out face sent him straight over the edge, he was grunting into you as you both rode out your highs.

Minutes later he was catching his breath, his legs shaking. “Was that worth the wait?” You joked. He laughed at you and slipped out, shaking his head at your sound of disappointment. Daryl pulled the condom off and threw it in the bin across the room.

In the morning he awoke before you, the sun shining across your pretty hair, he could see your relaxed face, your tits sticking out of the blanket. He wondered what he ever did to deserve this, to deserve you. He’d fight through a dozen apocalypses if it meant being with you.

#I tried yall #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd x reader #Daryl Dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon smut #x reader #the walking dead smut #the walking dead #smut #kt writes

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ckret2 · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 59 of human Bill Cipher possibly not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he got executed two chapters ago:

Everything you haven't wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

7:27 a.m.

Mabel didn't know why, but figuring out when to ask Mrs. Grendinator to pull over had felt as stressful as trying to throw a ping pong ball into a passing car's open fuel door to land in the little fuel pipe. All she had to do was ask to pull over after they'd passed everything but the last truck stop, but before it was too late for Mrs. Grendinator to make the turn into the Triple Digit parking lot. That was a large window. It wasn't easy to miss. Somehow Mabel still dreaded that she'd speak up too late and Mrs. Grendinator would say she'd have to wait for the next rest stop—by which point Bill would have splatted like a bug against the weirdness barrier while everyone else passed safely through.

But she'd managed to blurt out "I forgot to use the bathroom at home. Can we pull over?"; they'd stopped at the Triple Digit Truck Stop; and Mabel made it inside before her friends could catch her.

She locked the unisex restroom door, set her backpack on the ground, opened it up, and sighed with relief when she saw Bill sitting on her sweater. She carefully pulled him out, set him on the floor, and pointed the height-altering flashlight at him.

For a moment after returning to his true size, he remained seated on the floor, legs bent, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Worriedly, Mabel asked, "You okay?"

"Think I learned what motion sickness is," Bill groaned. "Just—gimme a sec."

"Aww, I'm sorry." Mabel surreptitiously checked in her backpack to make sure Bill hadn't been sick on her sweater. (It was a cool one. It had kissing parrots.)

After a few deep breaths, Bill lifted his head enough to look at Mabel. The first thing he said was, "'Cool big brother-slash-sister,' huh?" He gave her a queasy, but cheeky, grin.

"Shut uuup you weren't supposed to hear that!" She'd just about died with embarrassment when Candy had repeated that where she knew Bill could hear.

"I'm flattered." Bill uncurled himself from his nauseous half-fetal position; and then, gripping onto the sink for support, got back to his feet. "Being smaller again was nice, but I'm never traveling like that again."

"You're such a whiner."

"Yeah, yeah. I have a lot to whine about. I'm dead and about to be executed. Talk about... lose your cake and... not-eat it, too."

Mabel laughed. Bill mussed her hair, grinning, and said, "Hey, you've got no room to laugh, you're the one with the not-setting-houses-on-fire bit."

"Arrrgh, don't remind me!" She pushed Bill to the side so she could use the mirror to straighten out her hair again.

"You did pretty well, though! I'd say that was some of the best acting I've ever seen out of you."

"You too! They definitely bought it," Mabel said. "Even Grunkle Stan was getting worried."

"Especially back in the kitchen, wow! That was really convincing." He paused. "Really, really convincing."

Something heavy hung in the air. Mabel focused on her hair in the mirror.

Bill said, "That bit in the kitchen about me 'depending' on you." He exaggerated the air quotes around the word, distancing himself from the concept. "It wasn't on our list."

"Yeah. It just kinda... seemed right. Improv." Mabel waved unenthusiastic jazz hands.

"It bothers you."

Mabel winced. "I mean... I'm not actually mad at you. But. I want to help, but I don't know what to do for..." She gestured at Bill. "The whole being dead on an alien planet issue."

"Believe it or not, the hoodie helps," Bill said. "Listening helps." But he couldn't meet her gaze; he was fiddling with his friendship bracelet instead. He had to know how heavy even just listening to him could be.

"I'm glad, but... I just... wish you had more friends you could talk to."

Bill nodded morosely. "So do I." It wasn't like he'd chosen to only have one friend, was it? Prisoners didn't get to make those kinds of decisions.

Mabel asked, "Do you really think I think you're just a summer fix-it project?"

"I... pfff... come on, I watched you spend all last summer handing out makeovers and dating advice. You've already done my makeup, taken me clothes shopping, and tried to pump me for info on what kinds of freaks I'm into."

(Mabel quietly filed away the fact that Bill referred to "freaks" as his preferred romantic targets.)

"That's how your summer was going to end," Bill said. "You tame the monster, go home triumphant, and don't worry about it anymore. Like how you patched up Broken Heart's love life and left him to sort out the consequences."

"No!" Mabel huffed, "I mean—maybe a little at the beginning, but... you're really my friend now, I'd hate it if I never saw you again. I don't give friendship bracelets to just anybody!"

Bill kind of thought she did; but he wasn't about to argue. "Well, I've only given one person a bracelet, and I meant it." (Even more now than when he'd originally made it.) "You're never getting rid of me now, star girl. You're stuck with me forever!"

Coming out of Bill Cipher, the promise should have filled her with dread. A month ago it would have filled her with dread. But Mabel just found it comforting. "Good."

(And Ford hadn't felt any dread when he'd sworn "until the end of time," either.)

Bill took off his backpack and rummaged through it. "Now let me make sure I can keep that promise."

He took out a map of the mountains and forest around Gravity Falls and spread it out on the floor for them to kneel in front of. "You know about the spaceship buried under town? When its ring cut through the mountain, a few chunks of the ship dislodged and were buried in one of the mountains. No human has ever found them before, not even your great uncle. That's where I'll hide."

"Are the chunks big enough to hide in?"

"Sure! There's one that'd serve as a decent studio apartment. Well—the cheapest studio apartment in Manhattan, maybe. But, hey, I don't have much furniture."

On the map, he showed Mabel a route to reach the base of the cliff, tracing it with his finger. She couldn't afford to take a map with the route marked; if the adults discovered Bill's escape and confiscated Mabel's possessions, a marked map would lead them straight to him. She'd just have to do her best to memorize the route he described. "When and if the coast is clear, you can come find me there."

"How do I get up the cliff?"

"Don't worry about that. You make it that far, I'll take care of the rest."

And that was all they could afford to discuss. Mabel couldn't hide in here for long. As Bill refolded the map (and Mabel was awed to learn he was the kind of person who could refold maps correctly on the first try), and he packed the map and the height-altering flashlight in his backpack, they each tried separately to figure out how to get around to saying goodbye.

"I uh... I know you're sticking your neck out for me, kid." (Bill wasn't used to this, wasn't used to people who didn't help him due to fear or duty or lies, wasn't used to people who still wanted to help him after they knew what he was really like.) "So, thanks—"

Mabel flung her arms around him. Her voice thick, she said, "I think your manners are getting better."

"Shut up, I've always known how to say thanks." It was gratitude that was new.

"Be safe out there," Mabel said. "Don't die, or else. Remember to eat. And drink water! And do laundry sometimes."

"All right, all right. You'll find me in better health than you left me. All the sunshine and fresh air this body can take."

"I'll miss you."

Keep it together, Cipher. He swallowed hard. "Have you ever heard the song 'We'll Meet Again'?"

"Uh-uh?"

"Old war song. Look it up once you're in Portland, when you aren't busy having synthesizers pumped in your ears."

"Is it about... how we'll meet again?"

"Yes, smartypants. Look it up anyway," Bill said. "I'll miss you too."

Mabel washed her face, left the restroom, and shut the door behind her; and Bill waited in the dark while everyone left.

####

7:45 a.m.

A woman with two children opened the unisex restroom door, and gasped in shock when she saw a human silhouette lurking in the dark, one eye shining.

"Hey, thanks, lady! Couldn't get the door for some reason." He breezed past her. "Careful, it sticks from the inside."

He grabbed an empty backpack for sale, and loaded it up with supplies, food, and drinks. (The good stuff, not the weak cider he got in the Mystery Shack. He was making margaritas tonight.) He headed up to the cash register... veered to a currently-unmanned register, stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar, and timed his exit so he walked out just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

####

7:55 a.m.

It was a fair walk from Triple Digit back to the cliffs around Gravity Falls. When Bill was a safe distance into the woods, he unzipped his first backpack, retrieved his flattened top hat, and popped it out; and then continued on, behatted and using his umbrella like a cane.

Even with no sleep, even just a couple of days after the worst hiking trip in history, even tired and sore from an hour of frenzied dancing, even carrying two full backpacks with one strap slung over each shoulder, even with the sky gloomy and overcast—this was the best he'd felt since Weirdmageddon.

His steps were sure, his body was unchained, and the future had opened up for him again.

####

8:00 a.m.

Mabel kept glancing out the window, back in the direction of Gravity Falls, waiting and waiting to see the light of some kind of killer laser cut through the sky.

Maybe the Quantum Destabilizer's beam just wasn't visible from this far. Maybe they'd decided to wait to execute Bill. Maybe they hadn't wasted their shot because they'd already discovered Bill and Mabel's ruse. Maybe the "enchantment" Bill had written hadn't done its job.

But if they had discovered Bill was missing, they would've called Mabel immediately, trying to find out what she'd done and where he'd gone.

Her phone sat hard and heavy and silent in her pocket.

The butterflies in her stomach didn't stop fluttering until long after they reached Portland.

####

10:30 a.m.

Plus or minus a few trees, the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff was just how Bill had remembered last seeing it millennia ago. The Trilazzx Betan proximity sensor that had been embedded in the cliff face since the ship crash was still there and still sensing, even after millions of years and a layer of stone had closed around it. He could see it behind the face of the cliff; and it could see him.

He took out the multi-tool pocket knife Dipper had "donated" to Bill's supplies, flipped out the blade, and carved his face in a tree far enough from the rendezvous point to avoid notice by anyone who found this spot, but near enough it could see anyone who showed up. He made it as accurate as he could—hat, bow, limbs, eyelashes. That would unfortunately make it easier for humans to identify the face if anyone happened to walk by, but his ability to connect to his other eyes was still weak, he needed as much of a boost as he could get. He licked the bark, leaving his saliva to connect the eye on the tree to him.

And then he returned to the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff, and, beneath the watchful eye of the proximity sensor, began digging in the dirt with his hands.

Beneath the soil, fortunately not buried too deep, was a stone shaped like a small tombstone with several symbols carved into its surface that superficially resembled common runes. Bill brushed the dirt off of his leggings and rubbed it out of the carved lines in the stone. It was lucky that today was overcast; it would make this thing a lot easier to control.

Bill took out the flashlight, removed the height-altering crystal, turned it on, and aimed the beam at the topmost rune.

The runes began glowing an eerie green.

The ground shuddered; and then a patch of ground five feet in diameter lifted up into the air, carrying Bill with it, tearing the grass at the edge of the circle, propelled by a long-forgotten enchanted stone platform concealed in the clump of dirt.

He rose to the gouge that the spaceship had carved into the mountain; and then he moved his flashlight's beam to another rune. The platform smoothly shifted to moving sideways, gliding beneath the ancient overhang. When he turned off the flashlight, the stone stopped glowing and gently settled to the ground. Bill stepped off, fished a spare shirt out of his backpack, and pulled it over the rune-covered stone so it couldn't take off if the sun came out. There was a reason this buried stone was the only platform of its kind left in the area outside of the deep mountain caverns: leave one outside on a sunny day where the light can hit its runes, and next thing you know it's zoomed out over the Pacific and is quickly rising toward space.

He surveyed the area. Every once in a while humans climbed up here just for the challenge of it, delightful little explorers they were; but he doubted anyone had been up here in decades. He stood in front of what was, to all appearances, a completely nondescript patch of stony ground; and he said, in heavily accented but intelligible Trilazzx Betan, "Let me in, you hunk of junk. Activate emergency crash protocols."

A fragment of ship deep beneath the ground stirred awake, registered the command, analyzed itself and concluded from the fact that it wasn't in space and was separated from 99% of the rest of itself that it had indeed crashed, and activated emergency crash protocols. In acknowledgment of the dire situation, it deactivated its usual authorized personnel list—there was no sense in waiting for the captain to approve new orders if the captain might be dead—accepted the command given by the unknown being above it, and opened its hatch.

Millions of years of solid stone groaned and buckled in protest at being moved; but Trilazzx Betan engineering was strong enough for the framework of a portal capable of ripping a hole between dimensions without being ripped apart itself. The stone yielded first. A hatch swung up, revealing a tilted chamber descending into the cliff.

Bill strolled confidently down the walkway. "Cancel distress signal. Disable life support's air filtering." The fragment of a ship beeped a warning, and Bill responded, "I'm aware of this planet's high oxygen content. You worry about your health, I'll worry about mine. Disable air filtering." The ship beeped a confirmation. "Reconnect to all external proximity sensors in range and display on screens one, two, and three." This broken part of the ship had once handled communications. It had a whole wall of screens. He wondered whether he could jury rig this thing to pick up human satellite TV. Nah, probably not worth the effort.

He slung off his backpacks and started unpacking.

####

12:04 p.m.

It was time.

Dipper sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. He felt sick.

He was dead. In just a few seconds Ford would discover that Bill was gone—Dipper was sure he was gone, they hadn't heard a peep from the room, Mabel must've snuck him out or left him some escape route—and then Ford would know that someone had warned Bill and Mabel, and then Dipper was dead—

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dipper waved Ford off. "Just... didn't get much sleep. Little dizzy." Ford would never trust him again. Stan would be furious. They'd both be furious.

"You can go downstairs if you..."

"No no, I'm fine, I..." Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I'll face it." Better to get it over with now than to hide downstairs and wait for it.

Stan nodded. "Good man." He wouldn't be so proud of Dipper in a moment.

Ford nodded, stood, opened the door—and Dipper buried his face in his hands again.

####

12:06 p.m.

Ford could see Bill up in the loft, hood up and shoulders hunched, back to the room. Ford could shoot Bill in the back without him ever waking up.

He climbed into the loft. Bill lay curled up in a ball, a small as Ford had ever seen him.

But it only took a moment for Ford's eyes to adjust to the dark; and even in the dim light through the stained glass window, he could tell:

The shape in front of him wasn't human. Just lumpy clothes.

Ford whipped around, heart pounding, clutching the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case against his chest, searching for the real Bill lurking somewhere in the shadows. No sign of him. Ford had already looked on the floor level. Was he gone? How?

He was too dumbfounded to be outraged. He walked up to the dummy to pull it apart—

And saw the paper, folded in quarters, floating in the air above it. Four symbols in a cipher were written atop the paper. Ford recognized them: it was the alien alphabet of an interdimensional pidgin used as a written lingua franca throughout the Nightmare Realm and its bordering regions; it was so widespread that Ford had learned the alphabet before he ever left Earth.

The four letters read, "F O R D".

Ford plucked the paper out of the air and unfolded it.

Stanford–

I'll cut to the chase. I need your help. I don't want to die.

I'm banking on the hope that, in spite of everything you've said and done, part of you also doesn't want me to die.

You have a choice. You can walk out there, tell them I escaped, rally an angry mob, and comb everything under the weirdness barrier for me. This town's not that big and I'll need to eat eventually. We both know I can't hide forever.

Or you can tell them you finished the job. No one looks for me. No one knows but you and me.

I don't have rewards or deals to offer. You already know what I bring to the table. If that hasn't persuaded you to side with me by now, it never will. I'm not bargaining. I'm begging.

I'm asking you, as my friend, to help me survive.

Please.

· –·-– -–

Of course.

How dare he.

Had Bill planned this all along? Was this why he'd insisted he wanted to be Ford's friend? Was this why he'd saved his life? Maybe the entire rescue had been staged—the rescue, the performance of fear over a harmless phenomenon, the mental breakdown, all of it. For all Ford knew, maybe the accursed Axolotl was in on the scheme! How clairvoyant was Bill? Had he seen this moment coming?

But if he'd seen this moment coming, wouldn't it have been easier to just let Ford, his executioner-to-be, die? Ford and Dipper both, so Dipper wouldn't figure out how to synthesize NowUSeeitNowUDontium? If he'd saved them in spite of that, didn't that make it a sincere gesture?

But implication was clear: I've been a friend to you, now be one to me. A life for a life. There was nothing sincere in that. It was pure self interest.

(For just a couple of days, Ford really had thought it was sincere.)

But if the only reason Bill had saved Ford was to save himself—then why had Bill endangered his own life in the process?

With every thought Ford's paranoia pendulumed.

He should get Stan. Call the cops, confess who they'd been harboring for the past month, tell them everything, get a manhunt going before Bill could make it any further away. Even if he couldn't leave the weirdness barrier, there were probably hundreds of hidden hidey-holes Bill could dig himself into that humans had never seen—unexplored hallways in Crash Site Omega, uncharted caverns behind Trembley Falls where Bill didn't even need light to see. They could drag him back into the light, tie him up, aim the Quantum Destabilizer straight at him...

But. In spite of himself, he could still see Mabel's drawing hopefully reassigning Bill the role of a superhero. He could still see the crumpled drawing in his pocket—"I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!" He could still see Dipper tentatively asking whether they might need Bill someday. He could still see Bill playing teacher in the living room. And for a moment, for just a moment, Bill had been so good. He could be so good.

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why can't you be this person?

What if he could be better? What if he could be decent? What if he could be a friend?

Ford didn't believe Bill was any better today than he had been the day he died. But—at some point, something had slowly turned over in Ford's mind. He believed that Bill could change. Not would change, not is changing, but could. And if Ford started a manhunt, Bill would never be a threat again—but he'd also never be better.

There was a point where the doubt and hope built up to a critical mass—when they became enough, just enough, to stay the trigger finger. Because once Ford fired on Bill, that was it. All chances were gone forever. It was over. If Bill was alive they could always try again to kill him later; but if Bill was dead, they could never try again to better him.

And for the first time in thirty years, Ford wanted Bill to be better more than he wanted Bill to be dead.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

####

12:09 p.m.

Ten minutes ago, Bill had been in the process of emptying out his backpacks and finding nooks and cubbies amongst the alien communication workstations where he could tuck his supplies, when he'd glanced out the open hatch and noticed the beforeimage of the shot lighting up the sky.

He'd come out of his shelter to watch the moment approach; but he hadn't quite believed it until it was in the present and actually happening. The blue-white beam of the Quantum Destabilizer—its one and only shot—screamed off into the sky.

"Well, what do you know," he murmured, standing at the edge of the cliff, hands on his hips, staring out in wonder over the town. "I really didn't think you'd do it."

Ford had saved his life.

Bill crossed his arms tight and tried to convince himself he didn't wonder why.

####

12:10 p.m.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done.

"Grunkle Ford...?"

He forced himself to speak. "It's done."

"So... Bill is...?"

Ford suddenly realized: Dipper knew Bill wasn't in here. He must have warned Mabel, and Mabel had arranged for Bill to be alone in their room long enough to escape.

Which meant Dipper knew Bill was alive.

(Bill had written, "No one knows but you and me." Bill was covering for the kids.)

Ford turned to look him in the eyes. "Yes, he's dead."

Which meant Dipper knew what Ford had done—and knew Ford knew what he had done.

Neither one of them needed to say anything else to know what the other was thinking. They just shared a look—the two most miserable co-conspirators in Gravity Falls.

####

12:25 p.m.

Bill sat cross-legged at the edge of the cliff and watched until the afterimage of the Quantum Destabilizer's shot had faded from the sky; and then he went inside his shelter, mixed the world's lamest margarita in a coffee mug, took it outside, sat again, and toasted toward the town and the Mystery Shack.

Here's to survival.

He sat outside until the gash the Quantum Destabilizer had cut in the clouds closed and it began to rain.

####

1:10 p.m.

Stan had come and gone a few minutes ago, and already Ford had forgotten everything he'd said, if he'd even registered it in the first place.

His fingers had itched until he'd finally had a moment to steal down to his study, retrieve Journal 5, and bring it up to the guest room; and now for over half an hour he'd been feverishly writing down every single thing he could remember learning about Bill over the last two days. The drawing of his homeworld. His lecture on biangles and psychic powers. How polygons inherited their sides. (Their royalty sounded nigh on Habsburgian; had their political system ever changed?) What little details Bill had let slip about where Edward Bishop Bishop's book was wrong. (Had he told Mabel more about their relationship? He'd have to ask when she was home.) How Bill signed his letter: "· -·-- --", Morse code for "EYM," was it an acronym, was it a code, what did it mean, why did he write it in two colors? How Bill spelled Mabel's name in alien alphabets: Mabelle, Maybell, the varying extra letters. How Bill danced: how he struggled to cross his ankles, how he turned out his feet, how his spine and shoulders never bent, how the complex ways he tilted his legs and pelvis compensated for his stiff spine.

If Bill was sticking around a while longer, then these details still mattered.

He refused to forget a thing.

####

Sunday, 12:02 a.m.

As "We'll Meet Again" finished playing, Mabel turned off her phone, put it back on her nightstand, and wiped her eyes again. Big stupid dork couldn't even say this himself, he had to hide it behind a song.

Yes. They would meet again. Law of attraction. Believing it was the first step to making it come true.

####

10:20 a.m.

The fearful butterflies in Mabel's stomach had slowly returned during the drive home from Portland. No one had texted her—was that a good sign?—but she was afraid it just meant they'd decided to let her enjoy the rest of her trip before letting her know she was grounded forever for helping Bill escape. When they'd all greeted her at the door, looking so somber, and she was sure she was about to get the bad news, she'd just had to keep acting normal and hope she wasn't gonna get in more trouble for playing dumb.

The last thing she expected Stan to say was, "Weshotim."

"Say wha?"

"We got that—space gun of Ford's working. We shot him. He's... I'm sorry, sweetie."

Mabel stared at Stan. That was impossible—there was no way they'd found Bill. But—if Stan believed he was dead...

She dragged her gaze from his face to Dipper's. Dipper bit his lips, staring at his feet. He wouldn't meet her eyes—too afraid that even looking at her would give something away.

She looked from Dipper to Ford. "Grunkle Ford?" She tried not to hope. "Is it true?"

There was no way he'd believed the dummy was real. The moment she'd read Bill's so-called "enchantment," she'd known making it believable was never the point. Bill's only real plan had always been to get Ford on their side.

For a long moment, Ford said nothing. He dragged his eyes up to meet her stare, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He's dead."

Mabel's eyes widened. Two days ago, Ford had been the one arguing that killing Bill was their only choice. If he'd changed his mind...

If anyone said anything else, she didn't register it in her excitement. She backed out of the doorway, leaped off the porch, and ran around the shack, looking for her bike.

She had to see Bill immediately.

####

10:21 a.m.

Quietly, Dipper asked, "Did we do the right thing?"

Ford didn't know. His stomach had been twisting with guilt and doubt since yesterday. His conscience had kept him up half the night. "I hope so."

He feared they'd have second-guessed themselves no matter what.

####

2:30 p.m.

Bill was asleep. He'd been sleeping off and on for most of the past day. This was the first time since he'd died that he had somewhere safe to sleep—somewhere nobody could touch his vulnerable body, nobody could move him, drown him, kill him.

And this was the first time he hadn't been helpless and sightless.

In his sleep, he saw his own body, curled up on the tilted floor against a wall, on top of the sleeping bag and under the Pony Heist bedsheet, from an eye he'd drawn on the ceiling.

From another eye he'd drawn on the wall, he saw the ship's open hatch, the overhang above, a small sliver of the gray drizzly sky over Gravity Falls.

And from his eye on the tree, blurry and fading as the rain washed away his saliva, he saw a human-shaped mass of raucous colors exploring the pit in the ground left behind by his hovering platform.

A human? He sat up with a gasp and looked at the screen displaying the proximity sensors. Sure enough, the sensor at the base of the cliff was displaying a Mabel-shaped silhouette.

He grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of his shelter.

####

"Kid, what are you doing out out here?!"

Mabel looked up. Bill was some twenty feet above her and quickly descending on what looked like a chunk of flying dirt the same size as the pit in the ground she'd been inspecting. "Bill!" She leaned her bike against the cliff face. Finally—she'd been wandering around in the trees forever trying to figure out where Bill's rendezvous point was hidden.

"It's pouring rain," Bill scolded. "You could lose your immune system or—or slip in the mud or something."

"Wow, nice to see you too, mom." Mabel ran up as Bill landed his floating chunk of ground.

"Hey, I don't want anything happening to my favorite human!" He scooted over to make room for her on the platform. "Just couldn't wait for a sunny day to meet again, huh?"

"Psh, come on! Like you meant that literally." Near Bill, the rain had mysteriously stopped landing on Mabel. She looked up and saw the rain simply parting in the air over Bill's head.

He noticed her glance and said, "Did I ever teach you the spell to repel rain? Remind me to do that before you go." He pointed his flashlight's beam at a rune on a stone rising from the platform, and it lifted off again. "Nice sweater today." He poked one parrot-winged sleeve, its bright colors darkened by the soaking rain. "It probably looked better dry."

Mabel smacked away his hand. "Bill, guess what! Grunkle Ford decided to protect you!"

"I know, I saw the wasted shot from here." He steered the platform onto the cliff. He landed it next to a hatch that opened into a subterranean tunnel. "Of course, I always knew he would. Didn't I say we'd pull this off?"

Sure he'd known. That was why he'd lied about what the "enchanted" paper really was so Mabel wouldn't worry.

Mabel followed him down into the metal tunnel. "Do you know what this means? You can come back to the shack!"

Bill turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because... it's safe now? They're not gonna kill you?" Mabel squinted. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"Oh, right. You need this." Bill offered the flashlight.

Mabel turned it on. They were in a metal chamber, about half the size of the Mystery Shack's floor room and nowhere near as tall. One end of it had been torn off and dirt and stone served as the new wall. Most of the walls were dominated by heavy metal consoles, curved metal chairs, and screens, a few of which were on but flickered irritatingly. One chair still had a fossilized alien skeleton in it. Bill had put his top hat on it.

His supplies were piled haphazardly on consoles and the floor; all Mabel saw in his food pile was shelf-stable junk food and drinks. The air somehow felt more damp in here than it did outside with the rain. The chairs didn't have cushions, the floor didn't have carpet; everything was hard and cold and dark. She didn't even see a door for a bathroom in here. This was where Bill was staying?

"The Mystery Shack is safe for now," Bill said. "Just wait until Stanley decides to take another swing at me, or Dolores poisons my dinner again—or Ford changes his mind, dunks me in the bathtub, and doesn't let me back out."

"They wouldn't..." Mabel trailed off. She tried to imagine how mad Stan would be when he found out Bill was alive, and had to concede he might.

"Even if it was safe—why would I go back to that sorry makeshift prison?" Bill hopped up into one of the tilted alien chairs. There was a weird extended bit designed for alien anatomy that curved up at the end of the seat and forced Bill to straddle the chair rather than sit in it normally; it didn't look comfortable. "After almost a month and a half, I'm finally free!"

"Free inside a tiny bubble around the town," Mabel protested. "To live in a... weird little metal dirt room."

"Freely moving inside the entire barrier is a lot better than freely moving through half a shack! Surrounded by people who want me dead! I don't even get full privacy when I'm using the toilet—that's the bare minimum humans offer as basic respect! You don't know how many times I've been walked in on!"

"Do you even have a toilet here?"

Bill hesitated. "There's a—there are gas stations within walking distance."

"How are you gonna get into the restroom?"

"Fine, I'll dig a pit or something, all right? The point is, whatever I do, at least I can do it in freedom!"

He hadn't planned this through at all, Mabel realized. He'd only thought as far ahead as finding food and shelter that would last him the next couple of days. "But..." She gestured at the pathetic room around them. "The shack's got a proper roof and a shower and real food—wouldn't that be better than this?"

Bill scoffed "Only humans care about roofs and showers, and the idea of 'real' food is a social construct I reject!"

He'd be miserable here. Mabel couldn't let Bill do this to himself. "Then don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?" She gave him a pleading look. "Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?"

There was a flash of light reflected in the dark as Bill's eyes turned away from Mabel.

"Bill?"

He didn't respond. He trudged past her, halfway up the walkway out of the ship, and stopped there, his back to Mabel, hands on his hips, staring out into the rain. He sighed. "Kid, you're trying to give me Stockholm syndrome."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'll think about it," Bill said, voice flat. "Go back to the shack."

Before Mabel could move, Bill said, "Hold on. Let me teach you that umbrella spell first." He turned and descended back into the ship. "And when's the last time you ate? Human bodies act pathetic if they don't get glucose every three hours. Get some lunch, it's a long bike back to the shack." He gestured at his meager food supplies.

She rummaged through the foil bags and colorful boxes and grabbed some Chipackers and sour gummy dolphins.

Bill sat near her, grabbed a bag of jerky for himself, and said, "And tell me about that concert you abandoned me to my doom for."

####

4:00 p.m.

Bill escorted Mabel down off the cliff—and, at her request, let her borrow the flashlight and wiggle the floating platform back and forth a little as they descended. He took back the flashlight when she nearly crashed the platform and killed them both.

"Where'd this come from?" Mabel asked, poking the stone. "Did the aliens make this, too?"

"Nope! This is good old local Earth magic. Ever hear of Caterpillar Man?"

"Is that some kind of superhero?"

"Afraid not. Well—ever hear of Grendel?"

"Uh-uh."

They were nearly at the ground now. "I think I'll tell you next time."

As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched Mabel wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

####

Monday, 1:03 a.m.

And it was even chillier in the post-midnight dark when he knocked on the Mystery Shack's door.

####

(Eager to hear what y'all think now that you've seen the full story of how Bill survived—last week once Dipper and Mabel's roles were revealed, I think most folks thought that fully explained how Bill faked his death. ;) Next week is probably a double length chapter, because there's no graceful way to break it in half and also it'd be nice to get this plot arc wrapped up before The Book of Bill comes out lmao.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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