#because I have lost count of how many times I have almost gotten into a car accident because I was distracted

[bucks-babe]

Slip Up

Pairing: Notsovirgin!Bucky x f!reader

Summary: While having fun with your boyfriend, an accident occurs, leading to another first for Bucky 

Warnings: Wrong hole, Bucky cums so much, squirting, Bucky is a sweet boy, unprotected p in v, anal, anal fingering, dirty talk, small mention of prostate cancer (Like one line), Bucky is an innocent baby, anal to vaginal fingering (DON’T DO THAT), Bucky calls reader a whore once, but it’s sexy, overstimulation?, daddy kink (I can’t help myself), Bucky is becoming a dom??, no crying during sex (I know, shocker) 

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Part of the Virgin!Bucky series. It can be read as a stand alone as well. But you shouldn't read it alone because it's filthy! And it's worth it to see Bucky becoming more and more a lover of Sex! Beta read and idea from the incredible @buckys-wintersoldier Blame her for the filth you are about to read. She’s the one who put this idea in my head. I can’t be held responsible for the feelings you experience. However, any and all mistakes are my own. But you wrote that!!!! A lot of filthy ideas which dropped my jaw and let my pasta almost fall out of my mouth!

You and Bucky have been fucking like rabbits ever since the day he lost his virginity to you. He was addicted to the feel of your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, never lasting more than a few minutes, but able to keep going thanks to the serum coursing through his body. He wonders if he will ever be able to last longer. You say you don’t mind that he can’t control how fast he cums, but it doesn’t make him feel any better that he can’t.

Even with that thought nagging at him all the time, the moment he enters you his mind goes blank, only able to think about how wet and tight you are. Never experiencing anything like it before. Almost every night you have to change the sheets, the sheer volume of his cum too much for your body to handle; however, that doesn’t stop you from fucking him every damn day, waking him up with blowjobs when he has morning wood, or the way you beg for him to cum in you just one more time.

Bucky understands now. He understands why people go so crazy over sex. The pleasure you give him makes him weak in the knees, not a single thought in his head, only the urge to fill you up over and over again. 

That’s how he ends up in bed, railing you. Legs thrown over his shoulders taking his brutal assault. He’s gotten more confident each time he fucks you. He may not last long, but he makes up for it with how many times he can cum and keep going. The both of you writhing in pleasure, him drawing seven orgasms from you already, eating your pussy for over an hour. 

He wasn’t too far behind, cumming inside of you three times and once down your throat. The sounds of your fucking is louder than ever, your squirt mixed with his excessive loads making you wetter than ever. “Fuck, doll, this pussy is so fucking wet, filled up with my cum. So fucking dirty, letting me use you like this, fucking you like a damn toy. God, my cock is so fucking sensitive, gonna blow again. Yeah, you want that? I bet you do, you dirty whore.”

One thing that Bucky has found out he really loves is dirty talk and degradation. He loves when you do it to him just as much as doing it to you. It makes his cock somehow even harder. Each push of his hips is met with a harsh slap of his thighs meeting your ass and the vulgar sound of the excessive wetness of your pussy.

“Shit, doll, gonna cum. Gonna cum so goddamn much, make this pussy overflow. Shitshitshit, fuck, m’cumming.” His balls pull up, forcing so much cum out of his cock that he swears he’s about to pass out. His eyes roll to the back of his head when he feels you squirt all over him, another wave of cum bursting from him. The force of your orgasm pushes his cock out, but Bucky was brainless now, having cum so much he was losing control of his body.

His hips never stopped moving, almost not noticing that he wasn’t in your pussy anymore, too lost in his own pleasure, cum still flowing from him. He tried to put his cock back in, needing to keep you full of his cum, but the amount of cum and wetness made a slippery mess. At the next thrust of his hips, his cock slides down, not entering your welcoming pussy, rather trying, and failing to enter your ass.

Your hole tight and unwilling to stretch on such short notice takes your breath away. The pain is instant, shooting from your hole all the way up your spine. “FUCK!” You push Bucky off of you with so much force he almost falls off the bed. Curling on your side, you try to gasp for air, the pain knocking the wind out of you. 

Bucky is knocked out of his stupor, cock immediately softening when he sees how much pain you’re in. “Doll, what happened? Are you okay?” Ice drenches his spine. He barely started having sex and he’s already hurt you. Everything was fine seconds ago and now you’re curled up in the fetal position gasping for air. 

“I’m okay, Bucky, I’m okay.” It comes out breathy but you try to compose yourself for your boyfriend’s sake, needing to comfort him, letting him know he didn’t do anything wrong. You roll over looking at Bucky who looks like a kicked puppy. 

“What did I do?” His voice is thick with unshed tears. You’re the last person he ever wants to hurt. You motion for him to come closer to you. At first he hesitates, not wanting to accidentally hurt you again, but you insist so he follows.

“You tried to go in the wrong hole, sweetheart. That one doesn’t open up as easy.” He whines. Bucky can’t deny that the thought of his cock in your ass hadn’t crossed his mind more than once. But he couldn’t ever find the confidence to ask you. Of course he knows that you would never judge him, but he didn’t know that he wasn’t the only one who was interested.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, doll.” You cut off the rest of his apology, not wanting to hear him talk badly about himself. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. A lot of people do that, they just have to prep for it.” That gains Bucky’s attention. Other people want to do the same thing as him? 

“I-well-they do?” Bucky can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He was terrible at having any conversations about what he wants to do in the bedroom, too afraid to ask.

“Yes, they do. If you want we can try it too. We just need to have some prep beforehand, so you’ll fit inside of me and it won’t hurt.” 

“It hurts you?” There was no way that Bucky would do anything if it would hurt you. He gets off on your pleasure just as much as his own. Why would anyone want to do something that hurts their partner?

“Not when I’m prepared. You have to work that hole open because it’s not usually meant for that kind of stuff. It’s supposed to feel good for the both of us.” That makes his cock twitch. The feeling of your pussy is so different from the feel of your mouth. They both drive him crazy, but the thought of what your ass would feel like has his cock rock hard in a matter of seconds.

“Can we, uh, can we do that?” His cheeks were on fire, never having been so embarrassed to ask for something in his life. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, not wanting you to see his face. The sound of your giggle makes him curl further into you, feeling the vibrations through his chest.

“Of course we can, sweetheart. I’ll show you what to do, talk you through it.” It soothes Bucky, knowing that you’re there to guide him. To show him how to please you. He has no clue what he would do without you.

“Have you done this before?” Bucky knows he has no right to be jealous of any of your exes when he is the one who gets to be with you, but the image of someone else taking that hole annoys him.

“Only by myself, but I’ll show you how to start.” Gently, you push Bucky off of you, making him sit up on the bed. He stares down at you with so much love you almost just beckon him back to you, wanting to keep him in your arms forever. Nonetheless, you spread your legs, showing him your swollen, cum filled cunt.

You see Bucky’s cock bop with a pulse of arousal at the sight. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Bucky watches as you flip over, ass up in the air causing him to moan. You glance back at him with a smirk, but continue on your mission. Opening the drawer to your bedside table, you pull out a bottle of lube, tossing it to Bucky who easily catches it.

“What is this? What’s lube?” You move back into your original position, drawing Bucky’s attention away from the bottle. 

“Well, you gotta get in there somehow. It makes everything slicker, less painful. Open the bottle, sweetheart and put it on one of your fingers. Then I want you to circle my hole with it.”

Bucky whispers a quiet, “oh fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” underneath his breath before popping the cap to the bottle open and putting a generous amount on his finger before bringing it to your rim, circling it just like you said. 

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. Always listen so well to me.” Bucky’s hips jerk involuntarily at your praise, wanting more.

“Can I put one in now, please?” Oh, your baby was desperate. You look right into his eyes and nod, letting him know he can. “Shit, you’re so tight.” You only gasp, the feeling of his finger inside of you is so much different than your own. He slowly pumps his finger in and out, curling it to find your spot. His brows pull together in concentration, not being able to find it. He has to put his ego aside and ask for help, he knows it. “Doll, can you show me where it is?”

“There’s no g-spot in my ass, sweets.” This stops his finger, his head immediately falling, not wanting to look into your eyes. He knows men have a prostate, it was a whole deal back in the day with men getting cancer. So why didn’t you have one?

“But, what about your prostate?” The poor thing. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He doesn’t know any better and he just wants to make you feel good. The last thing you want to do is make him feel bad for something he didn’t know. 

“Oh, sweets, women don’t have them, only men do.” This was a very awkward conversation to have when Bucky’s finger is still in your ass, just sitting there unmoving. Bucky bites his bottom lip, avoiding eye contact with you. Why can’t he do anything right? First he tries to spear you with his cock in your ass and now he is trying to find a damn prostate that you don’t even have.

“M’sorry, doll. I didn’t know, I just thought everyone had one.” Bucky feels the blood slowly leaving his cock from the mortification. You felt your face heat up too, the pressure of his finger a constant reminder that he was inside of you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just move your finger like you would your cock. All you have to do is be gentle and you’ll get the hang of it.” When he finally looks up at you he has the sweetest pout on his lips. Keeping eye contact with him, you trail your hand down your body, meeting his hand where it resides inside of you. Wrapping your hand around his, you guide his movement, slowly trusting his hand until he starts to move it on his own.

“It feels so tight. How am I going to fit in there?” Just the thought of his cock in the hole that is struggling to accommodate one finger has the blood rushing right back into his dick. 

You let out a small moan, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s finger, much better than your own. “You can add another finger, sweets, just be gentle.” Bucky’s breath hitches, cock desperate to be inside you, but he knows he has to wait. He brings his middle finger to your hole, rubbing it the way he did the first; his first finger still inside you. After a few seconds he gingerly pushes his second finger in, extremely aware of the stretch around his digits.

“Oh fuck, want to feel you around my cock so bad.” Bucky knows that as soon as he puts his cock in you he’s going to cum. It took so long for him to not cum immediately when he’s in your pussy. Even so, he still can’t last more than a few minutes. It’s still a shock to him that he didn’t bust as soon as you took him in your mouth for the first time.

Bucky keeps up the pace with his fingers, ignoring the ache in his cock. When you tell him to add another he eagerly does so, wanting to stretch you out as fast as possible while keeping you comfortable. You see his hips jerking, trying to find relief from the pressure building up in his balls.

“Spread your fingers for me, sweets, stretch me out for your fat cock.” The whine that leaves Bucky’s lips has your cunt throbbing and your ass clenching around his fingers. He does what you say, like he always does, and the moan that leaves the both of you is salacious. “You like that, huh? You like the thought of your fat cock in my ass, sweets?” Bucky can only groan, frantically nodding his head, his dick somehow getting harder.

“Please tell me you’re ready. Need my cock in you so bad, doll.” He looks like he could cum just from the sight of his fingers in your hole. You take pity on him, not being able to stand the thought of him not being inside you any longer.

“Yeah, sweets, just need more lube.” As quickly as he can while still being tender, he removes his fingers and desperately searches for the bottle, squirting more than enough on his cock. Skooching closer to you, he spreads your legs, lifting you up so he can stare at your stretched hole. He places your legs on top of his thighs, looking at you for confirmation before grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

Slowly pushing in, he can feel the resistance of your ass, yet it was still so welcoming. Bucky’s eyes roll back, his metal hand wrapping around the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm. “Doll, I can’t, fuck, it feels too good, I- oh fuck, m’cumming.” Bucky only had the tip of his cock in your ass. He was vaguely aware that he shouldn’t push the rest of his cock into you so the hand holding the base of his cock moves up his length, jerking his cock to help ride his orgasm out.

“Fuck, sweets, I can feel you filling up my ass. You’re going to make me leak all over the bed.” This only makes Bucky whine more, hips jerking slightly, still trying to stop himself from slamming the rest of his cock inside, but the feeling of his cum shooting in your ass it too hot so you move your hips, trying to take more of his cock, while he’s still cumming inside of you.

“Ohhhh fuuuucck, that’s so good, so fucking good, want to stay inside you forever, keep this tight ass wrapped around my cock all the damn time.” More cum shot out of his cock with renewed vigor. Bucky thought he was about to pass out, fighting off the feeling because there was no way he could miss a second of being inside you. 

His head was thrown back, not able to control his head. You felt your pussy throb, slick leaking down to where his cock rests in your hole, clit pulsing, hard and begging to be touched. You couldn’t help yourself, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his cock that was still hard but not shooting his load anymore. “You’re so fucking big, sweets, stretching me out so much, never felt anything like it before.” It wasn’t a lie, it never felt like this with any of your toys, the fact that Bucky’s load was supersized doing nothing to quell your arousal.

“Bet I could feel myself if I stuck my fingers in your pussy. Massage my cock through your walls. Bet you would like that, wouldn’t you? Yeah, I think you would.” Bucky had no room to talk about how needy you were when he busted as soon as his tip was inside of you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when you’re already cock drunk just from the few shallow thrusts of your hips.

All you could do was moan and nod your head, wanting to feel him everywhere. Bucky had to use his flesh fingers, needing to feel his cock through your pussy. Without preamble, he pushes two fingers into your pussy, immediately curling them to feel his cock through your thin walls. “Fuck, doll, you’re so fucking perfect, taking my cock so well.” 

He couldn’t hold out any longer, pulling his hips back just to slam them back in, the sound of your leaking slick mixed with all the lube around your ass made a sinful sound. Just that one thrust knocks the wind out of the both of you, only to catch your breath to wantonly moan. “How does it feel, doll? How does my fat cock feel up your tight ass?” The slapping noises only got louder with each thrust, each harder than the last. 

“So good, daddy, so fucking good!” Bucky’s hips stutter, cock aching to cum, but he can’t, not yet.

Your moans mixed so sweetly with Bucky’s whines and groans. His fingers rubbing his dick every time he pushes back in. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Need to feel you milk my cock. Need you to milk daddy’s cock for him.” You shake your head, not able to process the pleasure he’s giving you, having already had seven orgasms. “Yes, you can, doll. I need it, need it so fucking bad.”

With his fingers still thrusting in your pussy, his metal hand comes down to rub your clit. Your hips jerk, trying to get away from the cool metal but you have nowhere to run. He fucks you even harder, urging the cum from his balls. You don’t even feel the coil tighten in your belly, overwhelming pleasure sneaking up on you. 

You can’t even scream, eyes rolling back, somehow mustering up the strength to push his hand away from your clit. With your ass clenching so hard around his dick, he can’t hold out any longer, cumming in your ass. He feels the wetness of your squirt push his fingers out, wetting his stomach and making his thrusts just that much easier. 

His orgasm is just as silent, knocking the words right out of him. He can’t even breath, veins in his forehead bulging, face turning red. This one doesn’t last as long, his balls being drained from all the cum he’s shot out in the past hour. Right before Bucky passes out, he sucks in huge gulps of air, trying to come back down to earth. You both lay there, eyes dazed, looking at nothing, covered in cum, lube, and squirt. Neither of you care, you couldn’t even if you tried. You’re the first to speak, voice hoarse from all the screaming you’ve done.

“We’re going to do that again.”

Bucky can only get out one word, “yeah.”

[seungkwansphd]

contusion confusion

pairing: seungcheol x afab reader word count: 4K synopsis: your clumsy lab partner left a bruise on you. seungcheol seems disproportionately upset by it, but it makes way more sense once you understand why. themes: college au, best friend seungcheol, double sided repressed feelings, possessive and jealous seungcheol. warnings: smut, mentions of bruising/marking, mention of reader being smaller than seungcheol.

a/n: i started this literally one year ago and lost steam. and then blonde.fucking.scoups comes along and truly does a number on me. anyways, bon appetit, LOL

“What the hell happened to you?” Seungcheol’s eyes widened as you stretched your legs across his lap on the sofa.

“What?” you blinked at him, taking your eyes off of the television momentarily.

“What’s this bruise from?” he asked, resisting the strong urge to touch the bluish purple mark just above your elbow.

“Ah, that!” you shrugged, “I almost tripped the other day in lab. Mingyu grabbed me, but he might as well have let me fall! Who knew someone could bruise you just from grabbing you! Like how strong is that dude even?” you rolled your eyes. Grumbling, you returned your attention to the screen.

Seungcheol stewed next to you. While he had no real claim or reason to be upset at your lab partner, every time you brought him up, it made him want to strangle someone.

Mingyu was so tall that you had to readjust the titration burette between replicates. Mingyu was all sweaty because he had come to lab right after the gym. Mingyu didn’t cover his face while sneezing.

Seungcheol eagerly awaited next semester when he wouldn’t have to hear about this man anymore.

Swallowing, your eyes flitted nervously to your best friend’s hands, which were stroking your calves absentmindedly as he watched the show. While just a mindless gesture on his part, you were struggling silently with the way it made your insides turn just slightly into jelly.

“Cheol, that tickles!” you finally pulled your legs away, curling into a ball against the armrest of the sofa.

“Oh, sorry,” he smiled sheepishly at you, seeming distracted. It almost seemed like your friend was sulking, but you couldn’t understand why. You were watching a sitcom!

…

“There you are!”

You looked up to see your lab partner standing over your table, clutching the straps of his backpack.

“Oh, hey Mingyu,” you furrowed your brows at him, “Did you need something?”

“I thought we were supposed to be working on our lab report today?” he cocked his head at you, wondering if he had gotten the time wrong.

“Oh shit!” you cursed, “I’m so sorry Gyu, I totally lost track of time!”

“That’s okay,” he laughed, “It’s not that big of a deal. You want to work on it now?”

“Sure!” you nodded, glancing at Seungcheol and Jeonghan, who were immersed in their computer programming assignments. “Do you mind if Mingyu joins us? We have a lab report.”

“Yes, we heard,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes at you, “Sure that’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Mingyu nods before taking the seat next to you.

“Did you start anything for it yet?” you asked, pulling your lab notebook out of your backpack.

“Whoa, did I really grab you that hard that day?” Mingyu exclaimed, seeing the purple bruise on your arm.

“Yes, it fuckin’ hurts too!” you squinted at him, annoyed.

“I didn’t think you could bruise someone just by grabbing them. I guess I’m just super strong, huh?” Mingyu preened.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you threatened to punch him.

Jeonghan observed Seungcheol’s shift in mood with mild interest as you and Mingyu muddled your way through your lab report.

“I need some coffee or I’m going to rip my eyeballs out,” you announced after calculating mole fractions for far too long. You stood from the table to move towards the cafe in the library. You tapped your fingertips on your wallet mindlessly as you calculated how many shots of espresso you could consume without your heart bursting out of your chest.

“YN!” a familiar voice greeted you as they tapped your shoulder.

“Ah, hey!” you smiled at Bina, your lab partner from last year. “Ugh, I’m working on a lab report and it is giving me flashbacks to last semester!”

“Oh my god, please don’t remind me!” she rolled her eyes. You two had barely managed to scrape through that class. Unlike you, it had been her only chem requirement, so she was free of the horror of lab reports now. “Who’s your lab partner this semester?”

“Mingyu Kim,” you scrunched up your nose slightly, “God bless him, but he is such a klutz.”

“Wait, no. Mingyu? The Kim Mingyu?” Bina paled slightly.

“Why? Do you know him? Is there tea?” you looked at her with wide eyes.

“No, god I wish. He’s just so hot to me! I’m jealous, I would slog through another semester of chem to be his lab partner.”

“Would you?!” you gaped at her, thoroughly alarmed. “You’re sick in the head over this man,” you laughed heartily.

“No, probably not,” Bina chuckled after giving it some more serious consideration. “But I’d think long and hard about it.”

“We’re sitting over there if you wanna stop by and say hi. I’ll introduce y’all,” you offered before placing your order with the cashier.

“I might do that,” she craned her head to see exactly where your table was. “You’re sitting with Seungcheol too? My friend is infatuated with that man. They’re in Comp Sci together. Can she come say hi too?”

“S-sure,” you answered blankly. You had no stake or claim, but something in you wanted to scream ‘NO!’ when you heard Bina ask that question.

“You’re the best, we’ll be over in a bit,” Bina smiled brightly at you, giving you a squeeze.

“Okay, I’m ready to resume crying,” you announced when you returned to the table with your beverage.

“Okay, good, cause I’m ready to take a break from crying,” Mingyu looked up at you pitifully. “I think I figured out 4. So then if we can figure out 5, then we just need to pull together some nonsense for the discussion.”

“Okay, okay,” you nodded determinedly. By some miracle, question 5 was just some simple dilution practice, so before long you and Mingyu were typing furiously, chipping away at the remainder of the lab report.

“Hey YN!” Bina’s voice pulled you out of a sentence about how (DUH) important it was to switch pipettes between samples.

“Oh, hey Bina! What’s up?” you waved excitedly at your friend, eager to do some meddling for her.

“Not much, how are you? Long time no see!”

“Yes, luckily you’re done with your chem requirements, otherwise you’d be here crying with us,” you laughed as Mingyu and Seungcheol looked on at you with interest. Jeonghan had long ago put on a pair of noise canceling headphones and was ignoring everybody. “Mingyu, Bina was my lab partner last semester. And she was a lot better than you are,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“Hey!” Mingyu pouted.

“I mean at the very least she’s my height, so I didn’t have to readjust the biuret every time we titrated,” you rolled your eyes playfully at Bina.

“It’s not my fault you’re both short,” Mingyu protested, eyes flickering to Bina for some support.

“If it makes you feel better, I was terrible in lab too,” she offered up sympathetically, “YN is my patron saint of chemistry. Did she ever tell you about how I exploded two crucibles one time?”

“No!” Mingyu looked at her with interest, “Was YN also very mean to you and made you finish your work way ahead of time?”

“Yes!” Bina giggled excitedly, “Like why can’t we pull all nighters like normal people?”

“Hell no, I’m not disrupting my sleep schedule for y’all. No thanks,” you shook your head stalwartly. “Anyways, you two should exchange numbers so you can complain about me on your own time,” you chuckled. Bina and Mingyu seemed to agree and set about that task enthusiastically.

“Ah, sorry I’m being rude, this is my friend Hayoung! We’re in a writing foundations class together so we were working on that.”

“Hi,” she waved at everyone shyly.

“Hayoung, what’s your major?” you asked.

“Computer science, focusing on human & computer interactions.”

“Ooh?! Love me a girly in STEM! These two are comp sci as well! Do you all know each other?” you asked, mostly Seungcheol as Jeonghan was still intent on ignoring you.

“Maybe? You look kind of familiar, but I don’t talk to many people in class,” he chuckled honestly.

“I think we might have a class together?” Hayoung smiled.

“Oh wonderful! You two should exchange numbers too! Maybe you can work on comp sci stuff together,” you suggested. They weren’t really giving you too much to work with, if you were being honest.

“I’d actually love that,” Hayoung’s eyes creased into a smile, “I don’t know that many people in the major.”

“Is it because they’re being sexist?” your eyes widened and you raised a fist theatrically, “I’ll fight them all for you. Cheol, you will too, right? Jeonghan’s not much use in a fight, if I’m being honest,” you commented quietly, glancing at the target of your teasing.

“Sure,” Seungcheol’s face creased into a real smile as he watched you whisper about Jeonghan animatedly.

Hayoung and Seungcheol exchanged phone numbers as you watched on excitedly. Hayoung was clearly pleased, but Seungcheol was making a face as if he had tasted something odd, but was too polite to say anything about it.

“Bina is so cute!” Mingyu remarked happily after they both left, “Lucky you with your cute lab partners!”

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes at him, “I love doing unpaid babysitting in the lab.”

…

“Cheol, can I crash on your couch?” you spoke after he picked up your call.

“Yeah, of course! Are you okay?” Seungcheol’s brow furrowed, worried.

“Yeah, I’ve just been sexiled,” you grumbled, starting your walk towards Seungcheol’s apartment. He met you about halfway and the two of you caught up on the walk back.

“How are things with Hayoung?” you asked, not quite making eye contact.

“What?” his hand slipped as he was moving to turn the doorknob.

“Hayoung, did you guys ever meet up to work on comp sci together?” you asked, lips pursed as you followed him into his apartment.

“Oh, no, she texted me but I forgot to text her back,” Seungcheol shrugged.

“Text her back, you jerk!” you poked Seungcheol insistently, “Hayoung’s cute! And she likes you.”

“That’s good for her,” Seungcheol grumbled, irritated at your attempt to push him towards someone else. Maybe his cause was truly hopeless.

“You’re acting weird,” you glanced at him oddly before flopping down on the couch.

“No, you take the bed,” Seungcheol ignored your statement and plopped down near your feet, tapping your legs lightly.

“No! I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed!” you protested.

“No, seriously, sleep on the bed. I always wake up before you anyways. I’ll end up waking you up if you sleep out here.”

“I-,” you tried to think of another excuse, but he wasn’t your best friend for no reason. He knew you just as well as you knew yourself. “Okay,” you acquiesced, hopping up from the couch to walk into his room, “Do you need anything from here before bed?” you turned to ask him, hand on the doorframe.

“Nope, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, thanks again for letting me crash,” you smiled at him before pulling the door not quite closed behind you.

Once inside, you dropped your bag and helped yourself to a t-shirt and pair of shorts from Seungcheol’s drawers. You laughed at the way you were swimming in the shirt.

“I look ridiculous,” you laughed, walking back out into the living room. “Cheol, look,” you spread your arms out to your sides, showing Seungcheol the way that his t-shirt just swallowed you.

“I-,” his brain stopped for a few moments. He wouldn’t say anything, but he could in fact see your nipples as you tried to show him whatever you were showing him. “What?”

“Your shirt is too big on me,” you folded your arms over your chest, irritated that he had been listening.

“Oh yeah, well I’m bigger than you,” he replied curtly.

“Well, yeah,” you glanced away from him. He was in such an odd mood today! You grumbled just a little bit before flopping down on the bed. You were tired.

Tossing and turning, you fought for a long time to push down the arousal that was building in your gut. Being enveloped by Seungcheol’s scent was making your brain go haywire. You could feel yourself throbbing and you bit down on your fist in an effort to try and distract yourself, but that hadn’t worked. Glancing nervously at the door, you contemplated seeking some relief, but the idea of doing it in Seungcheol’s bed while he was just outside the door inspired guilt, worry, and worst of all, excitement. 

You managed to ignore yourself for about ten minutes before your left hand snuck down between your thighs, stroking them softly. Sinking deeper into Seungcheol’s pillows, you closed your eyes and imagined your best friend’s hands softly caressing and spreading your legs apart. You were embarrassed to hear the wet sounds of yourself opening up, but not embarrassed enough to stop. Your right hand came to tease the sensitive undersides of your breasts as your fingertips stroked languidly through your folds.

In the living room, Cheol wrestled with whether to disturb you or not. Several minutes ago, he had noticed that one of his textbooks was still in his room. He’d been planning to get ahead on a problem set, so it wasn’t as if he needed to disturb you, but he also didn’t see himself falling asleep anytime soon. Chewing his lip, he noticed that the door was still slightly ajar and decided to retrieve the book as you must not have gone to bed just yet.

When his eyes first landed on your face, your brows were knit up in utter concentration as your hands worked feverishly under the covers. Your front teeth had your lower lip pinned down as you bit back the loudest of your desperate noises. Seungcheol’s pupils dilated as he registered what was happening. Frantically, he tried to back out of the room, but his sweater caught the edge of a pamphlet that had been hanging off the bookshelf, sending a handful of items clattering to the floor.

“Fuck!” your eyes shot open, panicked as you met Cheol’s gaze, “I’m, you-, help!” you squeaked, pulling the covers over your face as you wished to vanish off the face of the earth.

Seungcheol’s mind went blank as he walked towards you, placing his hands over yours to pull down the covers. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, so overcome with embarrassment that you failed to register the look of hunger in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry Cheol, I didn’t, I shouldn’t have done that here!”

“What?” he cocked his head to the side, brain not really functioning.

“It’s your bed!” you looked at him as if he was crazy, “I just-, you smell so good,” you spoke without thinking.

“I…,” he looked you up and down, “You’re telling me I inspired this?”

“Shit, I shouldn’t have said that, oh my god!” you groaned, trying to shrug under the covers again. Seungcheol’s large hands held you still and you watched in disbelief as he brought your left hand up to inspect it. The shine of moisture on your fingers was mortifyingly telling, but he surprised you to your core when he brought your hand to his mouth and sucked your wet fingers inside.

“Huh?!” you choked out, eyes fluttering shut as he tongue stroked between your digits, tasting you thoroughly.

“You should’ve told me about this sooner,” he told you, voice gravely with desire, “I’ve been torturing myself trying to ignore how much I think about you.”

“Oh?” you blinked at him in disbelief.

“Yes, oh,”  Seungcheol rolled his eyes at you, “Now let me help, as you requested.”

His fingers wandered. His eyes widened slightly when he felt just how wet you were. The rumble that emitted from his chest almost sounded like a purr and you found yourself quickly breathless at his ministrations.

“Cheol,” you moaned, melting slightly as his substantially larger fingers swirled dizzyingly through your folds. He smirked down at you, more than pleased to hear your saying his name in that manner.

“So needy,” he chuckled, eyes flicking over you.

“Well I was halfway there when you walked in,” you teased him and his eyes flashed at you, a subtle warning.

He raised one eyebrow at you before sliding his fingers inside of you. You choked on your breath at the intrusion, though your legs parted asking for more.

“You-, your fingers!”

“Mm, how do they feel?” he smirked at you, confident.

“I knew they’d stretch me out, bigger than mine,” you panted and his eyes widened at the realization that this wasn’t the first time you’d imagined this.

“You think about me a lot?” he raised an eyebrow at you, now cocky.

“No,” you lied, glancing away to avoid his eyes.

“My thick fingers spreading you open,” he continued anyways, smirking when he felt the way you reacted around him.

“Seung-,” you whined, overwhelmed at the way he teased you.

“God I like hearing you say my name like that,” Seungcheol shook his head, as if in disbelief. “Can I see you?” he asked, other hand itching to peel back the comforter.

You nodded wordlessly. You were slightly mortified to reveal yourself to him in this way, but his other hand quickly distracted you. You watched his eyes rove across you appreciatively until they trained in on your bruise, his jaw clenching.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” he exhaled sharply.

“Why? It wasn’t on purpose!”

“No, it’s not-,” Seungcheol paused. “That’s not why. I was annoyed because the idea of getting to be the one to leave marks on you has rendered me…basically unable to produce coherent thought.”

“Oh? OH,” your eyes widened, gears in your brain turning. “I mean…all yours, Cheol,” you smiled sheepishly at him.

“Really?” he groaned, looking at you appreciatively as he thought about exactly where and how he’d like to mar your skin.

“Seungcheol!” you snapped at him as he continued to mumble to himself.

“Maybe a handprint here?” he grazed your upper thigh with his palm, eyes dancing mischievously at you. “Or a necklace of hickeys,” he growled as he nipped at the base of your neck. He had decided to seize the opportunity to tease you, and as much as you liked it, you only had so much patience.

“Cheol, please,” you pouted, grabbing at his collar, “I can’t take anymore of this.”

“Yes princess,” he pulled an old nickname out of the vault. You melted.

“Mmmpf!” he smothered your next protest with a kiss.

“Seung. Cheol!” you moaned desperately as his hand grabbed your thigh, hard.

The strength in his grip set your nerves alight and your head fell back against the bed, arching your chest up towards him. His mouth took the opportunity to latch onto the underside of your breast, biting down firmly. Your hand fisted itself in his hair.

It was so much sensation. It was so good.

“Hn,” he pulled back with a breathless smile. His eyes flicked down to the spots where his mouth and hand had been and his lips curled into a cocky grin at the bright red marks. With any luck those would be bruised nicely tomorrow.

“That was…a lot,” you murmured as you caught your breath.

“In a bad way?” Seungcheol’s brow furrowed with sudden worry.

“No,” you smiled at him, slightly fuzzy, “In a good way. A really good way.”

“Really?” his eyebrows raised back up with delight. “So you won’t mind if you bruise a little?”

“I don’t think I’ll mind even if you bruise me a lot,” you answered after some thought.

Your best friend’s eyes darkened. The way you had rearranged his words hit the possessive button in his brain like crazy. His lips nibbled and nipped their way down your torso while his hand came to cup your breast. His grip was on the hard side of firm as his lips latched onto a spot on your inner thigh. His tongue stroked across the sensitive skin as he sucked firmly.

Your thighs parted of their own accord as you squirmed at this building onslaught. As you shifted, you could hear the wet sounds of yourself spreading. Open and inviting.

“Cheol, please,” you tried to pull him towards you. “Please,” you panted.

Seungcheol, the bastard, increased the intensity of his sucking before releasing his lips with a loud ‘pop!’. The jolt of the disconnection sent a shiver through you and the spot where his mouth had been now felt woefully cool.

“Pretty,” he looked at the red mark appreciatively. The thought that you would be reminded of this encounter over the next weeks sent a streak of pride through him that was unexpected.

“Seungcheol!” you grabbed his face by his cheeks, directing his attention to you. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to kick you out and take care of it myself!”

His eyes widened and he chuckled sheepishly before reaching over you to pull a condom out of the nightstand. You watched, almost painfully aroused, as he undressed and unrolled the condom over himself. His cock bobbed proudly as he pulled his sturdy torso over you, slotting himself between your thighs.

You sighed when his cock came to rest against your core. You could already tell it was going to be good.

“Seungcheol, please,” you placed your hands around his jaw. “Need you.”

He nodded, reaching down to slip himself inside of you. A soft gasp escaped you as his head pushed in and you couldn’t help but relish in the stretch. Seungcheol took his time sinking into you. The whines and gasps that you made were way too good to be rushed.

“Cheol,” your hands clutched at the back of his thick neck until he was pressed flush against you. “Fuck,” you exhaled into his ear.

Seungcheol’s hand was gripping your hip so hard as he struggled to keep control of himself. Of all the things that he found overwhelming, the way you pulsed and squeezed around him, the little sounds you made as he had pressed into you…the worst of all was the way you smelled. His hand fisted itself further in your hip as he inhaled you, a most intoxicating scent.

You clenched around him as his hand tightened. He was sure to bruise you there, too, and you couldn’t wait. Knowing that you’d be able to see these marks as evidence that this wasn’t another crush induced dream made you feel crazed in a different way.

“You feel perfect,” Seungcheol groaned against your skin as his hips started to move. “I just knew it.”

Clench.

You hooked your legs around his hips as he pumped into you deeply. Each thick stroke pushed you dangerously closer to the precipice and you were ready to fall off the edge.

“Cheol,” you pulled back slightly to meet his blown out gaze. “I’m there.”

“Go ahead,” he encouraged you, aching to feel you come apart around him. “Be good and come for me.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let go. Your hands clutched desperately at his shoulders as your pussy fluttered around him. You didn’t even know what kinds of sounds you made as you simply didn’t have the presence of mind.

“So good,” he smiled, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours. “So good,” he grunted before his hips shuddered and he emptied himself inside of you.

You wrapped your arms around his torso as he slumped down on top of you. He smiled when you gave him a squeeze with your entire body.

“So you’re kind of possessive, huh?” you chuckled softly after you’d regained your sanity.

Seungcheol squeezed his eyes shut with a laugh. He hadn’t realized it, or maybe it was just because it was you, but yes. Yes he was.

[reidmotif]

Always Bet on Black

Summary: Reader realizes she has an advantage at the Bureau's Casino Night, when Spencer can't seem to take his eyes off her and her dress.

Prompt: The BAU throws a casino night charity fundraiser. Spencer is a menace. Someone has to find a way to distract him.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: drinking, gambling (i have never gambled in my life nor have i played poker or blackjack. this will be super apparent in this fic. many apologies), nipple play, oral sex (f!receiving) hickies, Reader POV, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist

“And that’s another win to the gentleman on my right!”  The dealer announces for what feels like the millionth time that night. There's a shit-eating grin on Spencer Reid’s face as he leans over the blackjack table, wrapping his arms around the hearty stack of chips in an almost in an exaggerated manner, pulling it back towards him much to everyone’s dismay. 

My dismay, especially, because while- yes, this is for charity, and what Spencer’s doing could be characterized as noble in some roundabout way, it was getting a bit repetitive. Spencer was so focused, a thousand times more than anyone else at that table, his brain working a million miles a minute to provide him with the best course of action when it came to gambling.  

And so far? It worked perfectly. While everyone else was taking their chances and betting away, praying that the odds would line up in their favor, Spencer Reid did fucking math, and suddenly the odds were his bitch.  I was beginning to understand why every casino in Las Vegas had him banned now. If he was giving the BAU Casino Night a run for their money like this, I can’t imagine the Bellagio being too pleased with having him either. 

I sighed at the thought, and it seemed Spencer picked up on it, the corners of his lips turning upwards, trying to feign a chagrin expression as he stacked his chips on top of the other. 

“Something wrong, (Y/N)?” He says, looking at me. “Are you not enjoying yourself?” 

Spencer Reid is usually nice, humble, and sweet. In all honesty, I should not be feeling this hostile and sore at the fact that he’d managed to beat me almost every single time we’d played blackjack. My embarrassment was only heightened when I thought of how I’d (stupidly) bragged beforehand that I’d never lost a game in college. 

How quickly my streak was destroyed. 

My pride was bruised, and the man in front of me knew it. 

“I’m enjoying myself just fine.” I say, trying not to grit my teeth as I say the words. 

“You look a bit hot.” He says, referring to my face that had gotten slightly red after the most recent loss I’d taken. “Would you like me to get you a drink?” He asks, his gaze turning less cocky, and more sweet and polite. 

I melt a bit. “Okay. No need to be a sore loser.” I think to myself. “This is a sweet man, and he’s offering you a drink. Yes, he’s destroying you right now and knows it, but it’s not like he’s acting like a complete dick about it.”

I nod at his words, sending a small smile his way. 

“A drink would be great actually.” I finally respond, and he gets up, pushing his chair in. 

“I’ll be right back.” He says, turning away from me, and sauntering towards the bar.

 I take a second to admire him as he walks away, the suit and tie ensemble he picked out for the night complimenting him so well. I’d never say it out loud, considering we were coworkers, but something about seeing him so dapper, so much more.. mature brought out a warm feeling in my stomach, one that made me shift in my seat as I tried to rid myself of thoughts of grabbing him by his tie, placing a hand on his perfectly sculpted jawline, pulling him against me and- no! 

He. Is. Your. Colleague. Snap out of it! 

In lieu of my wandering thoughts, I’d realized I had actually heated up quite a few degrees and in an attempt to combat the sudden body heat, I shrugged off the shawl I’d been donning for most of the night. I felt the cool air hit my exposed shoulders and chest, and relaxed a bit, starting to feel my temperature lower. Right as I did so,  Spencer returned to his seat, holding two drinks. 

I turn towards him, still seated. He’s sitting in his seat, facing towards me as well, and I instinctively reach over to grab the drink in his hand, expecting him to meet me halfway and transfer the cup to me.  But instead of the expected interaction, he seems a bit dazed, an intense expression on his face as he bored his eyes into me, studying me almost. It’s an expression that causes me to raise my eyebrows at him. 

“Spencer?” I say. “Hello?” I wave my hand a bit, trying to break him from his trance. “The drinks?” I add, and that’s what seems to break him out of his preoccupied stupor. He blinks a bit before shaking his head.

“Sorry. Sorry. I spaced out there for a moment.” He says, hastily handing me my glass and turning away completely from me, taking a sip out of his. I can notice a small tremor in his hand as he sets down the liquid on the table, and I’m a bit concerned. He was just fine a moment ago. Did someone say something whilst he was at the bar? Did he choose to ponder some life-changing information as he took his seat at the table? Was he losing it for no reason at all? 

Regardless of what it was, I didn’t have the time to contemplate it further or question him about it because the dealer was beginning to shuffle the deck of cards again. 

As the next game started, there was something fundamentally different about Spencer. He looked  almost panicked, even going as far as to loosen his tie as he played. I thought I’d maybe imagined the changes, until finally, I got a real indicator that something was off. For the first time that whole night- he lost. 

My mouth was agape as the dealer announced the house win, and as I looked between him and the table, he didn’t seem all that fazed, simply shrugging as he attempted to get up. Before he could slip away, I grabbed his arm and brought him a bit closer to me, so that I could speak to him over the sounds of the bustling party around us.

“Spencer- wait. Is something wrong?” I ask, the genuine concern in my tone apparent to anyone who might’ve walked by. 

“Yeah, no. Um. Why wouldn’t it be?” He says, his eyes everywhere except me. It was almost comical. The ceiling tiles couldn’t be that interesting. 

I grip his arm a little harder, urging him to look at me, to talk to me. “You lost! That hasn’t happened all night! Was someone- did something happen? Are you feeling okay?” I ask, my eyes trying to meet his. 

He gulps, finally looking at me. “Statistically, card counting can’t actually work every time so I was bound to lose at some point right?” He says, a little shakily, and despite his words making logical sense, the notion that something was wrong didn’t leave me. 

“You promise?” I say, looking at him as intensely as I possibly could to ensure he wouldn’t try to evade giving me an honest answer. 

He gives his signature, flat smile, nodding. “I’ll be fine. Look. I’m gonna go play some other games. Maybe rack up my luck somewhere else.” 

I lick my lips and finally let go of his arm, nodding. “Have fun.” I say, and he gives me a little wave. 

“You too.” 

For the next hour or so, I found myself dabbling at the other assortment of games offered by the Bureau that night, until yet again, my path crossed with Spencer, who seemed to be on a pretty hefty winning streak- if the stack of chips he’d accumulated wasn’t a clear sign of that already. 

I stood by the table, slightly out of his view,  a little amazed by the way his eyes followed the deck and everyone’s movements so precisely. The level of focus required to do what he was was absolutely no joke, and I couldn’t help but admire in silent awe at the exactness of the whole process. It only made him that much more attractive in that moment, if that was even possible. 

“Royal flush.” He announces, fanning his cards as everyone at the table groans. It’s only then when his gaze meets mine, watching him, and I can observe the signs of a tell-tale blush creeping up his neck. Odd.

“(Y/N)! Hello.” He says, quickly. “Still liking the party?” 

“I am, thank you.” I say, my eyebrows slightly furrowing at how oddly he’s behaving. “Mind if I join the next round?” I ask, already starting to take my seat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He says, clearing his throat and turning his entire body away from me. Spencer and I usually got along just fine. There was nothing ever particularly sour about our relationship, and I’d like to think that in the time I’d spent at the Bureau, our shared experiences had brought us closer. However, the way he was acting as of right now, like we were strangers or mere acquaintances threw me off beyond belief. 

It was official, something was off.

I leaned over a little closer, trying to get him to look at me.

“Spencer, I know I’ve already asked but is anything-“ I start, and I can see him glance over, and then almost rapidly turn his gaze away.

“No! Nothing’s wrong. Let’s play.” He rushes out, his words teetering on almost being high pitched. 

It didn’t evade me however, in that short microsecond he took to look at me, his gaze dropped partially down. I internally followed his line of sight to realize that my breasts were practically spilling from my dress. I knew that it was a bit showy, but didn’t think much of it when I’d chosen to wear it for this occasion. The event was black-tie, and so I’d fished out a number I’d haphazardly bought during an online shopping spree. It was black and sparkly, but the main caveat of the dress was the gorgeous bodice in the front, managing to give a good show of cleavage whilst pushing up my breasts and making them all that more appealing to anyone who noticed.  I began to connect the events of the night, realizing that someone clearly had noticed.

Spencer’s losing streak had coincidentally begun once I’d lost the shawl that was once covering my chest. 

An idea slowly entered my head. An experiment, if you will. As we started another game, I barely paid attention as my fingers slid over to what looked like a glass of water on Spencer’s side. 

“Spence?” I murmur, tapping his shoulder.

“Mm?” He asks, not even taking a moment to look away from his cards. 

“Mind if I take a sip from your water?” I ask, keeping my voice saccharine and innocent.

I can see the look he shoots me, his eyes slightly narrowed in surprise but he quickly looks away. “Yeah, um. Sure. Go ahead.” He responds dismissively, as if talking to me for even a second longer would result in him breaking out in hives. 

 Totally out of character. For all the closeness in the world, Spencer Reid would never have shared a glass of water. 

As I began to sip the water, I did something that could be categorized as deeply stupid, but in the name of my experiment, it was absolutely necessary. I slightly tipped the glass, allowing the cool water to run down my neck and drip onto the swell of my breasts. I made a show of getting up, touching my chest to try and rid myself of the moisture that was now coating my breasts. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’ll get you another glass of water.” I say,letting my breasts bounce a bit as I stand up,  and when he looks at me, it’s more apparent than ever that his eyes aren’t gracing mine anytime soon. Not when I was like this. 

I grinned in secret as I turned around,  quickly bringing over a replacement glass to him, leaning over so that if he were to simply turn his head even slightly to his left, he’d get a direct look at what he simply couldn’t seem to take his eyes or mind off tonight. 

“Uh. Thanks.” He stammers again, shakily drinking the water as he miserably failed at not looking. Bingo. 

When the next round of our game commenced, he lost horrifically, as expected. His mind was in an entirely different dimension, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride, knowing it was me who’d rendered him dumb. So unfocused. So unlike himself. It wasn’t until I felt a tap on my shoulder, noticing Spencer’s hand carrying out the action. 

“Walk with me.” He says, simply. His tone was so sharp and commanding, I found myself listening with no hesitation, following as we moved to a more secluded bit of the party. 

“What are you doing?” He asks in an accusatory tone, his voice a hushed whisper. 

“What do you mean?” I respond, a faux naivete in my words, which he only scoffed at. He leaned in closer, his brows furrowed. I could notice a small vein popping out from his forehead, and the sight only increased the ache I’d begun to feel in my panties since he’d directed me here. 

“You know what I mean.” He says, dangerously. “You’re flaunting yourself.” He adds, his jaw tight. “You know what it’s doing to me. You’re enjoying it.” I could tell he wanted to say so much more, the grit in his tone leading me to believe there were some much cruder words he wished to utter to me.

 Regardless, the authority in his tone only spurred me to try and resist. It was so hot watching him like this. Maybe a bit fucked up to say that, but it didn’t matter in that moment. I only wanted to test the limits. To see the new man I could bring out in Spencer Reid tonight. 

“So what if I am?” I say, biting my lip. “It’s a party, Spencer. We’re all having fun, aren’t we?” 

“No.” He responds, darkly. “I’m not having fun.” 

A proposal came to mind. One I knew that would pan out deliciously, since I’d now gotten a look into his extensive lust tonight, and just how desperate he seemed. I leaned forward to whisper to him, my lips teasing the outer shell of his ear. 

“Win another game, and I’ll show you just how much fun you could be having.”

He immediately pulls back. His eyes narrow, and I can see the weight of my words course through his mind, evaluating the odds of my statement before clicking his tongue. 

“See you in 30 minutes.” is his response, as he walks away, beckoning me to follow him to yet another Blackjack table. I grin, sitting beside him. 

My presence doesn’t seem to phase Spencer whatsoever this time around, his laser-point focus uninterrupted even as I stared shamelessly at him. It wasn't until the game seemed to be reaching its turning point, in which Spencer had to decide whether drawing or staying would bring forth a better outcome for him. I watched as he mulled over the decision for a few seconds before his eyes locked onto mine, gaze intense. 

“Draw.” He voices, not even paying mind as the dealer announced his win. 

Spencer gets up without a word, and I can see him head towards a hallway that houses a few restrooms in the building. 

“Sir- your winnings!” The dealer calls out, but I smile apologetically, starting to follow Spencer to a more secluded area of the party.

“Sorry. He’s probably a bit preoccupied. I’ll let him know!” I respond, already turning around and making my way to the same hallway Spencer had gone down, finding the bathroom and opening it. I knew Spencer would be there, but what I didn’t expect was to be pulled into his arms, greeted by Spencer’s lips insistently pressing against mine, his free hand clutching the back of my head, as his other hand went to click the lock into place. I responded with a momentary bout of shock, but quickly found myself melting into his touch, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“You like watching me lose, is that it?” He whispers harshly, in between kisses. I can feel the anger, the lust and passion, all rolling into one as his lips meet mine, over and over again, creating the sweetest of sensations that wracked my whole body. 

“Mm. Not just you losing. You losing because you’re distracted. Because of me.” I say, my tone a bit dazed and breathy from the intensity he was putting me through. 

“Can you blame me?” He murmurs, his lips now trailing down my neck, paying close mind to a particular spot on the side that left my knees weak. “You wear this dress and expect me to not take my eyes off of you?” 

His hot breath grazes over my skin and I can feel myself shiver. I’m completely overwhelmed by him. The feel of his hands caressing the small of my back and waist, his smell of his cologne wafting around me. I can only breathe unsteadily, and hold onto him, a needy whimper slipping past my lips. 

“Shh. You’re okay. I got you.” He murmurs. His tone was sweet, soothing, but his actions were anything but, as his fingers slipped around to find the zipper on my dress. 

In an instant, his mouth was finally all over my breasts, his mouth leaving a few marks on the expanse of my chest before his tongue began to sweep over my nipples, swirling around the raised bud, leaving me grappling to his shoulders, as more moans poured out from within me. 

“You like that?” He breathes against my skin, and I nod, frantically. I’d never expected to go this weak, but he was so much more skilled with his mouth than I’d ever expected.

“Please. Keep going.” I moan, and I can feel his hands on my thighs, urging me into his arms. I comply, and can feel myself be lifted to the bathroom counter, his hands squeezing the fat of my hips before dropping to his knees. His fingers looped around my underwear, and I attempted to move in a way that would aid him in their removal. As soon as they were off, he stuffed them into his pocket, and moved to lift my dress up, his face disappearing into my now spread legs. 

And suddenly he was everywhere, tongue swiping over my clit in rapid motions, flicking against me in a way that had me immediately squeezing my thighs around his face, to which Spencer responded by pushing them apart, leaving me shaking. 

“Oh god, Spencer. Oh-” I moan, over and over again, my hand gripping onto the strands of his hair. My eyes squeeze shut as I feel my orgasm rapidly approaching, my legs trembling more than ever. 

“Spencer- I’m gonna-” I groan out, my grip tightening, and I look down, watching him devour me with so much precision and focus, the same I’d seen during his playing all night. I watched as his eyes met mine, his lips sucking around my clit and in a fit of moans, I found myself releasing all over his tongue, my body shuddering as he worked me through my orgasm, moaning against my core. 

He rose from his knees and planted a long, deep kiss on my lips, and I moaned as I tasted myself on him. My hands started to go for his belt, desperate to feel this man inside me. As soon as his cock was freed from the confines of his briefs, I guided him towards my entrance, gasping as I felt him push into me, immediately filling me up. I breathed in sharply from the pleasure of the sensation, my eyes screwing shut before opening them to see his eyes staring back at me. He gave me a moment to adjust, watching my face for any sign of discomfort, but there was none, only the carnal desperation I felt for this man. I nodded to let him know I was ready,  and suddenly, like a man possessed, he began to jut his hips towards mine, causing me to whimper and dig my nails into his back. 

He moaned as he slammed into me, over and over again, while his mouth kissed at my neck, at my jaw, my lips, murmuring my praises over and over again. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He groans, my hips firmly gripped by his large hands, keeping me from slipping off the counter. “And that dress. Fuck. God, I want you.” 

I nod, too overwhelmed with pleasure to even speak, rather opting to moan his name and nod furiously. 

He kept one hand on my hip, while the other trailed down to where we were joined, and began to rub fast, hard circles over my already sensitive bud, the action causing me to gasp out and open my eyes, letting him know that my second release of the night was inevitable. 

“You wanna cum, pretty girl?” He mumbles, keeping his voice low and his fingers diligent on my clit. 

“Please,” I sob out, my voice breaking with just how much I needed this right now. How much I needed him. 

“Come for me.” He murmurs, and as if under a spell, I do, coming undone rapidly in his grasp, my head falling against his shoulder as he continues the movement of his hips until I feel him still, and then spill into me, his breath heavy and chest heaving. 

I pull back, my forehead meeting his as he stares at me in a bit of a trance, our breaths mingling as we both came down from what had just happened. 

“I think.. you should probably cover up.. after that.” He murmurs, grinning a bit at the wide array of marks he’d just left on my neck and chest, undeniably exposing us. 

“Right you are.” I giggle back, leaning in for another kiss.  This time sweeter, softer.

I was definitely wearing this dress again for him.

  hello!! oh my god!! it has been so long since i've posted a fic. finals are over! i am free! i promise we will be back to a more normal schedule now (can i do weekly fics? who knows. i'll try). as usual, thank you for any and all reblogs, likes and comments. it's been a long time since i've even thought about writing, so i hope this is up to everyone's standards. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins office party challenge. so, you know. look at the other fics there too! sorry for clearly not knowing anything about card games. also also, just a fun fact. i envisioned readers dress being meredith grey's prom dress from s2ep27.. hehe. okay, i've already talked enough. thank you thank you thank you for reading and supporting!!!

[leclsrc]

it’s never over ✴︎ cl16

genre: childhood friends to friends with benefits to lovers (a mouthful), smut, humor, Fluffff!!!!, several references to 70’s music, 

word count: 12.9k  

You must have lost the plot along the way, because pretending to date your childhood best friend was not on your 2023 bingo card. (Neither was the fact that things are looking a lot more real as time passes.)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... handjob (f receiving), penetrative sex, semi public sex, praise central, size kink

auds here… hi hi hi!!! you’ve no idea how much i missed writing posting and interacting w u guys. thank u for all the love & follows i’ve gotten in my periods of mia. more things soon i promise ty for ur patience love love love u allll 🌟🤎🤠💋 this is my love letter to fic tropes. i feared if it was too long i’d lose the plot somehow so i had to condense it. i truly hope u all like it :) will try & reopen reqs sometime soon to get inspo kicking

It’s later than late. The lights are strobing purple and blue, the “let’s get you even drunker than you are” headache inducing kind. The floor is crowded, swelling with teenagers who are probably too young to get in, drunk off cheap aperol and watered-down tequila shots. You’re balancing yourself on a barstool, one hand busy wrapped around a slim glass, the other clawing your miniskirt lower because the air bites at your legs.

“Another voddy Red Bull!” You’re slurring, mind spinning almost as fast as your vision. You almost drop your empty glass in your rush to look for another one—but right as it slips clumsily out of your fingers, it’s caught. 

Charles, your cocktail’s knight in armor and yours just as well, is eighteen. His hair is  light brown and long, but not draping over his eyes like before. You know before because you’ve never not known before—Charles has been your best friend since you were five.

Snoopy, he says, voice steady and calm in your ear. His frame is still lanky but he’s tall and his grip on your shoulders is enough to quell the yelling. You pout. Get me another voddy red, you plead. Charlie, it’s my birthday. He smiles to himself, knowing your vision’s too cloudy to see him and your mind’s too bogged to remember any of this. You’d already slipped up and told two bouncers you were seventeen and not eighteen, like your poorly-Photoshopped ID suggested; Charles had to keep you in check, lest you or your friends end up kicked out of the club.

A song booms in through the speakers and your eyes widen with recognition. Charles doesn’t anticipate your reaction fast enough, affording only a stumble backwards when you attempt to leave the barstool to dance. He swears under his breath, mind recounting the five previous dance sessions that left you exhausted and out of breath earlier.

I’ll get you a vodka Red Bull if you sit down, he tells you. He enunciates because, twelve years later, you still can’t wrap your mind around his thick European accent. Sit down.

Alriiiight! You hoot, throwing two fists up in the air. Customary for many bartenders on nights as busy as this one, a free shot is thrust into your vacant hand and you cheer loudly, much to Charles’ chagrin. With whatever malice the eighteen-year-old can muster, he casts the bartender a dirty look before turning to face you again, worried. He places a hand on your shoulder and watches, half-anxious and half-endeared, you take the shot and visibly grimace at the raw taste. Fuck. It’s gin I think, you sputter. Charles presses: You okay?

More than, you holler, smiling. I am officially seventeeee— 

The bartender’s eyebrows furrow, the thirty-something businessman in the adjacent stool turns to look—so Charles has no choice but to shut you up, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours before you can seal your fate.

Your eyes widen briefly, and when Charles feels the passed seconds are sufficient, he pulls away. You stare, eyes hazy, at the pretty boy you’ve had feelings for since you turned fourteen, and lean in to kiss him again. 

—

Pascale is hosting her weekly Sunday brunch at the Leclerc residence, all French windows and wide kitchens and bowls of fruit. As always, your place is at the kitchen island picking at plates to taste test them. Bonjour, Arthur drawls when he walks in. He turns to Pascale. Mum. Then you. Snoopy.

You halt biting into your forkful of arugula and turn toward the younger Leclerc, eyebrows raised. “What’d you just call me?”

“Snoopy,” he says simply. He’s beside Pascale, one arm wrapped around her affectionately. “Or, Snoops, if you like that. Yes?”

“Who told you about that nickname?”

“Lorenzo.”

“Hasn’t been in use since your voice was cracking every sentence.”

“Tête de noeud.” Pascale swats his arm and he yelps, so you resume your arugula with satisfaction.

Charles is late for reasons he did not disclose, but everyone is used to it. The open kitchen door stretches into the front yard, where the table is set up and Lorenzo is setting the places. You know that although you usually expect a few more relatives, today’s just for the family—and you, but you’re basically family.

“How is Paris?” Arthur asks, licking hummus off a spoon opposite you. Your position is reminiscent of how you spent afternoons after school with Charles before, and the memory strikes a chord in you. Strange nostalgia, fondness.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh really?” He laughs in-between nibbles of carrot.

“I got an offer for a higher position,” you relent. Pascale calls you both, and you get up and walk toward the yard to sit down. “If you must know.”

“Oh? Let me know how that goes.” He follows you, carrot slice in hand, chewing. The conversation is cut short by the smooth noise of Charles’ decidedly un-smooth parking outside.

You’re seated at your usual spot—in-between Charles and Lorenzo, across Arthur—when the former finally walks into the yard. He looks tired, moreso than usual, bags under his eyes deep and hair a bit more disheveled.

He sits beside you. “I need to talk to you.” Then, quieter, “Private.”

You hum confusedly, eyes flitting across the three other people at the table to gauge their reactions. They’re equally aloof. “Wh—now?” He nods.

You end up talking in the kitchen. He’s sighing the whole fifteen steps there, rubbing the bridge of his nose, exhaling, inhaling. Ever observant, and of someone as close to you as he is, you pick up on the tiny actions, behaviors. Charles is wringing his hands. He’s tried to pop the same knuckle twice. He isn’t frantic—he’s scared. You lean against the counter, waiting, eyes looking him up and down to identify his exact emotions.

“Tell me,” you press. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge.”

“The—my—the iCloud of my phone has been leaked. The press found out.”

When you were eight and he was nine, you and Charles summered in Villefranche with your mum and dad. The weather then was the kind you could write love letters to and about—blue skies, salty wind, soft sand. The current was calm enough that you could ride the gentle waves without fear of going under or straying far from the shore, where your parents sunbathed blissfully.

Don’t drown, he’d warned you, ever protective. You wore pink floaties over your arms, so it was already difficult to.

You dove under with great effort, fighting against the buoyancy, and poked his bare knee, surfacing to watch his reaction. He grimaced. Slowpoke, you teased, swimming away. You wondered then what it might feel to drown. Maybe not in the blue water of Villefranche, but anywhere else.

You think it hurts to drown? You blubbered, bobbing above the wave. Charles swam in front of you and wiped water off your face gently. I hope you never find out, he said, smiling.

But this is you finding out. This is it now, the drowning. Your fingers flex over the edge of the counter and you gulp, eyes fluttering with nerves. “Shit?” It comes out like a question from how nervous you are. “Um, sorry. What are we—” But your question is cut short by Pascale’s voice, cutting through the tension like it’s wet cardboard. The agreement is silent and mutual: save this discussion for later.

—

Charles can’t wake up fast enough. There are calls, texts, voicemails from every officer on his team, which isn’t that surprising given he’s up two hours late. But the amount—the sheer amount of notifications is dizzying. Overwhelmed, he finds it in himself to pull up his search engine app and let his fingers possess themselves.

All he types is his last name, and then The Sun article is splashed onto his face like a pot of scalding coffee: “F1 DRIVER ICLOUD LEAKED, PERSONAL PHOTOS ALL OVER INTERNET.” Daily Mail is next, of course, watering down the situation to seem more dirty and scandalous: “Naughty Driver? Charles Leclerc’s iCloud Hacked, Reveals Mystery Girl.” And then of course Page Six, who doesn’t miss a beat—

Wait. He blinks and presses the back arrow to return to the previous webpage. He reads over it again, slower this time. Mystery Girl? Shit—no. No way. It’s almost (it should be) silly, the way he’s reading vigorously over the reports like he’s a fan, but he’s anxious. He scrolls, because if any tabloid is daft enough to publish the leaked photos, it’s got to be the Daily Mail.

He pauses his quick swiping when his eyes harden with recognition, and staring back at him, on his phone’s full brightness, is a picture of you on his lap at Christmas. It’s the one Lance took while attempting to guess Charles’ password, one of you wine drunk with his head buried in your neck.

It’s unmistakably him, at his own house in Monaco where the drivers had a holiday get-together. It’s unmistakably you, hair draped over your face, three gold rings on your fingers. You had just given him a Strokes vinyl, he recalls. That’s why you were hugging.

There’s another one of you playing Scrabble in his bed—he’s not in the frame, but he remembers taking it. This, he could deny. He’s not in it, and he’s pretty sure the fans don’t know his house this well. Already his brain’s doing manual damage control, dread filling his veins at the thought of reading through his team’s frantic messages.

Another message stands out, pinned on top of all the others—from his mum, reminding him about brunch. He gets ready half-focused, half-lucid. Fully worried. He worries about the PR crisis this may cause, about his iCloud security, about the reactions online. Above all, though, he worries about you. About what he should tell the press. About how “actually, we’re not dating, we just fuck constantly” might hold up for the fans.

—

You’re twelve and Charles thirteen, both of you seated across Hervé and Pascale. Behind them stand your own parents, and they all look stern. What this is, Pascale says gently, is a family meeting. Okay?

Okay. It leaves your high voices in shaky unison. You both know what you’re doing here—you snuck out of school to catch a movie earlier, the teacher naturally caught wind of the misdeed, and now you’re in a meeting for it.

Snoops, Charles whispers, trying to ease your nerves with lighthearted commentary. This is the worst.

No, you want to tell preteen Charles—this is. You’re older now, yet still subjected to similar questioning, though today it’s Pascale going solo. It’s been three days since the fated day where the press leaked the pictures of you and Charles in compromising positions, and like any boomer, she’s used Facebook to her advantage and gotten ahold of the compromising pictures, too. 

“How long?” Her voice is enunciated in hard syllables.

“Mum—”

“Answer the question.” She looks back and forth, moving into territory of intense questions. “Both of you.”

“Um.”

“Because… I’ve been…”

You notice it immediately, given your observant track record: her shoulders relax and her lips smile just slightly. You sit still, and wait for the next words out of her mouth. “…waiting for this all my life!”

You and Charles watch in mild horror as Pascale’s face goes from firm to absolutely elated. Her eyes soften and a smile spreads over her face, illuminating her with pure joy. Do you even know how many bets I made with your papa, Charles? She claps her hands together several times.

Charles opens his mouth to verbalize dissent, but she doesn’t take it—she’s already droning on and on about how long she’s waited for this to finally happen. Your eyes glide over to the doorway of the dining area, where Lorenzo and Arthur watch with smug looks on their faces. Little shits won’t help you. You don’t even try to protest, and at some point Charles gives up, too. You don’t know how it’ll come across, anyway.

Ninety minutes later, you’re in Arthur’s bedroom rifling through his desk and praying you don’t find anything too gross. He’s on his bed throwing a bouncy ball up in the air, conversing with Charles about your gameplan with their mum.

The sky outside is in limbo between afternoon and night. It’s cloudy, so the sunset is a pale yellow instead of angry orange. “Why not just tell her the truth?”

You’d also thought that was the easiest option, escape route, exit path. But that would involve breaking Pascale’s heart, and that was out of the question for you, let alone Charles, certified mommy’s boy.

“I can’t, Arthur.” Charles’ voice is steady and unwavering.

“You can.”

“No.”

“Fine. Next best thing then.”

You fiddle with a Rubik’s cube, then turn in the seat. “What?”

“Pretend you’re dating.”

“Arthur,” you say seriously. “Shut up.” But he doesn’t join you, and you realize neither does Charles. You stare blankly at both of them, unwilling to believe they’d actually bank on this as an actual plan. 

“You guys realize this kind of thing never works? Zero percent success rate.”

“It’s just paddock appearences. You’re not pretending for millions of people,” Arthur says, shrugging. He catches the ball and throws it to you—you catch it one-handed. “You’re pretending for Mum.”

“Sure. And by extension, millions of people. Are you dense, or do you think the paddock appearances will just breeze by everyone who saw the leaks?”

“Ughhh. You’re acting like it’s impossible.” Arthur holds his breath before he utters the next sentence. “Like you two aren’t fucking every other w—”

“—oh, my God!” Shocked, you get up, and so does Charles. “Wh—I’m—language, Arthur!”

Charles balks. “How did you even—”

“I didn’t. But merci mille fois for confirming my theory,” Arthur quips faux-sweetly, smiling dopily. “I mean, I was going to find out! Your pictures are so… intimate. So just pretend to date and throw Maman off your scent.”

You protest briefly, wrestling with the option, and reconvene on the bed, you cross-legged and leaning on Charles’ shoulder and Arthur in front of the both of you. He’s always had a knack for schemes—he never got caught sneaking out, which destroyed your and Charles’ record of being caught twelve times by either of your parents. It’s a bit childish, but he gets the job done.

“Do it for… let’s say a month. Tell Mum you’ve been dating a while—Christmas isn’t that long ago, and that was the least recent picture. D’accord?”

You both nod, hyperfocused. 

“During race weekends, be all over each other—shouldn’t be hard—especially in front of Mum. People might catch you doing it, but I wouldn’t worry.”

“No, wait—I mean.” You shrug. “People—tifosi—they know I’m Charles’ friend. They’re going to be all over the fact that we’re apparently dating.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll use palatable density,” Charles says, nodding.

You pause. Arthur does, too, sensing something off.

“You mean plausible deniability.” Your deadpan voice is tinged with amusement, muffled into his shoulder. 

“Right, ouais, that.” He smiles, chuckling a bit; his shoulder shakes with it and your head nearly slips off. He brings a hand to cup over your jaw and hold you steady. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.” You sigh. “I’m totally okay with this. Just worried it’s going to have unintended consequences.”

Arthur quells you with rushed explanations about how it’ll be over and you two can say something like we decided we’re better off as friends to really sell the thing. At the seven-minute mark of your and Charles’ intense interrogation, he promptly kicks you out to figure out if you’re willing to do it yourselves.

You wedge yourself into Charles’ front seat, knowing you were headed to his place anyway. You massage your temples with one hand and fiddle with the hem of your shorts with the other. Nervous. Antsy. “Did Fred say anything?”

“Got the IT team to fortify my account.” 

“You think this thing’s going to be okay from a professional standpoint?” You look up and toward him; he’s already gazing at you, eyes soft. “I’m worried. Plus, with my job offer thing in London and New Y—”

“Don’t be.” He starts the car and maneuvers out of the driveway, into the dips of Monaco streets and the familiar route back to his place. “Bitter with the sweet. The only thing you need to worry about”—he takes your hand in the centre console, laces your fingers together loosely—“is your acting skills.”

“God, you’re right.” You sigh, looking out the window. “How am I going to pretend I can stand you?” Then, for good measure, you squeeze his hand wrapped in yours.

—

You visit Monaco from uni in London over spring, and for the first time in months, your schedule aligns with Charles’—though you learn this indirectly when you visit the Leclerc home. Pascale, of course, is the one who tells you his new flat’s address before she presses a kiss to your cheek and then leaves to run errands in the city. Alone, and in a burst of excitement, you make the drive there, take the elevator upstairs and shove the door open without knocking. He’s there. Your Charles. You can tell because the music he plays is loud—The Kooks—like his ears are still fourteen and not twenty-one, like he’s still in middle school and not in Formula One.

“Save your eardrums,” you say, before beelining toward the couch and leaping onto him for a hug. He sits up to match your energy, arms wrapping around you, sitting up straighter to keep you from totally falling atop him. 

“How’s uni?”

“Shit,” you say into his hair. It smells like his shampoo and his favorite cologne. Clean, soapy. “Obviously. How’s the Ferrari?” 

“Amazing.” He smiles. “Obviously. How’d you know I was in? Mum told you?”

“Ouais. She’s running errands. Listen, can we drink tonight?” You sigh, parting from the hug and sitting across him.

Yeah, sure. His voice is concerned, thick with worry. You shake your head—it’s not that deep, you tell him. It’s just—I had a bad date before I left and it’s put me in the worst mood.

Oh? He leans back, clasping two hands behind his head as he goes.What happened? He laughs. 

You tense visibly, rolling your eyes despite yourself. “He was just weird. Nothing.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You shy, Snoops?”

Ha-ha. You roll your eyes, but your face is flushed and your gaze avoids him. You reach up to tuck the loose strands of hair by your ears behind them, face warm. You’d never talked with Charles about boys or flings before—maybe several times, but never in full detail. It was always vague umbrella statements, like Ryan is boring or Greg is such a prick, but never anything beyond that. Come to think of it, you don’t know why, either.

“You can tell me.”

“The—when we—I had to fake,” you say cuttingly. “You know.”

He purses his lips and smiles, eyebrows furrowing. I don’t, actually. Something unnamed trills through you—through your stomach and into your fingertips. Your first time talking to your best friend in real life after months of uni and racing and this is the topic? It’s, if anything, a sign of your growing up, you guess.

Charles lets up on the teasing and you end up rejecting the club in lieu of sharing a bottle of vodka, throwing it back raw and without any type of chaser (to really prove nothing at all; you don’t even know why any sane human would do this). You do a Just Dance party on his TV, even try out drunk sim racing and FIFA, but by the end you’re well exhausted and retired to the couch again.

His voice is wavy and tipsy when he speaks. “You really had to fake it?”

“Yeah.” You pout. “Can never—um, finish, I dunno.” Your inhibition’s gone, shame loosened and untied by the vodka. You shift in your position on the couch.

“Maybe because it was too casual.” His voice hardens.

“So you’re saying I should…” You swallow dryly, eyes fluttering. “Sleep with somebody I know?” You’ve dropped the implication and it floats up, hangs above.

His eyes flick over to your legs, folded on the couch. The hem of your shorts. Your fingers playing with your empty shot glass. He didn’t mean anything by that. He’s half-sure you didn’t. 

“I am just saying that a good friend would do that for you.”

“You’re a good friend,” you say, volume low. 

Five minutes later you’ve properly crashed into each other, him pinning you down against the couch, licking fire up your throat. His lips trail across your jaw. 

He dips a hand into your shorts, presses against your clothed core. He’s smiling. So wet for me. He’s got his mouth pressed messily up to your jaw, when he sinks one finger all the way in, slow and stretching; and you’re clenching around him—

Come on, he’s saying. Insisting. You’re trembling, yanking desperately at his hair as he pumps his finger slowly in and out of you, aching to be full of him, to take him deeper. 

He slips another one in, and you feel the cold of his ring pressed against your entrance, then he’s fucking them into you and you’re leaking around them. 

Yes, yeah, Charles—you’re gasping, airy breaths tapering into whimpers that sound sinful, desperate. He knows you so well already. Presses his fingers against your sweet spot, watches your eyes flutter.

So needy, and you’re chanting his name under your breath as he quickens his pace, craving the stretch of him desperately. I know you want to cum, baby. He’s calling you baby and you’re closer, so much closer. Come on, for me, yeah? 

You melt, crashing and crumpling into him and shuddering as you release all over his fingers. He presses his forehead to yours and lets you take a beat. You feel giddy and dizzy and warm, which is weird because you don’t feel drunk at all anymore. This dizziness is something different. It’s Charles.

“Are we going to do that again?” You ask meekly, hand still in his hair.

“Only if you want. Whatever you want,” he says. He’d do anything for you. He’d do whatever you wanted.

“I do, I do want.” And Charles, the good friend he is, helps you out.

—

Imola is humid, warm, and the racetrack is absolutely teeming with people. But you’re not there—clad in linen shorts and a fresh tank top, you’re walking around the vicinity of the track, cup of gelato in hand, sunglasses over your eyes. The restaurant near you is playing music out loud. Beside you, singing along and drafting a list of wedding appetizers, is Lorenzo.

“Lamb chops?” You suggest, licking amaretto off the plastic spoon. The weather is pleasant enough that people are crowding the streets without it being too unbearably hot. Stevie Wonder flows from the speakers, permeates the entire block.

“I was thinking more seafood.”  

“Tuna? Make ‘em little tacos.”

“Good idea. Think I’ll go for those. Hey, are you sure you’re on board with fake-dating my brother?”

You turn sharply toward him, taken aback. He hadn’t brought it up in the week and a half this plan had been in the works—he’d been privy to it the entire time, too, which makes it weirder that he’s asking so suddenly.

“I meaaan…” You slow your pace, contemplative. A shy smile plays at your lips, brows knitted together. “It’s only going to be for a month. Ish. So, yeah. Are you—do you—sorry. Is it alright with you? Sorry.”

“It is not not okay.”

“So it’s…” You pause. “Okay.”

“It’s—yes, but I worry, is all. How sure are you that this won’t hurt anyone?”

“I don’t know, it’s… bitter with the sweet. And who’s getting hurt… like the fans?” You laugh a little. “They’ll live, won’t they?”

“Like you.” He pauses. “Like Charles.”

—

Pierre is running a comb through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror; his Narcissus moment is interrupted by a banana to the back of his head. Bonjour, he says, monotone and already knowing the culprit.

“We need to talk.”

“Could this possibly be about the news of your brand new ‘girlfriend’ over last week? Where is she, by the way?”

“With Lorenzo. Listen, here’s the thing. Mum thinks we’re dating, and I don’t know how to tell her we’re not—so I won’t.”

“Lie to your mum, go ahead.” Pierre crosses his arms and hums.

“Tais-toi. It’s for her own good.” 

“So you’re going to pretend to date.”

 “Ouais.” 

“Should be easy. You guys are hooking up and making out or whatever all the time.”

Charles pauses and lets the silence speak for itself. When Pierre makes a noise of confusion, he gives. We don’t kiss, he says finally. She thinks it is too intimate, and we ‘are not dating,’ so sex is the only thing we do. Sex, and if you still have leftover antsy energy, you pull on his shirt and sit up against the headboard to finish a crossword puzzle. Sometimes he helps you, but most of the time he’s just there to press lazy kisses to your hair and temple, cheekbone and jaw—never your lips.

“You don’t kiss?” Pierre’s genuinely shocked. “Putain, you’re a hero. How does that even work?”

“We just do not kiss. We fuck, but no kissing.” He shrugs. “It’s always been that way.”

“So how about her birthday?”

“She doesn’t…” Charlex exhales tightly. “Remember.”

“Charles,” you suddenly say, head appearing into the doorway. “Oh, hey. Fred said you might be here. What are you guys talking about?”

“Sprint racing,” Pierre says, an easy lie.

Charles, though, is never good at the lying bit. “International tariffs.”

—

Your only memories of your seventeenth birthday are applying lip gloss and mascara, wearing your shortest skirt and tightest top, and reciting your supposed date of birth in line like a mantra. Anything after that’s been sprayed off by the ultra-clutch strength of vodka. Which, you’ve been told, was your drink of choice.

“Headache’s better,” you moan over the phone, face squashed onto your pillow. “Mum gave me an Advil but I was so sick all morning.”

“Did you snog anyone?” Charles is always teasing.

“God, I wish.” You shut your eyes and try to remember if your drunken stupor had somehow managed to get you successful in lip-locked matters. Nothing comes up and you wipe a dry hand over your face, heaving a sigh. “I really wanted to kiss Matthew but I think he left before you and I did.”

A pause. Then Charles clears his throat. “You mean you and me and the police car that escorted us home?” He snorts.

“You’re such a prick!” You scream into your pillow, laughing. “I already thanked you for being my literal savior last night.”

He smiles to himself. “You’re welcome.”

“Did you have fun?” You flop onto your back and stare at the stick-on stars on your ceiling. You make a mental note to try and remove them.

“Bit boring because I vowed not to drink at all, but I got to dance. Bitter with the sweet, right?”

—

“Nervous?”

“I mean, fuck, yeah.” You fix the hem of your dress, speaking to Giada through the phone. “Pascale’s waiting for us on the paddock. And so are, like, a hundred photographers.” You wince. “Can you even imagine Charles and me? It’s just—I dunno—it’s weird.”

“It isn’t,” she says, laughing. “Not really. It makes sense. Plus, aren’t you on the whole arrangement?” You envision her air quotes.

“Yeah, but”—you slip your sandals on—“it’s on and off, and that’s not dating. It’s sex. Two different things.”

“Is it really, though? Considering how close you are outside of bed, aren’t y—”

“Okay, input no longer needed,” you laugh. “Bye, Gi. I’ll text you later.”

You reunite with Charles just by the paddock entrance. The throng of fans holding cutouts and posters notice you two before anyone else does, inciting a collective bout of yells around the both of you. He notices your blue silk dress first, eyes unmoving. “You look like the sky.”

“Thanks, man.” A beat, and you squint through your sunglasses. “That’s a compliment, right?”

“Sure.”

“Prick.” You peek over them and to the fans, who wave more aggressively when they notice you’re looking. Nervously, you raise a hand and wave back, and the noise heightens. “I think I’m going to be replacing you.”

“Dream on. On y va?”

You turn back to him, smiling, and you both enter at the same time. His hand wraps around your waist, dips a bit lower to rest at the small of your back as you walk—the fans clearly dig it, because everyone’s yelling in a frenzy as you depart. What are you doing, you ask through your smiling teeth.

“Did you forget we’re supposed to be dating?” He maintains an equally pleasant (totally duplicitous) façade, smiling. 

“I didn’t think,” you say, still smiling falsely, “that you’d put your hands on me five minutes into the whole agreement.”

“Smile, honey,” he teases. “I see at least five cameras at us right now.”

“It’s seven,” you beam. “Dumbass.”

“Again with the competitive streak.” memory

“I totally deserved to win last week’s game. You’re just a sore loser.”

“No you’re just a—hi, hi, hello!”

Your walk to the motorhome is interrupted by running into a friend of Charles’—someone from McLaren, one of the executives there. While Lando has been informed of your stunt, nobody else on that team has. 

They handshake and he waves at you politely. “Whole paddock’s buzzing with news of you dating,” he says, smiling. “It’s a tad crazy! I remember seeing you as Charles’ plus one back when he was in Formula Two. And now you two are dating. How did—well, if you don’t mind me asking, where’d it all happen?”

“Oh,” you say, laughing. “Yeah, Monaco.”

“Texas,” Charles says at the same time.

Alarm bells go off in your head at the totally random, unwarranted statement out of Charles’ mouth. Texas? Neither of you have even ever been at the same time. “He means”—you say, coughing and nodding—“we went on this, um. Wild West themed, um, restaurant in Monaco, and that’s where he asked me out.” You make a face that you hope conveys you get it, and it seems to work.

“Definitely not what I had in mind, but if it worked, it worked, eh?” He grins. “I guess I always knew you two would end up together. Alright, ciao!”

You’re smiling and waving after him as he leaves, and then you’re (semi) alone again, or at least within your own space on the incredibly crowded paddock. 

You turn to him, unable to hide your confusion. “Um? Texas?! What’s up with the backstories?”

“It slipped out! Sorry. But nice save.”

“You’re so f—” You try to scold him, but can’t, bursting into laughter and leaning forward to laugh into his chest. “Texas, really?”

“Sorry,” he says. You feel the vibration of his own laugh through his chest and it’s warm and nice. You peel yourself off lest you look too clingy, and resume your walk to the motorhome.

Ferrari is crowded, filled with people and strategists and guests. You’re given a bottle of water and then hounded with questions from the team who haven’t been informed of the situation at hand. David, one of the engineers close to Charles who you’d previously spoken to in one of the earlier races, asks to borrow him.

“Ciao, ciao.” They speak in one of the outdoor patio areas. “Is everything okay?”

“The car is fine. I just wanted to ask about the girl.” David punches his arm, playful. “You finally got her!”

“Oh.”

“It’s just… I remember all the times she would show up and you’d tell me about how much you liked her… I don’t know, it’s perfect for things to end up like this, no? Bravo!”

“Oh, si. I’ve just been, you know…” He looks through the glass sliding door and into the hospitality, where you’re talking to Isa and Carlos, sunglasses over your hair. Your hands are moving quickly, and you’re smiling while talking. He wonders what you’re so passionate about. When you’re caught in fits of happiness and passion, you’re extra animated. Your eyes are lively, and your lips can’t stop curling into a slight beaming smile. Now, maybe it’s France, maybe it’s crossword puzzles, slim chance it’s your job—whatever it is, he could watch you talk like this for hours. He thinks it’s beautiful, the way you transform, the way you smile, when you talk of things you absolutely love. 

“… crazy about her forever.”

—

There are banners, Italian flags, and Charles’ face on every other wall. He’s done his first hat-trick of the season (of several more, you’re hoping). You’ve foregone the usual clubbing for dinner with a smaller group of people, but only because you’ve been told the nightlife is bleak and you’d rather save that energy for the next race.

Lando picked out the restaurant—he’s “on a massive Yelp high” trying to get the best restaurants in every city they get to. He’s tried two over the weekend, and is hoping this guns for first place. The restaurant’s name is long and so very Italian, to the point where your semi-fluency fails you. The food is amazing, though, and so is the wine—a whole other level of grape-flavored bliss.

You’re in-between Joris and Charles, nursing your fourth glass while Charles downs a bottle of beer. Light conversation flows through the table, but your sleepiness only allows you to hear some of it. You’re content with the white noise.

Lando is getting a new cat, Lewis bought a new pair of shoes—oh, no, shares in the company that makes the shoes—Joris bought the shoes, Lorenzo will now buy the shoes, why isn’t anyone paying attention to Lando’s cat. It’s funny, entertaining, and the perfect nightcap to your immensely exhausting day of acting.

Wine tipsy makes you loopy and snoozy. By default, your head lolls onto Charles’ body; he immediately wraps a sweater-clad arm around your frame, leans back, pulls you closer. Doesn’t miss a beat. In fact, while doing so, he’s even able to get a dig in against Lando’s affinity for cats.

“No more wine, m’kay?” He whispers quietly, angling his head to yours. 

“Oh, but it was so good, though.” You mope, but nod in agreement. “I could seriously drink wine out of a keg here.”

“Sure did that a lot with beer.” You laugh, punching his bicep with what little space you’re given. “You sleepy?”

“Yeah. But I’m fine,” you respond, smiling. “Now shut up. I need to know what happened to Lando’s cat.”

Lewis leaves first, claiming he’s into this whole “sleeping at 9PM” thing, and Lorenzo follows to get ahead of an early flight tomorrow. It’s you, Joris, Charles, and Lando now, and you’re good as dead, eyes half-shut and fluttering, head slipping off his shoulder.

How was it? Lando asks, lowering his volume to keep from being too jarring. Day 1, fake dating? I actually read something like this in one of those, um, fanfiction stuff the fans do. Joris and Charles cast him a half-weirded out, half-amused pair of looks, but Lando defends himself. They’re actually pretty good, guys. I read one where I ended up with my rival or summat.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Lando,” you croak, voice raspy with sleepiness and a day of bubbling laughter, “but Charles and I probably didn’t do your fanfiction kink justice.”

“Ignoring the emasculation.” He says, turning beet red. “What’d you do, then? Wasn’t it hard?”

“It was hard, but it’s like that.” Charles likes to substitute the phrase it is what it is to it’s like that, a result likely stemming from his trilingual childhood. “We just. Pretended. Oi, we held hands in front of the cameras.”

“Yeah, you can get a good wank in if that does it for you,” you joke. Lando hurls a cube of parmigiano at your face; it lands squarely and you flip him off, the table erupting with peals of laughter.

“In all seriousness, though—how are you two okay with this? I know I’d be second guessing my feelings every second.”

You shift, trying to hide your obvious lack of answer. It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then Charles says, “We’re both comfortable with each other, I think.”

“Yeah, comfortable enough that we can, you know, be honest.” You’re looking at Lando when you say that. You don’t know how well you could repeat the sentence if you were looking straight into Charles’ eyes.

You leave the restaurant with a generous tip, and Charles helps you pull your coat on when you’re out the door, back into the chilly night air. It’s then that all four of you catch news via text, of a club invite somewhere in the city.

“It’ll be fun, guys.” Joris and Lando stand in front of you and Charles, bumbling with excitement. “I heard Lil Tjay is going to be there.”

“It sounds very fun,” you say, smiling, “but I might pass out if I drink anything other than water, and I have zero energy. You three go ahead.”

“Wh—no, I’m not going, either.” You raise an eyebrow at Charles. “Serious! I wasn’t in the mood much, anyway. Joris, take Lando’s car and we’ll take mine.”

“Alright,” Lando whistles. “Suit yourselves, agoraphobes.”

“Joke’s on you”—Charles smiles, smug—“I don’t know what that means.”

“Not the dig you think it is, Charles,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Night, Joris, Lando. See you guys tomorrow. Use protection!”

“Should be saying that to you guys,” quips Joris with an evil grin that he closes the car door on.

The climb into the car feels like a chore in itself with how tipsy and sleepy you’ve become. Charles likes to bring his Ferrari to race weekends, but you convinced him to use a different car for this one, because you honest-to-God can’t stand the low seats anymore. 

“You want dessert?” He asks when he’s rounded the car and settled into his seat. “Gelato, a cone, biscotti…”

“No, no,” you say, voice thin. A palm covers your shutting eyes; blindly, you reach for his hand. It’s easy because he sees you searching and takes your hand to cut it short. “I’m good. So sleepy. Can I sleep at your hotel room?”

“Sure.” He starts the car, waves to the wait staff idle by the entrance, and drives off. “How was the day as my fake girlfriend? Anyone ask about me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, flickering his gaze to your figure beside him. “Wasn’t too tough, I hope.”

Imola whizzes by, trees and city, and a poorly stifled yawn escapes your lips, wine stained. You laugh sleepily. “It was a bit awkward, but bitter with the sweet, right?” He smiles, nodding, and you continue. “Yeah, few strategists, some people who knew you from Prema. I was talking to Isa and Carlos, too, earlier. Even if they know it’s fake.”

He recalls seeing you talk to them through the glass. “About?”

“You.”

—

The sun is merciless on the clay courts, and so are your shoes, shuddering against the surface in your continuing attempt to beat the opposing team. Charles cowers behind you—he’s scored less than half of your points thus far—but you’re on a mission, like your competitive self always is when you’re put in a position to be able to win.

You’re two points down now, and the noontime is becoming increasingly itchy and unforgiving; across you both, Giada and Joris call a mutual time out. “That’s not allowed!” You say, petulant.

“This is a practice session,” Charles says gently, nearing you. “Mate, none of us are actual players.”

You wipe sweat off your forehead. “Right. Désolée. I’m just—I’m in the zone.”

“Ouais, I get it. Relax, m’kay? We got this.”

You shake yourself off and hop a few times, skirt bobbing by your waist as you go. Your braid bounces on your shoulder and you nod, turning your racquet over in your grip. 

Charles pings the ball hard and it soars over to land just shy of the line, seemingly scoring a point for you two and securing your win. Giada and Joris chime in with protests, claiming that the ball’s out. You throw your hands up in question.

“Okay, what? That was clearly a point!”

“Snoops, I think they might be right. The ball looked out to me,” Charles says, wrapping a sweaty arm around your red shoulders.

“What are you talking about, Charlie? That ball was in! I saw it!” You elbow yourself out of his grip, aghast.

“How about…” He suggests quietly. “We let them win? You did win the last”—he pauses to count—“five sets. Come on, Snoops. They need this. Bitter with the—”

You take a deep breath, staring into his eyes. “Fucking sweet, right, okay. Fine, fine.” 

Charles thinks he’s in the clear and he’s managed to extinguish your flames of frustration—that is, until you walk into the Leclerc household for lunch an hour later and, after greeting Pascale and Hervé, you point squarely to the jar on the kitchen counter. “Five euros.”

He splutters. “Five? Wh—non, non! I was trying to calm you down.”

“You were blind and gave Giada and Joris a fake win,” you say playfully.

“Saluuut,” Lorenzo greets, sitting at the stool beside yours. “Quoi de neuf?”

“Charles has five euros for the jar.” The jar, the infamous jar, sometimes dubbed the Dumbass Jar when Pascale’s out of earshot. It was Lorenzo who first made it up after three straight instances of Charles pulling a push door (three different establishments).

Arthur’s joined in at this point, but its biggest indirect donors are definitely Lorenzo and Hervé, who view it as just about the funniest thing in the world. Out of pity, you don’t call dumbass too often, but the tennis loss is bruising enough that you warrant the usage.

“You heard Snoopy. Five euros. We’ll be able to get milkshakes with this money after next week.” You high five. “At this rate, Charles, you could open a restaurant in Paris.”

“He’s going to race,” you correct. You both watch a begrudged Charles junk a bill into the nearly-full jar. “What race driver is going to open a restaurant?”

—

You meet Yuki Tsunoda on a flight to Nice. You’ve seen him several times before, not too frequently but enough that his name and face are familiar on your mind. Also a personality trait that Pierre would bring up in fond conversations with you and/or Charles: he loves food, apparently.

“Yuki’s volunteering AlphaTauri to be your hideout,” Pierre tells you and Charles, across him. 

Turns out, the hardest part (insofar) of this whole schtick: the officially appointed paddock photographers are being extra sneaky with it, finding the best vantage points to snap pictures of an unwitting you and Charles.

They’re like hawks, watching for even the slightest glimpse so they can post the photos on Instagram and get clicks.

So, just a few hours earlier, Charles asked if there was a place you and him could talk if needed where photographers wouldn’t be awaiting you already, and this was the answer.

“If it’s too much trouble, feel no need to… you know.”

“Nonsense.” Pierre smiles goofily and Yuki pokes him to stop, pausing his session of eating a quesadilla (where he’d even acquired it, you’re clueless). “Yukino would be happy to.” 

The flight lands and the drive to Monaco is infected with notoriously slow traffic; you pop an Advil to try and alleviate the motion sickness. Pierre and Yuki, it seems, have joined you even outside of the flight. They’re in the backseat offering bits of conversation.

“Oh, mate, we should totally play tennis while we’re here.” Pierre sighs. “Didn’t you guys play before?”

“Mmm, yeah,” you mumble with a lilt of amusement at the memories from basically a decade ago. “At the country club. Doubles always, otherwise I’d knock Charles out of the park.”

“Hey, I won a couple times!” He protests weakly. “Like… twice.”

You laugh out loud. “Anyway, Pierre, do not bring me into tennis. I get all competitive and develop anger issues.”

“I had to calm her down twice a set,” Charles says; you swat him lightly to silence him. “Still do.”

“You know, if the Dumbass Jar still existed,” you say cuttingly, “I swear I’d be able to buy off Ferrari with that money.”

—

Monaco is swelterinly hot today. You know this because you know the weather here, you know the curves and ups and downs of it—this is your home. And today is hot. Every few minutes a breeze filters through the air and you can hear journalists or PAs sigh a collective breath of relief before they’re all subjected to the inane, high-degree weather again.

It’s also, according to Arthur, a good day to kiss in front of the cameras. He says it easily over a plate of sliced kiwi, with a devious smile, because he assumes your friends-with-benefits arrangement equates to constant kissing. But the truth is you’ve never kissed Charles, and it intimidates you.

“Do we have to kiss?” You play with his bracelets, sitting beside him on the sofa. The talk of kissing entertains the thought of sex and you can’t help but mentally complain at the remembrance that you haven’t gotten laid in weeks.

“If you don’t want to—”

“I do.” You splutter, eyes going wide, face warm. “No! I mean I don’t mind. If it sells the thing.”

“D’accord, then we will.” He smiles. “That okay?”

“Sure. First kiss,” you say. Your voice feels as clammy as your hands.

“First.” He looks away.

You take your woes off the kiss by playing a friendly round of tennis with your favourite opponents, Giada and Joris. They bemoan your competitive nature (that, to be fair, allots you and Charles three straight wins), and Giada incites a protest for a girls versus boys round.

You both embarrass Charles and Joris, heckling them as you win another two straight games. Charles runs over to you when you throw up the L sign on your hand, lifting you up and making you squeal.

“Put me down, loser!”

Giada and Joris exchange a look. Amused, knowing. “Charles! You’re such a cunt.” You kick hard, and manage to snag his abdomen, so he gently places you onto the clay again. He laughs and paces back over to his side, and you play with the tail of your braid as you watch.

You play set after set, but the kiss comes anyway. When you know photographers can see you—by the entrance—and it happens faster than your mind can muster. He’s leaning in, you’re reaching up, and your mouths slot together. It’s—and it feels crazy to say it, but—

It’s perfect. It’s lovely. You smile against his lips like they belong there and like they’re familiar and yours and like maybe this is all you’ve ever wanted, and like they deserve the smile, because they do. You feel your need to pull away before you can’t help but keep him tethered to you always. It’s strange and it’s not platonic—you’re mature enough to admit that, but not enough to label exactly what it is.

You spend the day with your fingers pressed to your lips, like you’re sealing the memory. Hours later, Charles wins. There’s massive uproar and you’re in the crowd when it happens, in the sea of strategists going to congratulate him on winning Monaco, which—that’s—it’s winning Monaco. Your ears ring by the end of it and your throat’s dry from your own cheering. Carlos comes in second, and the outlook for their team is going much better than it’d been at the start of the year, so there’s a lot to celebrate.

And celebrate you do. It starts with being pinned up against the door, hungry kisses along your jaw and neck. One kiss, it seems, has broken the dam from the few years you’ve spent abstaining from the kissing. He’s just finished interviews. He’s only just changed into his polo, and now he’s tugging it off again, feverish.

This is rushed and dirty, down low and dark. Only one light’s been switched on and he’s hiking your dress up, panties down with one hand to tug his cock out with the other. He’s kissing you—kissing you stupid, almost. Like he’s waited forever to taste your lips and now he’ll starve if he’s away for just a moment. He needs you. So have me, you want to say, all of me, push me up against the wall again and cover my mouth with your palm. Or don’t, don’t—so everyone knows I’m yours.

He presses your chest against the wall so your back’s turned to him, thrusts in with a breathless, throaty grunt. 

“S’ big,” you’re saying, clawing at words the pleasure bars you from finding.

“Barely even in,” he whispers. “Slow down, baby, come on, take it.”

Your toes curl. You’re high on the win, on the kissing, on Charles, on the slow delicious stretch of his cock. “I’m taking it, I’m taking it,” you say, shaky. He thrusts, slow and deep and dirty, until he’s bottomed out and you’re tiptoeing from the overwhelm.

“I feel you,” you’re whimpering, moans and gasps leaving your mouth. You blindly search for his hand, find it against your hip, drag it to your abdomen, under your dress that he hasn’t even fully removed. “I feel you there,” you say, an edge of teasing to your voice.

His cock’s bulging, almost, out of your stomach, and it’s getting you both all lightheaded. He thrusts harder, a devious smile felt against your neck.

I need it, Charles, you plead, please, please fuck me harder. You feel it coming, the familiar pleasure intensifying so quickly—you don’t usually cum so early, he’s always making you wait for it—pussy squeezing around him.

Jesus, already? He’s groaning but a laugh escapes, breathy and amused and taunting. He’s fucking you harder, faster. It’s so good, each hit getting you closer. Taking me so well, you’re bruised all over now, baby. You hate how well he knows what turns you on; memories of mornings post-sex spent inspecting the purple marks on your hips flash through your head and you’re even closer now, shaking, whimpering, begging.

You’re half-sure someone can hear, but it doesn’t even phase you. Harder, deeper— and you’re collapsing, legs spasming uncontrollably, orgasm so intense it’s on the brink of totally hurting. Tears roll down your sweaty face and he kisses them away, cumming onto your back to wipe off in a few minutes.

“I never even”—you pant, tired—“got to say congratulations.”

“That was more than enough.”

—

Charles is elated when you tell him his family has thrown a party for him the day next. He’s boyish in that way, optimistic and kiddy, the kind of person who’s up at five-thirty to announce their own birthday. 

He drives you both to his childhood home, a route so familiar he could drive with his eyes closed. (“I hope you’re not driving closed-eyed,” you’d warned.)

Even if he could, anyway, he’d rather not. The scenery of Monaco is stunning, ever-changing, and he never tires of it—the buildings, the skies, the trees and shrubbery, stores lining the streets, clean entrances. 

And you—in the passenger seat, humming softly to a song of his choosing. Drives are always better when you’re in the passenger seat.

The turnout is generous: extended family, and several friends from school. There’s bowls of fruit, salad, plates of salmon and racks of lamb, knobs of butter with warm bread. Pascale commands the kitchen—visible in how she leaves it cluttered with bowls, ingredients, whisks still dripping with syrup or batter, spoons licked for tasting. The good kind of clutter.

Lorenzo has also taken reign of the AUX, because it’s 70’s music playing, which is what he’s fond of for family gatherings like these. It’s My Cherie Amour now, Stevie Wonder mellowing across the lawn and into the house.

Charles knows you love the kitchen as much as his mum does, so when you get to the house, he’s not surprised to see you leave him in favor of checking out what damage has been done to your favorite marble countertops. He watches Pascale turn from the gas range, her eyes lit when she sees you, inviting you into an embrace. 

You look like the song playing, pretty and lovely, breeze in the summer. He almost loses himself in thought before his great-aunt Eden places two bony hands on his arms and greets him in feeble Italian.

He flits his eyes away from you, if just briefly, and faces the woman with a smile on his face. “Ciao, zia,” he says, voice buoyant, happy. “You came here to see me, no?”

All five-foot-one of her shakes in disagreement. She wags a finger for extra measure. “No,” she says. “Sono venuto a vedere la tua ragazza.”

His eyes widen. “She’s—” He pauses. He debates telling Eden you’re not actually his girlfriend, that this was a setup to appease Pascale and, by extension, tifosi. But he backtracks.

He shouldn’t, but he gives in, lives out his dreams for a bit. “Ah, she’s over there, zia. Con mamma.” He points to the open door, and to you on the far end of the room inside, holding a spoon. “Beautiful, yes?”

“Molto,” she says proudly. “You marry her?”

Fact: his great-aunt has the worst memory. She forgot Charles’ name twenty times, let alone niche facts like this one. Another fact: she rarely shows up to family events. Maybe now, because it’s a racing thing; but baby showers and funerals, she’s at home. So he indulges a bit more.

“Si, we’re engaged. But—it’s a secret, zia.” He grins. “Non dire a nessuno. Okay?”

“Sei fidanzato?!” She claps once, excited. “Ay, Charles. I waited my whole life for this moment, si?” And she’s wobbling away, still muttering under her breath.

—

“How is my son?” Pascale’s voice is teasing. She sighs happily. “For years I wondered if this would happen. And it really is.”

“Oui, sure is,” you sing-song, laughing a bit awkwardly. “We’re—he’s okay. We’re great. In love.”

“Oh, in love,” she swoons. She leaves you, after fifteen more minutes of detailed discussion, with half a spoonful of vinaigrette to taste-test, departing to check on the guests for a few minutes. In her place arrives Lorenzo, already bearing a shit-eating grin. “Saluuut.”

“Mmm, good to see you, too.” You taste the liquid and add lemon to the bowl. “How’s wedding planning?”

“Think we’ll throw a shower. Is that pretentious?”

“No,” you say, mulling over it. “Sure, a bit. But just don’t make it a whole thing, you’re golden.”

“I see.” He sighs fondly. “You know, many a conversation we’ve had right here at this counter. About anything.”

—

You loosen your school tie, slicing an apple like you so often do, waiting for Charles’ karting practice to end. Pascale had fixed you a bowl of something, Hervé a glass of orange juice. And somebody else would always, without fail, steal your food. A hand swipes two slices form your chopping board and your head whips up.

“Lorenzo!” You stomp your foot. “Stop stealing! That is my apple.”

“You mean the Leclercs’ apple.” He laughs, pops another slice into his mouth, smiling. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. The braid beside your head shakes with it as you continue slicing it into perfect quarters. He pipes up again: “How was school?”

“Shit, as usual.” You lower your voice and smile, leaning in. “Pascale scolded me earlier, for saying that word.”

“Did Papa?”

“Obviously not. He fist bumped me.” You share a laugh, both chewing on apple slices now. “Anyway, I aced a math test, had aubergine for lunch… got driven here by Charlotte’s mum.”

“Charlotte?” Lorenzo hums conspiratorially, making a mmmm sound. You look up from the yellow chopping board, furrowing your eyebrows. He persists: “Mmm. Cha-r-lotte.”

“What’s up with Charlotte?” Bit impolitely, you ask, in-between chews.

“I think she likes Charles, a little.” You nod slowly, trying to follow. Charlotte liking Charles. Your Charles. Wait, no. Not your—or nobody’s, really. Just Charles. Yeah.

“What? Bull!” You narrow your eyes. “Says who?”

“Why do you care?”

“Wh—I don’t!” You squeak, caught. “Just… I think I’d know, Lorenzo.” You make a tch noise, crossing your sweater-clad arms. “So—says who?”

“I saw her leering at him during his birthday party.” 

“You’re wrong,” you say, but you don’t really know who you’re convincing. He reaches over for an apple slice, and you move the chopping board out of the way sharply.

“Mon dieu, you’re snappy. Fine, fine. I might be wrong,” he relents, shrugging. He gets up and slides beside you to be able to acquire more slices. “I talked to her during the party, too.”

“Weirdo,” you tease, allowing him to take a few more. “About Charles, yes?

“No, about her brand new dress.”

“You’re the funniest Leclerc brother, I assure you.”

“She told me…” He says, louder this time, shushing you effectively. “She told me she ‘finds Charles cute.’” Air quotes, shrug. “But that they ‘probably won’t’ date.”

“Huh. Did, um. Did she say why?” You play with the tail of your braid, shuffling back and forth on your flats. You don’t know why you’re so fidgety—you aren’t nervous, you don’t think.

“Because…” he says, chewing to allow for a pause. “She said every time she looks for Charles to try and ask for time alone, or on a date, or something, he’s already following you around like some puppy.”

—

You comb your hair into a bun and venture into the patio, having avoided a good chunk of the noon heat. You greet some relatives politely along the way, and receive a hand squeeze from great-aunt Eden. At one of the tables is Charles, beside Joris and another friend, and Giada and Charlotte across them, an empty seat beside the latter.

You seat yourself in it and Giada kisses your cheek. “Hey. Ça va?”

“Fine,” you say, smiling. Then you lower your voice to a whisper. “Do you remember when I told you about my crush on Charlie? For the first time?”

“Yeah,” she whispers back. “Around… 2013.”

“Ouais. And… and it disappeared after that,” you say. “Right?”

“You said it did,” she says. “A year later. When we were sixteen.”

“Right.” You think. Seventeen onwards—you’d never formed a full-fledged crush on Charles. “Okay. It’s nothing. Just a memory. I was just. Yeah, oui.”

“Oui, let’s eat.” The memory fades and so does your running mind. Charles’ eyes meet yours across the table, and suddenly you feel a little less like your thoughts have ripped you open.

—

When you and Charles were younger, you adopted the adage “bitter with the sweet.” Charles will have people believe it was made by the both of you, with philosophical minds stretched so far beyond their years. Well, revisionist history. The truth lay in the Carole King song of the same name you’d heard on the stereo.

Those are the exact words Charles tells Ted when he’s interviewing for the Spain Grand Prix. It’s a hot day and you’re especially doubled down on by the fact that he’s finished ninth. 

You’d been fake-dating for the cameras all weekend. At all costs, you try and avoid interviews, but the damned Drive to Survive producers insist on a soundbite and start following the two of you around everywhere (only to find your conversations sound very weird and niche, and not scandalous or sexy).

Pascale also called—Charles first, and when he didn’t check his phone, you. You spent an hour on the phone just talking about the race. About the penalties and the nasty headlines that followed, and just everything.

“I’m glad you’re there,” she says. “God knows he needs you.”

You end up biking to try and relieve the stress, posing with fans for pictures.

“I’m such a big fan. I stalk Charles’ Insta like, all the time, and it’s crazy how you guys are dating.” A teenaged girl laughs nervously. “Where’d it happen?”

“Texas!” He, again, tries out the bit to appease the fans but you have to extinguish the flames of his blatant lies.

“He’s kidding,” you interject. “It’s just—it just happened, really.”

How does something just happen? Someone told you once, in a Paris bar, that love is like an echo. It’s always there, in the underbelly, underneath it all, and then one day it echoes, like a bass drum or a cymbal. And the echo—the echo is you feeling it. You feel the echo, the all-encompassing echo, even if the love itself’s been there all along.

With Charles, it’s out of the question. You love him. He’s your best friend. You trusted him before you even learned what trust meant, for Chrissake.

How could you not love him? That seemed impossible. The love was there. The love’s always been there and it’ll never go away.

It echoes at half-past-two in Barcelona, when he whips past you on his bike and says on your left. The breeze pulls your hair to the left, covers your face, and when you rake it away he’s stopped to check if he accidentally bumped you in his rush to look cool.

You’re creepily observant; you’ve been told this many times before. What people don’t know is with the observance comes even more questions. Ifs, whys, wheres, whens, hows, God the hows. The questions keep coming because there’s never an answer.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Green eyes glittering like a lake. Smile like the sun. Hair curly at the ends. “Did I hurt you?”

Then you realize. In the matters of love, every question—every single question. Every single one. The answer is Charles.

“Of course not,” you say. And you smile.

—

You almost drop your book in your rush to scurry past the paparazzi. They’re still busy on the two figures (Alex and Lily, you think) on another end of the paddock, which allows you only a few moments to try and evade them.

Others are stationed near the Ferrari hospitality, which means you’re going to need your hideout. Yuki had texted Pierre who had texted Charles who had told you that it was all clear to go there for a few minutes while waiting for the photographers to clear out.

Hurry, Charles is saying. Laughing. His hand’s gentle in yours. You want them there forever. You want to drag the tip of your nail over the barely-perceptible grooves of his fingerprints so he knows how much you need him.

The days post-Spain were spent biking, watching shows, listening to music, eating food. The travel to Canada—long, cold, compression socks. Pascale had called mid-flight to check on her “favorite pair”—you maneuvered yourselves into a much more cuddly position to appease her, and her giddy smile was incentive enough to stay that way for ninety minutes.

You’d been in a weird mental state trying to grapple with your rapidly returning and intensifying feelings for him, which have dawned on you all at once.

But he makes it better. You’re still laughing when you wedge yourselves in, eyes meeting.

And then you’re quiet.

The gaze you share is intense, but almost unsure, like you’re supposed to be looking away anytime now. You step backward shakily, and his hand moves from your waist to the small of your back to keep you from stumbling any further. You’re closer now. But this shouldn’t feel as strange as it does when you two have been in much more scandalous positions before—what’s different?

He’s so close, so so close, his green eyes looking right through you. You lean closer, ready to kiss him like you have before, ready to feel his mouth slot softly over yours, comforting and safe and Charles.

Funnily enough, it’s then that the illusion breaks, his grip loosening and the distance between you increasing. He coughs twice, awkwardly.

“Shit—sorry,” you say profusely, clearly having read the moment wrong. Embarrassment wells up in your system, warming your face. You laugh to diffuse the tension but it barely does anything.

“No, don’t—” He exhales, squeezes the bridge of his nose, trying to find words. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. I do.”

“So kiss me,” you suggest simply, looking around for anything that might stop him. The embarrassment ebbs away, replaced quickly by confusion. 

“I don’t want to kiss you in an AlphaTauri stock room,” he mopes, burying his head in his hands in clear frustration. “An AlphaTauri stock room.” He repeats it in a hushed whisper, disbelief etched all over his pretty face.

“Charles,” you begin, smiling already, the quaint way that makes his knees go weak every time. “You’re acting like you and I haven’t kissed before.” 

“This is different.” He says firmly, looking away lest he lean in involuntarily. He interjects with conviction, not realizing what he’s implying until the implication’s hanging in the air. The longing kills him softly, and he feels if he looks at you a second longer he’ll kiss you anyway.

It’s a wonderfully confusing feeling. You open your mouth to respond but you can’t; your brain tacks itself onto his sentence, the division created between the kisses before now and the kiss that might happen anytime soon.

“H…” you trail off, throat drying. Blinking, you try again, “How different?”

He looks up, eyes conveying all the things his lips never will. This is different. You know it. I love you this time.

The answer is exchanged and accepted wordlessly. You slip out of the room when Pierre tells you it’s okay to, and it’s only then—only then—that Charles’ hand leaves your body. You seem to burn alive with its absence.

It’s a Ferrari 1-2. You snap a thousand pictures with Isa and Carlos holding Carlos’ trophy while Charles is doing interviews, and they invite you to join them for the break. You’re open to it—the win, the good standings, they definitely warrant a celebration for the few weeks’ break. So your original itinerary is Portugal—beaches, coasts, food—but the jet re-charts a route and the flight is cut much shorter because you’re in New York City.

—

Somewhere in Manhattan, a wedding shower is thrown on an outdoor rooftop. “This is one hell of a wedding shower,” you squeal excitedly when you spot him, bringing Lorenzo in for a hug. Your yellow dress flows in the wind. “I thought you guys were going to throw it in Monaco?”

“Yeah, well… why not here, right? It’s beautiful.” He gestures to the skyline, smiling. “Plus, Charles, Arthur, and Mum were already near the country for work, so we got ahead of it. Everyone was happy to fly out.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I love it.” You beam. “I can’t believe it, either. When’s the final date?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the wind is knocked out of him by Charles barreling into his arms for a hug. You roll your eyes at the latter’s childish behavior, smiling despite yourself. They part and Charles finds his place beside you, arm snaking around your shoulders. “What a wedding shower!”

“Don’t flatter me, dipshit,” Lorenzo jokes.

“It’s a lovely one.” Lorenzo thanks him. “An amazing shower. You know, it’s a total golden shower!”

You purse your lips. “Charles—”

“A golden shower, mate. Absolutely.”

That garners at least three odd looks and you calmly place a hand on his chest to whisper don’t ever fucking say that again it means something completely different please don’t embarrass me or your brother. 

For all your embarrassment, you make up for it in having the literal time of your life. The food is good, the city view is amazing, the weather is fair and the music—Desafinado now—is amazing. “I could see myself here,” you say offhandedly to Charles, who nods back with a faint smile. He’s half-distracted.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says, squinting from the sun in his eyes. “Very.”

You part ways at some point—Pascale whisks him off, no doubt for another long round of questioning about your relationship, and you meander around with a glass of champagne.

You’re halfway through swiping a mini quiche when a hand wraps around your wrist and squeezes to get your attention—Charles’ great-aunt Eden. She speaks only intermittent English, and your Italian fails to carry you through well enough, but you smile and greet her. “Ciao, Eden!”

“Ciao, bella.” She smiles. “Flight was long.”

“Oh, yeah. New York’s far. I might work here someday. I’ll hear results in around two weeks, but I’m hoping for London instead.” You slow your speech.

“When will you two wed?”

“Wed?” Your face warms and you stutter through a giggly mess of a sentence. “Oh, Eden—zia—no, no! We’re just friends.”

“My Charles told me you two are to be married.” You both crane your heads to the right, where Charles is leaning against the terrace railing talking to one of your friends, Matthew, animatedly. He meets your eyes, sees Eden beside you, and seems to connect the dots.

Jokingly, perhaps, he raises his hand and wiggles his empty ring finger. You can’t help but smile as you turn back to the old woman. “Oh, did he, zia?”

“Si, he did.”

“Well, we’re just going to let it happen, then. You’re invited. Front row.” You kiss her cheek and she smiles, wobbling off to drink more wine before any of the adults can stop her.

It’s announced then that the dance floor is open, and many of Pascale’s friends filter through to show off their moves to the 70’s music. You watch, amused, at the display of dexterity to Frankie Valli and Aretha Franklin. You cheer them on, content to watch them against the backdrop of the New York sunset.

When Ain’t No Mountain High Enough plays, the dance floor grows, because nobody can resist the song—not even Charles, apparently, who takes your hand without preamble and takes you, squealing, to the centre.

You sing each of the parts, like you always do when the song comes on. It’s semi-tradition at this point: you take Marvin Gaye’s, Charles takes Tammi Terrell’s. You both exaggerate your dance moves and pretend you’re performing.

His hand’s in yours, winding you around and pulling you close. At some point he starts robot dancing to entertain you. It works—you laugh out loud, your eyes half-shut and faced to the stars above. He could write a poem about this. Or a song.

The song ends and you lean onto his shoulder to take a breather—then the photographer swoops in and takes a picture. “That’s going into the RSVPs!” He says, accent unmistakably American.

“Does he know we’re not the couple here?” You ask.

Do we know we’re not the couple? Charles asks himself.

The night escalates as the “oldies” leave, and Matthew, Joris, and Giada join you both for one last round of drinks again. You’re all standing at the exit making conversation; Lorenzo attends to his friends at the other end of the terrace.

“I feel young again,” Matthew says, liberated by Tito’s vodka. He takes another swig and pulls his coat on.

“You’re twenty-five, calm down,” you joke. “Dodged that bullet.” You’re poking fun at the semi-massive crush you had on Matthew in secondary school, and a laugh passes through the four of you. “Anyway, you three be careful. No driving.”

“Jesus, but really—I haven’t been this drunk since you”—he points at you, laughing—“turned seventeen at that club, Amber? No?”

“Oh, God. Y’know, same.” You fail to notice Charles and Giada share a look. “I remember nothing from that night! Or, like, the first two hours at least.”

“I remember drinking my body weight because of heartbreak,” he jeers. 

“Heartbreak? Were you—were you with anyone?” You ask, confused.

It happens before anyone can stop it. “No, when Charles kissed you. And you kissed him after. Alright, night mates! Lorenzo—merci!”

Oh, fuck, you hear in the back of your now-muddled brain. Giada’s voice.

You open and close your mouth. “Ch—wait, he—what?”

“I—let’s talk here,” Charles flounders, dragging you to a more secluded spot and facing you. The three of your friends exit; Giada waves, apologetic. “When… we were at Amber… and you were absolutely hammered, we kissed. It was twice—just twice. And you didn’t, um. Remember a thing.”

You’re unsure. “In Amber?” You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

“We… I don’t—I mean, I understand why you don’t remember. We kissed that night.”

“So that’s… Charles… You didn’t tell me.” Your voice quivers, like a wire flicked. “Why didn’t you say it at the time?”

He doesn’t give you an answer. He just looks at the counter, imagines the way your eyebrows furrow, your lips move, eyes glitter. He can’t give you one. He doesn’t want to hurt, disappoint, sadden you. He wants to get on his knees and root you here, so he’ll have all the time in the world to come up with an answer.

“Charles.” But he loves you, and he can at the very least be honest for you. “Look at me.”

“I was scared.” His eyes gravitate to yours.

“Of?”

“It felt stupid, is all. That you didn’t remember, and maybe you did but you were pretending you weren’t. I didn’t—it didn’t—sorry.” He laughs, stutters. “I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything because we didn’t have feelings for each other.” He pauses. “Then.”

“Well,” you say, slow. Eyes stuck to his. “How about now?”

“Now?”

“I love you, now. I mean, isn’t that all this is? Loving? Even if? De—despite of?” 

And this—God. This is how it feels. He’s looking at you and you’re telling him you love him because you do, and finally he’s been over with reassurance.

You love him, too. That way. He trembles with it. His hands are shaky when they lace into yours, like you’re a shrine, a prayer, and he feels like maybe these are the emotions that swirl through the human body when one wins the lottery and gets struck by angry lightning at the same time.

This is it, he thinks. Profound and lovely and an echo of sweet memories. He’s yours. Here in a city unfamiliar to both of you, yet to be conquered, your fingers lace lightly and you smile, smile, smile at each other, as if you’re the last two people on Earth. He’s yours, so foolishly in love with you.

Even far from home, you’re both filled with warmth, with longing. Extended stares, pits of your stomachs welling up with something lovely in between homesickness and nostalgia. Here again, you again, us again—it’ll always be us again, your heart seems to say, surrounded by the same love the same hurt the same sad the same everything, you and me, all the love in the world, all the confusion, we’re here. It’s never over.

Across the terrace, Lorenzo watches. Two figures, laughing, emanating happiness, gentle unkowing love. You two have finally made it here, after what felt like a thousand trials and dreams and stories.

So even if you’re taller, in high heels and a yellow dress—and Charles is broader, in a suit and tie—Lorenzo thinks he can blink and see the two little kids who hosted a tea party in the backyard. He can blink again and see you hugging, eyes shut, his lips pressed to your forehead to convey the intimacy nothing else will do as well. 

“So what now?” You ask. Again with the questions. In your defense—it begs so many follow-up questions. A love so many years in the making—layer after layer after layer—of course it begs all the questions, almost to the point of overwhelming capacity. What’ll we tell Pascale? The fans? The family? Everyone?! 

But one look and he makes it better. His green eyes, bright against the deep black of the skyline. You’ve grown. You’ve done it. You’re here. “We’ll figure it out.” He smiles. “We deserve this kind of ending, don’t you think?”

—

“He has my name.” A tubby finger points to the boy on the greeting card. “That one.”

“And who’s the dog?” Asks the girl beside him, hair wound into a plait. She likes this boy. He’s cute. She plays with the end of her braid and stares, eyes flickering in-between him and the card they’re staring at.

“The name’s right there. They’re best friends.”

“Okay, that’ll be me.”

“So that’s us.”

“Oui.” She smiles. “Charlie and Snoopy.”

–

read an omitted scene here :)

[tzyuki]

— (07.16.23) LOVE 2 HATE ME

IN WHICH ✶ Y/n and Gunwook have a secret thing for each other. Except the two are extremely embarrassed to be seen with one another. Gunwook being the soccer star player, class president, student council vice president, and having awesome grades it was almost impossible for her to not see him as a competitor. They didn’t wanna ruin their reputations, how stubborn could they be?

genre 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ park gunwook x f!reader, academic rivals, fluff, lowk a slowburn

warnings 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ swearing, kms jokes, gunwook has his driver license fr fr, theres like an insane amount of usage of the words “scoffed” and “shrugged”. unwanted touch.

release date 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ 07.16.23

word count 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ 19.6k

perm taglist (open) 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ @jinkyu @jangwonie @cwsana @luvyrin @amara-mars @ineedaherosavemeenow @mintydayeon @love-4-keum @kpopx-xlover @abdiitcryy @beepjeongie @ox1-lovesick @ja4hyvn @shinsou-rii @winkura @ddeonudepressions @tnyhees @wannabeyn @kpoprhia @svnghoonsonly

ej note 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ ahhh finally i am posting this! i’ve been working on this for about over three months going back and fourth to it. reblogs, likes and feedback are appreciated, I hope you guys enjoy this!

Everything Park Gunwook could do Jeon Y/n could do better.

That’s what Jeon Y/n thought at least.

The two were equally as smart and equally as devoted to school, but the two were just too damn competitive and one of them had to be a winner.

Y/n was a recommended tutor for all struggling students, she had perfect attendance, won many school awards, and is studying many languages.

Park Gunwook is the class president, vice principal for the student council, soccer star player, also won many awards, and has outstanding grades.

But what bothered Y/n the most was the fact that he was ranked top of the class and she was right behind him.

She despised him and he despised her.

Gunwook liked the competition and the rush feeling he got whenever he and Y/n were pitted against each other. Whether it was in class, love confessions, being favorited, or literally anything else.

He just enjoyed winning over her and the look on her face every time she lost.

“Soccer is probably the most attractive sport.” Huening Bahiyyih said as she and Y/n were sitting on the field bleachers, watching the soccer game go on. “Hiyyih-ah, what has gotten into you. Clearly badminton is the most attractive sport.” Y/n scoffed.

“You’re only saying that because Park Gunwook plays soccer. As much as you hate him you can’t deny how cute he is.” Hiyyih tried to argue.

“Park Gunwook is my enemy.”

Y/n said, Hiyyih shrugging her shoulders and turning her attention back to the game. Park Gunwook walking off of the field to get a sip of water.

Y/n was watching him with an expression of hatred on her face. Gunwook saw her and waved, being awfully polite just to piss her off.

“Ugh, I despise him.” Y/n looked away and tried to find another player to pay attention to.

—

“Y/n,” Mr. Shin called out before she was able to leave class like her pears. “I need to talk to you. Don’t worry, nothing bad.” Y/n sheepishly smiled as she walked up to his desk.

“I need you to tutor another student, Kim Danbi from class 1-3. You’ll meet up tomorrow after school in the library.”

“Tomorrow?” Y/n hesitated to ask. “Can’t I do it this weekend or something?”

“Y/n, we already scheduled it for tomorrow. It’s the only time she is free and she really needs your help so it’s settled.”

“Ah, okay. If she really needs it then.” Y/n laughed nervously. “Have a good day.” She bowed before leaving.

Shocked to see Park Gunwook waiting outside by the door. “What.” She said as he stared at her for a little. “Nothing.” He said before walking into the class she had just left.

Y/n couldn’t do a tutoring session tomorrow. She hated how her teachers would just schedule sessions for her without even asking if she was free or not. But she loved how good it’ll look in her record.

Everyone knew Jeon Y/n’s life was boring, they had just assumed she was always free.

“Hiyyih,” Y/n approached the girl in the lunch line. “Can you do me a favor tomorrow?” She asked as food was put on her tray. “Is it difficult?” Hiyyih asked as the two walked down the room of the cafeteria to go to the table the two always sat at.

“No, I just need you to pick Hayun and watch her tomorrow. Mr. Shin scheduled a session for me again. I asked if we could reschedule but we couldn't.”

“Sure, I love hanging with Hayun.” Hiyyih agreed. “He seriously needs to stop scheduling sessions for you without letting you know.”

“I know, but I feel so bad if I don’t tutor them. And they’ll look so good on my record. I need to get a scholarship before Gunwook does.”

“What’s up with you and Gunwooks rivalry, it’s so silly.” Hiyyih laughed at the ridiculous words coming out of Y/n’s mouth.

“It shouldn’t matter who gets a scholarship first or who tops the class.”

“It matters to me.” Y/n slightly glared at her best friend. “We’ve been in a rivalry since middle school ever since he decided to steal Kim Dayeon from me.”

“Yah, this is all because you and Gunwook both liked Kim Dayeon at the same time?” Hiyyih chuckled at the thought. “He would laugh in my face whenever Dayeon would choose to do something with him.” Y/n sulked.

“It’s my middle school trauma and my revenge is being better at anything he does.”

“Last time I checked you’re absolutely shit at soccer.”

“Okay so I can learn, soccer can’t be that hard?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I can sign up for that school fundraiser game and beat him in a couple matches.”

“Well that’s surely a goal.” Hiyyih mumbled. “I have months to practice, the fundraiser isn’t till may.” Y/n said.

“Hi, sunbaenim.” A junior of the girls bowed and put down a carton of milk on Y/n’s plate. “Thank you for agreeing to tutor me today! I’m so sorry I couldn’t get you a second milk carton.” She turned to Hiyyih and apologetically shook her head.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Hiyyih smiled at the girl. “It’s no problem, it’s what I do.” Y/n responded to her Junior.

“Thank you again!” Kim Danbi said before making her leave.

“Why do our juniors seem scared of you?” Hiyyih asked. “What do you mean?” Y/n slightly tilted her head in confusion. “I mean, it was hard to not notice the tension.”

“How?” Y/n didn’t notice any tension between the two.

“She was looking down the whole time and I saw her hesitating on coming up to us earlier in the corner of my eye.”

“I’m not sure, she’s probably just shy.”

—

Y/n was waiting in the library for Kim Danbi. She hoped this session went by quickly so she could go home and to take care of her little sister.

“Hi, Sunbaenim.” Kim Danbi sat down in the seat across from Y/n. “Hi.” Y/n smiled and started to pull out books from her bag.

“What topic do you need help with?” Y/n, Danbi pulling her pencil case out. “Just english.”

“Good, It’s one of my best subjects. Hopefully I can teach you quickly, if we need a few more sessions that’ll be fine. It’ll just cost 20 each session.”

“Alright.” Danbi smiled, ready for the session to start.

“Okay, what do you mainly need help on?”

“I have a book assignment due this week. I read the book but I’m having trouble writing an essay for it. I heard you were really good at writing essays and you were recommended by a lot of teachers so I wanted to ask for your input and to help me improve.”

“Alright, it shouldn't be too hard. What book were you assigned?”

“All the bright places.” Danbi pulled the book out and Y/n’s eyes shined a little. “I love that book.” Y/n smiled.

“I remember doing that assignment last year, do you have the same essay assignment or a different one?”

—

“Gunwook-ah, do you have to take so long?” Gyuvin complained as Gunwook was picking out a couple books he needed for an assignment.

“If you wanna go to practice soon you can.” Gunwook hummed. “I’m not forcing you to stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine.” Gunwook chuckled. “Alright, I’ll see you.” Gyuvin patted his back before leaving the library.

“This is decent, you just need to focus on the emotion. Right now it’s like you’re half-assing it. I don’t mean that in a rude way, I mean it in a way where when somebody else reads this they’ll feel like you didn’t get your point across. Put more detail into it.”

Y/n and Danbi could be seen from the gap of books on the bookshelf. Gunwook listened for a little while. Y/n was good at english and knew how to express emotions with words, he’ll give that to her.

“Hey, actually. Captain is mad right now, so I don’t want to get yelled at.” Gyuvin pops up from behind, startling Gunwook. “You scared me.” Gunwook’s hand rested on his heart from shock.

“What are you looking at?” Gyuvin peeked into the book gap. “Oh, Y/n? That’s a little creepy.”

“It was for a second, I’m not a creep.”

“Oh yeah? Remember the times she was tutoring and you would—“ Gyuvin was trying to rest his hand on the bookshelf but misplaced his hand, knocking down books making themselves seen.

“You make it seem like I did something bad, I just left her juice cartons in her basket without her knowing.” Gunwook whispered and frantically fixed the books.

“I need to check these books out, wait outside for me.” Gunwook gently shoved Gyuvin in the direction of the exit.

“Fine.” Gyuvin put his hands up in defense, almost tripping over a book. “And please stop making noise.” Gunwook sighed.

—

“Unnie! Did you know Hiyyih-Unnie likes mint choco, she’s just like you! You guys have terrible taste.” Hayun spoke as soon as Y/n walked into the house. “Yah, mint choco is amazing.” Y/n scoffed as she hung her bag up.

“Did you eat already?” Y/n asked as she opened a snack cabinet. “Yeah, Hiyyih-Unnie made me a snack.” Hayun and Hiyyih were sitting on top of the island.

“Promise me it was a real snack and not just ice cream.” She glared. “Yes it was.” Hayun groaned.

“Okay, I trust you. Did you call mom and dad today?”

Y/n’s parents were on business trips all the time. They worked as Retail buyers and were always traveling for two weeks twice a month.

“Yes, they asked where you were and I told them you had a tutoring session. They want you to take a break from tutoring. They think you need time to yourself.”

“Believe me, I think so too.” Y/n groaned.

—

Kim Dayeon and Jeon Y/n used to be close friends. Nothing bad happened for the two to stop being close friends, they just drifted apart. Y/n likes to blame Park Gunwook for it because he was like a knife that split a piece of bread in the middle of their friendship.

He had gained an interest in Kim Dayeon and Y/n didn’t like that, no one would. Especially since Y/n’s only friend was Dayeon at the time and she had a secret thing for her, who wouldn’t?

Everyone thought Kim Dayeon was cool, she played basketball in her free time, her parents ran a popular sushi restaurant, and she was class president for a year.

She was funny and nice to everyone. There was just nothing you could dislike Kim Dayeon for.

Park Gunwook made it his goal to get close to Kim Dayeon and to do that he had to hangout with her any chance he got and that was hard since Y/n was with her all the time.

He swears he didn’t mean to make them completely drift apart—only for a little. He found Y/n funny when she would get mad so he would tease her about Dayeon wanting to hang out with Gunwook and not her behind Dayeons back.

Park Gunwook honestly doesn’t dislike Y/n as much as people make it out to be. He thinks they would actually be good friends if they tried, but the two were just equally as competitive. Y/n still had a grudge on him and Gunwook’s life got more interesting once their little rivalry started.

Actually, once he did become closer to Kim Dayeon he realized his interest in her were just pure lies. He actually didn’t like the girl that much, he just thought she was cool and thought he had a crush on her.

But once Y/n was out of the picture it was odd. Y/n wasn’t there to complain, sulk and pull that pouty face to Kim Dayeon that he would see every friday when they argued on who should hang out with Dayeon.

Jeon Y/n completely stopped talking to Kim Dayeon. Yes, it is partially her fault that she and Kim Dayeon don’t talk since she had dropped her out of nowhere but she still blames Park Gunwook since he was the reason Kim Dayeon rarely had time for her.

If he was being completely honest he had a tiny tiny interest in Jeon Y/n. But it would be embarrassing for him to admit to anyone, especially since the two have a known rivalry and “hatred” for each other.

“I wonder how Y/n handles all those tutoring sessions, she has at least three a week.” Dayeon wondered.

Her and Gunwook were hanging out outside by the soccer field.

“I don’t know. She probably has some super ability to teach struggling kids who don’t give a damn about their grades.” Gunwook was kicking around a soccer ball as Dayeon watched.

“Are you gonna sign up for the soccer game fundraiser this year? You should do it.” Gunwook suggested. Dayeon has always said she’d sign up for them but she always ends up not.

“You just want to beat me in a game of soccer.” Dayeon chuckled. “Which is unfair, considering the fact that you are literally our school's star player.” Dayeon rolled her eyes.

“I heard Y/n’s signing up.” Dayeon heard this from a random girl in the bathroom. Everyone was intrigued by her and Gunwook’s rivalry.

“Y/n’s trying so you should try.”

“As if, that’ll be so awkward.” Dayeon sighed. “We haven’t talked in like five years. I wonder if she’s different from back then.”

“Five years is a lot. She probably has changed. I don’t know, I really only talk to her when I wanna tease her about my test score or piss her off.”

“You’re an ass. As if you didn’t torture her enough in middle school.”

“I am not.” Gunwook gasped. “Her reactions are just so funny. When her eyebrows come closer to each other, her eyes shine with hatred and her pouty face she’s had since middle school.”

“That’s a very detailed description for someone who supposedly hates her.” Dayeon had a slight expression of concern on her face, she was shocked at how detailed Gunwook got.

“It’s just very memorable.”

“Sure.” Dayeon just agreed. She knew Park Gunwook could never have pure hatred for anyone.

When she found out about Gunwook’s intentions she was not surprised to say the least. It was obvious. She missed Y/n a lot but she knew it’d be hard to rebuild that friendship. One thing about Y/n is that she knows her worth and knows what’s bad and what’s good for her.

The feeling of jealousy she got with Dayeon and Gunwook was bad. So she stopped talking to Dayeon.

Dayeon stayed close with Gunwook and eventually learned a lot of stuff about him. About how he’s such a big baby despite his intimidating appearance.

—

“Did you hear about that new guy today? I heard he’s cute.” Zhang Hao asked as soon as he sat down in his seat next to Y/n. “It’s only 7 in the morning, how could I have heard of him?” Y/n yawned. “Did you not get sleep?” Hao asked. “You know that’s bad for you, I don’t care about what you were studying for. Sleep and your health is more important!”

“I was not studying.” Y/n pouted. “I was making tutoring notes actually.”

“Even worse.” Zhang Hao was about to speak again but the teacher walked in with a student beside her. The new guy.

“Quiet please. We have a new student.” Ms. Nam said as she pointed to the boy next to her. “Introduce yourself please!” Ms. Nam said joyfully.

“Hi, I’m Ricky Shen and I just recently moved from China.”

“You can sit right behind Y/n and Hao! Please raise your hands!” Ms. Nam said pointing to their direction as the two raised their hands.

“Hi.” Ricky said to the two as he sat right behind Y/n. “What region are you from?” Hao turned around in his seat and asked. “Shanghai.”

“Cool, I’m from Fujian!” Hao smiled. “If you need any help or a "guide ", come to us. Or maybe just me, Y/n is always busy.”

“Oh, are you like the class president? That’s a busy role.” Ricky asked. “I’m not.” Y/n turned to face him. “Park Gunwook is the class president.” Y/n scanned the room to find him staring at her. “The one staring at us.” Y/n pointed out.

“Oh, I see. Why are you so busy then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I just study a lot.” Y/n laughed nervously. “She’s downplaying herself, Y/n’s ranked number two in this class and she has this really good reputation with teachers so they send all the struggling kids to her so she can tutor them. Now she spends three days a week tutoring and stays up late at night making notes for them.” Hao just spoke like he told a whole life story.

“It’s kinda messed up in a way.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You could’ve just said I tutor kids. I think you broke Ricky.”

Ricky was confused and lost. Not actually, it just seemed like he was. It was just a lot of information to process.

“Why don’t you say something about not wanting to tutor them? Or that you’re already busy?”

“Oh she does, but she has this rivalry with the class president and she wants to get a college scholarship before him and tutoring looks good on her record so she suffers the pain and sucks it up.”

“At this point you're telling my life story to him.”

“At least he’ll be filled in and not confused. You and Gunwook’s rivalry is kind of the best part of this school. It’s so funny when you guys fight.” Hao teased.

“You guys are crazy.” Ricky laughed, but it wasn’t a loud chaotic laugh like most people. It was a quiet one. Y/n liked that. Ricky seemed like a quiet observer.

“If you think we’re crazy just wait till you meet the soccer team.” Hao hummed. “Are they bad?” Ricky asked. “No, they’re just kinda chaotic—more crazy off the field, y’know? The other day Kim Gyuvin literally knocked books off of the shelves by accident because he misplaced his hand. I don’t know how he’s one of their best players when he's usually so clumsy.”

“And the other day they almost caused a ruckus at the vending machines because it was jammed and Han Yujin was so determined to get his snack he held the line up.”

“And one time Kim Jiwoong flirted his way to get free snacks from the snack bar.”

“That sounds like something I’d do.” Ricky laughed. “They usually only do it to Kim Jiwoong. If it happens to anyone else they’re either really lucky or just extremely attractive.” Y/n explained.

“I think they’ll let you get free snacks. You’re handsome enough.” Y/n looked at Ricky. She found him attractive. He seems sweet as well so that’s a plus. “Hook us up if it works.” She joked.

—

Park Gunwook was upset. Like angry, upset. He wished he had lost all his hearing in his left ear cause all he could hear all class was Y/n laughing with Zhang Hao and Ricky.

He didn’t think Ricky was that funny, so why was Y/n laughing so hard.

“Why are you so upset? You don’t even like Y/n.” Dayeon asked. She was testing the waters, she wanted to know Gunwook’s response knowing in reality he does like the girl.

“Because—they were being distracting. She was laughing so much, they all were! What could’ve been so funny.” He made an excuse.

“I heard Ricky’s getting popular. I’ve heard he also plays basketball, maybe I’ll see him in the courtyard later. I’ll tell you if he’s funny.” Dayeon

“That’s not helpful. You laugh at anything, and since Ricky is mega attractive you’ll just laugh and giggle at everything.” Gunwook sighed. “Oh,” Dayeon laughed, “Are you just jealous that Ricky seems to be so funny and attractive that all the attention will be taken away from you.” Dayeon spoke.

More like the attention of Y/n would be taken from him although he never had it…

But he was also upset at the way she ignored him and didn’t even brag or flaunt her test score which was the best one in that class. The first thing she did was put it in her bag and walk away with Ricky.

“Why would I be upset that the attention isn’t on me?”

“Maybe because you’ve had the attention of others your whole life and this one time it isn’t so you’re upset. I don’t blame you, if I had gotten all the attention growing up and then suddenly someone took that away from me I’d be upset too.”

“Okay, way to take a dig at my heart.” Gunwook glared at Dayeon. “I’m okay with attention not being on me for a couple days.”

“Bullshit, it's a couple of hours not days.” Dayeon argued. “Besides, I heard Ricky’s nice, you’ll probably turn out to really like him.”

“We’ll see.”

—

“Hi,” Gunwook approached the lunch table Ricky was sitting at. Y/n, Hiyyih, and Hao were also sitting at the table. “I’m Park Gunwook, the class president. I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier.” Gunwook smiled as he held his hand out for a handshake.

“It’s okay, I’m Ricky.” Ricky smiled back and shook his hand. “Do you like it here? I hope Y/n hasn’t grown an attachment yet and sulks when someone else hangs out with you.” Gunwook jokes.

Ricky was confused.

“What’s your problem?” Y/n scoffed. “I’m just joking,” Gunwook said as he turned to Y/n. “Forget what I said.” He turned his head back to Ricky.

“I like it here, everyone’s welcoming.”

“That’s good. If you need anything I’m always here.” Gunwook said before walking back to his usual lunch table where his soccer team and more of his friends sat.

“What was that?” Dayeon asked. “Just introducing myself to Ricky.” Gunwook said. “Y/n looked mad. What did you say?” Taerae asked. “It’s nothing. I was just teasing her.”

“Give the girl a break.” Gyuvin suggested. “She already has so much on her plate with tutoring and her little sister, she does not need you teasing her.” He scolded Gunwook.

“We all know why Gunwook’s teasing her, he just wants her attention.” Dayeon spoke out. “Oh my god, are we still on this topic? I thought we were just joking?” Yujin gasped, the group had always joked about Gunwook and Y/n if they had been together.

“It’s still just a joke—it’s nothing.” Gunwook shushed at Dayeon. “Ignore what she said.”

“What are you guys doing after school?” Gunwook asked, trying to divert everyone’s attention to his question. “Well, we have practice and then after that I have my tutoring session.” Yujin answered.

“I’m free after practice.” Gyuvin said, and a couple of ‘Me too’s followed by.

“Dayeon?” Gunwook looked at the girl, in a questioning tone. “I’m free, what are we gonna do?”

“Let’s get something to eat.” Gunwook suggested. “Where to?”Gyuvin asked. “The usual convenience store, duh.” Gunwook scoffed. “Boring. Get money, stop being broke.” Taerae groaned.

“Unless you want to pay for all of us at a nice restaurant then shhh.” Gunwook nodded his head. “Yup. I can barely afford money for the vending machine.” Yujin agreed.

“Yujin, babes you can’t afford anything. You use your cuteness to get everything.” Dayeon called him out. “And I’m proud of it!” Yujin huffed.

—

“How was practice?” Dayeon asked as the group all walked into the convenience store they went to daily. “Hi, Yejun!” Dayeon said as the others waved to the cashier. “It’s like you guys live here, coming here everyday.” Yejun laughed to himself.

Yejun was a student that attended the same school as them, they didn’t have any classes with him but always saw him working at the store.

“It’s in our budget and just so good.” Gunwook placed his items on the counter and waited for the others to come to the front. “How are you?” Gunwook asked. “Good as always, it’s been a slow day.” Yejun sighed, “Did you guys just come back from practice?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Gunwook sighed. “Coach is getting tougher on us, I just hope we win our next game.”

“Hi.” Taerae dragged out as the rest of them placed their items on the counter. “Wow you guys are hungry.” Yejun said as he saw the amount of food on the counter.

“Coach is driving us crazy.” Yujin pouted. “He held us an hour later.” Yujin sulked. “Well, I can’t do much but wish you guys luck on your next game.” Yejun said.

“Oh—by the way, Y/n is here. Please don’t cause a ruckus, I don’t want to disturb the couple over there.”

“Got it.” Gunwook said as he grabbed his bag of his food. The group of friends went towards the seats they usually sat at. There was a couple sitting down a couple seats away from them as Yejun said, and then there was Y/n who was sitting down across from Gunwook’s eyesight. Her head propped up in the palm of her hand. There were books and papers scattered on the table, she was just staring down at the papers.

Y/n looked tired and drained. Gunwook grabbed a Choco Pie and walked over to her table. “Hi, you look tired.” Gunwook said as he dropped the snack on the table. Y/n slowly picked her head up. “It’s because I am.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “What is this?” Y/n asked, picking the snack up.

“A Choco Pie, duh.” Gunwook rolled his eyes. “I know what a Choco Pie—why are you giving me this?”

“You look like you need it.” Gunwook admitted. “Thanks…people have just been coming to get tutored consistently.” Y/n sighed. “It’s so tiring, like I have a life too.”

“Jeon Y/n having a life, something I’d never imagine.” Gunwook chuckled, Y/n looked up and stared at him. Gunwook could see that she hasn’t been in the joking mood due to the lack of comebacks towards him. “Uh—just ask to cancel them or ask for just one student.” Gunwook coughed, clearing his throat.

“You don’t think I’ve tried? Mr. Shin especially keeps sending his students to me for tutoring sessions. It’s so stupid and tiring, at this point I’d rather start selling my notes.” Y/n rambled on and on.

“I could help you.”

“Really?” Y/n’s body jolted up, she was now sitting with a good posture.

“No, I just wanted to tease you.” Gunwook grinned. “I’m also very busy.”

Y/n groaned and quickly shoved all her papers and books into her bag. While she was storming out books and pages fell out but she embarrassingly ran back in with pink rosy cheeks as she picked up her stuff.

—

Y/n was seen sleeping and slacking off in class recently. She had tutor sessions on top of tutor sessions every hour of the week. She could never catch a break.

The bell rang. “Have a good lunch.” Mr. Shin said. Y/n got up a little later than everyone else, shoving her books into her bag. “Y/n, I need to speak with you.” Mr. Shin spoke out, making her stop in her tracks.

Y/n closed her eyes and prayed she wouldn’t get into much trouble. “Yes?” She slowly turned around. “What’s wrong? You’re slacking, you barely passed this test.” Mr. Shin placed her graded test on his table.

“Nothings wrong…,” Y/n tried to find the right words. “Don’t lie to me, Y/n.” Mr. Shin asked firmly. “It’s nothing really—I’m just tired. I’ve been doing a lot.”

“You need to learn how to manage your schedule. Make some time for sleep and studies. No time for fun.” He scolded her. “I’d have time if I didn’t have so many tutoring sessions.” Y/n muttered under her breath. She was honestly hoping he’d hear her.

“Jeon Y/n-ah. Are you talking back? Say what you said out loud.”

“I said, I’d have time if I didn’t have so many tutoring sessions.” Y/n spoke proudly. “Y/n-ah, you tutor because it’ll look good on your applications. You asked me to send students that needed help to you. If you keep this up—.” He picked up her low test score and waved it around, “You’ll never get accepted.”

“Get yourself together, you’re a great and smart student. Don’t waste it.”

Y/n would be lying if she said she was fearless, because she’s not. The cold and confident persona she put out was mostly just an act.

Jeon Y/n was confident and did have a cold personality. She was confident in her ability to stay on top of the school's ranks and almost always had a cold and moody expression on her face.

But she wasn’t just all that. She had fears like everyone else. She feared not being accepted into a good school, she feared failing, she feared disappointing others, most of all she feared not being on top. She wanted to be the best, second place was not enough. Which was the reason her stupid rivalry with Park Gunwook lasted this long.

Park Gunwook didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, he had left his notebook in the room and needed to get it. Y/n and Mr. Shin just so happened to still be in there. He could’ve left but he was way too intrigued once he heard Shin yell at Y/n.

“What the hell!” Y/n jumped as she was met with Park Gunwooks face. “Why are you always here to witness bad moments?” Y/n groaned and stormed off.

“Y/n—wait.” Gunwook grabbed the fabric of her sweater, making her lose her balance a little. “Let me help you tutor.” He said with no hesitation. “Funny. I’m not falling for it again.”

“No seriously, let me help.”

“I don’t want your pity.” Y/n walked off before Gunwook could say another word.

Gunwook sighed.

—

“Hi, Y/n-sunbaenim.” Y/n’s junior bowed. “Hi. Are you ready for today?” Y/n asked. “Yes, I am! I think I’m starting to understand it better!”

“That’s good.” Y/n said, her attention turning to something else. One of the juniors she tutors just walked into the library. “Hyunki, what are you doing here? Our session is tomorrow.” Y/n told the girl as she sat down a seat away from her.

“Oh, Mr. Shin assigned me a new tutor!”

“Oh, is something wrong with my tutoring? Do you know who it is?” Y/n asked, she wondered why Shin suddenly decided to switch Hyunki’s tutor.

“There’s nothing wrong, I honestly don’t know why he switched my tutors. And no, I’m not sure who I got switched to.” Hyunki nodded her head. “I just hope he's good!”

“He?” There were currently no males who tutored at the school, it was all females who volunteered until now. “Yeah, it’s a guy.” Hyunki confirmed. “Oh, Okay. Then he must’ve just signed up to be a tutor.”

“Hi!” Park Gunwook said enthusiastically as he approached the table. “S-sunbaenim.” Hyunki stood up so fast she almost got whiplash. She bowed to him, bowing pretty low to hide her rosy cheeks. Most juniors admired Park Gunwook and thought he was handsome. Hyunki was one of those juniors.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked, her eyebrow slightly raised. “I’m tutoring Hyunki!” Y/n’s jaw almost dropped.

“You’re tutoring now? Can’t you just let me have my own thing.” Y/n groaned. “No.” Gunwook chuckled and had a teasing smile on his face.

Gunwook was helping Y/n without Y/n knowing he was helping her. She had just thought it was another attempt at trying to one up her.

—

“Hao, you won’t believe it.” Y/n said as soon as Hao picked the phone up. “Oh my god, really?!” Hao sarcastically gasped. “What happened?” He asked seriously now. “Gunwook started tutoring today. He’s literally coming for my neck. Especially since he saw my argument with Shin about it.”

“First he steals Dayeon, my top spot, and now my whole life!” Y/n said dramatically. “Your whole life?” Hao questioned. “Tutoring takes up all my time, it might as well be my life!”

“You’re overreacting. It’s not like he’ll steal your scholarship.”

“Why would you say that?” Y/n scoffed. “I’m being serious. Gunwook might be an ass to you but he wouldn’t purposely steal your scholarship.”

“Gunwook’s not that bad. He just teases a lot, especially you. He was definitely worse in middle school.” Hao huffed. “But he’s better now. Remember that short period of time where random juice boxes would show up in your bike basket after you tutored?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Y/n was wondering where Hao’s statement was going. “It was Gunwook doing it. I caught him one day. And then remember when it stopped? He probably got scared of getting caught.”

“That was him? Oh my god…no wonder the juices tasted so good! It was probably some expensive ass juice.” Y/n scoffed. “I can’t believe him. He’s so confusing, he teases me all the time but pulls this?”

“I think he actually doesn’t dislike you at all. I mean—he did start tutoring to help you.”

“To help me? That’s crazy, Hao. Why would it be helping me?” Y/n exclaimed, she was pacing around her room now. “Because you said that he always shows up at bad times, like when you and Shin are arguing. He for sure heard your complaints and wanted to help you without you knowing.”

“I mean, he did ask to help me but I said no.” Y/n thought for a second. “I thought he was just fucking with me.”

Hao scoffed. “God, your stupid rivalry is so pointless. You guys could be friends by now if you weren’t so stubborn.”

“Now, you’re blaming me?”

“Am I wrong?” Zhang Hao was not wrong at all. Y/n was stubborn, stupid stubborn. “You think everything is a competition and he just follows along with it looking for entertainment.”

“Even if he started tutoring not to help you and did it for himself you shouldn’t look at it as him trying to steal ‘your thing’. If he’s doing this to look better on applications, don’t be so hypocritical. Because you’re doing exactly that. You’re tutoring to look better on applications, are you not?”

Y/n sighed, “You’re right.” She really hated when Zhang Hao was right, and Zhang Hao is always right. She was glad he was there to bring her to her senses though, she appreciated it.

“I always am.” Hao teased, Y/n scoffed at this.

—

“Hi, Hiyyih.” Y/n said as the tall blonde approached her. “How was your grandparents' house?” Y/n asked. Hiyyih and her siblings spent the weekend at their grandparents house. “Fun, I ate well.”

“I bet you did.” Y/n chuckled. “I gotta go to the gym. Wanna come with?” Y/n shut her locker. “What for?”

“The soccer tournament, duh.” Y/n playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh—you were being serious about that.” Hiyyih’s eyes widened to surprise.

“Why would I lie about that?” Y/n asks seriously. “Because, last time anyone checked you are absolutely shit at soccer.” Hiyyih said with honesty. “If you're doing this simply because of your stupid rivalry with Park Gunwook then don’t do it.”

Y/n had been hearing that a lot recently. She even hears it from people she’s never talked to before.

“It’s not. It’ll look good on my applications. And besides, Jake is gonna help me out.” Y/n sighed.

“Jake? As in, puppy cute aussie jake?”

“Yes—puppy cute aussie jake—why do you call him that?” Y/n’s eyebrow furrowed.

“Because he’s like a cute puppy, and he’s australian.” Hiyyih shrugged her shoulders. “Jake is the only Jake at our school, who else would I be talking about?” Y/n shook her head.

“So—you’re still seriously doing this?” Hiyyih asked as they walked into the gym. A bit crowded from all the signups. “Yes, if Jake Sim said he’d teach me then I’m gonna accept.” Y/n whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear.

“He—he said that!” Hiyyih’s eyes widened. “Yes, Jake Sim would do anything to teach what he loves.” Y/n scoffed. “Oh god—is Kim Dayeon signing up.” Y/n wavered.

“She could be, or she could just be standing with Park Gunwook and Han Yujin.” Hiyyih put some serious thought into it. “Like I am with you.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll see soon, c’mon.” Hiyyih dragged the two into a line.

Park Gunwook, Han Yujin, and Nishimura Riki always signed up for the fundraiser ever since it became a thing. You would think the whole soccer team would but that would just be a disadvantage.

Kim Jiwoong just had better things to do, Kim Gyuvin liked to watch the game rather than play in it once in a while, Jake Sim would actually help people practice since he wouldn’t sign up, Kim Hyunjin had better things to do like karaoke with her close friends, Lee Heeseung would rather do the basketball fundraiser than the soccer one, Hwang Intak also liked to watch rather than play more, Yang Jungwon would actually watch Heeseung play the basketball one, and Kim Sunwoo, the captain who’s in his last year was just far to competitive that he knew it was best not to sign up.

“Okay, Gunwook is taking a sheet of paper…and then Yujin…and now…”

“Okay you don’t have to narrate what’s happening.” Y/n interrupted her. “Okay, she isn’t signing up. You’re good!” Hiyyih gave her best friend a thumbs up.

“So, what team do you want to be on?” Hiyyih asked. There are four teams, red, blue, pink, and green. The sheet of paper they pick before signing up is the team they’ll get, then they’ll sign their name and grade onto the teams sheet.

“Whatever team Park Gunwook is not on.”

“Did Zhang Hao’s little speech not get through to you?” Hiyyih asked and Y/n groaned out loud. “He told you?” Y/n sighed. “Of course he did. Y/n, seriously the rivalry has to stop. What if you both end up getting into the same college and it lasts those four years as well? Your professors are not gonna put up with that shit.”

Y/n huffed. “I don’t know, I have to figure my own shit out first.”

“Hi.” Y/n said as it was her turn to pick up a small sheet of paper. “Red.” Y/n said as she turned her paper around to show Kim Hyunjin and Lee Heeseung. “Sign this sheet right here!” Hyunjin said as she handed Y/n the clipboard with the sign-up sheet.

Y/n scanned the paper to look for a specific name.

Kim MinJi | Grade 12

Moon JaeYun | Grade 12

Huh YunJin | Grade 12

Sim JaYoon/Yoon | Grade 12

Nishimura Riki/Ni-ki | Grade 11

Sohn YoungJae/Eric | Grade 12

Park GunWook | Grade 11

Kum JunHyeon | Grade 12

Naoi Rei | Grade 12

Hirota Riki/Maki | Grade 11

She wrote down her name and quietly sighed.

“Thank you so much.” Y/n smiled and placed the clipboard back down before walking off.

“So?” Hiyyih was waiting to know what made Y/n sigh. “We’re on the same team.” Y/n said bluntly. “I’ll have to be in his range of area for five hours a day for three weeks.”

—

“Hello, is everyone here? Looks like it.” Mrs. Jeo said as she quietly did a head count. “Perfect, all eleven of you are here!”

“I am Mrs. Jeo! I am the red team's coach and representative! Let’s have a safe and fun practice! Please grab a ball and pair up into four groups of two and one group of three!” Mrs. Jeo introduced herself.

Y/n was gonna walk over to Kim Minji and ask if she wanted to be partners but that was before she felt a tug on the sleeve of her shirt.

“Y/n, be my partner.” Park Gunwook said as the girl turned around. “Why?” Y/n asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Because I asked. And who wouldn’t want to be partners with the star player?” Gunwook gassed himself up.

“Me. I don’t want to.” Y/n scoffed.

“Too late. Everyone else already has a partner.” Gunwook hummed and gently grabbed her shoulders, turning the girl around to see everyone else paired up.

“Let’s grab a ball.” Gunwook gave her a taunting smile. “Oh! and these will be your partners for the three weeks! Pick someone you get along with!” Mrs. Jeo said cheerfully.

Everyone’s eyes went to Gunwook and Y/n. Gunwook who had a smile on his face and Y/n who had facepalmed.

“Kill me.” Y/n complained. “Not just yet!” Gunwook gently passed the ball to Y/n by kicking it.

“You don’t seem like a soccer girl? I remember hearing you don't do any sports actually.” Gunwook tried to make conversation with the girl as the two practiced simple passing.

“I’m not. I’m doing this for the hell of it.” Y/n excused. “For the hell of it or just to compete against me? Unfortunately we’re on the same team.” Gunwook teased.

“What made you think you could’ve beaten me anyway? No offense, but you don’t have any experience in soccer.”

“Jake Sim said he’d teach me.”

“Ah~The Jake Sim effect.” Gunwook laughed. “He always does this, instead of signing up he helps the students who absolutely suck at soccer.”

Y/n can’t even take offense to that because it’s true, she absolutely sucks at soccer.

“Tell you what, I’ll teach you if you tell Jake you don’t need to his help anymore.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m the star player, duh.” Gunwook rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but are you forgetting Jake Sim was a runner up for star player before you took the title?” Y/n reminded him.

“Yeah, but then again he isn’t star player, so.” Gunwook huffed. “Jake Hyung is good but c’mon.” Gunwook dragged the last word out.

“What do I get out of it?”

“Super awesome soccer skills, duh.”

“I could easily get that from Jake Sim.”

“Okay—then, super awesome soccer skills and more time with me.”

“More time with you? As if anyone would like that.” She scoffed. “Hyunki sure does.” Gunwook laughed. “Hyunki’s just got cute boys running in her mind, of course she’ll want to spend time with you.”

“Awh, you think I’m cute? You’re kind of cute too, Y/n.” Gunwook pinched her cheek. “You’re pushing it.” Y/n said sternly.

“Listen, I’m not so bad to be around. I’m sorry I gave you hell back in middle school and—the last three years.” He sheepishly chuckled. “Anyways, the point is that I’m only here to win so the money can go to the charity of the team's choice.”

“Just put some serious thought into it. I won’t force you to.”

—

Y/n put some serious thought into it. Maybe Gunwook coaching her could help them get along. But, would she really do that? No.

“Hi, Jake.” Y/n said as she walked up to the boy on the field. “Hi, Y/n. Are you ready?” He asked as he kicked the ball around and did a few tricks. “Okay, Showoff.” Y/n teased.

“What, you don’t wanna learn a few tricks?” Jake chuckled. “I only need to know the basics.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders.

“The basics? Please, anyone could teach you the basics. Why’d you ask me?”

“Because I know you would’ve said yes. And I know your teammates are busy doing other stuff.”

“I heard Gunwook offered to teach you, why didn’t you take the offer up.” Jake asked. “You know why.” Y/n squinted her eyes as the sun was in her way. “How’d you know anyway?” Y/n asked.

“Please, Park Gunwook and Jeon Y/n. You guys are practically a twitter hashtag trending every week.”

“I can’t stand Gunwook, why would I take his offer up if I can’t even stand him?” Y/n sighed. “Gunwook isn’t that bad. I understand you guys have a bad past but when you get to really know him he’s like a big baby.”

“Park Gunwook, a big baby?” Y/n laughed.

“You love exposing me, don’t you Hyung.” A voice was heard from behind. “Hi, Gunwookie.” Jake teased.

“Whatta’ doing here?” Jake asked. “I can’t watch you guys practice?” Gunwook responded. “Didn’t say that…just kind of…awkward…you’re just gonna watch?”

“I mean, yeah? Everyone’s busy so I’m just gonna watch you guys.” Gunwook shrugged his shoulders. “Help me teach Y/n.” Jake gestured to Gunwook to come closer. “You’re her partner anyway and on the same team.”

“I do end up teaching you after all.” Gunwook whispered as he walked past Y/n.

—

Instead of seeing Gunwook for five hours a day for the next three weeks it turned into six. It was gonna be a living hell for her.

She thought so at least.

The game was soon and they were almost three weeks into the practices plus Jake and Gunwook giving her extra help and it wasn’t so bad actually.

She started to see why people had been so obsessed over Park Gunwook. He was actually sweet and considerate. He would bring extra drinks for the three, towels to wipe sweat, and always brought an extra sweater just in case. He always offers it to Y/n when it gets colder later in the day.

She would be lying if she said that her heart didn’t beat twice as fast those couple of weeks they spent together. But she would never admit that publicly. It was too embarrassing for her and her reputation.

Gunwook pushed aside their rivalry and taught Y/n how to play soccer fairly without any arguments, or trying to start any.

“Y/n, how many times do I have to tell you. Kick harder. You’re not consistent with it.” Gunwook sighed. “I don’t care if you hit me.”

“Trust me I want to hit you.” Y/n groaned. “So why aren’t you doing so?” Gunwook scoffed. “If you get injured, our team is basically in jeopardy.” Y/n was reaching with this, there were plenty of decent Soccer players on their team.

“Please, like you’d even be able to injure me.”

“You’re really testing my patience, Park Gunwook.” Y/n stepped closer to the boy.

“Okay—that’s enough.” Jake pulled the two apart. He found it funny at first but had to stop before it got out of hand. “Take five.” Jake nervously laughed and pushed the two in the direction of the bleachers.

“You guys need to stop this shit. You can’t argue on the field during the game.” Jake scolded the two.

“We got it, Hyung.” Gunwook sighed. “Do you really? This shit has been going on for years, when is it gonna stop?” Jake rarely ever scolded the younger, and Gunwook hated it when he did.

“Yes, we do. We’ll try and get along.”

—

The two ‘got along’ you could say…?

They tried their best not to argue and stay civil with each other and it actually was kind of peaceful for a while.

It was the day of the games and Y/n’s heart was pounding with pressure and anxiety. Her leg shook up and down and her hands shaking and knuckles cracked consistently.

“You’ll do good. Don’t worry. Once you’re on the field you’ll get an adrenaline rush and do your best to keep up and win.” Gunwook assured the girl.

“How do you know that’ll happen?” Y/n asked. “We’re more alike than you think, Y/n.”

“We have the same desire to win and be the best. We get nervous and then a sudden adrenaline rush hits.”

Park Gunwook and Jeon Y/n had a lot more in common.

“Hi, Hyung! Hi, Y/n Noona.” Yujin said cheerfully as he skipped to the tent the red team was resting at.

“Hi, Yujinnie.” Gunwook ruffled the youngest hair. “Hi.” Y/n waved quietly.

“Did you see the lineup?” Yujin asked. “If you win against blue and I win against green we get to play a game against each other!”

“I did. Good luck, you should head back to your tent now. Games are starting soon!” Gunwook patted Yujin’s back.

“Good luck, Yujin.” Y/n said as well. “Thank you.” Yujin said with a big smile on his face.

Gunwook sighed. “I love that kid. A shame that he’ll lose.” Gunwook chuckled. “But he does have some rage on the field. Better watch out for him.” Gunwook warned Y/n.

“The real person you watch out for is Gyu Duho,” Ni-ki pointed out. “He plays dirty. When we had gym together he would break all the rules in the sports. He even sent a girl to the nurse’s office because he shoved her too roughly.”

“I heard he didn’t even apologize either.” Yunjin chimes in. “He’s a weirdo, and it’s drizzling so better be careful out there.”

The Pink and Green team match was up first.

It went smoothly and slid right by. It was a good match, Green (Yujin’s) team won.

Now it was time for the Red versus Blue match.

“Okay Red team! Huddle up before we go on the field!” Mrs Jeo clapped her hands and everyone huddled up.

“I want you all to do your best, have no worries and just have fun!” She exclaimed.

“Go! Go! Go!” She cheered as the team ran into the field.

“Y/n,” Gunwook said as the two were walking to their positions. “Just flow with it and don’t stress.” He patted her shoulder.

“Okay.” Y/n breathed out. “What if I do something horribly wrong and we lose?”

“I’ll bring the team to victory.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Now we have the Red versus Blue! On the Red team they have Star Player Park Gunwook and Nishimura Riki of the soccer team! Do you think Red or Blue will win?” Danielle Marsh, the sports announcer said.

“Looks like Park Gunwook and Jeon Y/n are getting along? That’s a first.” Danielle’s little laugh could be heard on the mic.

“Is that Park Gunwook’s arm around Y/n’s shoulder? Looks like the two are getting close!”

“Let’s start the match!”

The start of the match went by smoothly as well. Y/n tried her best to keep up and actually didn’t do so bad. Y/n has only seen just a couple of clips of Gunwook on the field but actually being there next to him, playing the game with him, and passing the ball to him, felt different.

It was finally halftime and Y/n was so happy she survived the first half without being as bad as she expected herself to be.

“Y/n, you’re doing good. I don’t know why you were so worried.”

“This is all new to me.” Y/n gulped her water down. “Of course I’m nervous.” She huffed. “I understand why people are so obsessed with the star player now.” Y/n confessed.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” Gunwook smirked. “I can see your passion for soccer on the field. It’s—the realest version of you, y’know?”

Gunwook hesitated for a bit before nodding his head in agreement. “Yeah.”

—

The second half of the game went even smoother now that Y/n got the hang of it.

The Red team won against the Blue team and now the final match is happening soon.

She was nervous about this last match though, she’ll have to face Gyu Duho.

Going against Green was a little more difficult for Y/n. Especially since they had more experienced players.

“Guys, be careful out there. It’s raining a little harder now so the grass is gonna be slippery, Green has players who are more experienced and rough. Put your health first.” Mrs. Jeo patted all their backs before they ran to the field.

“Looks like we got Red and Green going against each other now! For the first time it looks like Park Gunwook and Han Yujin are going against each other! Will the rage of the youngest win or the star player pull through?!”

“Star Player, blah blah blah. All they talk about is Gunwook, does that not upset you?” Duho scoffed as he and Ni-ki were battling for the ball. “Why would it? Gunwook Hyung is good. They’re not lying.”

“Still, it doesn’t bother you that they never mention you or anyone else?”

“It doesn’t. Our team is good but he makes our team better. You’re not gonna get under my skin.” Ni-ki scoffed.

“Hyung!” Ni-ki shouted as he passed the ball to Gunwook.

Gunwook kicked the ball into the goal, scoring the first point.

“Park Gunwook scores the first point for team Red!”

“Hyung. Duho’s trying to get under our skin, watch out. I’ll try and let everyone know.” Ni-ki said quickly as he passed by Gunwook.

Y/n didn’t know what was happening but she could see Ni-ki spreading some sort of word.

“Y/n.” She felt her shoulder being touched. “Duho’s gonna try and get under your skin. Don’t fall for it.” Gunwook warned the girl. “What’s he gonna say?” She asked. “Probably some shit that’ll make you mad.”

“You’re doing good, don’t let him distract you.” Gunwook teased the girl by squeezing her right cheek. “Ugh.” Y/n wiped her cheek. “Be careful with the grass.” He said before running back.

It was like Y/n was cursed because right after that Gyu Duho and her were fighting for the ball.

“How does it feel to be Gunwook’s shadow? Always second while he’s first.” Duho chuckled. “He's a star player, you’re nothing. He’s top of class, your top two. He's the class president, and you're just the girl who lost to him.”

“He’s Kim Dayeon’s best friend and you used to be her best friend.”

Duho knew he struck a nerve, it was perfect timing for him to steal the ball and ‘accidentally’ kick the back of her leg making her slip.

Y/n didn’t move, it wasn’t like she was injured super bad she just needed to take a breather…on the grassy muddy ground.

“Looks like Jeon Y/n is down! Is she okay…do we need to get a medic? Omg.”

“We can’t tell if that was a foul or not. It could’ve been an accident.”

“Looks like she’s good! She’s up but I don’t think she’ll be able to continue, looks like she’s limping. Park Gunwook is running to the scene and…helping Y/n!? He’s got his arm around her shoulders helping her to the sidelines. I think this is the end of their rivalry.”

“Are you okay?” Gunwook asked in a panic tone. “I’m good, I think my ankles just sprained, I’ll be fine. Just—win the match and best Gyu Duho.”

“What’d he say to you?”

“Some shit that got under my skin.”

Yujin ran over to Duho. “Dude. What was that for? We play fair on the field.” Yujin scoffed. “Dude? Where’s your respect for your senior?”

“Respect? Respect my ass, bro.” Yujin scoffed before he ran to the sidelines to check on Y/n before the match began again.

“I’m so sorry about that, noona.” Yujin apologized frantically. “Don’t be sorry. It was Duho’s fault. He’s such an ass.”

“I can purposely be bad so you guys can win!? Or not pass the ball to him.” Yujin suggested. “Don’t do that, I want us to win fairly.” Gunwook said.

“Just play how you would usually play.”

—

Red team celebrated their win with pizza at a restaurant in the city.

“Gyu Duho sucks, like he can literally kiss my ass.” Y/n said out loud. “Y/n! Don’t speak so inappropriately.” Mrs. Jeo scolded the girl.

“But you are not wrong.” She muttered. “What he did tonight on the field was unfair and wrong! What he did to our Y/n should not have gone over everyone’s head!” Mrs. Jeo complained.

“Look at her.” Mrs. Jeo pointed to Y/n who was sitting with a straight face. “Oh—I’m like good actually, I can handle this pain, but thank you for the awesome speech.” Y/n nodded her head.

“Thank you, Y/n.” She put her hands on her chest like her heart was warmed. “Now excuse me, I have to go to the ladies room.”

“So like, what did he say to everyone on the field?” Huh Yunjin asked. “If he did—he was gonna say some shit to me but then I told him to shut up.”

“He was talking about Gunwook being the star player and how he overshines the soccer team but I said it didn’t bother me.” Ni-ki shrugged his shoulders. “Do I? I don’t mean too…” Gunwook asked and went quiet. “I mean—yeah but it’s good. Our team is good but you make it better. It’s not your fault you were gifted with awesome soccer skills.”

“I wasn’t gifted.” Gunwook awkwardly chuckled. “I just practiced a lot when I was younger.”

“Uh—what did he say to you Y/n? If you want to share it.” Gunwook made sure Y/n felt comfortable in the environment, knowing she rarely ever went out. “I’ll—I’ll tell you later. When I feel like it.”

—

Gunwook offered to give Y/n a ride and she accepted, who wouldn’t? It was cold out and Y/n could barely walk without a limp.

“About earlier, when I said I’ll tell you what Duho said to me.” Y/n broke the silence. “Yeah, what about it?” Gunwook’s head tilted slightly.

“Duho was comparing us. He asked how I felt about being in your shadow. He used every example he could, like how you’re ranked one and I’m ranked two, and how you’re a star player and I do nothing, how you’re class president and I was the girl that lost to you. The one that really hit a nerve was when he mentioned Kim Dayeon and how you’re her best friend now and I’m not.” Y/n wasn’t planning on telling him what he had said due to it actually being true.

“I tried to stop caring about what happened but I can’t. Especially since me and Dayeon used to be so close. To be honest, I had the fattest crush on her.” Y/n laughed out loud. “You did?” Gunwook gasped. “Was it not obvious?”

“I just thought you guys were really close and you didn’t want to lose her.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry, again. For all that shit I did in middle school and for the other shit I did that may have hurt you.”

“You’re not a shadow of me. We’re both good at our own stuff. Like how you put so much time into tutoring others. I literally want to quit tutoring so bad right now.” He chuckled. “I don’t know how you deal with everyone. Hyunki literally keeps trying to flirt with me.”

Y/n scoffed. “Almost every one of my students is scared of me, I don’t know why.”

“Maybe it’s the straight face you’re pulling right now, it’s a little intimidating.” Gunwook waved his hand to her face.

“Can we settle this? I don’t want to have any more bad blood with you anymore.” Gunwook asked, looking at the girl as he stopped at a red light.

“Yes, oh my god I don’t know how long I could keep this stubbornness up. Like I’m so sick and tired of trying to one up you.” Y/n sighed. “I’ll admit it and say I just hated not being first and took that out on you, but after hearing—from literally everyone on how stupid our rivalry is I’m finally starting to see their point.”

“I never hated you Y/n. I liked to tease you back then because of how cute your little angry face was. It’s still cute now.” Gunwook confessed to the girl.

“Haha—Thanks.” She laughed awkwardly, she wasn’t used to compliments like this. Especially from someone she’s been feuding with for years.

—

Y/n and Gunwook didn’t talk during school, they would only wave to each other in the morning and that was it. They had settled their bad blood but that didn’t mean they were friends.

“So wait—you guys are cool now?” Hao asked. “Yeah, we settled the rivalry but we aren’t friends. It’s kind of embarrassing to me.”

“How is that embarrassing?” Hiyyih asked. “Because everyone knows how much I’ve slandered him over the years, I can’t be caught as a hypocrite!” Y/n spit out. “So now everyone will only think we wave to each other because he helped me on the field.”

“So, you guys are cool…but you guys aren’t friends? So you’re pretending like you guys didn’t have a heart to heart?” Ricky asked, confused with Y/n’s shenanigans as always.

“Yes! Exactly that!”

“And why again?” Ricky asked again. “Because I can’t be caught being a hypocrite all close to him when last week I was literally talking shit about him and his goofy ass highlighter jersey.” Y/n huffed. “But when we had practices he was actually so nice to me I can’t believe I slandered him so much in my lifetime.” Y/n sighed. “And I actually admire his passion for soccer after seeing him play on the field in real time.”

“So you’re hiding secret feelings for him because you don’t want to be caught as a hypocrite?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n that’s so stupid.”

“I’ve never heard something so dumb.”

“Are you for real?”

All three of her friends said to her.

“Yes, I am for real! My reputation is in jeopardy if this ever gets out!”

—

“So you guys are good now?” Kim Dayeon asked Park Gunwook. “Yeah, we’re good. But I don’t think she wants us to be friends.”

“Why?”

“Because all we do is wave to each other…that’s weird.” Gunwook looked around the room trying not to make eye contact with Dayeon. “Why are you looking around the room? I’m right here?” Dayeon asked.

“Okay, don’t tell anyone this but—we had a heart to heart but it was about some shit that Gyu Duho said and he mentioned you so you were in the conversation.”

“Okay…what did he say?”

“He said some shit about Y/n being my shadow and he even went as far as mentioning how I’m your best friend now and she’s not…that’s why she froze up and he took the opportunity to trip her.”

“He said that!? That’s so evil, oh my god.” Dayeon gasped. “I’ll beat his ass—why would he even say that.”

“Because he was trying to get under all our skins! It was such a jerk move.”

“Where is he right now?” Dayeon asked, standing up from her seat. “Woah—Dayeon you’re not seriously gonna beat him up—right?” Gunwook asked as the girl started walking out the classroom.

“No?” Dayeon’s eyebrow furrowed. “I’m just gonna beat him at basketball, duh.”

“What are you gonna do 1v1?”

“No, you’re crazy, I’m good at basketball but Duho’s better. That’d be setting me up for failure.” Dayeons eyes widened. “I’ll get a team of four.”

“Good idea.”

“I know. I get Heeseung and Kim Hyunjin, and you get Ricky.”

“Woah Woah—Ricky? I’m getting Ricky?” Gunwook stopped Dayeon before she could run off. “This is not a time to be jealous, Park Gunwook.”

Dayeon ran to find Heeseung and Hyunjin. Gunwook stood there for a while before deciding to go find Y/n. Because wherever Y/n was, Ricky was with her.

Ever since Ricky started school here he’s been attached to Y/n, Hao, and Hiyyih at the hip. Besides the times he’d go and play basketball with Dayeon or anyone else at the school court.

“Y/n.” Gunwook said, gasping as he reached the lunch table where Y/n, Hao, and Hiyyih were sitting. “Where’s Ricky?”

“He’s at the basketball court, why?” Y/n asked, confused. “Okay good—he’s already there.” Gunwook said in between breaths. “There is about to be an epic awesome amazing 4v4 game going on. Let’s go.” Gunwook grabbed the girl's arm and she grabbed Hao’s and Hiyyih’s.

“Guys—can we walk at least?” Hao shouted.

—

“So why do we need to be here?” Y/n asked, slightly squinting her eyes since the sun was in her way. Gunwook switched spots with her so the sun wouldn’t blind her. “Dayeon’s gonna 4v4 Gyu Duho and Ricky’s apart of her team.”

Hao’s eyes slightly widened and his head turned to look at Hiyyih. They were shocked at Gunwook’s kind gesture. “Let’s sit on the bleachers. I heard news about it is already spreading.” Gunwook said as he dragged the three to the first row of bleachers.

“Why is she having a basketball match with him?” Y/n asked. “I told her about what he did to you at the soccer game.” Y/n’s jaw slightly dropped. “She’s doing this all because of what he did?”

“Yeah, Dayeon still cares about you, y’know? She never stopped.” Y/n went quiet. “It’s about to start.” She was grateful that changed the subject.

“For reals though, who do you think is gonna win? Because everyone on Dayeon’s team is good but everyone on Duho’s team is also good.” Hiyyih asked. “C’mon, Dayeon got Ricky. Ricky’s so good.” Hao scoffed. “Yeah, did you hear how everyone wants to go against Ricky because they couldn’t believe how good he was.” Y/n said next.

“Is he that good? I’ve never seen him play.” Gunwook asked. “Really?” Y/n gasped. “He’s so good, he’s like your level of good but basketball.” Y/n nodded her head.

Gunwook did not like being compared to Ricky at all. Yeah the guy was probably really good, but Gunwook just didn’t like being compared to him. Especially since Y/n was over here gassing him up.

“Am I really that good, Jeon Y/n.” Gunwook teased. “Hmm…You wish.” Y/n flicked his forehead. “This is about Ricky, stop looking for attention.” She flicked his forehead again.

—

“Can’t believe they won.” Duho was complaining to his teammates. “They aren’t even that good, especially Dayeon, can’t believe we got beat by a girl.”

“Say that shit to my face. You wanna act all big and tough during the soccer game but won’t even talk shit to my face?” Dayeon spoke out, she heard them talking as she walked by.

“What’s the soccer game got to do with this?” He scoffed, walking closer to her. “Nothing, it’s just you played really unfairly and I thought you needed a loss in life.”

“That Y/n girl deserved it, she’s so annoying.”

“Don’t speak about her like that.” Dayeon scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it if I do?” Duho pushed Dayeons shoulders. “Hit me I dare you.” Dayeon pushed him back.

“Woah! Woah!” Gunwook pulled the two apart. “Guys not here.” He held Dayeon back.

“Dayeon, not now.” Gunwook pulled the girl aside.

“Hello?? You never get into fights, what was that?” Gunwook asked. “It was nothing, he was just being an ass.”

“Let’s just—Let’s go cool off at the convenience store.”

—

The silence was loud and awkward as the six of them stared at each other.

“Thank you again, Dayeon. You didn’t have to.” Y/n thanked Dayeon for the third time this day. “Oh, I had to. Gyu Duho is an ass and deserved to lose. And can you believe he was being misogynistic?” Dayeon scoffed. “He really couldn’t believe he got beat by a girl.”

“Two girls, Kim Hyunjin’s insane.” Ricky chimed in. “Two! Two! and he was so baffled. What is so hard about believing girls can be good at basketball.”

“He’s just like every other jerk, it’s not surprising.” Hao shrugged his shoulders.

“My brother is here, Y/n are you sure you don’t need a ride?” Hiyyih asked as she clicked her phone off. “Yeah, I literally have a tutoring session in a couple minutes.” Y/n checked the time on her phone.

“Okay, get sleep tonight and please for the love of god do not overwork yourself.” Hiyyih blew a kiss to the girl before leaving the shop with Hao and Ricky behind.

“Bye, guys. We’ll see you whenever.” Ricky said as Hao waved bye.

“Y/n, I hope we’re cool now.” Dayeon said as she sat up. “We’ve always been ‘cool’, I never had a problem with you.” Y/n chuckled. “It’s you, I had a problem with.” Y/n pointed her finger towards Gunwook.

“You were just so fun to tease, Y/n-ah. If you saw your face and reactions, you would do the same.” Gunwook patted the girl's head. “I hope we’re cool too.” Gunwook smiled.

“Yeah, if you keep this shit up that chance is very low.”

—

Gunwook started a part time job at the convenience store to fill his time. Also because he would see Y/n fall asleep every Tuesday and Thursday when she tutored those two students after school and he could play hero and wake her up.

Seriously though, he wished the girl would stop falling asleep because something bad can happen to her.

Gunwook sighed as he walked in for his shift, pulling his uniform vest over his head before walking over to Y/n.

“Y/n.” He gently shook the girl awake. Y/n groaned as she awoke from her sleep. “Gunwook, you could’ve just let me sleep.” She sighed. “And what let some weird guy take advantage of you? Certainly not.” He scoffed.

“I know you would’ve beaten his ass for me.” She mumbled as she put her belongings on the table away in her bag.

“Eat something before you go, on the house. As always.” Gunwook offered. “Thanks, but my sister is at home waiting for me. I need to eat with her.”

“Bring her food then. Just pick anything.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Y/n asked. “Remember, I want us to be cool. Although I really do want to keep our top student rivalry still a thing…” He said hesitantly. “Don’t worry. I want to as well.” Y/n chuckled. “You know how embarrassing it’ll be when people start calling me a hypocrite. Especially since last week I called your stupid sweater ugly and everyone heard me.”

“You’re just a fucking hater it was not ugly.”

“You’re right, I am a hater. The sweater was kind of cute. I just wanted to insult you.”

“Awh, want to borrow it?”

“Yeah, so I can burn it!”

—

“Y/n.” One of Y/n’s classmates called her name out. “Hm?” Y/n looked up from her paper. “What’s going on with you and Gunwook? I feel like I haven’t seen you guys argue all week.”

“Oh—bad week? I don’t know.” Y/n awkwardly laughed. “Yeah, bad week! I just don’t feel like wasting my breath on him.”

“Oh, okay.” Her classmate just nodded her head before turning back to her paper.

Y/n stopped by the convenience store to talk to Gunwook. “Hiiii.” Y/n dragged out. “Hi, you’re in a good mood?” Gunwook’s eyebrow raised. “I am, because look!” Y/n pulled out her test paper. “I overheard you tell Yujin your test score on the english test and when I had his class and got mine that was when I found out I did better, hah!”

“Blah blah, we all know you’re better at English.” Gunwook shushed the girl. “Oh, and people are starting to get suspicious of us. We need to start arguing again.”

“We argue, like—all the time? We literally argued about milk earlier today.” Gunwook shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, that’s not selling it.” Y/n huffed.

“What, you want me to go back to calling you out on everything? That was too mean of me, and I don’t want to upset you again.”

Y/n just stared at the boy and sighed. He was being so sweet it was hard for her not to fall for him.

“C’mon, I’m never losing the “i don’t give a fuck” war. I don’t care anymore. Let’s go back to arguing like we used to. People aren’t buying what we’re selling right now.”

“Okay, but if you get upset it’s on you.” He pointed at the girl. “Hi, welcome to GS25.” Gunwook said as he heard the bell of the door go off.

“Today’s kind of slow. My shift might end early, want to hang out after?” Gunwook asked as he was organizing the lip balms on the counter. “Just us two?” Y/n hesitantly asked. “If you want it to be,” Gunwook shrugged his shoulders. “You can invite Bahiyyih. I know guys are really close.”

“Sure then.” Y/n nodded her head. “Is it fine if I also invite Gyuvin?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? If i’m inviting Hiyyih you should be able to invite Gyuvin. But,” She dragged out the last word. “If it’s my house we’re hanging out at he better not trash it, you know how clumsy he is.”

—

Y/n shut her phone off and put it in her pocket. “Hiyyih is busy, she can’t make it. What about Gyuvin?” She asked as Gunwook took off his vest. “Gyuvin can’t make it either, he’s with some family right now. What about Hao? I know Ricky and Dayeon are playing ball right now.”

“He’s on a date with Sung Hanbin.” Y/n said. “It’s just us then, we don’t have to hangout…”

“Wait—he’s on a date with Sung Hanbin?” Gunwook’s eyes widened. “Like Sung Hanbin? Sung Hanbin, the one he’s been in a rivalry with since the beginning of the year?”

“Who else? Yeah, I was surprised too. Hao told me they were assigned as partners for bio and they started to get along and then they randomly kissed one night while researching.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders as she clutched into her tote bag that hung on her right shoulder.

“Do you still want to hang out?” Y/n watched as Gunwook was cleaning up for the next person's shift. “Yeah, we can. I’m good with hanging at your house, don’t you have to watch your sister anyway?” Gunwook said as he threw away the cleaning wipe and grabbed his bag.

“She’s fourteen, she can watch herself. I just get worried sometimes so I have Hiyyih hang out with her.” Y/n and Gunwook walked out of the store and walked to his car.

“It’s late, let’s hang out at your house.” Gunwook beeped his car and opened the door for Y/n then walked to the drivers side. “But it’s late, like you said. Don’t you have to be home too?” Y/n put her seatbelt on.

“My parents are out for dinner right now, I have time to kill.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/n nodded her head. “What are we gonna do? I hope it’s not awkward, I don’t really have anything fun at my house.”

“Talk? We can talk. I like talking.” Gunwook nodded his head. “Half of the time you tell me to shut the fuck up?? What do you mean you like to talk?” Y/n scoffed and her jaw dropped.

“I just like to get on your nerves.” Gunwook chuckled.

—

“Hi, Hayun.” Y/n said as she took her shoes off at the door, Gunwook as well. “How was school?” She asked as she hung her tote bag on the hooks on the wall, walking into the kitchen where her sister was at, with Gunwook behind her. “It was good. Who’s this?” Hayun asked as she looked up from her phone screen.

“Park Gunwook.”

“Park Gunwook? That guy you’re always shit talking about? Why is he here, don’t you hate him?” Hayun gasped. “It’s—complicated. We’ve squashed that beef.” Y/n’s head slightly tilted. “Mhm, because that’s totally something you’d do.” Hayun’s eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, I know. We’re cool but we still act all mean to each other around people.” Y/n sighed and slapped Gunwook’s shoulder.

“Gunwook, this is my little sister Hayun. She’s just like me so watch out.” Y/n cheekily smiled. “Wow, twice the torture for me.” Gunwook said sarcastically. “I’m not as bad as my Unnie. Don’t worry.” Hayun scoffed.

“Did you call mom and dad?” Y/n asked as she jumped to sit on top of the counter. “By the way, snack in this cabinet. You can take anything, just not my cookies.” Y/n hit the cabinet next to her. “Yeah, we talked about you.”

“Bad or good?” Y/n sucked in her breath. “Good, of course. But they’re seriously worried about you. When are you gonna stop doing these academic lessons?”

“Like—uh, never. Duh.” Y/n scoffed. “My teacher is on my ass bro, whenever I ask to get less sessions he talks about how I’m a good student and should keep this up in order to get into a good college.”

“Man, fuck college.”

“If mom heard you say that right now you’d get bitch snapped.” Y/n’s eyes widened. Hayun and Y/n were alike in many ways but Hayun didn’t have any big plans in life whilst Y/n did.

“But she isn’t.”

“Where are your parents? If you don’t mind me asking.” Gunwook cleared his throat. “They’re retail buyers. So they’re always out on business trips. Like all the time.” Y/n dragged out the last word. “At this point this is just me and Hayuns house.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Don’t you guys ever miss them or something? I feel like I’d go insane if I didn’t have my mom with me, she helps me with everything.”

“We do. But this happens so often we got used to it.” Hayun nodded her head. “Don’t have that concerned look on your face. Really, it’s nothing.” Y/n ruffled Gunwook’s hair. “Did you just ruffle my hair?”

“Yeah even that was weird for me.” Hayun had a face of disgust on. “I was trying to be nice.” Y/n’s jaw dropped. “Yeah, maybe don’t be nice.” Hayun teasingly smiled at her.

“Unnie, we don’t have anything fun here. Why did you invite Gunwook over?” Hayun groaned. “Because, we just both happened to be free? And besides, I don’t want to leave you alone. Gunwook said his parents are out for dinner and he doesn’t wanna sit at home doing nothing.”

“So you invited him here? Why couldn’t you guys just go get something to eat?”

“Yah, you already want to get rid of me? Are you secretly inviting boys over? Or even girls? Or even throwing parties?”

“Who do you think I am?” Hayun dramatically leaned onto Y/n. “I just wanted some friends over. Can I?” Hayun put her best puppy face on. “It’s late, your friend's parents are gonna let them come? I don’t care, I just don’t want someone’s mom to come lecturing me.”

“It’s only eight! It’ll be a sleepover!”

“Just let her, my parents rarely let friends over when I was her age and I almost rioted against them.” Gunwook suggested. “I’m not her parent, if anything bad happens I’ll get blamed.” Y/n scoffed.

“Please.” Hayun begged. “Fine, just clean up after yourselves.” Y/n gently shoved Hayun away.

“I knew you’d say yes! I already invited them over…they’re almost here.” Hayun confessed. “I know you did. I smelled popcorn the minute I walked in here. Y/n got close to her face and teased her by pinching her cheek.

“Can you guys hangout in your room or something?” Hayun shoved her sister away. “My room?” Y/n gasped. “Are you embarrassed of us?” Y/n turned her head towards Gunwook. “Do you hear this girl?” She scoffed.

“I’m embarrassed of you, not Gunwook.” Hayun said. “Whatever. Just have fun.” Y/n squeezed Hayun’s right cheek for the last time before gesturing to Gunwook. “Let’s go find something to do.” She said as she grabbed her cookies from the cabinet and led the way to her room.

“This is my room. Nothing impressive.” Y/n shrugged as the two walked into the off white colored room. “Damn, you might have more awards than me.” Gunwook chuckled as he saw the amount of awards hung up on the wall and displayed on the girls bookshelf.”

“Best badminton player?” Gunwook’s head tilted slightly as he saw the award on her shelf. “I didn’t know you played badminton?”

“Only for a little.” Y/n was setting her bed up for the two to sit on. “For a year when I was fourteen. I won the award and then I quit.”

“You quit? Why waste talent?” Gunwook asked as he looked back at the girl. “I’m an overachiever. I quit badminton to join the debate club so I can win a medal.” Y/n said. “Damn, you’re worse than me.” Gunwook laughed.

“I blame my parents.” Y/n chuckled. “They’re both overachievers who are perfect for each other.” She patted the spot next to her on her bed, gesturing for him to sit.

“They practically push everything onto me.” Her face scrunched up slightly. “I don’t even want to go to college that bad. My parents want me in medical school.” Gunwook sat on the bed next to her.

“I’m just doing everything because I’m told to, and achieving all that is kind of worthless but feels nice.”

“What do you want to do?” Gunwook asked with pure curiosity. “I don’t know to be honest. If I live life tutoring students then so be it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s almost like it’s all I know now.”

“That’s not true. There must be something you do like, right?” He asked. “You seem to have no control in your life…no offense. It’s just you’re almost graduating soon and you don’t know what you want to do for yourself?”

“You’re so competitive with me over every academic thing but you’re not getting anything out of it. What if you go to medical school, you're rich but not happy?”

Y/n went silent for a second. Processing what Gunwook was saying.

“No offense taken. You’re right, I don’t know what I’m doing with life.” Y/n sighed. “What do you want to do?” Y/n asked to switch the subject to him. “I want to do soccer professionally, if that doesn’t work out I’ll train to be an idol, and if not that then I’ll go to college for Music.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to do that.” Y/n hummed and nodded her head. “I think you’d be a good idol.”

“I’ve never told anyone but Dayeon that, you have to promise to not tell anyone else.” Gunwook panicked and told the girl. “Don’t worry, secrets are safe with me.” She chuckled. “Do you dance too?”

“Yeah, I dance at this studio near my house.”

“Cool. I hope it turns out well for you. You’d be a good professional soccer player as well, it’s your specialty.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want that to be what people only know me for.” He complained. “Like how people know you for being the school’s official tutor.” He teased the girl. “God, I need to quit, but I make a fair amount of money from it.” She groaned and fell back into her pillows.

The two heard a couple of shrieks from the living room. “If they’re watching a horror movie it better be a good one and not some corny one for them to be screaming like that.” Y/n stood up and peaked out her door to check on the girls.

“They’re fine.” She shut her door and went back to lay on her bed.

“That’s good, at least you’re making money. Seriously, when is Shin gonna get off your ass.” Gunwook sighed. “When I told him I wanted to tutor to help you he almost picked a fight with me.”

“Really? How?” Y/n held herself up with her elbow. “He said that you didn’t need help, and said that I was already super busy with being class president and soccer.”

“Well, he’s kind of right. You didn’t need to do that.” Y/n hummed. “I wanted to help you.” Gunwook shrugged his shoulders. “I never really had anything against you, we’re just both equally as competitive and equally as stubborn.”

“Y/n, I mean it when I want us to be cool.” Gunwook nodded his head. “I know.” Y/n said hesitantly. “I’m still getting used to being friends with you.”

“I get it. Just be yourself around me—but not the one where we argue all the time.” He corrected himself. “It gets tiring arguing all the time.” He confessed. “I know.” Y/n had a slight face of disgustment.

“Wanna watch a movie? Or even listen to some music? You like kpop, right?” Y/n asked as she flipped through her CD folder. “Yeah, what do you have?” Gunwook asked as he watched the girl flip through CD’s.

“Same dream, same mind, same night.” Y/n pulled the album CD and put it into her CD player. “By Seventeen, do you listen to them?”

“Who doesn’t?” Gunwook scoffed. “If you don’t then I’ll just assume you’re a loser.” He chuckled. “You’re right, Seventeen is for the cuties.” Y/n agreed as she laid back down on her stomach. “Did you just call me a cutie, Jeon Y/n?” He teased the girl. “Hm, I called myself a cutie. If the shoe fits though.” Y/n mumbled, getting a little reckless due to her tiredness.

“This song is so nice and dreamy, I love it.” Y/n mumbled some more. “Don’t fall asleep on me.” Gunwook laughed as he saw the girl close her eyes for a while. “You’re right. That’d be awkward.” She said as she sat back up.

“It’s getting really late, are your parents still not home yet?” Y/n asked as she checked the time on her watch. “They should be there soon. I should get going as well.” He sighed. “I’ll walk you out.” Y/n stands up and throws a sweater on to walk the boy out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? At the park, let’s watch Dayeon and Ricky’s game.” Y/n said as she slid her slides on and Gunwook put his shoes on. “Yeah, do you not have any sessions tomorrow?” He asked as the two walked outside to his car.

“I canceled all of them.”

“Woah? All of them? What will Shin say?”

“Screw what he says. I’m sick of his shit.” Y/n groaned. “I’ll see you, okay? Drive safe.” Y/n said.

“I would give you a hug but I feel like we aren’t that cool with each other yet.” Y/n said hesitantly. “Who said that?” Gunwook unexpectedly grabbed the girl by her waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder. “We’re gonna be best friends, Jeon Y/n!” Gunwook spun around in a circle as Y/n laughed and pleaded to get put down.

“Best friends, my ass.” Y/n genuinely laughed, trying to catch her breath. “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Y/n chuckled and punched his shoulder.

“Okay, bye.” Gunwook chuckled and finally got into his car. Y/n waved bye until his car was at the end of the street.

She turned around to see Hayun and three of her friends watching her from the window. She walked back to the house and slipped her jacket and shoes off at the doorstep.

“Unnie, was that your boyfriend?” One of Hayun’s friends asked. “No, do you guys think we’re together?” Y/n asked. “Yes! He lifted you up, and even spun you!”

“Yeah, we’re just friends.” Y/n nodded her head. “Don’t stay up too late.” She gave a small smile to Hayun and her friends before walking back to her room.

—

“Hi.” Y/n said as she and Gunwook approached Dayeon who was already with Ricky and Hyunjin. “Hi, you guys seem unusually close lately.” Dayeon pointed out as she pointed to Gunwook’s arm resting on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, ever since we first started playing games at this park.” Ricky spoke out. “What? Me and Gunwookie are friends now.” Y/n slightly gasped and teased the boy by pinching his cheek.

“She even called him Gunwookie, oh my god we’ve lost her.” Ricky jokes. “This is nice, we’re just not used to it.” Dayeon smiled, talking about the two getting along without any problems. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy for me to get used to it either.” Y/n chuckled.

“When are you guys playing?” Gunwook asked, squinting slightly due to the sun being in his eyes. “Soon. Is hiyyih or hao coming?” Ricky asked. “Hiyyih has a family thing and Hao is on a date.”

“Is Hao still talking to Sung Hanbin?” Dayeon asked, curious on the two’s relationship status due to their known dynamic between the two. “Talking? They’re practically dating now.” Y/n scoffed.

“That’s so crazy. They used to have such a huge rivalry, and now they’re giggling and probably shit talking together.”

“Honestly could be you guys.” Dayeon gestured at Y/n and Gunwook who were standing next to each other almost hip to hip by now. “Pft, no.” Y/n laughed as she took a step away from the boy. “Gunwook’s cute, I’m busy, dating just isn’t in my schedule.”

“So you admit he’s cute?”

“Yeah, I have no shame.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders and looked at the boy who was slightly red. Y/n slowly stopped caring about keeping their rivalry image up. She started to admit things that would’ve made her die hearing it months ago.

“What, I can’t call friends cute.” Y/n said as she saw the stares her friends gave her. “Ouuu, she just friendzoned you.” Ricky teased Gunwook as he patted his shoulder. “You’re cute too, Y/n-ah.” Gunwook ruffled her hair.

“Ugh, I hate you guys.” Dayeon groaned and walked away to the bleachers, the rest following her behind. “Sometimes I miss when you guys used to argue 24/7. People at school are starting to talk.” Dayeon mentioned as she sat down next to Y/n.

“I don’t care anymore, people can talk.” Y/n sighed. “Shin is getting on my ass about me canceling these sessions.” Y/n ran her fingers between her hair, getting it out of her face due to the wind. “I still have good credits and a good GPA, I’m not gonna fail yet it’s like he still wants me to do all this shit.”

“He’s making you do all his dirty work. Just quit it all together.” Hyunjin suggested as she stretched. “But I feel bad for the kids, they actually need help with their studies and Shin isn’t gonna help them with shit.” Y/n sighed.

“I’ll beg him to take half of your students.” Gunwook suggested. “That’s too much, I have like twelve students.” Y/n sighed. “We can split it equally, I take six and you keep six.”

“No, really it’s okay.”

“Y/n, you’re so stubborn just let him help you.” Ricky spoke out. “And so is Gunwook, if you two keep this up you won’t get anywhere.” Dayeon said.

“Fine.” Y/n huffed. “I don’t know how you’ll convince Shin to let you take half of my students.”

—

“Mr. Shin.” Gunwook walked up to his desk. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” Mr. Shin turned his attention to the boy. “What is it?” He asked.

“Wait, Y/n. Can you wait at your seat? I need to talk to you after.” Mr. Shin stopped the girl before she could leave the classroom.

“I wanted to ask if I can tutor more of Y/n’s students? Just half, she has six and I’ll have six. Just to take some things off her back.” Gunwook spoke.

“Why? Y/n is doing fine. Aren’t you super busy with class president duties and soccer? Aren’t you in the debate club too?”

“I assure you I can do this.” Gunwook assured the older man. “Have you noticed how much she’s been canceling?” Gunwook turned his head to the girl behind him.

Mr. Shin sighed. “That’s what I wanted to talk to Y/n about.” He gestured to the girl to come over to his desk. “Y/n, I was told you were seen at the park the other day. You told me you were sick, did you lie to me?”

“Uh—Yes, Mr. Shin.” Y/n said hesitantly. Thinking it was better to tell the truth now than to get caught later. “Why? You have such a bright future ahead. These sessions will help your application look amazing.”

“To be completely honest…I hate doing these sessions. The only good thing that comes out of these is students' grades are improving.”

“What are you saying? You don’t want to go to college? What about medical school? Your parents have spoken very highly of you and how amazing your future will be.”

“Yeah, a future they want. I don’t want to do any of that.” Y/n sighed. “I’ll continue doing the tutor sessions. Only to help the students out. Let Gunwook take half of my students, I have a life of my own. I don’t want to spend my last years of high school spending it in books. I want to make time for myself.”

“I’m not gonna quit it completely, I just want you to understand that I do not have all the time in the world to help other kids while I can barely help myself.”

“You’re good at negotiating, Y/n. Fine, Gunwook can take half your students. Next time tell me the truth. You guys can go now.” He shooed the two out of his room.

“That last part was a little dramatic.” Gunwook mumbled, only for the girl to hear. “I know, I needed to really sell it.” Y/n mumbled back.

—

“I love driving in the spring.” Gunwook shouted as they had blasted music playing through his car. “I love the wind in my face and the warm weather!” He shouted yet again.

“We’re getting stares.” Y/n laughed as she slightly turned down the music. “We’re blasting Seventeen, it’d be weird if we didn’t get stares.” He shrugged his shoulders, pulling into the school parking lot.

“I think it’s because you just drove me to school, not the fact that we’re blasting Seventeen.” Y/n chuckled as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Let’s go.” Gunwook turned his car off and unlocked the doors. “Wow, you guys truly stopped giving a fuck.” Hao laughed as the two approached the group of friends that hung around a pillar in the school’s courtyard.

“It was like that one Twilight scene that happened, where all the siblings walk out of the car.” Hiyyih said. “Are we that cool, Hiyyih?.” Y/n smirked. “Cool? Sure, I guess. Big impact? Yes.” Hiyyih laughed.

“I can’t wait to hear what everyone thinks of this.” Dayeon chuckled. “This might be even bigger than me and Hanbin.” Hao raised his eyebrow as he spoke.

“Right, especially since Gunwook and Y/n have had this rivalry shit since middle school.” Hiyyih nodded her head. “I hope they don’t bring up the fact that I talked shit about his pants last week.” Y/n mumbled slightly.

“You’re my biggest hater, y’know that?” Gunwook looked at the girl with widened eyes.

—

All day Y/n heard whispers around her. Either bad or good ones, there was no inbetween.

“Wasn’t she talking shit about him like three days ago? Something about his pants.”

“Yeah, and what about the time she called his sweater ugly? And her huge ass problem of always wanting to beat him at anything?”

“Yeah, she’s just a big fake. I hope he realizes that soon.”

“Y/n, if I beat you to the cafeteria you have to buy me three chocolate bars from the store.” Gunwook spoke out as he sat down in the empty spot next to the girl. “What do I get if I beat you?” Y/n asked.

“You get to borrow my awesome sweater you love.” Gunwook teased. “I might as well then just walk.” Y/n scoffed. “Fine, then you decide what you want.”

The two were waiting for the bell to ring so they could start the bet.

As soon as it did, they sprinted out of the room, they made sure not to bump into anyone on the way out of the room or down the stairs.

Their laughs and giggles were so loud like it was out on the intercom. “You’re more athletic than me, give me a break!” Y/n giggled as she grabbed onto his arm to drag him back and got the chance to move in front of him.

“Was that Park Gunwook and Jeon Y/n?” A classmate said as they saw the pair run past them. “I heard they were friends now, I didn’t believe it. But I guess they’re cool now.” Another one said.

“As expected! I won.” Y/n said as she touched the glass doors of the cafeteria. “Fine, you win.” Gunwook tried to catch his breath. “What do you want?” He put his arm around the girl and walked her towards the cafeteria line.

“Hm, give me some time to think about it.” Y/n nodded her head. “How did you guys not get in trouble for running? I jog in the hallways one time and I get detention.” Ricky said, cutting the people in front of him to get to the two. “Because it’s almost the end of the year, teachers don’t care.” Y/n smirked.

“Have you heard the whispers Y/n?” Ricky asked. “Duh. People are calling me fake. It doesn’t bother me much. I know me and Gunwook are cool with each other so I don’t really care.” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, these people need to get over it.”

“Y/n’s just my biggest hater, I don’t really mind. It’s kind of cute, she’s like obsessed with me.” Gunwook sneered. “I am not obsessed with you.” Y/n chuckled. “You wish I was.”

—

Everyone started to get used to the fact that Y/n and Gunwook we’re friends now. The two did often still argue about test grades and stuff but it was nothing to the extreme. It was all jokes now.

Sometimes they even would do tutor sessions together and it went by smoothly. The two also had gotten more comfortable with each other, everyone else had noticed this as well.

It started with the little things, like Gunwook resting his arm on her shoulder, Gunwook leaning his head a little too close to Y/n’s shoulder, then giving hugs before saying bye, Gunwook’s teasing got ‘worse’, he would tickle and throw her over his shoulders.

Y/n didn’t mind, she actually quite liked her friendship with Gunwook now. It’s cute and heartwarming especially when you consider their bad past.

The two hung out a lot, even when they didn’t have anything to do they would just listen to Seventeen and talk or study in silence even. That’s how comfortable they were now, they could sit in silence and study with no ounce of discomfort in the air.

The two endearingly tease each other. They unconsciously flirt and it goes over both of their heads. Calling each other cute, ruffling each other's hair, squeezing one’s cheek, and tickling each other.

People started to think they were a couple and not friends. It was hard to believe really, everyone at school was shocked to see how comfortable and touchy the two were with each other.

“Y/n.” Gunwook groaned as he dramatically leaned into the girl sitting next to him. “What.” Y/n dragged out her word. “Why did you give me your worst students ever?” He said with a pout. “They aren’t bad, they’re just so in love with you that they can’t focus.” She laughed out loud.

���Now, go, you have a shift and I have a session soon.” Y/n pushed the boy off of her. “Fine, I’ll see you later.” Gunwook sighed and walked over to the counter.

After Y/n's session she fell asleep. She usually does but doesn’t worry because Gunwook is around the corner.

Y/n was shaken awake. “Gunwook? Is your shift over?” She mumbled as she slowly lifted her head up. “Oh—Sorry, do you need to sit here?” Y/n asked, suddenly standing up as she saw a man a few years older than her.

“Sorry, miss. You were sleeping and something bad could’ve happened.” The man gently put his hand on her shoulder, caressing it. “Heh, yeah.” Y/n awkwardly laughed as she shifted around slightly. “Uhm—thank you for waking me—my boyfriend is almost here!” Y/n looked at her watch. She gently pushed the man’s hand away but he put it back on her, going up and down her arm, slowly.

She knew Gunwook’s shift was about to end and had really hoped he would be quick to get his things together.

“Baby!” Y/n shouted as Gunwook came from around the corner. He was shocked, but quickly understood the situation as he saw the uncomfortable expression on the girl's face.

“Sorry for taking too long, how was your session?” Gunwook said as he pulled the girl into his arms and kissed her forehead. “It was good! I accidentally fell asleep again.” Y/n said as she put one of her backpack straps on her shoulder and put her other arm around Gunwook’s.

The two walked out of the store still arm in arm.

“God, that guy was such a creep.” Y/n scoffed. “He tried to act like some savior, saying he woke me up because something bad could’ve happened, then he started caressing my arm.” Y/n got the shivers.

“Please stop falling asleep after your sessions, especially in public places.” Gunwook expressed his concern. “I don’t want anything bad happening to you.” Gunwook locked eyes with the girl.

“Thank you, for helping me.” Y/n nodded and gave him a small smile.

“I’ll always be there to help you.”

—

For the past couple weeks Y/n has started to feel different around Gunwook. Not a bad difference, just a difference she wasn’t used to…

She started to notice how long their hugs actually lasted, how long his hands lingered in her hair when he’d get it out of her face due to the wind, and how many hours the two actually spent together on a free day.

She liked all those things mentioned. She enjoyed spending time with Gunwook, she enjoyed his hugs, and she enjoyed his lingering touches when he’d tease her or play with her hair.

She also started to notice the swirly butterfly feeling that spread throughout her body around the boy.

She really didn’t want to admit it but deep down she knew. She had started to take a liking for Park Gunwook, in the way where she wanted him to hold her in his arms for as long as he could.

“Y/n-ah, stop staring so hard.” Hiyyih broke Y/n’s focus on the field. “What, I can’t stare at him? He’s the star player.” Y/n turned her head to look at the blonde. “What’s going on between you two?” Hiyyih asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean literally almost all of us can sense the odd tension between you and him.” Y/n sighed at that. “So—yes I’ve been feeling a little odd around him. So what?”

“So what? So what about fixing that odd tension? Something bad didn’t happen, right?” Hiyyih asked with concern. “No, nothing bad!” Y/n rushed to say. “Okay, listen. I think I might have feelings for Gunwook in more than a friend way.” Y/n confessed.

“Fina-fucking-ly.” Hiyyih bursted out laughing. “Why are you laughing so hard? What do you mean?” Y/n was confused and lost.

“You're so oblivious. Gunwook has had such a huge crush on you for like—ever!”

“How? Did he tell you guys something?”

“Not exactly. Dayeon told me how much he loved seeing your cute little pouty face you make when you get mad. Why do you think he teases you so much?” Hiyyih had a smug smile on her face. “What if he doesn’t and that’s just his personality?”

“Just take the chance.”

—

Y/n has started to observe Gunwook’s behavior around her. She was confused on how there could be a chance that Gunwook did like her like that. He was so normal and calm around the girl, there was no sign of shyness at all, so how could he see the girl in that way?

“Gunwook,” Y/n said. Interrupting silence that was there. “Yeah?” He lifted his head from his notebook.

The two were studying in Y/n’s room.

“I heard something about you, and I don’t know if it’s true or not. I just wanted to ask.” Y/n said hesitantly. “What is it?” The boy asked. “Do you have a big fat crush on me?” Y/n said in a teasing tone to make it less embarrassing to ask.

“You wish I did!” Gunwook jokes and started poking at her torso with his pen. “No seriously though. I heard you tease me because you like my mad pouty face.” Y/n said seriously this time.

“Yah! Did Dayeon rat me out to you?!” Gunwook panicked. “So it’s true!?” Y/n laughed. “Ugh—I don’t—I don’t even know!” Gunwook spit out. “What do you mean you don’t know?” Y/n asked.

“I don’t know if what I feel for you is THAT.” Gunwook emphasized on the ‘that’.

“Kiss me then.” Y/n suggested, cringing at what she had just said. “Oh my god, ew I can’t believe you just said that.” Gunwook almost gagged. “What? It’s just a kiss.”

“Where is all this confidence coming from, oh my god.” Gunwook’s ears turned red. “It’s a win-win, we kiss and you figure out if you like me or not.” Y/n said.

“Do you just want to kiss me?” Gunwook asked, eyes slightly widened. “Oh my god, a girl is suggesting you kiss her and you still haven’t?” Y/n scoffed. “You’re so clueless.” Y/n shook her head as she mumbled. “Let’s just—forget about this.” Y/n went back to her book.

—

Y/n had been even more odd and off around Park Gunwook ever since that situation between the two happened. She tried not to distance herself but it failed. She happened to take in two more students to tutor to fill in her time so she won’t have any to hang out with the boy.

“I’m sorry, Gunwook. I have to tutor after school.” Y/n said apologetically. “It’s Friday, you don’t have any on Friday’s.” Gunwook knew Y/n’s schedule in and out. “I took two more students in. I have one at four and another at five.” Y/n nodded her head.

“Why would you do that? Didn’t you give me half of your students so you can have more time?”

“I don’t know. They were Danielle’s students but I know she is going back to Australia so I told her I can take them.” Danielle Marsh was another girl who helped tutor students.

“Are you planning to tutor students the whole summer too?” Gunwook jokes. “If I have too.” Y/n sheepishly chuckled. “Seriously? You should drop all the sessions this summer.” Gunwook said.

“Why?” Y/n asked. “I’ve got nothing better to do.” Y/n said. “Because we’re gonna be hanging out all summer, duh? And the whole crew as well.”

“Well—I actually have a soccer camp the first two weeks of summer.” Gunwook interrupted his own thoughts. “But after that we can hang out all day everyday!” He said with excitement. “I don’t want to take you away from hanging with your other friends. I heard you barely hang out with them anymore.” Y/n glanced down at the floor, not wanting to look Gunwook in the eyes.

“What’s up with you? You’re being weird.” Gunwook’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not being weird, it’s the truth. What about your other friends?”

“They don’t really care, they have their own lives, they’re busy doing their own things.” Gunwook was starting to get a little frustrated with the girl. “Seriously what’s up with you.” He scoffed.

“Nothing’s up.” Her shoulders shrug. “Something’s definitely up. Why won’t you tell me?” Gunwook gently shoved the girl's shoulder. “Because it’s so stupid, you’ll probably laugh at me and then walk away.” Y/n spat out and walked away in the direction of Hiyyih’s brother’s car before the boy could get a chance to say anything else.

—

“Dayeon, Y/n has been acting weird, have you noticed?” Gunwook asked the girl. “No, she’s normal around me. Why, is something up with you two?” Dayeon asked, looking up from her phone.

“I don’t even know. She’s being weird around me, I don’t know if I did something or if I said something.”

“Did anything happen before she started acting like that?” Dayeon asked. “Just—ugh promise you won’t tell this to anyone.” Gunwook sighed. “Promise.” Dayeon’s face slightly scrunched up.

“A few weeks back Y/n asked me if I liked her in more than a friend way. I said I don’t even know and then she suggested I kiss her. I just said some random shit because I didn’t want to kiss her and turn all red. Then she said “A girl is suggesting you kiss her and you still haven’t.” and said to forget about it. I listened to her and haven't thought about it.”

“Oh my god! You’re so pathetic, I can’t believe you did that.” Dayeon let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. “I thought she was just fucking with me.” Gunwook said. “Clearly she wasn’t. She wants to kiss you bro. Clearly she likes you.”

“Y/n is the type to shut down and give up when it comes to shit like this. Take the chance before she loses feelings. I heard this junior likes her, so get her before he does.”

—

Gunwook realized how distanced Y/n had been now that Dayeon had put that thought into his head. She had been getting awfully close to this junior she was tutoring. They had been hanging out on different occasions that did not in fact involve studying.

“Y/n,” Gunwook called out to the girl in a whisper, who was currently tutoring the said junior in the library. “Y/n, can I talk to you real quick?” He asked, Y/n looked a little annoyed at the boy’s interruption.

“What is it?” Y/n said in a frustrated tone as the boy pulled her behind a bookshelf. “Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you.” Gunwook said with a cheesy smile. “Gunwook, seriously? I’m busy.” Y/n scoffed. “I just miss hanging and talking with you. You’re spending all your time with that junior.” Gunwook scoffed and slightly pointed in the direction of the junior.

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing—nothing is wrong with that. I just want to know what I did wrong and why you barely talk to me anymore.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you being like this right now.”

“Because—fuck it.” Y/n mumbled the swears that came out of her mouth. “Because, Gunwook I like you. More than a friend, and clearly you don’t. I was just distancing myself so I can get over you.” Y/n finally confessed.

Gunwook was left speechless at that. “See, you don’t even know what to say.” Y/n huffed and walked away but was stopped at the grip of a hand holding her back.

“Y/n, you didn’t even get to say anything.” Gunwook sighed. “I like you, I have for like—ever honestly. I only realized it just a couple weeks ago.”

“Are you just messing with me?”

“No, why would I? I do like you Y/n. I’m not messing with you, this is not a joke at all. I like to spend time with you, I like when you try and argue with me all the time, even when it’s unnecessary and pointless I still argue back because of that fucking face you make. You’re like the death of me!” Gunwook shouted a little too loud, getting a couple looks.

“I like the way you want to achieve things that aren’t even beneficial to you—like who the hell needs to be declared the best pancake maker? No one but you, you have that same competitive fire as me, I thought it’d be hell if I met someone exactly like me but I love to talk and challenge you to anything.”

“Everyone might hate when we argue because it’s annoying and a distraction but I love it, because of that stupid pout you put on.”

Y/n was silent. She didn’t know what to say, she did not expect Gunwook to be so heartfelt to her. Her head slightly dropped down to look at the floor, scared she’d start crying if she looked him in the eyes.

“And I’m so mad that I didn’t kiss you that day. I was so embarrassed that I’d start to stutter and become all red because of a little kiss.” Gunwook’s hands palmed each side of her cheek so the girl could lock eyes with him.

“If I can—If you’ll let me. Can I kiss you?” Gunwook asked boldly, not as shy as he was the day Y/n asked him too. Y/n slowly nodded her head as a few tears rolled down her eyes.

The kiss was short but sweet. Their hearts were racing so fast it could almost malfunction.

“I can’t believe I’m crying in the library.” Y/n said, embarrassed as her head slightly went down.

“It’s normal to cry.” Gunwook wiped the girl's tears with the pad of his thumbs. “Does this mean we’re dating now?” Gunwook said, muffed into the girls hair as they were hugging.

“Yeah, I honestly don’t do this dating shit so I think so.” Y/n said nonchalantly which made Gunwook laugh. “Okay—Jeon Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” Gunwook said as he pulled himself away from the girl to get a good look at her.

“If I say yes that means you have to admit that I’m better academically than you.”

“You are academically better than me, Jeon Y/n.”

“Then, yes.” Y/n stood on her tippy toes and pecked the boy's cheek.

—

The two decided to keep their relationship hidden from everyone so they could just enjoy each other's time and company without any whispers, rumors, or teasing.

It was going really smoothly. They two had unexpectedly not been awkward about it. They had to make up random excuses on why they couldn’t hang out because they two had scheduled meet up’s and dates.

The only person that did know about the two was Hayun. Hayun didn’t even go to the same school as the two so they didn’t mind telling her.

Gunwook and Hayun got along well and Y/n really liked that. She liked that Hayun liked Gunwook and Gunwook liked Hayun. The two would sometimes gang up on Y/n, she didn’t like that but she liked that the two had gotten close and have a good relationship of their own. After all, her little sister and her boyfriend are probably the people she adores the most in life.

It was hard for her to hide it from Hiyyih, especially since that’s her best friend and she can notice when something is different. She noticed how Y/n had been much happier and was glowing with positivity.

Gunwook knew how hard that must’ve been for her so he agreed to not tell Gyuvin or Dayeon.

Either way the friends would figure out the truth themselves. Or they would catch them secretly kissing one day.

And that they did! They were not that surprised, they had started suspecting it when the two were not available at the same time.

The teasing lasted for about three weeks.

“I almost forgot they were together.” Gyuvin audibly gagged at the sight of the two sitting at a booth with their hands on each other. “Get used to it.” Gunwook threw a fry at his friend as he sat down next to Dayeon and Hiyyih who were squeezed into the seats in front of them.

“I think it’s kind of cute. How they used to despise and hate each other but now they’re all lovey dovey with each other.” Hiyyih said. “Lovey dovey? When Gunwook went to the bathroom she literally called his shirt ugly.” Dayeon said with a tone of disbelief.

“What—you said I looked cute today.” Gunwook gasped and looked at the girl on the side of him. “Because you are cute! The shirt just isn’t.” Y/n smiled cheekily.

“You’re such a hater. You love to hate me.”

[galeorderbride]

The Forest For The Trees - Fic Request (Gale x F!Tav)

A Gale smut piece requested by one of my OG readers @meglet1. Thank you so much for the request and for being you in general!! I seriously hope you like what I’ve written for you <3

18+ MDNI (This is SMUT/tags below)

Summary:

After Tav is nearly killed in a fight at Rivington Beach, Gale lets his fear get the best of him and a new couple spat ensues. Leading to a peaceful resolution :)

Tags: PiV sex, semi-public sex, inappropriate use of mage hand, oral sex (m and f receiving, including some choking), words of praise/encouragement, creampie, fingering (vaginal & anal), multiple orgasms, self-indulgent, some references to Tav having body issues.

Word count: 4.7K

Mind the tags, everyone. Fic below the cut:

“I decided to choose you and live, then you go off and almost get yourself killed!”

Gale wasn’t the type to air out his issues in front of everyone, but this time, he couldn’t shake the nervous energy off. Panic and anxiety of balancing on an uneven precipice, powerless. Just days ago, he chose to stay with Tav instead of doing as Mystra commanded him, deep in that haunting colony, where the Elder Brain resided and, because he decided to live, remained a threat to the entire Sword Coast.

Less than an hour ago, he and Tav returned from the beaches of Rivington with their companions. Running into a gaggle of rival gangs ready to slaughter each other. The guild, run by the infamous Nine Fingers Keene, and the new recruits of this Stone Lord everyone was talking about. Gale cared little for whose alliance went where. Not when Tav had decided to intervene right in the middle of things, doing her best to settle scores and ending up having to fight both of them.

In the crossfire, Tav was hit with an electrified weapon, a hammer imbued with thunderous damage effects that nearly killed her with the impact against her spine. Knocked down, she spent the remainder of the fight unconscious, no one having time to revive her until they’d finished the fight. Across a landscape of crime syndicate corpses, Gale watched with intensity as Shadowheart struggled to revive her. The image of her near dissolved heartbeat still aching within him, harsher than the orb. Gasping for breath at the last second when he thought he lost her forever.

She’d regained balance quickly, the powerful healing of Selune now imbued within Shadowheart’s fingers, even if she hadn’t quite gotten to admit it yet. Tav was walking normally, a little fatigued but nothing more than that. Which gave Gale the opportunity to stop being worried for her welfare and be upset instead.

“Do you know how close you came to death? How much I worried Shadowheart wouldn’t revive you? All for a bunch of criminals who would’ve cared for the dirt under their boots more than you!” Gale exclaimed as he paced around the hay shed at their camp outside Rivington. Tav followed, arms across her chest as she tried to contain a frustrated sigh.

“I wasn’t trying to get all of them against us. How many times has convincing people to cool their heads worked on this journey? Times we never expected! I didn’t think this would be an exception,” she replied, her voice soft but assertive in her own defense.

“That’s what happens when you expect things to work in your favour! We can never assume anything is an absolute certainty, and I’ve been saying this from the beginning. I know it’s in your nature to stick your neck out for people, but do recall that I gave up on what might be the heaviest task of my life so I could be with you!” Gale continued, letting his panic get the better of him.

Tav’s eyes widened, now no longer trying to placate. “Don’t you use that against me! My encouragement to have you stay with me is not a blank check to use against me when I do something you dislike. I asked you to stay because I love you! And I had no intention of starting a fight today, nor did I plan to end up in the state I did!”

This was around when the rest of the camp began to hear them arguing. Frigid looks turned their way by Shadowheart, Karlach and Wyll. Eyerolls and mischievous scoffing from Astarion. Jaheira simply shook her head and mumbled ‘young love’ under her breath. Gale pretended not to hear it.

She looked at him with such offense, eyes dotted with the threat of tears from his fury. Any motivation to be cross with her slowly waning each time his eyes met hers.

“I love you too! Which is why I’m so off put by what happened to you. I don’t want to see you putting yourself in danger and disregarding forethought! I don’t think you understand just how much I can’t—”

Gale didn’t finish the sentence, brought on by a fear that he’d overwhelm her in saying such an intense thing. They’d confessed their love in a spur of the moment, when the culmination of all they’d been through was knocking at the front door. Emotions were high, and while he meant every word he said, he didn’t want to cross a line and compromise the start of a wonderful thing with Tav. Deep down, he’d loved her from the moment he saw her, and each day he got closer to admitting that out loud. Precisely why he reacted with such fear to what happened at the beach.

Tav crossed her arms, an expression of seriousness he’d never seen before. Well, not directed at him.

“Can’t what? Don’t let this be the time you don’t use your words, Gale. Because I am this close to storming off,” she said, pinching her index finger and thumb together in an impatient motion.

“I can’t…live without…you,” he said, his voice starting loud and then slowly quieting as he completed the sentence.

The two of them stopped short, silence washing over them as his words sank into both their minds. Memories of their first night together flooding back, when he showed her everything he could offer. A beautiful experience in the Outer Planes, where their souls entwined within currents of raw weave. Expressing their new love in countless ways, too many for one evening, but they did all they could. Loving, tender, but despite it all, not real. Not bodies together, the physical exertion of passionate, violently yearning intimacy. Just what Gale became tempted with after he spoke those long awaited words, as the anger melted from his system and replaced itself with carnality.

There wasn’t time for Tav to respond. Astarion cut in with his usual mocking tone. “Would you two get a damned room? Your voices are grating and I’m trying to enjoy a nice glass of wine I stole from Last Light.”

“I knew that bottle was familiar!” Jaheira cried out, no longer paying attention to Gale and Tav.

Tav sighed, bothered by the chiding of their companions. She felt on the spot, watched in all the wrong ways. Gale gently grabbed her arm.

“Come over this way,” he demanded, short and impatient. Quite possibly the briefest she’d ever heard him speak.

He pulled her away from the camp, a short but fair distance from their companions. Clusters of bushes and broken trees began to fill the space as he brought her forward. The sun was setting above them, hues of paradisiacal magenta and orange above them, beaming through the shaking leaves. Tav didn’t have much time to gaze upon the natural beauty, for Gale led her as if running to safety.

“Gale, where are you taking me?! You’re pulling too much, I’m going to lose my balance,” Tav questioned.

A few seconds went by, Tav’s curiosity getting the better of her as she’d never seen him so flustered. Trees surrounded them, but not enough to block the bustling city lights of Rivington on one side and the fire of their camp on the other. Voices of Karlach and Lae’zel talking could still be heard from the distance they stood. Tav had never been to this side before, but Gale had a way of making her feel safe no matter where.

“Come here, love,” he said, his arms moving to hook around her waist as he pushed her gently against a large tree.

She had little time to take a breath before his lips were on hers, soft but with an ardent passion once resting in bubbling irritation, now sprouting into lust. Their bodies pressed together, hips against hips as Tav began to melt into his wandering touch. Her knees nearly buckled when his index finger grazed the ridge of her jaw, tongue caressing her own. Temptation to run her fingers through his wondrous hair was too great, that strange sensation of a near death if she didn’t, silken texture on her skin enough to forget about everything they argued about.

But his words hung loose in her mind, and she pulled out of the kiss for a moment. Their faces still centimetres apart as she whispered, “I can’t live without you either. I’m sorry I wasn’t careful.”

Gale rubbed his nose against hers, that playful, breathy grin plastered on his face. “Let’s just look out for each other, alright? It’s so easy to get ahead of oneself, and I love you too much to watch idle by and pray you know the risk. You are a powerhouse of might, my love, but neither of us is invincible.”

“I know, I know,” she said in a hushed tone, so whisper thin the crickets chirped louder. Night fell fast, unburdened by clouds and blanched with a sea of stars. Everything was perfect, a moment in time that both of them longed for since their first time together. Opportunities never coming soon enough as their arduous adventures took precedence over everything. Now was the time, when the sky’s darkness masked them from the rest of the world’s troubles.

Gale answered with peppering kisses down Tav’s neck, shivering at the supple softness against such a sensitive area. For the first time since before Mystra, he wanted something purely physical—mortal. Covered in the finite flesh of his new love, giving pieces of themselves as a simple reminder that they remained alive. He’d forgotten the lure of that desire, powerful and impossible to satiate without going the full way, being as close to Tav as humanly possible.

Cracked bark scratched the itches of Tav’s back, pressed ever harder with each kiss from neck to collarbone. Desire budding at the touch points of her body; at the tip of her breasts, the heat of her ears, the tingling between her legs. Those parts growing more swollen with want when she felt the brush of his palms around her waist, fingertips dipping under the hem of her shirt to tickle her lower stomach. They were like teenagers sneaking around behind a schoolyard, eyes darting back and forth to make sure no one saw them enjoy each other. A thrill long forgotten on both sides.

“Gale, won’t someone hear us? We’re still close to camp,” Tav said between laboured, lustful breaths.

“With all we’ve been through, I highly doubt they care. But to ease your anxieties,” Gale replied, waving his hand to create a violet purple dome around them, “A silencing spell.”

“Perfect,” she said.

With a quick maneuver, Gale unclipped the belt of her wrapped shirt, slowly folding the fabric over her shoulders. He took his time, relishing in the pull of cloth from skin, little reveals each second until she bore herself bare to him. A maroon brasier remained, almost black under the moonlight and slipping low. Enough to catch a glimpse of her nipples, begging to spring free from constriction. Meanwhile, Gale spread her longer shirt across the ground, using clothes as a makeshift bed—if not to remedy the future ache of his knees. He unwrapped his robes as well, left only in a white, linen shirt and trousers.

He could hardly concentrate, the beauty of Tav under the moonlight too transfixing to not stare upon. Fitted perfectly in her under clothes, the rise and fall of her chest teasing him without trying. Watching like she didn’t notice, but she did, and began to strip for his pleasure. Removing the straps of the bra first, slow against her shoulders, the perk of her breasts peeking out before the clasp snapped free. Gale stood before her, watching with a subtle grin.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Tav. Do you know how much? How I ache to the point of fever when graced with your presence?” He asked, voice dark with lust, a gruffness she didn’t hear when in the Outer Planes.

“Even as I am? No magic or beautiful strands of starry weave around me? Surely this can’t be as exciting as that time,” she said, not intending to be self conscious, but failing to keep that in check. Not a goddess, not a higher being in the form of a body, but just herself. Scars, blemishes, bad angles and all. Mortal in all the wrong ways.

“As you are is more than anything the weave could offer. Having you naked under the moon like this is a memory embedded in my mind for eternities to come,” he said, stepping over to her to help unbutton her pants. He ensured his fingers touched every part, no matter where, and his breath against her neck warmed and cooled.

“Oh, my, you give me no chance with words like that,” she said.

Between bountiful, romantic kisses, the rest of their clothes were discarded into the flattened pile. Too impatient to go somewhere with room to conjure a full bed, absorbed in the embrace of each other as they fell into the fabric. Tav straddled his waist, lowering down so she could still glide her tongue against his. Never wishing to part her lips from his for the rest of the night. Craving the push of his hands embedded in her skin, down her spine and over the hill of her ass, ending with a firm squeeze.

Not a single part of her didn’t feel something. Her nipples gliding against his chest hair, hardening them in seconds with the playful tingle at the tips. His hands finding purchase, amused enough to spank the right cheek with a hard enough force to have her yelp giggle and yelp out loud. And that irresistible grind of his growing erection pushing against her core, hastier than himself, simply begging to push into that tight, unoccupied hole. Just the beginning, and yet she already preferred being together like this, fully in tandem with each other, nothing but their beating hearts and heated bodies.

Eventually, both of them needed to take a breath, locked in a heated make out for a time they lost count of. Tav lifted her body up, back arched in pleasure as Gale followed teeth-first. Biting, sucking, licking her nipples, each side deserving of his equal attention. Delicate moans grew into hot, heavy woes of passion, caring little for noise control with the purple dome of silence above them. Saliva trailed down her breasts, her wizard so lost in the ecstasy of tasting those pink, round buds. Hugging her in his arms, moving his cock against her to feel the head getting wetter with her slick.

Tav whispered in his ear, fingers tangled in his hair, “Perhaps I should get into danger more often, if this is the consequence.”

Gale chuckled, muffled by the slide of his tongue around her earlobe, “No need. Should you want my services, all you have to do is ask. Nicely. With a very eager ‘please’. Now, I am on the precipice of sliding into you this instant. But I’d have you come first.”

Hands firm on her ass, he pushed her forward, legs buckling over as he laid down. Angling himself so her core hovered over his face as he continued, “On my mouth, darling.”

Unable to contain her giggles, she adjusted her legs to straddle the sides of his face. Too gradual for Gale as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down. Tav gasped from the heavenly sensation, his lips and tongue all over her pussy in seconds, nodding his jaw up and down to stimulate her slit with his stubble. His tongue moved with expert precision, letting Tav take control of the pace as he moaned into her cunt, slurping and sucking at her as if drowning himself in her essence. There wasn’t enough lip biting and stifled moans in the world to keep her from building up to a snapping orgasm, inch by inch as she swivelled her hips around his face. His nose jutted against her pubic bone, mouth focused entirely on her swollen clit, pushing her down to ensure she wouldn’t move away. Even as her inner thigh muscles shook with pleasured tremors.

Tav stuttered out, “Holy fu…ck…Gale, I’m s-so close. Keep going, keep going! Now, yes, now!”

At that point, she was using any superlative her blurred mind could conjure. An orgasm flowered within her, strong, hot and never felt in a very long time. She clawed his hair under her legs, twitching hips riding out a wet climax, dripping into his beard. A taste he’d never get enough of, buttery and sweet on his tongue. He’d be happy to suffocate under her in a bid to have her finish again.

Coming down wasn’t an option, continuing to flick his tongue against her clit even as her muscles relaxed. Sensitivity stung at her pussy, sharp hits of pleasure shining through with each feral moan he made. A sound so enticing, she melted for him, allowing his hands still on her ass to push her further forward, rear completely up. Behind her, he snapped his fingers, figments of magic beckoning around her in a light blue glow. Tav could barely pay attention, lost in the feeling of his tongue lapping at her cunt. Until two fingers pushed into her entrance, filling her quick but smooth in an electrified vibration. A mage hand, finger fucking her from behind. Taking her to a place of impossible pleasure, no choice but to let go.

As Gale sucked at her clit, muffled words came from below her, “Does that feel nice, my love? Can you cum all over my face again? That’s it, let the hand fuck you, good girl.”

“Gods above, Gale, I’m so sensitive! But fuck it feels so good!” She exclaimed, whimpering with each buck of her hips against his mouth, the hand following every angle so not a centimetre pulled out. Pumping into her tight walls, angling in just the right direction to have her shaking for a second climax.

“Let me help you even more,” Gale said, motioning his wrist to command the mage hand to push its thumb at the entrance of her asshole. Prodding in and out, gently easing in enough to thrust in the same rhythm as the fingers, slick sounds of sex invading her ears. She gasped at the hot tightness, cunt thoroughly stimulated in every way. It was perfect, hitting every spot just how she liked, and some she didn’t know existed. Gale was simply eager to please, laughing slyly as he felt her orgasm again.

Tav quaked at her second finish, overwhelmed with searing ecstasy. She cried out, “I can’t take it anymore, please! Too—too sensitive.”

The mage hand vanished with her command, easing the pressure of overstimulation palpating in her veins. Gale couldn’t resist one, soft kiss on her clit before letting her move off of him. Without her body to focus on, the ache of his rock hard cock snapped into awareness. Precum dotting the head, so stiff he feared it might break at the gentlest touch. Proven wrong when Tav brought her lips down to the tip, licking off the salty cum. Giving him a taste of his own medicine as he shivered in sensitive rapture. Both of them had a tendency to get carried away, as what was meant to be a simple tease with her tongue led to her taking his cock into her mouth. Using her hand to pump at the bottom of the shaft, too big to go all the way down.

Choking and sucking sounds filled the air as Gale writhed under the mercy of her mouth. Running her hand up and down his bare thigh, hypnotized by the lusty song of his satisfied whimpers. He wanted to tell her this wasn’t necessary, he enjoyed seeing her enjoyment. But as her throat coated his cock, he was rendered speechless. More so when she bobbed her head up and down, moaning through her nose as he gently joined her by fucking her mouth. Small, quick thrusts in fear of hurting her, but enough to make his calf muscles strain.

Spit and precum doused his cock as she lifted him out of her mouth, a raunchy ‘pop’ sound coming from her lips. Gale’s shaken, pleasured sighs covered the forest, stimulated by the cold air kissing the wet surface of his raised erection. Tav fawned over how it glistened, her core pulsing and tightening with the silent beg to be filled. Surely, she’d pass out if he wasn’t inside her immediately.

Gale exhaled deeply, shaking his head with unfathomable joy. “You will be the death of me. That felt…so good. I don’t even know how to describe it.”

She smiled, failing to contain the blush on her face. How she loved to know he was already satisfied. “We’re not done yet, my love.”

Her leg hooked back over his waist, straddling him again. This time, angling the opening of her cunt right against the desperate head of his thick cock. He looked so beautiful below her, gleaming with sweat and rosy with anticipation. Fingertips tickling up and down the sides of her thighs. Gods, when he laughed, that lusty chuckle of boiling desire had her foolish in his arms. She chased that sound, easing down on his cock until he bottomed out inside her. The stretch and slick of her walls fluttering around him forcing a high pitched whimper from her. Clit shuddering at the sensation of little hairs against it, nearly orgasming right there. Never had she wanted someone so much, craved another’s touch in a way she didn’t know was possible until meeting him. Everything about him was magnificent.

“Moan for me, love. I want to hear your every sound as I fuck you,” Tav demanded, locking her palms on his chest as she began to ride him. Fast, fervently, hips bucking back and forth so good he obeyed instantly. Husky, sultry, moans and even guttural growls with each grind of her pussy against him.

One hand stayed on her thigh and the other kneaded at her breast, his thumb flicking and pinching her nipple while her languid movements continued. By now, he could see when she was close, biting down on her lip to concentrate as she ignored her aching muscles. More warmth and wetness dripped along his cock. He nodded to her, let her use him as a toy for her own pleasure, moving pieces of hair from her face at the same time.

“Let me see you cum again, please. That’s it, ride my cock like that. So wet for me, I can’t believe it. Keep going, yes, very good. You’re doing so well,” he said, words of encouragement coming with his thumb moving to her clit. Rubbing the spot he learned she liked, just a little assistance in getting her over that impossible edge.

Tav’s body cramped up as she squeezed onto his cock, crying out Gale’s name as her third climax ripped through her lower half, felt even at the tingling peak of her breasts. He could’ve done anything in that moment, came anywhere he liked, and she’d be fine with it. Her orgasm all the stronger as she pictured being covered in him from face to pussy. A debauched mess on top of clothes, fully vulnerable to him.

Seeing her above him brought his own release closer. Unable to wait as he pulled her torso down to kiss her hard, pushing his tongue into her mouth with reckless abandon. Tav yelped playfully as they kissed, paralyzed by the ecstasy of being fucked into. Sore, sensitive and hedonistic, she relished in the hard thrusting and the heated touch of their perspired bodies together. Wishing this would never end but craving his release inside her at the same time.

She left the kiss to whisper in his ear, biting his earlobe, licking at him, “Finish inside me. Please, I want it so bad.”

“Oh, gods, Tav I’m going to—right…ah!” He groaned out the unfinished sentence, his impatient cock spilling inside of her tight hole. He pulsed within her, feeling his spine arch as he experienced likely the greatest orgasm he’d ever had. Reaching his entire body, lasting longer, an addicting taste of eternal paradise. Tav’s soft whimpers the final touch to the most wonderful feeling.

She moved off of him, laying flat with her legs open. Gale still felt trickles of desire in his stomach, not enough to get hard again so quickly, but enough to lean over her thoroughly fucked cunt. His breath warmed her skin as he caressed his tongue along her clit, letting his index finger rub her cum-filled entrance as he did. All she could do was wheeze, too tired for a full moan but adoring the feeling of his mouth on her again. He was gentle this time, careful not to bring out the growing soreness. No, he just softly licked, kissed and sucked at her clit, stomach sinking with carnal intrigue as he watched his cum dripping out of her. He wanted to mark his territory, give her one more orgasm to be certain she knew she was his. Even just a little one.

Tav concentrated with the full power of her exhausted mind, feeling herself ready to climax once more. She couldn’t believe how skilled he was, moaning his name out again as he pinched her lips together, pushing her clit further into his mouth. That, mixed with the amazing sensation of his cum inside of her, was enough to inch her into that little release. Her fingers clutching his hair, pulling slightly as she came for a fourth time. A tiny bit more of his seed poured out of her as she relaxed.

“Perfect,” he said, leaving her core and moving to lay beside her, “You are amazing. I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

Tav smiled, cuddling into the crux of his shoulder, “I should be the one to say that. No one’s ever been so attentive to me. And by the gods, I have never finished that many times.”

“Oh, my love, I am excited to inform you that wasn’t even all I can do. If I had you in a bed, with a private bathroom, different corners of the room to take you in; you’d have at least six, I’d make sure of it,” he replied.

“In that case, we must find an inn as soon as possible,” she replied, kissing his cheek as he scooped her body closer to him.

They cuddled for a few minutes more, letting the cool, night air dry their sweat-drenched bodies before returning to camp. Hand-in-hand, eyes doled with the fire of new romance and the comedown from lovemaking. What began as the rising moon, evening pink with sunset, had transformed into deep night, pleasantly dark and glinting with fresh, sparkling stars. Neither of them wished for a conclusion, but sleep beckoned and they had no idea what might happen tomorrow. Tav only knew that she’d refrain from taking too many risks, as now she’d become a fool for someone else entirely.

Gale and Tav agreed to share a tent tonight, and from now on. First, she went to the smouldering fire to grab a piece of sunmelon and her water canteen. The rest of the camp now silent as everyone retired for the evening, except for their most nocturnal companion: Astarion. Who had returned from the other side of the woods, pallid complexion brighter than usual, a sign that he just fed on an animal.

“Good hunt?” She asked, finishing off the last bite of her sunmelon piece and throwing the peel in the fire.

“Never as good as the real thing, darling, but enough to tide me over. Perhaps I should’ve saved some for you, tired little adventurer,” he replied, brow raised in that cheeky expression. Always present when he was about to take the piss out of someone.

“Fruit and water will suit me fine. Goodnight, Astarion,” she replied, turning to head for Gale’s tent.

Astarion spoke as she walked away, “By the way, remind your wizard to maintain his silencing concentration. If I’m going to hear your debauchery, I’d rather hear it from the beginning and not halfway through. Goodnight, Tav!”

Tav cleared her throat, swallowing down her growing embarrassment as she walked to Gale’s tent. Knowing fully well what kind of teasing she’d endure the next morning. For now, she would simply sleep in Gale’s arms and deal with the rest as they came.

[bellaxgiornata]

Right Here, Right Now

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Matt had been working hard on a case for over a month now, meaning the two of you had barely seen each other in weeks. After he, Foggy, and Karen finally have their win in court, he invites you out to Josie's to celebrate with them. Though it soon becomes apparent to you that he has something in particular on his mind tonight.

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, public fingering, and Matt being a little shit along with his filthy mouth also deserves a warning

a/n: Just a last minute smut fic I threw together as a little spicy treat for Valentine's Day for y'all. Hopefully you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @petrovafire39

Thumbnail caught between your teeth, you chewed it fiercely as you sat in the booth at the bar. Because ever since you'd come to Josie’s to meet up with Matt and your friends over an hour ago, he'd been doing nothing but intentionally working you up.

And he had been anything but subtle about it. 

Earlier today Matt, Foggy, and Karen had finally won their case in court, a case that you knew they'd been endlessly toiling away on for over a month. You'd barely just gotten back to your apartment after work when Matt had called and told you the good news, urging you to meet them down at Josie’s. Having been excited to celebrate with everyone–especially since you'd barely seen Matt in weeks–you'd hurried straight there. You hadn't even bothered to change out of your work clothes before you’d left because you’d been so eager to finally have a chance to see Matt again, which left you still wearing one of the dresses you occasionally wore to work on incredibly hot summer days like today. 

You knew Matt loved your dresses, he'd told you that plenty of times by now. And while you were very aware of the fact that the pair of you had barely spent time together since their firm had initially taken this case many weeks ago, you hadn't anticipated the reaction he'd be having to you tonight. 

At first you hadn't noticed much out of the ordinary when you’d arrived at the bar. Matt had wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in close to the side of him as he ordered your drink. Though you had noticed how he held onto you tighter tonight than he usually did whenever the pair of you were out together, as if he needed to have part of you constantly touching him this evening. Not long after you'd gotten your beer, Matt's hand had begun to dip lower and lower on your waist, the tips of his fingers teasingly grazing the top of your ass. You had almost choked on the sip of your drink you'd just taken when his fingers began toying with the waistband of your panties through the thin fabric of your dress. Struggling to remain focused on the conversation at the time, all you could think about was Matt's damn hands peeling them off of you later. Every slight snap of the material from his teasing fingers had your breath catching in your throat and your cheeks beginning to flush.

But if his wandering hands hadn't already been enough, he'd also been taking moments to lean over and whisper things into your ear whenever Karen and Foggy were talking. You'd slowly lost the ability to pay attention at all to what those two were saying as the things Matt's deep voice kept purring into your ear gradually became filthier and filthier.

At first the comments had been sweet; mainly Matt telling you that he'd missed you and how he was looking forward to finally having time to spend with you now that he wouldn't be working on that case anymore. But then he'd begun to tell you how good you smelled this evening. Which eventually led to him telling you how much he had missed you in his bed over the past few weeks and what he was looking forward to doing once the pair of you left Josie’s tonight–in explicit detail. 

That's when he began to tell you that he knew how aroused you were becoming; that he couldn't just smell the dampness forming between your legs, but that he could hear the slickness with every shift of your body beside him. It wasn't as if you could help it though because his voice alone always had an undeniable effect on you–which he damn well knew. And him catching the scent of your growing arousal only seemed to amplify the obscene things he kept whispering into your ear while he still wore that innocent smile on his face for Karen and Foggy. But there was one comment in particular that had been rolling around in your head over and over for the past hour now. You couldn't stop hearing it repeat in your mind in that same sultry growl in which he'd first said it in.

Before we even leave this bar tonight, sweetheart, I’m going to soak that dress and those panties more than they already are. I can promise you that.

You remembered the fresh bit of wet heat that formed between your thighs the moment those words had left his mouth, his hot breath dancing along your neck. You'd shuddered, becoming incredibly aware of every inch of your side he had pressed up against his. With the way he kept whispering in your ear all night, you figured that was his plan for the evening. To turn you on solely with his voice and the dirty things he was saying before leaving the bar tonight. But the moment everyone had sat down at the booth Karen had pointed out, you'd realized he might've had something else in mind.

Which is when you knew that you were in far more trouble tonight than you could have ever realized. 

For the past twenty minutes Matt's left hand kept touching you underneath the table, oscillating between one exhilarating touch after another. A firm squeeze to your knee, his palm just beneath the hem of your dress. His hand resting on your thigh, the warmth of it seeping through your dress and growing the heat already building inside of you. And, a few times, he'd actually slipped his hand up beneath the fabric itself, languidly sliding it deliciously slow until you felt a gentle graze of fingertips along the inside of your thigh, just below your already wet underwear.

You were without a doubt already a flustered mess in the booth. Yet Matt didn't seem remotely satisfied, his hand still relentlessly teasing you under the table while he continued on conversering with his friends like nothing more was occurring. He was drinking back his beer and actively participating in the conversation while occasionally flashing you knowing, devilish smiles. Meanwhile, you could still barely focus on the conversation long enough to add much to it. 

It was the sound of Foggy’s phone a little later alerting him to a text that finally caught your attention, tearing it away from the way Matt's index finger was currently drawing circles over your right knee. Both of your hands were fidgeting with your beer bottle above the table, your face feeling hot as you watched him pull the phone out of his pocket.

“It's Marci,” Foggy announced, still reading the text. “She's back from work and wondering when I'll be home.” He glanced up from his phone screen, a slight frown on his lips. “I should probably get going, I don't want to make her wait up for me.”

Beside him, Karen glanced down at her own phone on the table, unlocking the screen and checking the time. “Maybe I should head out too,” she said. “It is starting to get kind of late.”

A flood of relief instantly washed over you as you perked up across the table. If both of them were calling it a night, that meant you and Matt could leave, too. Which also meant you could head back to either of your apartments and do something about all the growing sexual tension and Matt's incessant teasing, because by now you were becoming desperate for some sort of relief. But just as you shifted in your seat, about to open your mouth and eagerly agree with the idea of leaving, Matt's hand tightened around your knee. Your brief hesitation gave him a chance to respond first.

“You both head on out,” he began, tone far too casual as he spoke. “I think we might actually stay a bit. It's been awhile since we've really gotten to spend time together with everything going on these past few weeks.”

“Just don't stay up too late tonight, kids,” Foggy joked, already sliding out of the seat across from you and Matt. “We've got a meeting bright and early tomorrow morning!”

Matt chuckled good-naturedly, his hand inching up under the hem of your dress as he did. You straightened in your seat at the touch, spine pressing against the back of the booth as you wondered why in the hell he wanted to stay.

“You don't have to worry about me, buddy,” he assured him. “I'll be ready for tomorrow morning.”

Karen slid out of the booth behind Foggy, one hand brushing some loose blonde hair out of her face as she sent you and Matt a warm smile. You returned the smile as best as you could, hoping neither of them had noticed how unusually quiet you'd been tonight. 

“I know how much we've been hogging Matt the past few weeks,” Karen told you, readjusting her purse strap as she rose to her feet beside the booth. “So I hope you two enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Thanks, I'm–I'm sure we will,” you replied, trying to fight back the quiver in your voice as Matt's thumb slid across the inside of your thigh. 

“Oh, we most certainly will,” he told her with a smile, his hand giving your thigh a slight squeeze.

Hips shifting along the booth's bench, you tried to ignore the growing ache between your legs, finding it hard to remain casual with how Matt was making you feel. You weren't sure what his reasoning was for not getting up and leaving right now with them, but you sure hoped you could convince him to get out of here fast once they'd left.

“It was good seeing you both again tonight,” you told the pair of them. “And congratulations again on winning that case.”

“We'll see you at the next big celebratory win!” Foggy said, shooting you a wave.

You sent them both a wave in return before they turned and headed towards the exit to Josie’s, the pair of them walking side by side. Matt's hand remained on your thigh as you watched them go, his other hand picking up his half-finished beer from the table. Your attention shifted to him beside you, watching as he drew the bottle up to his lips, taking a deep pull before he set the beer back down. Your gaze remained on his mouth, watching as the tip of his tongue slipped out and ran along his lips. The thought of that skilled tongue being put to use had your cunt pathetically clenching around nothing.

“You're so damn wet I can barely taste my own beer,” Matt said, voice just loud enough for you to hear. “All I have been able to taste for the past hour is you and your dripping cunt.”

Fighting a shudder threatening to roll down your spine, your own hands tightened around the neck of your beer bottle on the table. “That's your own doing, Matt,” you pointed out, sounding more breathless than you'd have liked. “You're the one who won't stop teasing me tonight.”

“And you're the one showing up in a dress,” he countered, his covered gaze finally landing on you. “You know I can't resist when you wear them.”

“I didn't feel like changing before I left,” you replied, heart pounding a little faster as you felt his hand begin to glide further up beneath your dress. “I was excited to see you and I hadn't thought–” you paused, eyelids fluttering momentarily when one of his fingers finally swiped ever so gently just over your soaked underwear.

“Hadn't thought what, sweetheart?” he asked cheekily. 

You could feel your pulse pounding in your own aching cunt by now, your body tense as it desperately begged for more stimulation than that light touch. Breath coming in a bit sharper, you tried to focus your thoughts to answer him.

“Hadn't thought you'd react like this,” you whispered. 

“Mmm,” Matt hummed out, turning more towards you in the booth, his hand still lingering on the inside of your thigh, fingers dangerously close to where you wanted them. “Well it has been awhile since I've had the opportunity to properly take care of my girl because of that damn case. I suppose I just couldn't resist you tonight.”

“So then let's get out of here,” you urged. “My place or yours tonight, I don't care, Matt. Just stop teasing me because I can't take it any longer. I miss you.”

You heard the sharp intake of breath that came from him at the sound of your plea. Behind his dark lenses you saw the way his eyes had closed, his jaw tightening.

“Please, Matt,” you begged, hoping the distress in your voice would help convince him. “Let's just go.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, his nostrils flaring sharply as his eyes opened once more behind the red lenses. “I do love how you sound when you get like this,” he murmured. “But if you're that needy for a release already, why wait, sweetheart?”

Brows drawing together on your forehead, you eyed him in confusion. “What?” you asked.

The corner of his lip tugged up into a sinful smirk. “Why not let me get you off right here, right now? Right in this booth,” he suggested, tone darkening. 

Your eyes darted around the bar, the thought of Matt’s fingers on you right here raising goosebumps along your arms. While there were a handful of patrons scattered around Josie’s tonight, some were playing pool while others were at the bar, drinking down their drinks. There was no one even remotely near your booth. A nervous laugh slipped out of you as you focused back on Matt.

“You're not actually serious, are you?” you asked. “We're in the middle of a bar , Matt. And we aren't exactly here alone.”

He shrugged a single shoulder in response. “So?” he asked. “I can be discreet if you can be quiet.”

Lips parting in surprise, you sat there in stunned silence. The devilish smirk only grew on his lips as his right hand once again lifted his beer bottle from the table, bringing it slowly up to his mouth for another drink that he took so irritatingly calm and casual.

“Though it's entirely up to you, of course,” he continued after he'd swallowed, lowering the bottle back to the table. “You know I'd certainly never want to make you uncomfortable. So if you'd rather us wait until we've walked all the way back to my place–the closest option–then we most certainly can. Or,” he purred, his finger once again lightly gliding along your cunt over your wet underwear, your eyes nearly rolling back at the touch, “I can take care of you here. With my fingers. And then fuck you far more thoroughly back at my place after.” 

He shot you a charming smile that had you feeling weak already. He damn well knew what he had been doing to you all night, especially with those senses of his. Had this been his goal all along? To work you up so much that you'd actually want to do this? Because truthfully, it had worked. You were considering it.

“The choice is yours, sweetheart,” he told you. 

Once again your eyes darted around the bar, unable to believe that you were actually contemplating his offer. But this was Matt and you'd often found he had a way of making you comfortable and willing to try new things–like letting him get you off in the middle of a dive bar that the pair of you often frequented. But no one here was even remotely paying the pair of you any attention where you were sitting in the corner of the bar. If you kept quiet, no one would be able to see anything that was happening beneath the table. And did you really want to wait the ten minute walk back to Matt's apartment building? And then another few minutes on top of that while you both made it up to his apartment before getting any sort of release? 

No, no you really didn't. 

“Okay, you win,” you whispered.

Matt rested his right elbow up on the tabletop, his stubbled chin coming to land in his palm as he focused on you. That damn smile was still on his mouth.

“You're going to have to tell me what you want,” he replied. “I'm not a mind reader.”

You rolled your eyes at him and the way he was purposely drawing this out. He could be such a goddamn tease when he wanted to be.

“I want you to touch me,” you said. “Get me off here and then take me home after, Matthew. I can’t wait any longer.”

His head tilted to the side in his palm, his dark brows rising playfully up above his glasses. “You sure you can manage to keep quiet enough?” he asked.

With an irritated huff, you rolled your eyes at him again. “Yes, now can you stop toying with me and– fuck .”

A satisfied smile spread across his mouth as one of his fingers landed directly on your swollen clit over the fabric of your damp underwear. He'd only applied a faint bit of pressure with the pad of his finger, but already it had felt so damn good in comparison to the burning ache you'd been dealing with most of the night. 

“I told you we'd have to save that for when we got back to my place,” he teased, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Don't think we'd quite manage to get away unnoticed in the booth doing that .”

“You're such an asshole, Matthew,” you breathed out. 

He chuckled in response, his finger making a circle along the sensitive bud beneath it. “You sure now is the time for insults, sweetheart?” he asked. “Because I can stop.”

Your eyelids closed as you weakly shook your head, every part of you focused on the delicious pressure of his finger. “No,” you nearly whimpered. “Please don't stop, Matt.”

He hummed out a pleased noise in response, his finger continuing to circle your clit over the top of your underwear. Your breath was coming in sharp, short gasps as you fought to reopen your eyes and keep them open, remembering that you were both still in public and that you needed to keep your composure. Though keeping your expression neutral was difficult with Matt's smirking face directly in your line of sight. He looked so smug as his finger continued to gently rub against you. 

But he wasn’t doing nearly enough to ease the growing desire between your legs and get you off. And it was becoming obvious that it was purposeful.

“Come on, Matt,” you whined. “Haven't you teased me enough tonight? Can you please stop already?”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he replied. “If you insist.”

His fingers hooked around your underwear, pulling it to the side and out of his way. Two of his thick digits soon slid between your soaked folds, running back and forth along the length of them as he gathered your slick. A rumbling growl vibrated in Matt's chest as the expression on his face abruptly darkened, that teasing smirk quickly vanishing.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he snarled between gritted teeth.

Your mouth went dry instantly at the sound of the Devil’s voice. You hadn’t expected that.

“Need me that bad, do you?” he growled low. “Already soaked your panties because you're so eager? And all it took was my voice?” 

The tip of one of his fingers lightly brushed over your clit in a series of quick, gentle strokes. Your body gave a jolt in the booth, your breath hitching in your throat at the feather-light assault. 

“Maybe I should make you soak my fingers along with that dress, hmm?” he purred. “Right here in this bar. You'd like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?”

Hands releasing the bottle of your beer, they immediately clamped down onto the edge of the table. You had a feeling you were going to need to hold on to something if the Devil was about to play with you in the middle of Josie’s.

“Mhmm,” you hummed out, spreading your legs a little wider beneath the table in open invitation. “Please.”

The corner of Matt’s lip pulled up into something feral as you felt his finger leave the little swollen nub, instead lining it up with your dripping entrance. You’d barely had a chance to mentally prepare yourself for what was to come before he plunged that lone digit straight inside of you. Teeth clamping down on your bottom lip, you fought back the noise that nearly flew out of your mouth, managing to trap it in the back of your throat instead as your hands gripped the table.

“That's right, keep quiet, sweetheart,” the Devil rumbled out. “Don't want anyone here to know that I'm touching you, do we?”

“No,” you breathed out, shaking your head.

His finger began to pump into your cunt painfully slow as he slid even closer next to you in the booth. His thigh pressed up right against yours and a whine managed to faintly slip out of your lips. The moment you felt his lips brush along the shell of your ear though, a lightheadedness washed over you.

“You're doing so good being quiet for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear with each word as his finger continued its unhurried rhythm. “Should we see just how quiet you can be?”

Your eyes clamped shut, your body feeling like it was burning up beside Matt's. A shuddering exhale left you as your hands clung tighter to the table as if that would somehow help you keep from making a single sound. 

Before you knew what was happening, Matt plunged a second finger inside of you. A surprised gasp flew out of your mouth, your eyes flying back open. His fingers increased their pace, the soft, obscene squelch of your wet cunt meeting your ears over the faint chatter of the bar and the quiet classic rock that was playing. Matt moaned quietly beside your ear, his hot breath cascading down the side of your neck only making you feel even more dizzy. 

“Good girl,” the Devil praised beside your ear. “Keeping so quiet for me while I fuck you with my fingers.”

A moan once again started in the back of your throat at his words, one you were desperately trying to hold back. But it was becoming difficult to stay aware of your surroundings and the need to not make a noise when his fingers started to curl inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that had white beginning to dance at the corner of your eyes. Matt's own ragged breaths in your ear wasn't helping your situation. You could tell he was becoming increasingly worked up beside you, too, at the sound of each of his own sharp growls.

“Should I let you cum already?” he whispered into your ear. “Would you like that?”

You nodded frantically in response, eager for the promise of a release from all the tension that had been building up inside of you tonight. 

“Yes,” you begged. “Please, Matt, please.”

Another rumbling growl from him met your ears and your cunt clenched around Matt's fingers. He groaned low beside you in response, the sound deep within his throat. 

“I love it when you beg, sweetheart,” he whispered. “And you have been so good for me tonight. So I want you to cum. I want you to drench my fingers here in the middle of Josie’s. But,” he continued, the Devil’s tone turning to that of a warning as you felt the pad of his thumb land on your clit, “you better not make a fucking sound when you do.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded obediently as you attempted to mutter out an affirmative response. Though it was hard to form much of a thought with the way his two fingers kept diligently fucking you now combined with the tantalizing movements of his thumb on your throbbing clit. His voice in your ear and the feel of his hard body against the side of yours was already pushing you over the edge now. 

Your climax was within reach, you could feel that familiar pressure building to its peak deep inside of you, begging to be let loose with each thrust of his fingers and brush of his thumb pad. Your hands had grown clammy as you fought to hold onto the table, your back arching in the booth as you struggled to keep your eyes from rolling back in ecstasy. 

But the closer and closer you inched to your release, the harder and harder it was becoming to keep silent. Whimpers and whines were falling out between your quivering lips, the sounds mingling with each wet thrust of his fingers inside of you and his own labored breaths in your ear.

“I know, I know,” he cooed. “You're so close, sweetheart. I can feel it. Just let go for me.”

Your body was beginning to shake under the strain of remaining composed in the booth. The pleased, encouraging noises coming from Matt weren't helping your efforts either, especially as that moan inside of you began to build just as your climax unexpectedly slammed into you like a brick wall. 

You'd barely opened your mouth before Matt lunged at you, his own lips practically crashing onto you and smothering yours. The moan you'd been about to loose throughout the bar was quickly muffled by his own mouth as he swallowed the sound of it down his throat. With his mouth feverishly attacking yours in a mix of tongue and teeth, his hand continued to work you through your climax beneath the table, dragging it out and drawing you through it. One of your hands released the death grip you had on the table, landing on Matt's thick thigh just beside yours. You dug your nails into his muscle through his dress pants as your body trembled along the bench, a low moan once more barreling out of you and straight into his mouth one last time as you came hard on his fingers. 

Gradually Matt's fingers slowed to a stop, your body sinking back into the booth as if it suddenly weighed far too much. His mouth broke away from yours, his own chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, still trying to recover from the body-shaking orgasm he’d just given you in public. His face was flushed, his cheeks slightly reddened. It almost looked like there was even the slightest sheen of sweat above his brow.

“That was not exactly quiet, sweetheart,” he lightly chastised, carefully withdrawing his fingers from inside of you. “You’re lucky I noticed before everyone else here did.”

You shot him a blissful, tired smile, your head resting against the back of the booth as you gazed back at him. “Thank God for your senses, then,” you joked, still a little breathless.

The corner of Matt’s mouth quirked up into a smirk as he continued to focus on you, the lenses of his glasses glinting under the red neon sign on the wall beside your booth. His left hand appeared from underneath the table moments later, coated and obviously glistening with your slick under the red light. He raised both fingers up to his lips before slipping them inside his mouth, sucking your arousal off of them with a satisfied moan that sounded low in the back of his throat. A shiver ran up your spine as you watched him slowly slide his two fingers back out from between his plush lips, his focus never leaving you.

“I don’t think it’s God that you should be thanking right now,” he murmured, the Devil once more grinning back at you. 

Your cunt immediately twitched back awake at that voice, bottom lip rolling between your teeth. Matt's tongue slid out between his lips, sensually running along the length of them before an impatient growl rumbled out of him.

“Now what’s going to happen next,” the Devil began, his voice raising the hair on the back of your neck, “is you’re going to get out of this booth like nothing happened,” he told you. “And then I’m going to take you and that deliciously drenched pussy back to my place where I’m going to have my fill of you. And this time, sweetheart?” he continued, the red of the neon light washing over his face as he leaned in towards you. “I want to hear every goddamn sound you make. You got that?”

Swallowing hard, you immediately sobered up in the booth beside him. You nodded in response, already eagerly beginning to slide out of the booth after him, incredibly aware of how pathetically wet you still were beneath your dress. But you weren’t about to deny the Devil what he wanted when you loved playing with him as much as you did.

[doctor-dusk]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐰𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨… 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

what would a musician be without his inspiring muse? 

warnings: soft dom!alex, smut, oral (both receiving), bit of anal playing, spitting, unprotected sex (piv). i think that's all, folks.

word count: 4.1k

i wrote most of this last year on a crowded bus on my way back from college, an old lady gave me a dirty look, but it's worth it. probably the dirtiest smut i've ever written so far because i was bored with my job today. hope you enjoy it :3

you had just gotten out of the shower. the skin of your shoulders and chest was still wet and the scent of grapefruit soap still perfumed the bathroom when you left the room amid a thin curtain of steam from the warm water. alex found it funny that you loved warm showers, even though it was almost forty degrees outside. you were wrapped in a dark gray cotton bathrobe, your hair was wrapped in a towel of the same color and you were drying your face with a white face towel. 

you noticed that alex was in exactly the same position since the last glimpse you had of him before entering the bathroom. he was sitting in a position that was not very comfortable visually speaking, wearing only moss green cargo shorts. his head was resting on his right hand, which held a pencil with a worn tip between his fingers, while his left hand was busy with a half-smoked cigarette, which released a thin curtain of smoke that escaped through the open window in front of him, his guitar resting on his lap, untouchable. 

he had been staring at the page of his notebook for almost twenty minutes. there were a few scribbles on the corners, loose words, but nothing that formed a sentence, much less something that made sense to him.

you tilted your head to see his face, seeing that his eyes were closed now, his hair, which was usually combed back, falling over his forehead, with some of the ends of the strands tickling his lowered eyelids. you gave a weak smile, hanging the face towel on the window and standing behind him, taking advantage of the exposed left side of his neck to give him a little kiss.

‘’what's up, huh?’’ you asked, giving him another little kiss and feeling his skin shiver with the contact of your lips.

‘’it’s all crap.’’ he grumbled, dropping the pencil on the table and straightening his posture, feeling you raise your hands to massage his shoulders. ‘’you know when you really want to write something, you have the idea in your head, but you just…’’ he said, his tone frustrated as he held the guitar. you knew alex well enough to know that he already felt this way before you even asked. you knew his frown, his sullen voice, his strong drag on his cigarette as if he were breathing the air with anger, and maybe he was.

‘’i know.” you answered in an understanding tone, letting your fingers massage the tense and stiff muscles in his shoulders. “but you’ll make it, you always do. you have a mini genius inside you who can think of the most incredible lyrics in the world in the blink of an eye.” you continued encouraging him, lightly tapping his forehead, watching him shake his head subtly.

“well, guess what: this genius is probably on vacation and i didn’t know about it.” turner replied. for a second, you liked to think that alex really did have a miniature of himself in his head, and that at the moment he was just wearing a pair of swim trunks while sunbathing on some paradisiacal beach on the italian coast. “or he must have died, i don’t know.” he finished with another mumble, leaving the guitar leaning against the wall next to it, standing upright and without any risk of falling.

‘’oh, you're so dramatic, turner.’’ you laughed, dragging his last name because of your accent. ‘’you just need some time. maybe relax. you demand too much of yourself.’’

“you know i've always been like this.” he replied, taking one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out by rubbing the butt on the wooden window frame. you've lost count of how many marks there were on the window frame from rubbing the butts of his cigarettes, but you never complained to him.

alex picked up the pencil again, pressing the end of the eraser to his cheek, glancing at the moment you walked around the chair, making a little space to sit on his lap. he felt the scent of the soap a little more intensely on your body, especially when you wrapped both arms around his neck.

alex liked it when you did that without warning, and you liked it even more. you liked the way he wrapped his long arms around you, letting his big hand wander around your waist, following the path further south and leaving it positioned on the warm skin of your left thigh, gently patting it in a caressing manner.

even though he was stuck in his little musical world, he didn't stop giving you the attention you deserved, even if it was just a little. but you knew he wouldn't be able to do anything now, not being so tense.

you had an idea, laying your head on top of his head, since the position you were in favor of the fact that you were sitting a little higher on his lap. you smelled the faint scent of shampoo in his hair, sliding your nose over his scalp, going down a little to kiss his temple, and then his cheek, and then his jaw. you kissed him as far as your mouth could reach, feeling his skin in contact with your lips and feeling the muscle in his cheek contract as he gave a small smile.

‘’what do you think you're doing, huh?’’ he asked, tilting his head a little to the left so he could look at you, but you were more focused on continuing to trail your kisses down his body, each kiss going down proportionally to the point that you had to get off his lap to get between his legs. ‘’you're distracting me, y’know?’’ he pretended to grumble in protest, but you knew him well enough to know that he was far from angry or bored by the fact that you were doing this.

“that's the intention.” you answered with a slightly muffled voice because you were kissing his belly now, letting your fingers slide over the skin of his abdomen in a slowly torturous way to reach the button of his shorts. not even if alex wanted to, he would be able to hide the shiver he felt with this simple act.

“you're crazy.” he laughed, now lightly nibbling the eraser on the tip of the pencil, his eyes not leaving your figure kneeling in front of him for even a second. it was almost majestic for him to see you like that, at an angle he loved, by the way.

“for you? of course.” he heard you retort in the same tone, feeling you unbutton his shorts and lower the zipper with one hand, while the other was resting on his knee. “but you like it.”

“i didn’t say i didn’t like it.” he said, dropping the pencil on the desk at the exact moment your hand reached the hem of his underwear, letting your fingers curl around the elastic to threaten to pull it down.

but you did it so slowly that it actually hurt him. by now, he was already throbbing just at the thought of feeling your hand wrap around him, or feeling your tongue play with the tip, or simply feeling every inch of him burying himself inside you. it awakened unbearable agony in him.

“you're such a twat.” he said through gritted teeth, squeezing the edge of the desk with his fingers. you raised an eyebrow as you feigned offense, threatening to stop. ‘’no, no, love, i didn't mean that, it's just…’’ he said in a frustrated tone with himself, watching you laugh and lower the piece again enough for his cock to practically jump out.

you saw how impossibly hard he was, with some veins marked all over his length, from the base to the beginning of the tip, which by the way was already merely lubricated with precum. it seemed to be calling your name, totally ready to let you wrap your hand around it and swallow it to the last inch, whether with your mouth or with your cunt.

you didn't waste time, you were as eager as he was. your tongue slid deliciously over the tip, tasting him and watching him suck in air forcefully between his teeth. it was as addictive and tasty as the sight you had of him, feeling his hand grab the back of your head, guiding your swollen lips to start swallowing him slowly.

as much as he had that urgency to see you choke on his cock, he could be content with feeling your warm mouth envelop the tip, your delicate hand stayed around the base, pumping slowly and gently and holding it firmly to make him erect as he entered more on your mouth. 

turner was already starting to feel the slight spasms with the vibration of your throat on his cock when you let out a muffled moan. he’s not the kind of guy who is a fan of advance warnings, because when you least expected it, you felt him bucking his hips, making you feel him deep in your throat, which made you cough. he moaned shamelessly when you pulled your head away to get some air, playing with his tip with your tongue, giving it kittenish licks from every possible angle before putting him back in my mouth, swallowing him again without him having to move again.

“oh, so fucking good…” he groaned, letting his head fall back, delighting in the feeling of your warm mouth wrapping around his cock, taking him deeper, feeling your throat closing around the tip. he felt his senses overwhelmed, every fiber of his body contracting as your tongue swirled around his pulsing length.

he looked down at you at some point, your eyes locked on his, he couldn't even try to explain how crazy he went when you looked at him like this, hypnotizing him with your warm mouth and enigmatic eyes, wide like cherry pies.

“such a good girl for me. you're going to make me want to put composition aside to fuck you.” he growled, his fist closing around the towel wrapped on your head.

“you say that like it's a bad thing.’’ you pouted, kissing his tip several times and he chuckled, moving his hand to run his thumb on your cheek, looking tenderly at you.

“baby, you know i love fucking you. really.” he purred, holding his cock and gesturing for you to open your mouth, tapping his shaft on your tongue, the slapping sound adding to the pleasure of both. ‘’love feeling your mouth, your tongue, your pussy clenching around my cock…’’ he continued, his words sending slight jolts of lust through your body. he always knew what to say to make you even wetter.

‘’mhm, so we should fuck, y'know?’’ you said, swirling your tongue around his tip, your eyes pleading for him. you said that like you hadn't already fucked that morning.

‘’we should.’’ he agreed with you, pulling the towel from your head, massaging your scalp, the damp strands of your hair tangled in his fingers. ‘’stand up and turn around.’’ he said in a gentle order, patting your neck lightly.

you giggled, obeying him without a second thought, standing up and turning on your heels, the open window overlooking the deserted street was all you had. could there be people passing by or neighbors who might appear at their apartment windows at any moment? possibly.

but you didn't care much about that as you felt alex untying the knot of your robe while standing behind you, you could feel his hard cock rubbing against your thigh as he made you bend over the desk, your bare tits pressing on top of his notebook. the rough paper pages combined with alex's hands holding the hem of your robe makes your nipples harden, the cotton fabric reached halfway down your back, your lower body exposed to him like a full meal.

“you smell so good.” he hummed, dragging his nose over the skin of your left buttock as if he were snorting coke, your soft skin and your refreshing post-shower scent made him want to melt all over you. he was completely crazy about you.

“it's because i took a shower.” you laughed, feeling his teeth sinking into your skin as if he wanted to take a bite, and he would do that if he could. he could devour you and not waste a thing.

“nah. just your natural scent. and a bit of grapefruit.” he hummed, his large hands gripping your buttcheeks, separating them to reveal your two puckering holes, your cunt already drooling, needing him to take care of it.

his mouth watered at the sight as his cock throbbed in need. he didn't think twice or wait for you to beg for him, his tongue was already darting out to taste you, collecting your slimy juices, feeling that his guts were being blessed by your taste, like a sweet nectar.

you gasped softly, your forehead resting on the rigid wood desk, his tongue molding between your slick folds as the tip of his nose tickled your asshole, making it gap at the slightest touch. the wet muscle made its way upwards, sinking into your needy hole, going as far as he could, holding your buttocks tightly to keep them apart.

you muffled your moans as he fucked you with his tongue, biting your arm to prevent some loud moaning. his tongue moved up just a bit, licking your perineum just to tease your tight hole, circling the spot with the tip of his tongue, making you squirm.

“too bad we're out of lube.” he sighed, more to himself than to you. he knew you still could try it just like this, lubricating you with lots of spit and stretch you with his fingers until you were relaxed enough to accommodate his cock, but he didn't want to risk hurting you and consequently never wanting to try again. 

you chuckled softly, remembering that you're indeed out of lube. alex ended up overdoing it last time because he felt like it was never enough. or maybe he just liked to see how easily he could fuck you from behind, seeing how his cock disappeared inside your hole that was tighter and warmer than your pussy.

“maybe next time?” you suggested, feeling the tip of his tongue threatening to enter, the sensation almost overwhelming you. 

“yeah. i'll remember to buy the whole supply of lube next time i stop by the drugstore.” he said, giving you one last lick, one of his hands went down to stroke his cock lightly, he was hard as a rock at this point, aching to be inside you. his internal struggle with music could wait a bit.

alex's right hand spread your right ass cheek while his left hand guided his cock to your entrance, playing a bit with you, his tip threatening to enter, making a small “pop” when he pulled back. you were about to complain about it, but your unspoken words disappeared when he eased inside you, his thick cock filling every space as if it was molded especially for you.

“oh fuck, yes…” you gasped, your hands closing into fists on the edges of the desk, your knuckles turning white as he bottomed out slowly, pulling back until he saw his tip, slamming back inside your cunt again.

“fucking love this pussy, did i tell you that already?” he groaned, lifting your leg so you could bend more on the desk, allowing him to bury his cock deeper inside your clenching walls. 

“everyday.” you said. you almost smiled at the thought if he wasn't picking up his pace gradually, your mind and body filled by him and only him. his fingers gripping the flesh of your ass cheeks, leaving a red mark upon their wake. 

alex collected a small amount of saliva on his mouth, angling his head to spat directly on your asshole, watching how it slided, coating his cock as he moved in and out of you at a frantic pace, the desk hitting the wall with each violent thrust. 

he couldn't help but brought his thumb there, circling the tight ring teasingly, threatening to go in a little bit more and more, until the tip of his thumb went through, stretching you just a little, but it was enough to make you gasp and clench more around him.

“do you like that, hmm? do you like having your holes filled by me?" he growled when he reached your ear, his thumb sinking deeper into your hole until his knuckle, making you squirm even more, whining in pleasure as you nodded, the idea of letting him take you from behind like this didn't sound so bad even with the lack of lube. “dirty little thing.”

you brought your hand to your clit, your eager fingers trying to build the pleasure faster as your body heated up, like there's an inferno inside you. but no, it was alex. just alex.

alex notices your subtle moves between your legs, his thumb abandoning your gaping hole to grab your wrist, pinning it behind your back, holding it tightly with his other free hand.

“no. only i can do this.” he said, his voice sounding demanding and authoritative despite the husky tone. it wasn't like you couldn't touch yourself, but he loved the idea of touching you, of being the only reason you're completely destroyed after he's done with you. he wanted to be everything to you and do everything for you.

your hand was replaced by his, his fingers already coated with your wetness when he rubbed against your folds, feeling the outline of his cock sliding in and out of you, filling you to the brim and even making you stand on the tip of your toes.

“a-alex, i'm gonna cum, please…” you panted, almost passing out, he was taking you so hard, like he was angry or frustrated with you. yeah, he was frustrated, but not with you. never with you.

“yeah, i know, baby.” he whispered, rubbing your clit sloppily because of the position, but still making you go crazy with his movements, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again, determined to reduce you to a crying mess as you came on his cock and your body collapses onto the desk. 

in no time, the feeling of orgasm hits you hard, your whole body lost all strength and you felt the knot in your stomach undoing abruptly, your breath completely disappearing for a few seconds, replaced by a moan that was almost a scream.

contrary to what you thought, he didn't stop there. firstly, you didn't even know why you thought he would stop. he never stops after your first orgasm.

he flipped you over, slipping out of you just to fill you up again, not even giving you time to open your eyes to look at him, forcing your sore pussy to accommodate his veiny and angry cock once again.

“too cockdrunk already?” he smirks at your wrecked state, making you rest your calves on his shoulders. you didn't even need to answer him, even because you could barely form coherent words.

he continued at the same intensity while you tried to escape because you were already crying and didn't know if you could handle the overstimulation he was giving you, your legs wobbly like jelly failing on his sides, being supported by his forearms since his hands were gripping your thighs, preventing you from running away or closing your legs.

“come for me again, darlin’. i know you can do it.” alex said to you, his voice sounding like a rough melody as his face came close to yours, placing kisses along your jaw. 

and again, another orgasm consumed you in a much more intense way, your cervix hurt and you felt that you're so aroused and wet that it was already running down your legs as you cried out.

“so pretty.” he praised you, his index finger strolling through your half-open lips, passing through them and entering your mouth, pressing on your tongue. “wider.” he commanded, putting more pressure on your tongue with his finger, forcing you to open your mouth wider.

he took his finger out of your mouth, squeezing your face with his firm hand as he spat inside your mouth, hitting your tongue and the back of your throat. it didn't catch you by surprise, actually. it just turned you on, even if you were already at the height of your sensitivity.

“swallow.” he tapped your cheek, allowing you to swallow it without even thinking, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out just to show him that you did it. “good fucking girl.” he said proudly, his cock twitching at your submissive side, teetering the edge. “fuck, 'm gonna cum, baby. where do you want?”

“inside me.” you answered without thinking twice. it wasn't like you didn't like it when he came on your face or in your mouth or on your tits. but you liked the primal feeling of him spilling all his cum inside you. he chuckled darkly.

“greedy. want my cum all to yourself?” he asked and you nodded, finding the strength to lock your legs around him as he picked up his pace slightly, chasing his own release after making you cum twice. 

“you know that i love it when you fill me up.” you whispered, propping yourself up on your elbows to reach his bottom lip, nibbling it gently as he grabbed you, holding you close as his head sank into the curve of your neck.

“oh fuck, f-fuck…” he choked on his own words as he came inside you, spilling jets his seed deep inside your cunt to the point that it leaked out, staining your legs and your bathrobe. “jesus fucking…” he paused, catching his breath as the last remnants leave his body to fill you. “christ.”

you finally could let your body dismantle on the desk, your head resting on the window sill, your blurry vision trying to get used to the view of the blue sky on that particularly sunny afternoon. 

“you good?” he asked you, still buried deep inside you, giving you sweet kisses along your stomach. 

“always good with you.” you smiled at him when he reached your chest, resting his head on your left boob, listening to the rapid beating of your heart. 

“you just gave me an idea, y'know?” he whispered to you, his warm and ragged breathing tickling your skin. “my beautiful inspiring muse. don't know what would become of me without you.”

“you flatter me.” you chuckled, running your hand through his messy hair, his sweaty scalp moistened the tips of your fingers. 

“just telling the truth.” he chuckled along with you, his pretty and wide eyes looking at you in awe. “i love you.” he whispered again, as if he was sharing a secret that only you needed to know.

you looked back at him, taking the sight of his face so close to yours. you were looking at him with that loving gaze while you felt the blood flow increase in your veins because your heart was beating too fast. but it was impossible not to have that feeling when looking at his slightly contorted mouth as he absentmindedly bit the inside of his cheek, his cheekbones were flushed and his eyes again took on that slightly greenish brown hue when the light reflected off them in that underexposure of colors that matched the ebony of his hair unruly now without the hair gel.

yeah, you loved him too.

“i love you too.” you answered him, seeing the smile forming on his lips, the corners of his eyes getting a bit wrinkly. you loved these little features of him. 

he leaned in to kiss you, his body moved and consequently his soft cock slipped out of you, you both groaning softly at the disconnection. but the kiss made it better. 

“i’ll have to take another shower.” you mumbled between his lips when you felt his cum running out of you, running down your thighs. he chuckled, it wasn't like you're complaining, much less that he had regretted it. “when will you work on your idea?”

he pretended to think, his lips still sealed in yours.

“after the shower.” he blowed some air inside your mouth like he was inflating a balloon. you laughed, rolling your eyes. he always played these stupid pranks on you, but you loved it. 

“will you join me?" you asked with raised eyebrows.

“only if you have me.” 

you didn't have to answer him.

[dark-and-kawaii]

your writing makes me go so fucking feral dude oh my god

could i request a haarlep/reader and raphael/reader nsfw blurb or literally anything? i eat your writing up like it's my last meal

☆ Tʜᴇɪʀ Lᴏᴠᴇʟʏ Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇ Tᴏ�� ☆

₊˚⊹♡ Pᴀɪʀɪɴɢs: Haarlep x F!Tav/Reader ✧ Raphael x F!Tav/Reader

₊˚⊹♡ Cᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: NSFW ✧ Soft Haarlep Towards End ✧ Possessive Raphael ✧ Filling You With So Much Cum Your Tummy Feels Full ✧ Big Pretty Ridged Cocks ✧ Breeding You ✧ Creampie ✧ Stretching You Nicely

₊˚⊹♡ Nᴏᴛᴇ: Awh ♡ ♡ ♡ Thank You So Much For Enjoying My Work xoxo!!! I Did Both Because Both Of Them Are Perfection!!! I Hope You Love This My Dear ♡ ♡ ♡ May This Feed Your Soul And Your Horniness xoxo ♡ ♡ ♡

Hᴀᴀʀʟᴇᴘ

“Who said you can rest, dove~”

Haarlep lifted your limp body with ease, his nails kissing your hips as he held your abused hole above his thick cock. The creatures cum drooling from your twitching pussy, making quite the mess on his lap, “Is this really the best your body can do? How disappointing.” He pouts mockingly, “We were only just getting started, little love~”

The incubus’ lips pulled into a sharp grin as his tail curled around your thigh to spread your leg wider for him. The tip of his cock teasing your opening, pushing into the sloppy mess your body was.

You were so tired… So, so tired… Sore, and exhausted. You had lost count of how many times you came and how many times Haarlep did. But you still couldn't help but cry out as Haarlep impaled you on his beautiful veiny cock once again, your head lolled back before your body slumped forward onto his chest, “Ahhh~♡ Ha-Haarleeeerp~ Th-e tip of y-your dick and n’my cervix are touching n’kissing each other~~~♡ Aahh~ It h-hurts so s’good~! Y-Yur gonna rip m-my n’insides~ ♡ Aaahha~”

A low purr rumbled in Haarlep's chest at your words as he started bouncing you on his cock, “What a good little toy~ You're taking me so well, dove~! Such a lovely little plaything~” Your breast, smushed so wonderfully against his chest, rubbed against his warm skin with each thrust, and he could feel how those cute perky nipples had gotten hard against him, “even though we’ve had our fun so many times now, you still react so nicely~ and you’re still so wonderfully tight~” his tongue licks against your cheek, lapping at the sweat that drenched your lovely flushed skin, “it almost feels like my cock is being strangled~”

Your arms wrapped around Haarlep's neck, and you held on tight, trying your best to match his pace and movements, your insides stretched and stuffed, the head of his cock hitting the entrance of your womb with each bounce, “s’too rough. M-my insides ngh~ a-are being bullied~ ♡ I- I feel like I'm gonna diee~ aahh~! ♡♡ Y-you're g-gonna break m-me~♡” You could feel his cum from the previous rounds sloshing around in your gut, the excess bubbling out with each thrust.

The creature knew how to make you break, knew how to make those pretty eyes of yours glaze over and roll into the back of your skull until tears dripped down your cheeks. Knew how to make those soft little noises come from your lips as you were fucked dumb.

“I would never allow that, sweet dove~ What fun would I have if you were broken before our time was up~?” His tail loosened around your leg and slid up your body, the tip of it flicking and brushing against your skin, his eyes narrowing, “Besides, if you were to die, who would let me have my fill~? And then, who would make such delicious, delectable noises just for me, little dove~?”

You were unable to respond, his thrusts too much for your poor mind… Unable to feel the way his arms were now securely wrapped around you, keeping you close. How his tail curled protectively against your back, or the soft way his eyes gazed at you…

You were unable to see just how gentle and caring his expression was as he fucked you. How the way his mouth parted, the fangs that had previously torn through your flesh and left behind bloody, purple marks, now glistened with saliva as he whispered, cooed and moaned, sweet words just for you, his little dove… Yes you were, his little dove, the one who came to him and gave him your life and body.

His sweet, lovely, little dove.

Rᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ

Your face was pressed into his mattress, his clawed hand tangled in your tousled locks as his hips snap against you, each thrust eliciting a sharp gasp or moan from those pretty bruised lips of yours. He had his other large hand splayed across the small of your back, holding you in place. His ridged cock pushing the cum he dumped into you further until it takes up every inch of space, making you feel full and stuffed.

“R-Raphael~! Pleassse! W-wait!!” You whimper pathetically, voice cracking as he ruts harder against you.

He leans over you, his hot breath washing over your back, causing goosebumps to erupt over your heated skin, before he growls lowly, “You were clearly reveling in the moment just a moment ago; do not retreat into shyness now, my little bird.”

Little bird, or rather little songbird as he usually says… Was his most recent pet name for you simply because he enjoyed the way you sung his name like a songbird as your body convulsed with each orgasm he wrung out of you.

Raphael licked a long, slow stripe up your spine, chuckling as you shiver and squirmed beneath him, mewling softly, before he nuzzles your neck and whispers huskily in your ear, his voice deep and gravelly, his tone alone sending a rush of heat to your face, “You're mine, leaking my seed. Do you not yet comprehend? I aim to ensure that your womb is nourished on this day.”

Your lips fell open, your eyes widening and cheeks flushing as his words settled in the deepest parts of your mind. The very thought of being bred by this devil, of his warm seed taking root within your belly, it made your head dizzy, “I-I’m-I... I-I'm- m’your- y-yours~” You slur, tongue heavy as you speak, “S’good~ m’your property~”

Raphael chuckles and pulls away, only to flip you over onto your back and then grab your thighs and pull them up, his hands moving to hook them behind your knees, pressing them close to your chest, “Indeed, my lovely little songbird, you belong to me.”

His hand caresses your cheek, a thumb running across your lips, pulling the bottom one down, a string of saliva connecting the digit and your lip, “Your lips,” his nail bites into the supple flesh, dragging across, splitting it, and the metallic taste of blood coats your tongue, making him moan as he watches you lick it up, a dark, hungry look in his eye, “your tongue, ah such a pleasurable anatomy” he slips a digit onto your tongue, groaning as you swirl it around his thick finger, “your womb” his finger leaves your mouth with a wet plop and your saliva as it trails down between your breasts until he finds where your bodies are joined.

A small bulge present beneath your navel, and he presses his palm flat against it, making you arch your back as his cock throbs and twitches inside of you, “your soul…“ He grinds his hips, pushing his cock deeper and harder against that spot, making you squeal, the bulge growing more pronounced and causing your stomach to distend as the tip of his cock nudges against your cervix, “all of you belongs to me.”

[jeonggukieverse]

Number One Fan

Pairing: Writer Y/N x Yandere Jungkook 

Genre: Yandere/Horror Fic 

Warnings: This is gonna be a pretty dark one, so I’m going to put content warnings and disclaimers each chapter. There aren’t any in this one :)

Word count: 1.5k

Synopsis - After a serious car crash, novelist Y/N is rescued by former nurse Jeon Jungkook, who claims to be her biggest fan. Jungkook brings her to his remote cabin to recover, where his obsession takes a dark turn when he discovers Y/N is killing off his favourite character from her novels. As Y/N devises plans for escape, Jungkook grows increasingly controlling.

- Ryeon <3

Teaser

Your feet were aching. The torn-up flesh on the souls of your bare feet pound on the mossy patches of the forest floor. The foul mixture of half melted snow and mud seeped into your wounds. It hurts. But you don’t care. 

Your lungs feel as though they would shrivel up at any moment. Each inhale feels like fie and acid pooling in your chest. Your poor heart is doing all that it can to keep going. As are you. 

Your skin was damp with sweat. The once warm perspiration that seeped out of you now clung to your clothes, making you cold. You felt as though you had been running for hours.

But you couldn’t stop. You mustn’t stop running. You had to get away from him. 

You only had one chance to escape and this was it. 

You knew that if he caught you, that would be the end of the game. And you will have lost.  

A game. 

That’s what this was. 

That’s what everything in your life was and always had been. 

And you’d always lost. Cause you never paid attention. 

Even now, as your life is in peril, you couldn’t help but think back to a moment in your past. Where distraction had gotten you in trouble. 

You couldn’t have been any older than thirteen. 

You must have been. Because your teacher was Mr. Kim. The teacher whose breath smelled like coffee and Newport cigarettes. A vile combination. 

You remembered so distinctly because in this particular instance, this breath blew into your face as his was about 10 centimeters away from yours.

He was scolding you, pretty severely, because you had been caught jotting down stories while in his math class. 

You were always doing that. Always doing the wrong thing at the wrong times. Always going left when everyone else was going right. And it almost always got you in trouble, but this time was different. This time was worse. 

Mr. Kim was adamant that you had done this one too many times. You remember he had said: 

“Y/N get your nose out of your book. Writing these silly little stories is going to get you nowhere. You need to learn to pay attention, young lady. Since you aren’t taking my warnings seriously, it may be time to escalate the matter”.

Your palms began to clam up, as you knew what this meant.

“I’ll need to contact your mother” 

At that moment everything seemed to move in slow motion. Panic began to set in as you knew a phone call to mother would be a step beyond a death sentence. 

“Take this note to the principal’s office, I shall be in shortly so we can organize a discussion with your mother” 

Your mother was not a nice woman. Not nice at all.

Nothing good would come of this and you knew what fate awaited you in the grim future. 

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do. You ran. You ran as fast as your little legs could carry you. 

Mr. Kim handed you the note and as soon as the door closed, you were off. 

You ran to the only place you knew solace. A woodland area behind your school. 

Your school was built in 1898. The old girl had seen some things. Horrific things. 

Back in the 1900s these woods were used as a hunting grounds. The older students would come out here and hunt deer and rabbits. Now, it was just a place where the older girls would come out here and smoke cigarettes at lunchtimes. The ones that were brave enough, that is. 

There was something dark about these woods. There was nothing about the woodlands that looked outwardly abnormal, there was just too much of it. Like a smile with too many teeth. Not to you though, to you it was freedom. Solace. Peace. 

Maybe you were just drawn to dark things. 

You ran deep into the coppices. Past the brook and beyond the abandoned mill. You perched yourself under the large oak tree. Inhaling and exhaling hard as the running mixed with the panic had your heartrate going a million miles per hour. But now you could rest at lease for a while. 

It’s funny really. Even when your life was in danger your mind wondered away. You guess Mr. Kim had every right to be concerned. 

“Y/N! Why Are you running, baby?!” 

Fuck. His voice sounded so close. Too close. 

His footsteps hammering on the same crushed, now blood-soaked, snow, leaves and moss-covered ground. 

“You know I’m going to catch up with you. Why are you doing this?! I thought you were happy with me!”

Christ. Why was he doing this?

“Look Y/N. I’m sorry if you weren’t comfortable, we can make changes baby just please come back.”

Through the trees you can make out a light ahead of you. Not much further to go. 

“Baby, we don’t have to tie you to the bed anymore! Please, Y/N, you’re still injured! It’s not safe for you to be running when your feet haven’t healed properly”

‘Because of you, you sick fuck’ you screamed inside your head. You wanted to scream at him but all your focus needed to be on running. 

“Just stop now and your punishment won’t be too bad” 

Oh god. He sounded just like her.

The earth and muck beneath your feet had changed to concrete. A road! You’ve don’t it, you reached the road. 

You try to take another step onto the cold wet asphalt but your feet fail you. True to his word, your feet hadn’t heeled yet and the adrenaline keeping your pain at bay had worn off. 

You collapsed on the floor, the dull pain in your ankles paralyzing you. 

You hear his footsteps and his heavy panting behind. In horror, you drag yourself further onto the road. You can’t give up; this can’t be the end. 

“I will say Y/N, I admire your spirit” his slightly exasperated voice still sounded sickly sweet. 

“I’ve always admired that about you. You never give up on anything. But yet you gave up on us. I don’t think that’s very fair, do you, my love?” he walks towards you, at a petrifyingly slow pace.  

This is it. You’ve lost. Certain this was your last moments; you close your eyes. A tear, you hadn’t released had been at bay rolled down your cheek. 

You listed to the birds in the distance and the soft patter of rain and you couldn’t help but think back again. You couldn’t help but think back to how you got here. How it came to be that you would die like this. 

At the hands of Jeon Jungkook. Your number one fan. 

This is gonna be a wild ride! Im so happy to be back writing again~ Hope you all enjoy!

This fic is loosely based on one of my favourite movies: ‘Misery’

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list 🤍

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part one

authors note: well, i got some type of writers block working on two other RR wip's so opened a new google doc and ended up with this. prob gonna be 3 parts, maybe 4. there's an almost five year time jump after this one, can you guess why? also, joe's wife is an oc, not galina.

first time posting my roman writings on here and trying not to freak out tbh

warnings: angst, infidelity, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

word count: 4,000

You know that assignment everyone at some point in their education where they research what they want to be when they grow up and share it with the whole class for a grade? Yeah, that big mammoth of a question that somehow you’re supposed to have confidently answered before even reaching double digits.

That was always super easy for you.

From as far back as you can remember, you wanted to be a teacher. It took until you were in middle school, almost high school for you to settle on an elementary school teacher, college for a specific grade. But, the teaching profession always called to you.

You chalk it up to your grandmother, undoubtedly one of your favorite people in this entire world. She was also an elementary school teacher who taught until she was expectedly called home when you were 14. Some part of you wonders if you’ve never even allowed yourself to entertain any other professions because of her loss. She was your best friend, and following in her footsteps was wanted but also felt somewhat necessary. Like you had to in order to honor her and her legacy.

A couple years into your career, you still think about that, how you’ve known from such a young age what you wanted to do with your life. Well, one part. 

In other areas, maybe the most important areas, you were lost as all of the outdoors. Mostly in one area, if you’re being honest, and truthfully, it’s not even what you want in as much as it is how you get there. The path is relatively simple: find a man, fall in love, get married, have babies, live happily ever after.

It’s such a stereotypical trajectory, but one you’ve also envisioned for yourself since your late teens. You’d gotten partying all out of your system during the early college years, somewhat in high school as well. Now in your mid 20s, soon to be late 20s, all you want to do is prepare to eventually settle down. Sooner rather than later.

And the issue isn’t even having no prospects. You have a prospect, he’s just unavailable. 

Because he’s already fucking married.

But can you even call him a prospect when that implies there’s some chance? Because there’s zero chance. You know this. You know this very well, too well. So why you still allow him into your bed and inside of you is beyond you. Yes, the sex is out of this world, but you desire more than that. Maybe not at first, but almost three years deep into this arrangement, most definitely.

You still think back to your first meeting.

Your best friend won a contest that not only granted her two front row tickets to a Smackdown show but backstage passes as well. You met so many wrestlers that night, some you grew up watching on TV as the little tomboy that you were as a kid. But, it was one wrestler in particular: tall, muscular, hair more beautiful and silky than any silk press your beautician mother could ever style, that changed your life. Whether for better or worse remains to be seen. 

He was attractive, extremely, possibly one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. But, the attraction was short-lived when you spotted the wedding band on his left hand. You’d be lying if you tried to say that was when the attraction sizzled out. It diminished, but it was still there. Still, you didn’t think much of it, that was until you received a call from a number on your phone that you didn't recognize. 

Why you even accepted the call is still a mystery. You never answered random calls, yet that one was an exception, an exception that resulted in you having an unexpected phone conversation with Roman fucking Reigns. He explained that he got your number from your friend who’d exchanged contact information with a wrestler she met that night as well. They were messing around too, that much you knew. And good for her. He, unlike Roman, was not married and therefore free to fuck around.

The conversation lasted much longer than it needed to, especially given the flirtatious nature it quickly took on. It was wrong, you knew this well, very well. He took vows, but you were also aware of those vows. And heat no point pressured you into anything, you could have cut it off. Flirtatious he was, but forceful he was not.

The conversations increased in frequency and length over a matter of weeks that turned into months, and before you knew it, your day started and ended with either a text or phone call from the wrestler. 

A small part of you knew that it would eventually escalate into more, a man like him seemed like he needed more. But, you stupidly tried to tell yourself that when that time came, you would remain strong and draw the line in the sand with just communication. Even if it was just as wrong as anything else.

It was a silly thought. 

Your resolve was weak.

You absolutely did not need to accept his invitation to fly you out to one of his shows, and you damn sure didn’t need to allow him to take you back to his hotel where your legs ended up wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you—among other things—until the early hours of the morning.

The days after that were rough. You felt absolutely disgusted with yourself. It was one thing to flirt with a married man, but it was an entirely different thing to fuck a married man. He wasn’t yours. He belonged to someone else. He had a life with some other woman. You had no right to insert yourself into that union, so you decided to sever contact with him, deleting his number from your phone and shoving the experience in the ‘biggest regret of your life’ box with no intention of reopening it.

Unfortunately for you, Roman, Joe, as he asked you to call him, was a persistent bastard.

You ignored his texts, so he called. You ignored his calls, so he texted. You ignored both, and this motherfucker showed up at your goddamn door. There were multiple times you could have and should have ended things, that being another perfect opportunity. If you told him to leave that night, not allowed him into your apartment, he would have listened. He was stubborn and resolute but also respectful. If you told him to leave, really told him, he would have done so.

But, you didn’t. You allowed him into your place and similar to the last time you were in his presence, ended up spread out on your bed with him balls deep inside you until you couldn’t feel your lower half. 

Now, fast forward three years later, not much has changed. You two don’t communicate quite as much in the day, and his visits are more spread out given the company’s current efforts at pushing him as the new face of the company. But, that doesn’t stop his visits to come see you and flights he puts you on to come see him, both of which always end with him leaving your legs jelly and throat raw.

All the while his wife sits at home unaware of her husband’s consistent residence between your legs.

The thought alone makes you sick, revolted at yourself, at how you’ve allowed yourself to reach this point in life. Closer to 30 than 20 and going on 3 years of being a mistress to a married man, a man who can never give you the future you want yet refuse to let go. 

Not that you’d ever allow yourself to really acknowledge why. 

That’s….that’s just too much.

________

Pillow talk was just something that naturally happened between the two of you. It made sense given that your relationship started out with just talking. He seemed interested in knowing more about you, about your likes and dislikes. He shared his as well. You weren’t beyond admitting that Joe was insanely easy to talk to, the flow of conversation always natural, never forced. There never seemed to be a dry spot between you two. 

And whether it was an innate ability to pick up on the emotions of others or just his, you could always tell when something was bothering him, could see when he came to you with a burden he didn’t want to discuss.

Not that that stopped you from asking. If he declined to talk about it, you respected it, didn’t push. But, more often than not, he would end up sharing things with you, mostly concerns regarding his career.

It seemed he visioned one thing for himself, while Vince McMahon saw another. He felt frustrated at times, especially when the fanbase started pushing back more. He never admitted as such, but you could see it hurt his feelings. How could it not? Kayfabe or not, Joe was still a real person with real feelings, regardless of the role he played.

And at some point, his visits to see you stopped always involving sex. That happened majority of the time, but there were occasions when he just seemed like he needed someone to be around, a distraction, someone to talk to. 

Someone like you.

“Come on.” You jumped up off the couch and offered your hand that he looked at with disinterest. “Don’t make me drag your big ass. It’ll probably break my back.” He lifts his brow, and you roll your eyes. “Joe, come onnnn.”

“Where are we going?” He finally asks, all the while sighing heavily and standing up. Though unnecessary at this point, he still takes your hand. You try not to think too much of the gentle squeeze he gives.

“To my kitchen.” 

Glancing over, he gestures with his thumb. “The place that’s like 3 feet away.”

You suck your teeth and shove against him. “Don’t be an ass. We’re gonna bake cookies.”

“Bake?”

“That’s what I said.” Though clearly skeptical, he follows you into the kitchen and watches as you start gathering supplies. “I spent a lot of summers with my grandma, and whenever either of us were having a bad day, she��d take us into the kitchen and we’d bake chocolate chip cookies. She’d always say there’s nothing a good chocolate morsel can’t cure.” 

Reflecting on those memories, so fond and cherished, brings a despondent smile to your face.

His eyes fall on you, sensing the sudden sadness. “You miss her.”

“Every day….” Shaking your head, you make a conscious effort to not make this about you and your grief. “Now, we need music.” You settle on some random “cookout” playlist that aids in setting the playful mood. To your surprise, yet not surprise, Joe keeps up without struggle. He's a fast learner, easily following along to your detailed instructions and explanations. Things get messy at times, as one does when baking, but it only causes the two of you to share laughter. Especially when you ‘accidentally’ get flour on each other. For you, it was an accident. His was definitely intentional. 

Still, between the laughter, light conversation, and New Edition serving as backdrop, it’s a sweet moment. 

“And now we wait,” you announce, plopping down on the sofa. “Wrestler by day, baker by night. Who’d a thunk it?”

He chuckles. “I never knew you could cook.”

At that, you nearly choke on the water bottle you’d grabbed off the coffee table. “Me? Cook? No. Not at all. There’s a reason every thanksgiving, my family only asks me to bring the drinks. My mom is the cook. Grandma was the baker. I can make cookies and a few select items. That’s it.”

You can still hear your grandma’s voice in the back of your head, chiding you for never allowing your mom to teach you how to cook. It just never garnered your interest, even when they swore up and down you’d never find a husband without knowing how.

Maybe they were right.

He joins you in the living room, settling on the other end of the sofa. “Maybe I could teach you then.”

His words—and offer—suprise you. “You can cook?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” He rolls his blue eyes. Some days you love the contacts, others you hate them. Today is a love day. They make his beauty even more exquisite. “Because of the big age difference between me and my siblings, it was just me and my mom a lot of times. They were either out and about or had either moved out. She’d ask me to help her out in the kitchen, and I picked up on a couple things.”

“You’re a fast learner.” That much is very obvious, in several areas of his life. “Was it ever hard? Like, not really having them around?”

He seems to think about her question before answering. “Yes and no. The twins moved to Florida when I was like three, and we became close instantly. It was like suddenly having two new brothers. Obviously, they didn’t live with us, so they weren’t always around, and those times were hard, I guess. But the older we got, the more we did together.”

The Usos. Also wrestlers trying to make names for themselves. He really does hail from a legendary dynasty. “I get that. It was just me and my mom, and she worked a lot to support us, so that’s why I spent so much time with my grandma. And I loved it, but sometimes it got lonely not really having siblings.” You look over at him, studying this massive specimen of a man who seems so unsure of himself right now, unsure of his future. He’d hinted at such during their prep, but you bookmarked the comment to revisit. “It’s all gonna work out, you know.”

His gaze is on you, partially disinterested, mostly in disagreement. Joe knows what you're referring to. He chuckles, darkly, “you sound sure.”

“I am,” you counter calmly. Moving to sit on your knees, you continue, “no matter what it takes, you make them respect you. You can do it, and when you finally find your footing, you’ll be one of the best to ever do it. Mark my words.” 

You’ve never been one to build up false hopes in anyone, far too familiar with the sting of disappointment. So every word leaving your mouth drips with sincerity. Joe is so much more than a “pretty face” or someone who got lucky by being born into a wrestling dynasty with a golden spoon in his mouth. He’s worked his ass off, you see how he works his ass off, so the last thing you’d want to witness is him become his own worst enemy by getting too into his head.

“You’ll see. They boo now, but pretty soon they’ll be cheering.” Moving to your knees, you lift your arms in a theatrical display. “Roman, Roman, Roman.” You yelp when his strong arms pull you into his lap, legs spread on either side of his thick thighs. “Would you let me hype you up? Like, damn.”

His smile, so beautiful and genuine, warms your soul. His spirits are lifted, and that’s all that matters. Joe’s hands are on your hips, palms massaging you through your shorts. You move your arms around his neck, resting on his strong shoulders “Thank you.”

It’s at this moment, you foolishly allow yourself to wonder. Wonder what it would be like for this to be the norm, for him to always return to your place when he has time off or in between shows. Wonder what it would be like to consistently be this safe space for him, to be in his corner and not just in the shadows, but in the light. To be supporting him ringside. To be his.

And for a second, you pretend. You pretend that you are his, and he’s yours. That this is your man, and you’re his girl. Just the two of you. Nobody else.

But the comedown from that is devastating, like a boulder sitting on your chest, a butcher knife to your heart. Because he isn’t yours. He never was, and he never will be. 

Mood sullen, you lower your arms to separate yourself. “I should…” You clear your throat, climbing off of him. The air is suddenly too stuffy, the room too small. You need space. “I should go check on the cookies.” 

Joe’s not stupid, far from it. You know that he has to pick up on your 180 in mood, yet he doesn’t pursue you, doesn’t ask questions, and you’re thankful for that. You need to not be around him right now, not so close, not so connected, not so in love.

You need to let him go. ________

“I can’t do this anymore.” 

Joe’s in the midst of sliding his shirt over his head, sitting on the edge of the bed when your voice, low and quiet, stops him mid movement. “What?”

“I said.” You blow out a big breath, unsure why your chest suddenly feels so heavy. “I can’t do this anymore.”

At that, he angles his body so that he can look at you, assess your face. He’s a big eye contact person. “What are you talking about?”

Irritation piques. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Joe.” Gesturing between the two of you, you kick the blankets off and quickly reach for your t-shirt that got discarded last night. Being naked in front of him suddenly feels uncomfortable. “This. It’s done.”

He pauses for a second and then shakes his head, resuming his dressing. “Okay.”

His tone is dismissive, like he doesn’t believe you. Like he thinks you’re playing around. Of course he would be in one of those moods, where he’s more irritable, less receptive and fucking stubborn. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not doing this shit with you right now.” Joe gets up and continues dressing himself, prompting you to climb out of bed and move in front of him. 

He can’t avoid his way out of this. You won’t allow it. It’s time to finally rip the bandaid off. 

You’ve sat on this for the last two weeks, since he last left your apartment and you realized you’d stupidly allowed yourself to fall for this man. Fall for a man who walks around with a wedding ring on his left hand, who’s always had that wedding ring from the moment you met him. You’re not upset with him, not as much as you’re upset with yourself.

You grew up the product of an affair, felt the stinging pain of being rejected by a parent whose selfishness resulted in the creation of life, a life he wanted no part of. Seen how your mom literally begged your piece of shit father to be in your life, to play some role. Heard how he cruelly rejected her, rejected you, calling you your mother’s bastard. A mistake.

It devastated you so deeply that you still can’t really talk about it without getting emotional. 

And yet, you idiotically found yourself playing the same role you used to judge your mother for: the other woman. 

It’s a role you stepped in, and one you must now step out of.

“There’s nothing to do.” You run your hands over your face and shake your head. Choosing to have this conversation at almost 4 o’clock in the morning probably wasn’t the best move, but you also know that if you give yourself more time, you’ll find a reason not to do it. And you need to do this. “You have a wife, Joe. A whole ass woman who loves you and would probably let you fuck her just as much as you like to fuck me. Go be with her, and if not her, find someone else, cause I won’t be that for you. Not anymore.” 

You’re not exactly sure what part of what you just said registered with him, but it’s obvious something did by the change of tone he takes. “Where is this coming from?”

“It’s coming from where it should have come a long time ago,” you answer, crossing your arms over your body. “This was never right, and I refuse to partake in it anymore. I won’t be your whore anymore.”

You didn’t expect hurt to flash in his beautiful eyes nor for him to move closer to you, that hurt intensifying when you back away. He can’t touch you. You can’t allow that, because all it takes is only touch, one longing gaze, and you’ll be putty in his hands. This has to end. “Is that really what you think you are to me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you, Joe,” you answer, honestly. It’s something you’ve battled back and forth with for nearly three years. Just what is it about you that keeps him coming back, keeps him in your bedroom, inside of you. At face value, it’s the sexual compatibility between you. Below the surface level though, there’s maybe more. You’ve never allowed yourself to venture there, and you’re certainly not about to right now. You know how you feel about him, but you refuse to really ask yourself how he feels about you. “And truthfully, it doesn’t matter, cause it doesn’t change anything.”

“So, that’s just it?” His voice is wounded, handsome face painted into a mixture of scowl and a frown. “Almost three years, and you want to throw it all away, for what?”

“For what…..Joe, you are married. You have a whole wife at home. Whatever issues you have that cause you to step out, work that shit out. Learn how to be with her. Cause I’m not doing it any more. I—I can’t.” Emotion imbues your voice toward the end, and you hate that shit. You don’t want him to see, to know, how much this has been eating you up as of lately. “I’m gonna be 30 in a few years. I want to be married. I want to have a family. I deserve that, and I’ll never have it as long as I’m messing with you, so I’ve gotta let you go.” You swallow the deep lump in the back of your throat. “And you’ve gotta let me go.” 

This time, this time you can see the part that wounds him, that digs into his chest. You’ve gotta let me go. 

Joe is fast, fast enough to move directly in front of you, large hands holding your face. He says your name, desperate almost. “Tell me what to do, tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just….” He stops, and you close your eyes, refusing to see if it’s his own emotions coming up. You can barely handle your own cascade of feelings right now and refuse to take on his. “I can’t lose you.”

What you want…..

What you want is for him to never leave. What you want is for him to stay with you, to be with you. What you want is for him to have never met Jadah, never married her, never committed his life to her. 

What you want is for him to be yours and only yours, but what you want….is also what you can never have. 

“I—I want you to leave, Joe.” The words burn your lips, scorch your throat, ache your soul. “And this time….don’t come back.”

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, to see the result of your heartbreaking, even if honest request. It’s because you know seeing him hurt will only cause your resolve to crumble, and you can’t have that. You have to be strong, have to be the woman your mother couldn't.

So, you remain there, remain silent as he steps away from you, his touch vanishing. There’s such an emptiness in his wake.

It’s only when you hear the front door of your apartment shut that you finally feel it, the caving of your stomach, the heavy lump move from the back of your throat, the release of the loud sob you didn’t realize you’d been keeping at bay. 

It’s when you finally allow yourself to feel all of the emotions of a woman who just told the only man she’s ever loved to leave. 

If only you knew his departure was just the beginning of the rest of your life.

[remarcely]

Batmanfic Prompt: WHAT IF Batman got turned into a cat and Red Hood found him?

(This was a prompt somewhere on Tumblr but I lost the original post, if you know who it was let me know so I can tag them)

There were good reasons behind Batman’s rules. ‘Don’t travel without bat-shark repellent’, he’d always managed to get caught off guard the few times it had been missing from his utility belt. ‘All dominoes must be fitted with lenses’ was another. He’d gotten too many bugs in his eyes during his first year to waver on that. Then there was his ban of magic. There were too many examples to count for that rule and, as Bruce looked down at his hands only to find two small black paws, that number appeared to be climbing.

He wasn’t sure why this magic user had come to Gotham, or how for that matter, but one thing he was certain of was that when his body was back to being human again, he was going to throw them off a roof. See if they land on their feet.

Bruce stuck to the shadows and walked behind dumpsters and kicked over bins, stepping over newspaper pages so trodden on they matched the grooves of the streets. He headed further down the alleyway, ears twitching with each droplet of water that fell from the metal fire escape stairs to the puddle collecting the left-over rain beneath it. Sounds of chatter and laughter escaped through the back door of a restaurant, which was cracked open and preventing the fire escape to lock the establishment properly. A fatal mistake in a city like Gotham, especially on such a night when Batman wasn’t in any shape to protect them.

One of their bins was one of the many that had been knocked over. Bruce could smell it, half-full of scraps of food, the delicious scent of cooked meat and fast food. His stomach rumbled and Bruce drew back in shame. He hadn’t eaten before leaving the manor that night, much to Alfreds displeasure, and his hunger had been gnawing away at his focus the entire night. Bruce glanced around warily and slowly crept forward. No one would cast a second glance at it, surely. Stray animals eating discarded food was nothing unusual and, unless that damned magic user was lurking nearby, he wouldn’t be recognised as either Batman or Bruce Wayne. Of course, he would know, but this was hardly the worst thing he’d done.

Bruce darted forward before some unseeable force could stop him and tugged a mostly-wrapped flat shape from the bin. His sharp teeth tore the paper away to reveal most of a hamburger with a single bite taken out of the side. It must have been a mistake and returned. Bruce leaned closer and sniffed it. It smelled fine, nothing dangerous, and pretty damn tasty. His stomach gurgled again and, his hunger getting the best of him, Bruce took a bite. A very small bite, seeing as he was a cat and all.

He took another, and then another. He was pushing his nose further into the torn wrapping, lapping his tongue at the sauce, when two heavy footsteps at the mouth of the alley made Bruce freeze up. His head whipped back and tensed as he recognised the red helmet, illuminated by a single flickering street light.

The Red Hood.

The biggest threat to Gotham in the past few years, and not because of his kill count. It was high but, again, this was Gotham and they’d seen far worse. No, it was the unknown factor to the villain that terrified Bruce. He had no name, no face, and no idea who the murderer was. Even his motive was unclear and Bruce had struggled to piece together much to the mans goals, other than the death of the Joker and the destruction of Batman.

The Red Hood stepped forward and tilted his head to the side. There was nothing else of significance in the alley for him to be staring down other than Bruce. Painfully aware of the villains instability, Bruce took a few steps back until he was partially hidden behind the pile of garbage. Red Hoods chests moved strangely, almost as if he was laughing, but made no sound. It wasn’t until the man pressed something on the underside of his helmets jaw that Bruce could hear him speak.

“Hey there.” The villain spoke softly and crouched down. He removed one of his gloves and extended a hand for Bruce, trying to cajole him forward “Are you hungry, little guy?”

As demeaning as it was, meeting the Red Hood in the unwilling form of a cat was probably the best shot Bruce would get at gathering information on the villain. He acted the part and approached the man, bumping his nose into his bare fingers. The villain chuckled and petted him gently, scratching behind his ears.

“Not a little guy at all, are you?” He snorted at the flat stare Bruce gave him at the comment “You’re pretty big for a cat. Must be a fancy breed or something, huh?”

Bruce dared to place a paw on Red Hoods leg and stretched closer, nosing at his jacket and belt pouches. The Red Hood was armed to the teeth, guns holstered to each leg and another two hidden in his leather jacket.

Hood moved his scratches to under Bruces chin and neck “No collar.” He hummed and carefully picked Bruce up, adjusting the large cat to curl up on his chest half under his jacket “You’re all alone, aren’t you?”

Bruce paused. He’d never heard Hood sound so human before. Their previous meetings had consisted on taunts and threats, almost all of which were followed through on in the same breath. He had theorised that the Red Hood had undergone an intense trauma and found comfort in flying bullets and blood. Bruce could understand using violence to balance out the darker moments in people’s lives, he had done something similar through becoming ‘The Batman’, but hearing Red Hood speak so fondly to what he perceived as a stray hungry cat- it was too much. Bruce had found a ‘cat’ of his own, starving, and desperate, in an alley less than an hour away.

“How about I get you a proper meal.” Red Hood mumbled and ran his free hand up and down Bruces back, revelling in the softness of his dark fur. Bruce raised a front paw, batted his helmet lightly, and was stunned to hear him laugh “Come on, let’s go home.”

Bruce tensed and wriggled in the Red Hoods hold, not caring how ridiculous he might look. He’d only wanted to gather intel, not get the man emotionally attached to him. The shapeshifting-spell could wear off at any moment and he doubted the Red Hood would hesitate in shooting him if Batman suddenly appeared in his home.

“Fuck, stop that. It’s freezing out here, I’m doing you a favour, furball.” He grumbled and wrestled his hold on the cat.

Bruce yowled and made disgruntled noises when he realised he was completely pinned in place. He got louder when Red Hood laughed at him again, settling for swatting him with his tail.

-

Despite hating every moment of it, Bruce made sure to commit the route the Red Hood took as he returned to a safe house to memory.

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff + Angst | Wanderer x GN!Reader Human

SUMMARY You make him feel human.

CONTENT Angst to fluff, mentions of Wanderer's trauma, mentions of suicidal ideation, he's kinda mean to you at first, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR'S NOTE THIS IS WAS INSPIRED BY YOU MY POOKIE @thepurestgirll TY FOR BEING SO SWEET ESP BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE MANY MOOTS JFKDS;LAJ I love your fics and aesthetic and I hope to continue to see your content because I will always be here to love and support it >:)

WORD COUNT: 854

Quiet sobs rack through the empty metal chamber. In the middle sits a man puppet of a man. Clutching the electro gnosis to his chest as his tears pelt the cold floor. Wasn’t this all he ever wanted? He finally has a “heart,” he should feel human, loved, and fit in now, right? But why is he crying? Why does he still feel hollow? Why does he want to give it all up to just be a normal human? Why did his mother create him this way just to throw him aside and make him suffer even more? Why not just have killed him long ago? Should he do it himself? Be free of this wretched body? Be free of all the earthly pain?

So many questions swirled in his mind. His gentle soul has been beat and battered to the point where he doesn’t know the meaning of peace anymore. He’s been alive for so long, chasing the same answer, the same goal. Yet, here he is. So many questions and not a single fucking answer.

Even after all that extra bullshit with Nahida, the traveler, and Irminsul, he only got bits and pieces of answers he needed. He was still lost and hurting, not that he’d ever admit that. So naturally he’s a complete ass to you when all you’re trying to do is help. You’re another adventurer and you often help the traveler when needed. You witnessed a good amount of Wanderer’s tragic journey in Sumeru and afterwards asked Nahida (his mom) if it would be a good idea to try to talk to him. She said yes but that it’d be quite… difficult.

You persevered, though. Through every insult thrown your way, all the times he ignored you, and even the times his attitude almost got you hurt when adventuring. After weeks of it, he found himself here, crying, but this time, in your arms.

He was yelling at you like he usually does but this time it was because you almost got crushed by debris while you two were out on combat commissions. He was telling you how stupid you were, how it would’ve gotten you killed, and how he… couldn’t let it happen. You smiled at him, hearing him say something caring for the first time since you started this whole mission of yours. You walk towards him slowly as he continues to insult you.

“You stupid humans, you never think before you act. Imagine what would’ve happened if I didn’t call out to you to warn you. You-… You’d be dead! I’d spite you because of it! You and your human body, so fucking fragile. Why did I ever want to be like your kind anyways?”

As you close the distance, he gets panicked and confused, shouting at you.

“Why are you even still here anyways?! Isn’t all this too much for you? Why would you want to help someone like me? Don’t you know I’m not human? Why would you want me here? Why would you want to stay? W-why…”

You reach out your arms to slowly envelop him in a hug as his tears well in his eyes. He puts his hands on your shoulders to push you back lightly as if he didn’t want the contact, but he was barely putting up a fight. You both knew that if he didn’t want you to touch him, you wouldn’t even be able to.

“Why… do you even care about me,” he croaked out as his voice started to crack.

“Because I see all the good in you, and I want you to let others see it as well,” you say gently as you pull him close, arms around his waist.

He feels his emotions finally boil over as waves of sadness wash over him. His legs fail under him and you lower the two of you to the grass. He buries his head into your shoulder, sobbing harder as your warmth permeates his body that has only known the cold for so so many years. His arms clutch your head as he stains your shoulder with tears.

You feel so warm. You feel so human. It makes him feel human.

You’ve been taking such good care of him and he doesn’t think he deserves it, but he doesn’t voice it to you, at least not now. You let him cry it out while patting his back. You imagine he hasn’t ever been comforted while crying before and it’s what’s making him cry harder.

You two end the afternoon with him exhausted and you offer to let him rest his head on your legs. You pat his hair as he drifts into sleep, feeling safe for the first time in a long while. The sun warms both your bodies and you bask in it.

You two probably have a lot to talk about when he wakes up. But you stay silent for now. Enjoying the peace that he rarely gets to have. It’s a long healing journey ahead of you two but this puppet man knows that he wouldn’t rather embark on it with anyone else.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[reorientation]

It's only been two days but I figured I'd come share one of my favorite fantasies here.

I want a cruel girlfriend who's a staunch lesbian, doesn't care for Men at all or want them touching her. But the moment she meets me, she instantly can tell how much my pussy drips at the thought of a Man using me as He pleases, despite my proudly worn label as a lesbian.

It doesn't happen quickly, for a while she treats me normally. Only involving fantasies about other women, only using her fingers and her mouth to make me cum, never doing anything out of the ordinary for a "lesbian" couple. Until she slowly starts incorporating more Male centric ideas into my head, she asks innocently if I'd mind trying to take a dildo during sex. I agree because it's not like it's actually a Man right?

Then she asks my opinion on her wearing a strap on, by this point she's almost entirely stopped going down on me. Our sex almost entirely comprises of fingering and her dildos that are steadily growing in size. I say yes to her using a strap on, because I love her and want to make her happy. She makes comments about how we're probably the straightest lesbian couple out there.

Before I've realized it, she's now only using a squirting strap on when we have sex. I don't top her at all anymore, I'm a complete pillow princess now. She doesn't finger me or rub my clit anymore, our foreplay entirely exists of her pushing me to my knees to suck her strap. She tells me how I'm suck a natural at having a cock in my mouth.

It isn't until a few weeks later that she truly starts breaking my brain. "This is what you've always wanted, isn't it? To be fucked on all fours by a thick cock about to turn you into a mommy. Maybe we should have a guy fuck you instead since it's what you crave." It's impossible for me to hold back my orgasm when she says that.

One day she blindfolds me and tells me it's just trying something new, I feel her filling my cunt in a way she never has before, almost like she's throbbing. I can't stop whimpering and letting out high pitched moans, it feels like she's gotten so much stronger since the last time we slept together.

I lose count of how much I cum, and she asks my barely there brain if I'd like to see a surprise. When she takes the blindfold off all I can see is not one, but three Men on our bed while she sits next to me, the one in front clearly the person who's been fucking me the whole time.

I'm terrified, I don't understand what's happening but she tells me it's okay, that she understands. I've been calling myself a lesbian this whole time when in reality my sexuality is whatever she wants it to be, and right now she wants me to be a hole for Men. I so obviously loved having a real cock filling me, and I shouldn't deny myself.

By the time the first Man cums inside of me I'm gone, I'm completely lost to cock, there's nothing I want more in life than to be filled and used by Men.

My girlfriend and I have stopped having sex now, anytime she's horny she goes out to find a real lesbian to fuck her, or she texts at least three Men telling them her dyke is begging for His cock again so she can watch me be broken over and over again.

She fills my head with ideas that all Men are better than me, they're entitled to my body because I'm so stupid. Because I shouldn't have been showing off my huge tits in such a tight shirt. Because I denied them access to my holes for so many years when I hadn't rubbed my cunt to girls since before I had met her. And I believe her.

Her favorite days are when I come home a complete mess, having obviously been raped by one of her friends on my way back. She even makes me call them when I touch myself, thanking them and begging for them to be more cruel next time.

I still love her and she still loves me, she just loves ruining me more. She still calls me her lesbian girlfriend, but we both know it's only because it makes Men extra aggressive when breaking me.

I've never been happier than being my girlfriend's ruined dyke.

- 🩵

I don't even think I need to add anything - except to say that this little broken dyke is a very good girl.

[dy6nsty]

Can I request sleep token x reader with a reader who is accident prone? Today alone i have slid on ice, smacked my head off a shelf, and stabbed myself with a comb.

══════════════════════

I LOVE THIS PROMPT. YES, YES YOU CAN‼️I also hope you’re doing good after all that..

Sleep Token x GN! reader who has a tendency to get injured

Relationship— Romantic

══════════════════════

Vessel:

Suddenly has eyes in the back of his head. Knows you’re picking something up. “Put it down.”

Leaves you alone for a couple of minutes and comes back to chaos. Chaos in this scenario was you breaking something.

Blueprints things in his head to figure out if there’s anything that could possibly put you out of trouble.

Was considering getting you one of those child leashes so he can keep a better eye on you.

Follows you around sometimes to make sure you don’t injure yourself or break something. Watching you bump into 70% of things you come across.

Puts rubber counter protectors on surfaces with sharp or hard corners, just so you won’t bang into them on accident.

If you can’t walk in a straight line (I can’t do it either don’t worry guys! 😊)— he’ll help you get around. “Left- right! RIGHT!”

His worst enemy is winter and spring. We have icy grounds than slippery grass. But is also your frenemy.

Is now stalked up with bandaids, glue, tape and other necessities he might need for the future with you. Which is probably a lot.

If you come to him with an injury he’ll let out a long sigh before asking what happened. Let’s you ramble on about how you’ve gotten hurt now while he fixes you up.

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II:

Call him the gigglesaurus at this point. Will watch you stumble than fall and start cackling before realizing he’s not supposed to laugh..

Likes the chaos it can bring! But he still gets a mini panic attack when he realizes you’ve disappeared from you once were: beside him.

Learned how to treat wounds, bruises, and stuff because of how often it started happening. Also learned how to fix mirrors!

Wants to know all of the dumb or serious stories you have. He’s all for it.

Likes to keep an arm around your waist to ensure you won’t get into any inconvenience.

Tries to help you with tasks you might accidentally fuck up. Reaching for things, organizing glasses, cleaning, or even will escort you around areas so you don’t trip over your own feet!

Counts up how many bruises or any marks you have at the end of the day. If he notices a new one he’ll ask what happened. If it happened in a dumb way he just stifles a laugh.

Watches you from afar sometimes to make sure nothings happen so far. If he does see you get hurt he’ll rush over to see what’s happened, again.

Feels like he’s on a news channel at this point. Honestly wonders if you have some sort of curse to how often he’s found you in these exact scenes.

Does not trust you holding glass, plastic, porcelain, or metal objects. He’ll hold them with you but he’s not wanting you to break any of those by falling over, or maybe even dropping them on yourself.

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III:

Stays serious about it but once saw you run into a door and almost lost his shit. Wanted to laugh so hard.

Keeps bandaids, a small thing of bandage wrap + tape, and tissue in his pockets. It’s become a habit.

Carries you around areas that have many things cluttered on the ground so nothing will end up broken.

Trusts you enough to look away and not keep an eye on you 24/7 but still has a physical reflex whenever he hears a crash, bang, or a small sound of something colliding.

Often times will try to fix any messed you might’ve caused. Hiding any evidence that something had happened.

Kisses any minor injuries you get. “It hurts? Want me to kiss it so it feels better?”

Deals with your injuries or things you might’ve smashed, asks how it was caused so he can prevent them from happening further on.

Moves things around if he’s noticed it’s a common occurrence for you to bump into it with the object in the room / it’s placement.

Will take over / help you with certain scenarios if it becomes a problem to where you always end up hurt afterwards.

Warms you about things he sees coming your way: “Wall, you’re gonna walk into it.”, “There’s a plate of glasses, don’t walk into it.”

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IV:

Feels like superman sometimes when it comes to you. Steadies things in your hand if he notices you’re unbalanced.

Will also laugh at you. Unless you’re bleeding. He’ll run over to make sure everything’s all right.

Stocks up on ice packs and replaceable items for ones you might knock over later on.

Makes sure you won’t knock into anyone while your walking, or into anything.

Starts following you around when he can to make sure that you’re not getting into any trouble.

Also an enemy with winter. Especially if you want to try any winter sports. You can try but he might mentally face palm if you get ran over by a kid in a sled.

Starts requesting for plastic cups instead of glass. He can’t risk fancy glasses being broken any longer.

He gets into trouble in his own way, but he swears he’s more safe than you.

Picks you up and carrie’s you away when he senses that something just might happen. Spidey senses over here!!!

He can’t walk in a straight line so your both screwed. Your bumping into each other like you have sea legs.

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i’m sorry if this turned out a little bad! i’m currently on the verge of sleep but rlly wanted to finish this! ^^

[navyhyuck]

how many times? — 2.3k words, choi yeonjun

warnings: explicit marijuana usage, shotgunning, kissing, so incredibly suggestive and so much sexual tension, stoner!yeonjun, sorta mutual pining/bff2l idk, reader gets a little goofy

a/n: my comeback!! honestly i was high writing this because what the fuck. i got so carried away. anyway @itgirlgyu (i hope it's ok i tagged u hehe) wrote the most lovely little thing and getting shotgunned by yj would most def lead to.. something :> so thank you for the inspo! also pls don’t smoke kids, i would let only yeonjun absolutely demolish my respiratory system. tagging kai @channoticedmeuwu bc … yes! <3 (yes it’s not soobin but he’s otw ok). listen to often by the weeknd for ultimate vibes!

you’ve decided that you absolutely love the way yeonjun rolls his joints. 

there’s nothing special about it, of course. you’ve watched him countless times, folding the rolling paper with hazed concentration, carefully packing the perfectly grounded weed inside. it’s the stupid sleeveless shirt he insisted on wearing today, stolen from soobin’s closet after a fifteen minute banter—as you’re told, because it’s ‘too hot outside’ to wear a short-sleeved t-shirt instead. 

his arms are bare, smooth skin stealing the attention of your gaze the moment you walked into his apartment a few minutes ago, and you still haven’t gotten over it. not when yeonjun rolls the unfinished joint between his fingers, involuntarily flexing his forearms as he does so, flitting his eyes towards you as he asks in question to your silence, “you good?”  

perfect. you simply nod, untrusting of your words at the moment. he smiles lightly, getting back to work as you let your eyes wander once again, finding yourself caught up on your friend a lot more than you usually do.

that’s not to say you haven’t thought about him in the past, when he’s invited you over to sit on the overpriced outdoor furniture outside on his balcony, sporting a handsome smile and tousled hair, getting you higher than taehyun’s gummies ever have. the other boy swears his working on increasing his milligram count, but you think it’s a little more than that.

you’re on-your-knees, borderline inappropriately attracted to yeonjun; clearly, considering you watch a little too intently as he raises the joint upwards, licking a quick stripe to seal the paper. fuck, if you leaned in just a bit closer, you could waft the addictive cologne he’s rubbed on his neck, one you gifted him on his birthday last year, and maybe it’d get you off in ways you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about.

yeonjun finally lights the joint, slowly rotating it in his fingers as he does so, sharp eyes focused on perfection. it was hard to believe how much he cared how intentionally his joints were lit (price inflation?).

a gentleman as always, he places the joint to your lips with a gentle expression of want to go? and you couldn’t imagine saying no to him. 

how could you? pretty boy perched next to you, legs spread in such an inviting position—you’ve almost lost it already. eyelashes fluttering, you inhale deeply, trying to ignore the way his fingertips pressing lightly at your lips, keeping the smoke contained from the very beginning. you wonder how his lips would feel on yours, maybe for a little longer than you should.

when he pulls away, you lull your head back, your body slumping, easily enamoring yourself in the sudden joust of pleasure. it makes you forget where you are momentarily, giggling in a daze as you part your lips, letting the smoke leave your mouth. 

“all that with one hit?” yeonjun teases, and your eyes meet his with a roll of annoyance. there’s a smirk dancing on his lips, playfully as you watch the smoke bellow around him, slowly releasing from the corner of his mouth. always so fucking pristine, a perfectionist if you will.

“it’s been a long day,” you say in response, furrowing your eyebrows as the boy shrugs, passing off the joint. “remember how my manager told me to recruit another intern for our team?”

“hmm,” he hums, running a hand through his hair as he watches you inhale again, relaxing your head back as you always do. he finds it so innocent, the way your jaw relaxes as the weed takes its effect, and your lips, as inviting and plump as always, opens only to the smoke.

there’s a sort of numbing feeling, either from watching your jaw slack, mouth open, eyes closed with a string of dense fog surrounding your face or simply the high he’s slowly losing to watching you. it’s almost intoxicating, how you tilt your head to him, small smile lining your lips, offering him another hit as you continue speaking.

“i referred taehyun, you know,” your eyes are narrowed now, gazing nearly shamelessly at yeonjun when he’s unsuspecting. “dude’s got a fucking stellar resume. but they hired this other guy instead, and he’s just been following me around like he’s my intern.”

“yeah? what’s he like?” 

sharp eyes trail on you carefully, watching intently as you subconsciously dart out your tongue, licking along your bottom lip before going off on one of your usual ramblings. it’s so easy to get lost in the way you look, yeonjun thinks, especially when he’s slowly prodding a ‘wow’ or ‘no way’ into your rants every so often, just so you don’t get so caught up in the way he’s absolutely undressing you with his eyes.

he can’t help it, you’ve always been so difficult to be around after a certain hour at night; when the clock strikes midnight and he hears, from a distance, the university bells signaling the arrival of tomorrow, you take his invitations with open arms, spreading your legs on his couch and marking your spot. it’s not as though he spends his time smoking in pg rating with other girls at 2 a.m. anyway, that’s all reserved for you.

the dark-gray shorts and white t-shirt combination is maybe his favorite ever, he thinks, as you suddenly flail your arms up in sudden annoyance, screaming about some ‘and he fucking asks me again!’, the uneven hem of your shirt riding up slightly, exposing the smallest sliver of skin. yeonjun’s mind wanders to where you might’ve gotten this shirt; maybe he should ask you before he tears it off of you.

yeah, maybe it’s time for another hit.

and your voice blurs more than it did before, surprisingly, sounding increasingly more attractive with every word that leaves your mouth. yeonjun���s dazed, drunk on how you lean towards him, chest forward before your face, reaching to grab his joint with your perfect, graceful fingers. in a split second, he moves it out of your reach, smiling lazily when your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“want me to shotgun you?” he asks with a tilt of his head, words spilling from his mouth impulsively. your forehead smoothes at the question, maybe a little too casually for his liking, and you shrug a nonchalant sure. “i–have we done this before?” he’s got to be crazy, he’s never lost his memory smoking weed ever in his lifetime.

“no,” you’re trying to search his eyes, “hmm, taehyun’s shotgunned me before, though.”

the innocent shining of your eyes paired with your response has yeonjun suddenly giggling, making him place a hand over his mouth as if it would mask anything. oh, he hadn’t known you could be this cute, whining lightly as you question his laughter. when he catches his breath finally, planting his sight back on you, he simply pats the seat right beside him, “come here, i’ll show you.”

you’re quick to oblige, your body buzzing from the marijuana in your bloodstream, keeping you warm even as a cool breeze blows by. yeonjun’s presence is ever-so comforting, more so than ever, and you nearly have to hold yourself from resting your head against his shoulder. with parted lips in unadulterated awe, you watch as the dark-haired boy takes a long drag, the simple motion appearing astonishingly alluring. you’re hooked on deep, and there’s nothing to save you.

but when yeonjun turns towards you, suddenly holding the side of your face–thumb pressing down on your bottom lip to keep your mouth open, and moves impossibly close, you practically freeze. 

heart in your throat, his eyes beckon you to fill in the gap, never faltering. when you shuffle close enough, cautiously grabbing onto his forearm—you can almost taste the ghost of his lips, barely an inch away—he exhales straight into your mouth.

oh…your eyes flutter shut at the soft sensation, your fingertips pressing tightly into his arm as you let the high course through your body. maybe it’s because you’ve already taken too many hits (how many times?), but the intimacy has you buckling down even faster, the rate possibly record-breaking in guinness terms. 

yeonjun’s waiting when you open your eyes, nearly blowing the excess smoke right into his face, yet he isn’t fazed. it wouldn’t matter anyway, no, you could do anything to him and he’d take it without hesitation.

“wow,” you mutter, laughing breathlessly as your friend plasters on a stunning smile. “yeah, i definitely haven’t done that before.”

good. taehyun would be dead otherwise. his hand’s found solace resting on your thigh (when did it get here?), barely grasping at the flesh with nimble fingers. the material of your shorts are soft against his skin, loosely covering you, reminding him of just how easy it would to simply tug—

“can i try?” yeonjun’s fighting inner demons at this rate, testing the deep levels of his self control. he lets you do as you will (of course, why not?), eyes widening when you shift onto your knees, cautiously placing one in between in his legs. he’s gripping on your waist now—just lightly in case you’re overwhelmed, hoping he doesn’t look incredulous with the way he stares at you taking another hit, absolutely enamored with every move you make. 

there’s a flash of desire in the way your pupils dilate, suddenly hyper-fixated on your best friend’s exposed arms. it’s driving you crazy, your mind wandering back and forth—palm grazing up his bicep, feeling the taut muscle beneath your fingers. yeonjun’s gaze wanders on you, quietly leaning forward and putting out the joint against the ashtray. 

you’re looking down at him now, hovering over him in a less than platonic way, glancing between his eyes and lips. opening his mouth, he guides your jaw back towards him, warping you in far too close than the previous time. everything is so heightened, senses tingling from the ends of your finger to your nose—which barely brushes his—and you exhale. 

you’re a natural, yeonjun thinks, from how you don’t let your stream falter, giving him a high just as well as yours. as you finish, you realize you’ve moved your hand to grip at the junction between his shoulder and neck, leaving slightly reddened marks against his skin. 

“sorry,” you mumble, trying to rub them away, but yeonjun merely brushes it off, instead pressing your hand back against him. “i didn’t mean to…”

you lose your voice to the dead of the night, faltering when he runs his thumb back over your bottom lip, eyes scanning your face. when you all but gape at him, he takes it as his invitation to yank you down, crashing your lips against him.

he’s kissing you feverishly, desperate for the way you let out the slightest sound of surprise before surrendering completely, finding it more than difficult to keep you perched above him. your legs are spread over him, nearly lewd in the way you press up against him, drinking him up to the very last drop. 

even when you lean back, disoriented from how the world around you spins miraculously, grinning from ear to ear, yeonjun pulls you back. licking into your mouth, begging for anything physical, feeling you up from the sides. oh.

“yeonjun,” you’re panting, dodging him lightly as he tries to chase you. blinking dazingly, your fingers find purchase in his dark locks, gripping a lot harder than you would’ve done sober. “jun—i didn’t know you liked me like that. i thought we were just friends.”

you’re giggling under your breath as he groans, now tightly wrapping both arms around your waist. it’s so contagious, how your smile lights up your entire face, and he can’t help but match your expression. “what am i meant to do, y/n? have you seen yourself?”

you scrunch up, now gazing at your hands as if you’ve never experienced them before. “i’m seeing myself…”

yeonjun clicks his tongue, gathering your attention with a humorous look on his face. “fucking gorgeous, right?” you start giggling again, shying away when he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“mm, but you’re hot,” you all but whine, overcome with confidence when you lean in, molding your mouth against his with an adrenaline-filled fervor. hands run down the sides of yeonjun’s neck, circling around until you’re grasping at him. you gasp while he delivers the smallest licks to your lips, taking advantage of your open mouth.

he sucks on your tongue—such an obscene action in your usual book, yet you can’t care. laughter racks up through your chest when his impulses get the best of him, sinking his teeth into your tongue hard enough to elicit the most indecent sound. 

you’re lucky you’re high, or else you’d be doubling over in embarrassment at your behavior. you’d have to thank yeonjun for getting you stoned later. 

“hey,” he calls for you, thumb caressing your cheek, “you’ll let me kiss you after this, right?”

you climb off of him, much to his dismay—laying down against the cushions, stretching your legs, opening your arms—grinning up at your friend. shirt riding up, exposing your midriff as you make a show of your position, nudging him with your legs. 

he's giving in to your beckoning, palms grazing your thighs, gripping and tugging, slotting between your legs. caging you in with his arms, you woo dramatically at his biceps, pecking at the skin with quiet giggles. “yeonjun…”

he hums, admiring you softly, desire and longing lingering behind his eyes. 

“you can have me anyway you want,” you whisper, igniting a fire in his stomach, roping him down in your embrace with a tantalizing kiss. now tangled amongst you, prying mindlessly at clothing that seems so unnecessary in the moment. 

oh, that’s something he’ll have in his mind forever.