#he and I and my mom watched it together years ago and I don’t remember it being especially scary | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tojikai · 1 year ago

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Sundered 5: QUARRELS

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, explicit smut, arguments, implied noncon

word count: 6.8k

This is close enough for a beggar like him.

“When Yui turns three…” Satoru turns to look at you with a small smile and a look in his eyes that you know too well not to understand at a glance. “When Yui turns three?” You urged him to continue, “...we make another one. Hopefully, a baby boy.” He pulled you on top of him as you laughed fondly.

“I can’t even count on my fingers how many times you said that already.” You giggled, kissing his blushing face. “I can’t have you forgetting. It’s a must. We make cute babies.” He spoke each sentence in between pecks. “ Yeah, but she’s only 5 months old, Satoru.” You put your head on his chest, feeling him caress your hair.

“I know, but I wanna tell you in advance.” Moments like this make you forget about all the problems and fights that you have with him. “But we’re gonna get married first, of course.” You looked up at him, watching his eyes glimmer. “You’re asking me to marry you?” You poked his side.

“Of course, what else am I gonna do with you?” He flips you over, kissing your neck and chest before attempting to pull the straps of your nighties down your shoulders. “This is for your daughter, don’t even try.” You pointed a finger at his nose as he pouted, “She’s asleep. Can’t I get a sip?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you making you giggle.

“What is going on with you?” He kissed your lips, joining you in your joy. Just two days ago, you and Satoru were screaming at each other’s faces because of how he got angry at you for talking back to his mother. She came into his house, trying to fight you because you got Yui’s ears pierced. You and Satoru agreed on it, but he didn’t like that you ‘talked back’ to his mom.

And now, it’s all gone. Washed away by his touches. Drowned away by his kisses and moans. “Remember when we did this while you were pregnant?” You could hear his smirk as he nibbled on your skin. You're now lying sideways with your hand holding one of your legs up. His strong arms were wrapped around your waist, caressing your lower stomach.

“Gonna put another one here in a few years.” He grunted when you reached for his hair, pressing him closer to you. “Satoru…” His breath on the shell of your ear only made you heat up more. You sobbed as his thrust got faster and harder. “Yeah, you want that.” He bit your ear lightly as you arched your back, whimpering.

You were just about to tell him that you’re close but Satoru got your body memorized. His hand was already trailing down to your womanhood, fingers rubbing on your nub as he coaxed you to your climax and followed shortly after. He finished inside you with your name flowing smoothly out of his lips. You stayed in the same position; with him still inside you as he pushed your legs together.

It was only one of those nights that made you believe that you’d be together until the end.

“...a new one?” Satoru’s voice snapped you back to reality. “Hm?” You turned to him, seeing that he was already staring at you. Yesterday, you and Toji fought. And today, you did again. Is the honeymoon phase they were saying already over? You gritted your teeth. “Are you still thinking about it?” Satoru’s voice was laced with concern as he drove.

Yesterday afternoon, you and Toji were talking about how much louder it gets when there are more kids around. Other than Yuuji, a little girl from their neighborhood named Nobara also joined—a name Yui cannot pronounce correctly but kept saying anyway.

With four children running around the house, you and Toji could only communicate with eyes, teasing like a married couple planning for an addition. You two could only joke around the topic, though, knowing how serious and how big a responsibility it will be.

Besides, your relationship is still young and you would like to get married first before taking a step like that. But marriage still feels pretty far for you and Toji.

“Look, I’m sure he doesn’t mean it like that.” Satoru tried to comfort you. “His wife used to do that stuff and now he’s just sharing it with you.” He explained. You can’t help but feel like you were being petty. The kids had a playdate and you thought that making a bit of juice for their picnic would give them a better experience.

Toji started randomly talking about how his wife had little cousins and she refused to give them juice until they were 5 because it’s terrible for toddlers’ health. And though, you understand this, the way he said it just put you off. You felt like he was comparing you to her and you just didn’t like the way it made you feel.

Before, there were times when he would mindlessly say that his wife introduced something to him or taught him to do something and you would think that he was probably just reminiscing. But now you just felt…sensitive. It just felt like you still had to compete even if there was no one to compete with.

“He’s probably just suggesting.” Satoru tried to explain for Toji, something you didn’t think would ever happen because they’re almost always wordless around one another. “Suggesting what? That I should do what his first wife did? And today he got upset that Yui and I would leave early to go with you.” Satoru sighed, nodding slowly.

Ever since that night, he’s been a lot more calm, more patient, and more careful with everything he does. “We should’ve canceled and moved it another day.” You looked at him, disbelief flashing on your face.

“Y/N, he’s your boyfriend now. It’s not good to leave a fight without talking first, even just for reassurance.” Whatever he’s been learning at counseling is definitely working, you thought. When he first told you about it, you didn't know how to react. Probably because you know that the cause of your problems is not just him. But also his mother.

“I told him we’ll talk later. He just doesn’t like that we have to spend time around each other like this.” Your voice was quieter. To be honest, you don’t know how to deal with that because it concerns your daughter too. “We can…we can just reduce times like this to milestones like birthdays and school events when she’s finally in school,” Satoru spoke, clearing his throat.

“I don’t think it’s that important anyway, Yui will understand that we’re separated soon. She’s growing fast.” You glanced at your daughter as she waves at the passing cars. Satoru’s right. “Yeah, I’ll just…I’ll talk to him about it.” Satoru probably doesn’t want it like that, but nowadays, he’s been…different. In a good way.

“By the way, I have a…my previous car. Do you remember? The one before this.” He asked, “Your car always breaks down. I mean…You can have it. So, you won’t have to take a cab when you take Yui to daycare, go to work, or pick her up from my place.” You can tell that he was nervous to ask you about it.

“Actually, if you want. I can ask Toji, so he won’t think of it as anything.” You looked away, thinking. You’re not the only one who has a significant other here; Naomi might think of it as something too. “You have to tell Naomi too.” You glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat.

Silence enveloped the three of you for several minutes until Satoru spoke again. “My counselor said it’s easy to mistake comfort for love.” Taking a deep breath, you chose your words carefully. “You can learn to love people and things.” There was a long pause along as you reached his house. You checked on Yui to find out that she fell asleep.

“That sounds like resignation, Y/N. Love doesn’t need conditions.” He mumbled, looking at his lap. “Let’s go, she’s getting uncomfortable.” You took Yui’s things before following him inside his house. “Don’t forget her vitamins, Satoru.” Humming, he opened the door for you with your sleeping daughter in his arms.

To his surprise, the lights were on and there, his mother and Naomi sat on his couch.

“You took so long. Did you forget about your girlfriend?” His mother was the first to speak. “Why are you here, Mom? You’re early, Naomi.” Naomi glanced at you with a look on her face that you can’t quite read. There’s nothing sinister about it, in fact, she looked nervous.

“She’s early because she won’t be working full days anymore.” You stood there awkwardly, feeling invisible before Satoru took a step closer to you, “Since she’ll be a part of the family soon, I asked your father if he can take it easy on her workload. Lovers should spend time with each other as much as they can.” His mother continues, emphasizing the word ‘family’ as she gave a mocking glance your way.

She never once considered you as one. Not that you want to be related in any way to someone like her. You scoffed inside your head, seeing Satoru glance at you. “We do spend enough time together.” He spoke, “And why are you deciding for her, Mom?” He took the bags in your hand, “Let’s go to Yui's room.”

“It’s okay, I won’t be staying for long anyway, I just wanted to drop her off.” After taking Yui to an inflatable indoor park, Satoru bought her a Hello Kitty cake just as you were about to go home. The kid was excited to open the cake with you, but you were reluctant because you don’t really want to be around Naomi. After being assured by Satoru that Naomi wasn’t supposed to come over until Friday, you finally agreed.

You should’ve trusted your gut, because here she is with Satoru’s mom, like a cherry on top.

“I’ll take you home, let’s just put her to bed, then we’ll go.” The child stirred in her sleep, adjusting her head on his shoulder, “Mama, cake.” She murmured, probably dreaming about her food. You looked at Satoru, catching him already staring at you and something tells you it’s gonna be alright even with these two people who seemingly want you out of your own daughter’s life.

“We’ll talk later,” Satoru spoke to them, gently nudging you toward your daughter’s room. “There’s literally nothing to talk about, son. We just wanted to make the two of you more free for each other. Can’t have others hogging all of your attention from your lover. She won’t appreciate that. Isn’t that right, Y/N?” You paused, glancing at Satoru.

“With your new boyfriend, doesn’t it irritate you when he uses his time for other things?” You can tell that his mother is trying to elicit a reaction from you. “The only thing my boyfriend does other than work is take care of his son. And I will never put myself in between them.” Before his mother could even say anything, Satoru quickly took the stage.

“I said later, Mom. Naomi and I will talk. It’s our relationship.” With that, he walked with you into Yui’s room, closing the door behind him, careful not to wake his daughter up. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t think they’d be here.” You took Yui’s shoes and jacket off, before letting Satoru put her down. “I know, it’s okay.” Kissing Yui’s forehead, you could hear him whisper curse words.

“Hey.” You can tell he’s more than upset. This is probably more painful and exhausting to him than you thought. “I don’t know anymore, Y/N.” He turned away from you, running his hand over his face, “This. This is what’s making my life harder.” He gestured towards the door, referring to his mother. “This is what made our life harder.” You caught him saying as he shook his head.

“Just talk to them. Maybe there's a reason for this. She’s just naturally hostile with me.” You shrugged, knowing that he was speaking the truth. “That’s the point. She’s pointlessly hostile and she thinks she can decide for me.” Turning to you, there was redness in his eyes.

Satoru didn’t want to seem like he was asking you for comfort. He refused to give you that before, he’d be shameless if he wanted you to hold him. “Let’s go. I’ll explain to Yui, we’ll call you later.” Blinking hard before opening the door, Satoru knows better than to allow his mother near you. You never told him but he knows that she slapped you when she came to your house.

They fought about it when he went to their mansion. Thankfully, his father backed him up with a speech about protective orders which shut her down. It pained him to be like that to his mom but he can’t just have her abusing you just because she can.

Satoru walked beside you, covering you from his mother. “Satoru…” Naomi called out but his mother quickly spoke, “Doesn’t she have a car? Did it break down again? Ah, like before, when she wanted someone to take her home.” There was no hint of amusement in Naomi’s eyes, probably clueless as to what she was talking about.

“I’m calling Dad to pick you up.” With that, he continued walking, leaving his mother with an angry look on her face. “That’d be good. He will be here to discuss things since he’s her boss. He might even give her a vacation. You and Naomi can go out of the country. Get close, plan things like marriage, children—” Stopping in his tracks, Satoru turned with his jaws clenched.

“You know what? Maybe I shouldn’t leave my daughter here. After all, you threatened to take her away.” Walking back to Yui’s room, Satoru didn’t think twice as he grabbed your hand, making Naomi tense up. “Can she stay with you tonight? I’ll get her tomorrow.” He murmured, breathing hard as he picked his daughter up again.

“You think I’ll kidnap my own granddaughter, look what she’s making you think.” You can hear his mom as you rush to take Yui’s things. Whining, Yui covered her ears as Satoru walked her out of the room with you beside him. “I don’t need to kidnap Yui to get her away, her own mother isn’t even capable, what makes you think—” Satoru cut her off when he stood in front of her.

“I’m filing a restraining order.” He spoke, voice low as he tried to stay respectful despite what he was saying, “Against you.” His mother’s eyes widened in surprise, “Come on.” Ushering you out, and leaving his mother stunned. Opening the door for you, he then proceeded to fix his daughter in her car seat.

“Mama why?” You shushed her, caressing her hair, “We’ll eat cake at home.” You smiled at her, trying your best not to sound panicked before closing the door to finally get in the car. Satoru was about to get in the driver’s seat but Naomi came out of the house and ran to him. Glancing at you, she held his hand, “We’ll talk about it later.” He told her, checking if his mother followed.

“Can’t you just…” Naomi was about to say something but held back, grabbed his collar, pulling him down to kiss his lips. You almost immediately looked away, seeing from your peripheral vision how she put Satoru’s arms around her waist. “Come home quick.” She whispered not so quietly at him. Getting in the car, you wondered if his mom told her about it.

“Naomi…” Satoru sighed, pulling away before looking at you with a concerned look in his eyes as he nodded away at her words. Leaving her, Satoru entered the car and started it. She stood there with a mixed look on her face that screams how irritated and upset she is with the events.

“You don’t have to file a restraining order against her. She’s still your mother.” You didn’t have to say that but you felt like you’re the reason why there’s a gap between them now. “She’s not good for Yui. I can’t have her around speaking about you like that in front of her.” He was breathing hard. “Can you calm down? You’re driving.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, before taking a deep breath. “I hope she won’t be there when I come back. I can deal with it on my own, whatever Naomi and I have to talk about.” He ranted, “I wish she didn’t intervene so much in everything I do. I feel like the decisions I made aren’t even mine.” He rarely talked like this back then. Actually, you rarely interacted like this back then.

“How’s…” Hesitating, he swallowed before continuing his question, “How’s Toji’s family to you?” He asked softly as if the information he’ll get can break him even more. It probably would. “He’s not that close to them, so they don’t really know much about us. I’ve met them twice when we picked up Megumi. They treat us kindly.” You glanced at him, seeing him purse his lips.

“That’s good for you. You won’t have to deal with something like this.” Satoru wanted to say that he’ll cut ties with his mother to protect you; to be with you. But knowing you, you’ll probably feel like it’s your fault and he doesn’t want that.

He’s aware that his mother influenced the decisions he made in the past. Talking to someone about it made him realize how wrong he approached things with you and how easily he let himself be swayed by the instant gratification that he felt when he gave up on your relationship.

None of it was worth it.

—--------------------------------------------------

Three Days Ago

“I can’t do that,” Naomi spoke as she tried to lean away from Satoru’s mom. They met at a cafe near her neighborhood. She was supposed to ask for advice, but it quickly turned into plotting how to lock Satoru to her. “Listen, Y/N was able to keep Satoru with her because they have a child together.” She tapped a sharp nail on the table.

Naomi would be lying if she said that she didn’t think about using that to get more of his time. She admit that she thought of a way to make him have a kid with her, even trying to lie about her safe day to make him do it inside her. She didn’t think that hearing it come from someone else can sound so sick and twisted.

If Satoru doesn’t want the kid, what’s going to happen to me; to us?

“Why are you worried? I’ve been in the same situation and I’m telling you, Satoru kept his father for me.” Naomi’s eyebrows bumped together as she thought of how easy it was for her to say something like that. “You did that to his father?” She asked in disbelief, wanting nothing but to go but desperate enough to stay.

“Not intentionally. But had I not told him, his ex-wife wouldn’t have left us alone and he wouldn’t have stopped running after her.” She took a sip of her coffee, making her seem so chill with her story. Naomi knows all of it for Satoru once told her. She just thought that his mother really baby-trapped his dad to make him stay.

Can Naomi really do that?

“You won’t baby trap my son, you just let him come to you. Attract him like you did back then.” She nodded at Naomi. “I just wanted to help him, then. I didn’t try to seduce him.” She defended herself, “But you did drink with him a few times? Tell me you didn’t get seductive with him during those nights.” She dared, and Naomi looked down.

She remembers telling him how she liked his eyes and how he was too hot to bury himself in problems. She also remembers nonchalantly telling him how he caught her eye when she first saw him. She knows that she liked to think of him and Yui as her own little family even before they started dating and she remembers promising him that they can make it work.

Was Naomi really being just a friend to him then? Or was she already falling for him when she tried to become what he needs during those times?

“Y/N was confident that she’ll get Satoru back and that’s why she let her guard down. Now, if you want to be her so much then, be happy-go-lucky and watch him dump you.” She shook her head, and the words easily got Naomi thinking twice. She’s not trying to be like you. She’s better than you.

She’s better for him than you.

“Why do you hate her so much?” Naomi suddenly asked, thinking out loud as she carefully thought about her decision. I mean, she didn’t really do anything to me.” If she’s going to think about it, other than the misunderstandings— which were probably caused by something offensive she did or said—you’re never antagonistic towards her.

“She ruined my son’s life. I shouldn’t have expected anything knowing how she got him, but she even had the nerve to try and make him do all the work. She’s probably just after the money..” No matter how hard she tried to recall, Naomi can’t remember him sighing over having Yui with you. “And you think she didn’t really do anything to you? You’re a bit naive.” Naomi’s forehead puckered at her statement.

“Didn’t you notice how she got a new man only now when it started looking like Satoru’s sure about you?” His mother might just be overthinking things but it didn’t help that the changes in her and Satoru’s relationship were almost perfectly timed with you getting a boyfriend. But what if it’s just Satoru? It could’ve been a coincidence, right?

Realizing how she was trying to convince herself in her mind, Naomi only felt worse. Maybe she really has to do something. After all, she swore to him that they can make it work. She’s not someone to just back down and give up on the one she loves when things get tough.

She’s better than you, and unlike you, she won’t run away; she’ll fight for their relationship.

—------------------------------------------

Arriving home, Yui was already wide awake. “...then, Dad will be back to buy a new cake with Yui! How’s that?” Satoru kissed her cheek as he put her down on the couch. The little girl got upset that her dad has to go so soon. She just stood there wordlessly, leaning on the couch as she refused to look at Satoru.

“It’s okay, I’ll talk to her. She’s just grumpy because her nap was disturbed.” Walking towards the little girl, you sat down and put her on your lap. “Say bye, now.” You pushed the stray hairs away from her face and Satoru can’t help but admire how much he missed just seeing the two of you waiting for him on his couch.

Yui was younger then; much smaller in your arms. And he felt like a real husband coming home to his wife and child when you’d be there, watching TV when he got home from work. It’s been more than a year now, he just thinks he’s lucky enough to still be close to you again.

You’re not as close as he wants you to be but this is more than enough for a beggar like him.

Leaning down to give your daughter a kiss, she turned away from him. “Yui, that’s not nice.” Her mouth was quivering but you know her too well. “You better go, they’re waiting for you there.” You looked at him but he only stared at you, sighing deeply. You felt like it was the hundredth time today.

He looked so worn out; like he was just ready to drop as soon as he gets these things out of his tail. You wondered if you looked like this to him back then, too. Probably not this bad because you don’t have a meddlesome mother who keeps trying to put her finger in the pie.

Before Satoru could answer, a knock on the door was heard. The door opened and a little boy holding his sippy cup stood by the doorway. Toji held the doorknob, staring at you and Satoru. What time is it? You thought. You remembered telling him that you’d be back by 4 in the afternoon. Yui was quick to jump from your lap.

“Dada! ‘Gumi! Dada! ‘Gumi!” She squealed at them and you could feel Satoru tense up beside you. She had been told by Toji about it, but hearing it from her friend isn’t helping at all. Megumi looked up at Satoru before looking at Yui. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s my name?” Toji bent down to pick her up when she kept stomping her feet and reaching up at him.

“Dada!” She laughed, before pointing at Megumi who was now taking his little bag from his father’s hand. “You’ll play later. Listen, tell your Dada what my name is.” Toji repeated just as Satoru regained his composure. “It’s alright,” He chuckled, “She probably thought you’re her Dada because you take care of her. And her mom.” You wanted to stop him, feeling bad that he had to pretend that he's cool about this.

Yui’s first word was ‘Dada’ and you could still remember how happy he was when he got her to say it before ‘Mama’. You can’t stand the thought of that memory becoming painful for him. “I gotta go, I’ll just pick her up again tomorrow.” He whispered to you, before nodding to Toji. “Bye, love. See you, tomorrow.” He waved at Yui, faking a smile before rushing to leave.

Yui waved back at him before wiggling out of Toji’s arms. She rushed to get her toys when he put her down. “She’s…she’s a kid” Biting your lip, you breathed out through your nose before walking to Toji and putting your arms around him. “Don’t run.” He called out to the children as giggled their way to Yui’s room. “I feel bad. I’m gonna talk to him later.” You mumbled.

Toji kissed your forehead before you pulled him to your room. “What’s going on?” He asked you, sitting on the bed. “Are you worried?” You asked, straddling him. “I am.” He answered, ignoring your actions. You looked up at him with a frown, remembering the misunderstanding that you had. “Why was he here?”

“Look, he just had to drop me and Yui off because his mother was in his house—” He cut you off, leaning away a bit from you. You know that you didn’t tell him that you were going to Satoru’s house with Yui because you were still upset about your argument the other day and earlier this morning.

“You told me the time but you can’t tell me where you were going?” Perplexity was clear on his face, “I didn’t want to agitate you further. I wouldn’t tell you right now if there’s another reason why I’m there except for Yui.” You tried to explain, feeling him put you beside him on the bed. “Y/N, that’s not the point.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Then, what is? I wasn’t planning to stay for long.” You kicked off your shoes, before turning to him. “Look, I’m sorry, ok? I just thought you were mad because of earlier.” You hugged his arm, putting your forehead on his shoulder. “And I was still upset.” Kicking his own shoes off, Toji pulled you on top of him as he leaned back on the headboard

“You have to tell me why you’re upset. It can’t be just the orange juice.” He spoke, grabbing your face as he kissed you. You moaned, breathing into him as you opened your mouth, letting his tongue find yours. His grunts sent vibrations to your core as you press yourself against him.

“Did you lock the door?” He murmured, taking off your cardigan before putting his hands on your buttocks. “Yeah, don’t worry.” You quickly took off your shirt before going back to kissing him, completely forgetting about what he was asking from you.

“As long as we can hear the laughs, they’re fine.” He chuckled, unclasping your bra before taking a nipple in his mouth. “Oh…” You moaned rubbing on his shoulders and tugging at the fabric of his sweater. His other fingers tweaked at your bud as he stared up at you, lustful eyes taking away your worries.

You really just don’t want to tell him that the mention of his wife is starting to trigger you.

Taking off the clothing, he flipped you on your back, removing your belt and jeans. His lips trailed kisses on your thighs as he go, massaging your calves before parting your legs, making you inhale sharply. “We can’t drag this long. Come here.” You giggled, ushering him to hover over you. “You know how they are…” You moaned when he started to kiss your neck.

His tongue and teeth bring pleasure and a bit of sting on your skin. “You just want it that much.” Winking at you, he discarded his remaining clothes before hovering over your womanhood. He smirked as he slid your underwear down, kissing your pearl. “Toji…” You whined, worried that this might get cut short if he doesn’t hurry.

“Alright, alright. I can’t just stick in. Let’s see…” Spreading your lips with two fingers, he eyed your heat with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly ajar, you can’t help but rock your hips against his hand, desperate for friction. Your eyes shut close when he put a finger in, slowly at first, before speeding up when he added a second one.

Toji panted, stroking his member when he felt you squeeze his digits. You’re dripping and he’s starting to ache. “Fuck.” He muttered as he leaned over to go for your lips, kissing you hard. He growled in your mouth when you whimpered as he rubbed on your pearl while massaging the sensitive spot inside you.

Pulling away when your legs started to tremble, Toji hissed as he tapped his head on the bundle of nerves before rubbing his length on your wet folds to lube himself up. “Toji, please.” You cupped your mounds, looking up at him. Seeing you like this drove him crazy, he had to hold back from just slamming himself into you.

Grabbing a pillow and putting it under your hips, Toji prodded your entrance with his tip. He opened your legs wider, taking in the sight of you being stretched and his shaft disappearing slowly until he was fully in. Leaning on the bed with one hand, he grabbed your jaw with the other and silenced your moans with his kisses.

“You can’t let them hear you.” He murmured as he clenches his jaw, pressing his nose on your cheeks and kissing it. He was moving steadily inside of you and whispering words of praises to your ear, “You take me so well now.” He teased you, groaning whenever your hole fluttered around him.

You gasped when Toji pushes your legs to your chest, pounding deeper into you as he sings your name like you do to his. His thrusts were unrelenting, merciless as he slams himself into you. Soon enough, your walls were starting to convulse and your nails were clawing on his arm.

“Come on. Let it go, hon.” You closed your eyes, feeling your chest throb at the nickname he used but the surges of pleasure that took over your senses flooded it out. Your hand covered your mouth, eyes rolling back as you writhed underneath him, coming undone with a cry of delight escaping your lips.

Your thighs trembled under his touch as he continued to rut into you, desperate for his high. “Oh fuck…Oh, Y/N.” Feeling your walls spasm and contract around him, he hurriedly pulled out and spilled his load on your womanhood. A sight to see, he thought as he watched your thighs still shaking from the pleasure.

“Wait a minute," Reaching over to your cabinet, Toji took the box of tissues before wiping you and himself clean. Hearing the jolly screams from the other room made you both laugh to yourself. "That's too quick. We gotta continue this later." He winked, throwing the tissues away before getting on the bed with you.

"Definitely." You let out a tired laugh as you put your head on his shoulder, sighing as the heavy feeling settled on top of your chest. Why did you have to remember him just from that word alone? Toji tilted your head up for a passionate kiss, blurring away the image of your ex inside your head.

“I have a request, though.” You looked down, avoiding his curious gaze. “Can you….can we not use ‘hon’?” You don’t know how weirdly you phrased the question until you looked at Toji to see him looking puzzled. “I mean…this is the first time you called me that and I’m, uh, not really comfortable with that. “

“Yeah, alright. But why?” Maybe you should’ve thought this through. You know Toji’s been getting moody whenever you two talk about anything concerning Satoru. You can’t really blame him after what happened that night. “I just… don’t feel it.” You lied, shrugging. “It’s not that bad, though. I could get used to it.” You smiled up at him, pecking his lips.

“Alright, I think I know.” He exhaled harshly, standing up from the bed to grab your clothes. Great. You just ruined the moment. “Are you mad?” You sat up, watching him get dressed. “No, I just wanna check on the kids.” He is mad. You clicked your tongue, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Babe, I just don’t want to–“

“Y/N. I said alright. I can’t do anything about it, anyway.” That doesn’t fix anything. “A lot of people use that, I just don’t get why you keep getting affected.” You stared at him, baffled. “It’s not like I want to do that. I can’t help my mind, there was a memory attached to that word.”

You stood up to get a robe, “You know that it’s not easy for me, too. I told you.” You uttered, watching his back through your vanity mirror as he stood still. “Maybe if you stop relating everything to him, then it won’t be so hard.” With that, he left the room and you don’t know if you’re hurt or just shocked that he would say something like that to you.

Because he does that to you too. And you thought that he, of all people, should understand where you’re coming from.

—————————————-

Satoru slid the door open with force, seeing Naomi flinch as she was startled by the sound. “Where’s mom?” He asked, breathing hard and eager to just put an end to the craziness she was doing. “I convinced her that we’ll be fine.” She walked to him, smiling as she put her arms around his neck.

“We just need to catch up on each other, I feel like we’ve been too occupied these days.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck, kissing the skin as she rubbed his nape with a soft, delicate hand. “Yeah, we got a lot to talk about.” Satoru put a hand on the small of her back. “But first, you gotta tell me what that was about.”

“I just invited her over. I didn’t know Y/N would be here, sorry.” She sighed, before dragging him to the couch. Satoru kept thinking about the scene before he left your house. That was just a lot to take in, especially when he just fought with his mother. “I got no work tomorrow, we can stay up all night.” She giggled, taking off her cardigan.

“Let’s have a couple of drinks during dinner. I’ll cook for you.” She proposed, walking to the kitchen. Checking his phone, he found himself expecting a text from you. None. You don’t give a fuck about him. He sighed, It’s okay. As long as I can see themi, he thought. He just hoped that you’d ask how things went in his house. Or if he’s hurt about ‘Dada’ Toji. All the things he shouldn’t expect.

Guess, I’ll fucking die of jealousy, then. He clenched his teeth proceeding to his bedroom. “I’ll wash up.” He spoke to Naomi, “Go on, baby. I’ll be making dinner.” She answered, glancing his way. If she’s going to be honest, she wanted to skip the talks. The truth is Naomi’s afraid of what he’ll say if she confronts him with her real thoughts.

She could easily skip those steps, and get to her goal.

Goal? Naomi’s movements halt as she realized how she sounded. She’s not a bad person, she thought. Is she really gonna do this? “If you want to be her so much then, be happy-go-lucky and watch him dump you.” Naomi’s breath hitched when his mother’s words reverberated in her head.

She can’t lose him. Not now when they’re almost settling down. She’s not being a monster, she’s not baiting him. He’ll come to her on his own like he did before. She’s just going to make him see that she’s good for him.

Dinner time came and she prepared it more than ordinary, hoping to ignite a light in him. It’s not usual for a woman to start something like this but Naomi’s different. As she said, she’ll fight for him. “Wow, is this a date?” Satoru chuckled sitting down in front of her seat. “I just wanted to rekindle. Your mom’s right, we’re just drifting away. I can’t stand that happening.”

Walking to her chair, Naomi stopped by him and kissed his cheek. Satoru on the other hand, can’t help but feel bad. He’s sure that nothing will change even if they do this. “Try. She’s a good person.” He quickly downed a drink, letting it take your voice away. Not because he doesn’t want to listen to you, but because he’s not sure if he can do it.

The dinner went by quickly, and they were just discussing over drinks. He can’t even count how many he downed when she started talking about how you look more plump. “They might beat us in giving Yui a sibling.” She joked, laughing because she didn’t know what was in his head. “I doubt it, she wanna get married first.” He replied monotonously before opening up about his counseling sessions.

“Counselling?” She asked. The topic is incredibly close to what Satoru’s about to confess. She stared at her wide eyes as he nodded. “Were you having problems? Baby, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you.” Her concern was sincere and it made him feel like a villain. “I wanted to be better for Yui.” And for Y/N.

Clueless, she gave him a fond stare. “You’re a great father. Y/N knows that.” There were times during the dinner when Satoru was so close to spitting out the truth to her but the effort she put in just to make that food on the table makes him feel remorseful.

Satoru knows that it’s not right. But just for tonight, after all the months that he made him feel tranquil, he can spare her heart for a night or two. He didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want to break her heart. But staying would only mean that she’s never going to get what she wants and deserves.

“I’ll be brushing my teeth then, get to bed. The drink got to me.” He laughed, holding the chair as he stood up. “Thank you so much. For everything.” She came to hug him, kissing his lips as she murmured words of adoration to him. “Go ahead, you’re all red, can you walk?” She joked, before pushing him to go, “I’ll be with you in a few. I feel really sleepy now, too.”

It’s been almost half an hour. Naomi checked on Satoru to find him sleeping soundly already. Not even her slam of the door woke him up. She stared at herself in the mirror, “I’m really gonna do this.” She exhaled, closing her eyes before going walking out of the bathroom. He’s still in the same position as before.

Stepping closer, Naomi removed her silk robe, revealing her night dress. She clenched her fist tightly, before quickly releasing it just to try and get rid of the tension in her body. She sat on the bed, touching his chest and abs. Hearing him moan when she got to his lower part calmed her slightly. Just like we always do, she repeated in her head, kissing his skin.

“I’m sorry, Satoru…” She whispered one last time.

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husbandhoshi · 13 days ago

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title: royally screwed [m]

pairing: joshua x f!reader

wc: 30.8k in total; part 1: 15.4k, part 2: 15.4k summary: between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible. notes: romcom + smut (part 2), modern royalty!au in which yn is the princess of cotria/joshua the prince of acros (both fictional), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, quarterlife crisis/coming of age, very very slow burn. lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of feelings. [read part 1 here!] (please)

You decide June looks good on Acros. Unlike in Cotria, now sure to be perspiring with tourists, the downtown here is comfortable, inviting, even. At home, you’d be shoulder-to-shoulder with three other people right now.

This is one of the things you like about this country: it seems to be intentionally idyllic. It’s becoming more clear to you that Joshua’s parents weren’t actually in need of anything from you other than a status boost. You suppose they’re learning the hard way what exactly that comes with.

Jeonghan’s car, or rather, the car Jeonghan happens to be in (he couldn’t drive his way out of a paper bag, try as he might), pulls up to the curb. He’s fresh off a stint of good press, meaning months of speeches, ribbon cutting, and run-ins with parliament and journalists and business moguls all vying for a bite of a future king. You’d add yourself to that list, but you know you’re at the back of the line—you practically live there now, but you’re not sure if things could have happened any other way.

You watch him step out of the van, never windblown even though he likely just got off a flight. Always with a smile, too, one tired but recognizable, so different from the plasticky ones he wears on TV.

The first thing he does when he gets out is throw his arms open for a bear hug. “Hey, cricket,” he says, voice wrought with jet-lag. “Missed you.”

“Glad you had time for one more stop,” you murmur, squeezed into the million-thread count of his shirt.

“I always have time for you,” he replies, which is decidedly untrue, but you don’t have it in you to say that. All you do lately is get into arguments, and you’re not looking to add your brother to your hit list.

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.)

The second thing he does is push the brim of your baseball cap down.

“The paps,” he warns, as if they were the boogeyman.

“If they can’t recognize us, they need to get better at their job.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jeonghan, we’re all wearing matching hats.”

No, you are not kidding. Jeonghan, blue, you, red, and Jihoon, green, a la The Powerpuff Girls, which was a joke you made about six years ago and could not let go of.

“Whatever,” he laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? This is your domain now.”

“Don’t get excited. I just got here.”

“What do you need to go shopping for, anyway?” he asks, now walking side-by-side with you.

“I ask that question every day,” Jihoon replies, glancing at Jeonghan as if to say Women, right?, save for the fact that the both of them have exactly zero game.

“Somi’s birthday!” you exclaim, two ticks too loudly. “Stuff, I dunno. Just trying to get used to this place.”

“This isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive, you know.”

That, Jeonghan is right about. You’re sure there must be a shopping district somewhere in Acros, but definitely not here. Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings.

An elderly couple passes you. They smile and wave, visible even under the shade of their parasol, either blissfully unaware of your status or too wise to care.

“I know,” you waver. “Whatever. I'll just get Yunjin to find me something for the party.”

Your eye wanders to the jaunty facade of a music store. The sign flaunts handmade, cursive letters with a curly treble clef in the lacquer of old paint. In Cotria, the same sign would be neon, Hollywood-esque, vain.

“Party?”

“Let's go there,” you interrupt, hoping to run your big mouth over with some more talking. Of course Jeonghan wouldn’t be cool with any party, nonetheless the one Somi was planning on throwing, but, either by habit or wishful thinking, the news just tumbled right out of you.

“Party?” Jeonghan repeats. He trails close after you, hoping to grab the door before you can. Such is what he had been taught, after all, which came more naturally than navigating big-brotherhood. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon shrugs, and opens the door before the both of you get there. You’ve trained him well.

“It’s a small thing,” you tell him. “Close friends only.” It’s not technically a lie—small is relative, and it’s not your fault Somi has two hundred-some close friends.

Inside, you notice the shop is bigger than it looks from the outside. In the front, their nicest pianos: the glossy Yamahas, the baby grands. a lone drum set, on sale, the hi-hat sparkling under the LED lights. And finally, guitars hung from the wall like posters, some lime green and child-sized, others sanded down so the mahogany glows.

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Jeonghan says, the lilt of his voice verging on not-so-casual.

“Then don’t say it,” you reply flatly. “You went to those parties too, by the way.”

“Used to, but—” Jeonghan sighs because he’s beat, and he knows it.

You absentmindedly flip through a book of sheet music—Alfred's Essentials of Music Theory. behind it, 40 Taylor Swift Songs for Piano.

“You’ve been good, I hope?” you cut in. “Not too tired?”

“No,” Jeonghan says. “I've been great. You?”

You can’t read his expression. Old Jeonghan would tell you that he’s ready for a nap, that he hates sleeping on airplanes, that his hands still get sweaty when he gets in front of a crowd and the camera flash hurts his eyes. New Jeonghan never complains, either because of some drastic change in his character or because he feels like he can no longer complain to you. Both hurt your feelings in equal measures.

“I called, you know.”

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.”

“You mean my arranged marriage?” The words feel stiff in your mouth.

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get?

You avoid Jihoon’s tentative glare to look at your noodled reflection in the polish of a red Fender. You think of Joshua, of a corny rendition of Here Comes The Sun and a pick between his teeth, cradling a guitar held by a linty, ten dollar strap.

Then you think of what he said on that piano bench—that somehow he could have prevented this. Actually, this might have been all your fault. One too many shots, and you ended up setting feminism back five centuries.

“Y-yeah.” You watch Jeonghan’s silhouette appear behind yours. “Has it been okay, at least?”

Okay is a complicated word to use. It’s hard to say, even for you.

It would certainly be TMI to tell Jeonghan that you’ve been kissing a lot more often. First it was under the flimsy guise of practice—We have to be ready for our dinner tomorrow, Joshua had said, to which you readily agreed. You couldn’t be the unwilling victim of another headline like KISS OR MISS! It would be terrible for your ego, even more so than your public image.

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

You really only liked each other past 9 PM—you still couldn’t quite manage to get through a conversation like normal people. At this point, you had a 50/50 split in terms of who would cast the first terrible stone of petty disagreement. The only thing we have going for us is a dubious physical attraction, seemed like way more of a mouthful than okay, though.

“Yeah, it’s been okay.” You look around. There's a decent amount of mediocre acoustic guitars on the back wall, more than enough to scratch the itch of someone too afraid to defile something more honorable. “Hey, don’t wait up for me. I think i might buy something.”

—

[august 10, 2:57 pm; a dress fitting.

In the ten-foot mirror of the boutique dressing room, you watch Yunjin yank the ties of your corset into a punishing knot. Your mother watches behind you, perched on the chaise.

“Regal and radiant,” she reads aloud, the shiny cover of a magazine between her hands. “Finally, some good news.”

“About you and Joshua?” Yunjin asks.

“Ye–ow!” you wince. “Yeah. We went out to dinner yesterday.”

The dinner: an exhausting, stuffy affair at an Italian restaurant with two Michelin stars. You came in a nice dress, Joshua in slacks and his best button-up. Smile, wave, a kiss on the cheek. You fed him a spoonful of dessert, a stiff, too-sweet panna cotta. It was either raspberry or strawberry—you were too distracted to really notice. Instead, you’d been practicing the steps, the motions of a true love.

Should we hold hands over the table? Joshua had asked.

I don't think we have to. Your hand had curled over the napkin on your lap, as if the thought of his touch physically stung.

“This is a nice color,” your mother interrupts. She pinches the fabric of the skirt up at your waist, watching the way it bunches over your hips. “It's suitable.”

Suitable. Right. The dress for your engagement ball, suitable. Just like you, newly suited for the engagement.

You watch your image in the mirror. It’s taller, more regal, likely the product of Yunjin squeezing all the air out of you, Or worse, the penetrating gaze of your mother over the top of the tabloid.

You blink hard; you waver. ]

[august 20, 10:13 pm; a quiet return to acros after a day at the beach with somi and soonyoung.

The castle sleeps, warm under the soft glow of candlelight on marble. You pad through the halls, carefully, as to avoid waking the entire country with the thwacks of your still-wet sandals. Hopefully Joshua is sleeping. He'd certainly ask questions, either about if bikini tops really need all that padding or what the SPF of your sunscreen was.

You approach your room, where the lamplight from the cracked door oozes into the hallway. There's a determined rustling noise coming from the interior. Incriminating. Holding your breath, you cast a long glance into the thin slice of bedroom you can see from where you’re standing.

There sits Joshua, cross-legged on the bed. Between his legs, the guitar you bought him. It must have finally shipped. He’s tied the gift ribbon it came with to the guitar strap, a woven linen with an offensively bright jacquard pattern.

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air.

God, what a dork, you think. But you don’t walk away.]

–

From the garden, the Acrosian moon renders the city blue, like ink from a spilled well.

It’s quiet out here, you notice. The forest spills into the sky, and the scent of roses lies heavy on your skin. You’re seated on the bench beneath the sculpted gazebo, a worthy centerpiece, and you revel in the coolness of the granite, the bated still of the air. You like this garden better than the one at home, although it’s entirely possible that you’ve been conditioned into hating all topiaries, no thanks to your parents.

It's only when you hear the quiet click of footsteps behind you that you realize you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been outside. You’re now able to tell them apart–these, Joshua’s, steady and purposeful, sound like they have a heartbeat.

You don’t turn around to greet him. “So you finally had enough, huh?” you ask instead, sliding to the left so he can sit beside you.

“How'd you know?” he chuckles.

“I'd like to think I know at least a little about you.”

“I appreciate it,” is his reply, surprisingly warm.

Just a few hours earlier, your parents had come to visit. They cooed and giggled and connived alongside Joshua’s parents before launching into a very long, very serious discussion about your engagement ball. You’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff, the small stuff being the color of the napkins, the members of the string quartet, the hors d'oeuvres. But then it got weird: the symbolism of the color of your nail polish, which journalists were allowed to watch you make out, when and how Jeonghan was supposed to announce his presence during all of this.

Then things got critical, which really sucked. No one was safe this time, not even Joshua. You lasted about an hour, Joshua about forty-five minutes more. You wonder what his breaking point was. Maybe it was his mother finally telling him off for having more than three buttons undone whenever he wore a dress shirt.

In the silence, you feel an inexplicable peace. Maybe this is the only time you can get along; underneath the same moon, the same stars, the divide doesn’t feel quite as wide. You let your mind clear, first, past the fog of Somi’s birthday bash, glittery and blinding in your mind’s eye, past Jeonghan’s tired shoulders in the music store, past all the magazine covers and photo ops. The heavy reality feels heavier in your stomach, but you’re no longer as scared, although resignation looks like acceptance when you whittle it close enough to the bone.

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Joshua’s voice is so low, it takes you by surprise. You look to your side and see his eyes, shaded by the long curl of his lashes, trained on the sky, his expression unreadable. There’s a piercing sincerity to it, one you haven’t seen before.

“No,” you reply, the answer coming to you faster than any regret ever could. “How could i?”

“So all the boyfriends before, just…?” he trails off. He's referencing the magazines, all the covers with full size photos of you and the model of the month holding hands by the riviera, sharing a martini, kissing outside a nightclub. There are too many to remember, but you’re surprised he’s aware of any at all.

“It was just stupid fun. I dunno. We hung out, had sex, whatever. It was never serious. I didn't tell them about anything at all; I was okay with them not really knowing me, at least, not as anything other than a party girl, the runaway princess, etcetera. We didn’t owe each other anything.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“Sometimes,” you answer. “But it was fun. I don't regret it. I just never saw room for them in all of this.”

Joshua hums, low and deep.

“And you?” you ask, incredulous. “In love?”

“In university,” he says after a brief pause. “There was a girl. I think I loved her more than I had ever loved anything else before.”

“What? Who?” you interrupt. “Do I know her?”

“No.” Then, a quiet chuckle. “No one did. She was a civilian, a normal girl. She wanted to be a biologist, I think. it was either that, or a nurse. We snuck around a lot. Probably more than you did.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“I told her I'd marry her. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would happen. I'd go to my parents, profess my love, and all our rules would fall away somehow. Just like that.”

Suddenly, it feels like there is a gaping wound in your chest. Every new word seems to draw the bloody edges of your skin further apart.

“Well, they didn’t,” Joshua continues. “I broke her heart. and I learned that all of this would never go away. Not for love, not for anything.”

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl.

“And that’s why you’re…you know.” You pause. The words all feel stuck to the roof of your mouth. “You like the rules.”

“Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.”

“You don’t want to mess up again. I get it.”

“Yeah.”

You notice your arms are touching, that they have been touching. Somehow, you don’t want to move away.

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask.

“Not sure.” Joshua sighs, having fully abandoned the filter he normally speaks to you through. “I don't think we’re so different. I don't know. It feels good to tell someone.”

“Do you still love her?”

“No. I don't think I can.”

“I'm sorry,” you swallow, feeling the familiar lump in your throat.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons.

“No really,” you insist. “I'm sorry. I gave you a hard time—no, I've been giving you a hard time. I didn't know.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“What?”

“Be nice to me. No one’s watching.”

“I know,” you say, a foolish conviction rising in your stomach. You almost feel silly, juvenile, for never really baring your heart like how he had. You’re not sure which was worse.

You turn to look at him, really look at him. He's framed by the haze of the violets, the gentle curtain of the willows.

“Says the real you?” Joshua asks.

“Yup,” you laugh. “Usually is. You probably get the worst of it, to be honest.”

“She’s not so bad.” He returns your gaze; it’s honest, unsearching. “According to the real me, by the way.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

There are no words left. In fact, nothing quite says more than the way you now sit together, hands close enough to touch, without quarrel, complaint, or a yearning to prove yourself to some invisible standard. Instead, you enjoy the quiet calm, the way it drapes itself across the garden, the city, the quick of your heart. Now that you think about it, it’s the first time you’ve been able to do this without feeling like you were putting on a show.

This time, you think it’s real when you lean against his shoulder, and he leans back, chasing your warmth.

And it certainly seems to stay real when your hands find each other. You realize he does it the same way every time—the gentle skim of his fingertips down your hand before your palms meet, gently, forthright.

And it’s here, in the uncertain glow of the summer moon, where you think you’re the closest to ever knowing just what Joshua had been talking about earlier.

His hand curls around your cheek, holding you, wanting to see you clearer still, and he kisses you. It's not the practiced motion of an ill-conceived love, nor a hungry, blind stumble in your unlit bedroom. No, this time, it's as if you are being drawn back, wonderfully, slowly. Joshua kisses you as if it's the first time, as if to undo all the other times.

And somehow, almost by magic, the fountain song and the phantom photographers, the parents and the press, the world and everything in it, finally draw quiet.

–

“So,” Jihoon says, reloading his pistol. “You ok? Don’t you hate the range?”

You push your earmuffs aside to hear him better. “What?”

“I said, don’t you hate the range?”

“Well,” you balk. Jihoon puts the gun down and leans against the booth, looking at you from behind the glare of his safety glasses. Behind him is the paper target of a man with five bullet holes through his head. “I think I've gotten used to it.”

This is all true—you did hate the range, but it’s where you can always count on finding Jihoon on a Sunday afternoon. Better people went to church, but Jihoon preferred to terrorize the poor center circle of a bullseye.

“Hm.” He picks up the pistol again, stares down its iron sights. “Somi need anything for her birthday?”

“She needs a new man,” you reply, and Jihoon laughs.

Bang. Bang.

“But, no, I'm getting her that vintage Cartier watch she’s been wanting forever. They were auctioning it off in Paris.”

“Right, since it’s time for her to get a new boyfriend,” Jihoon deadpans, although he can’t quite get it out before he chuckles. “What about Soonyoung?”

“They cannot get together. You’re just being messy.”

“Sure, I'm the messy one. Didn’t they sleep together?”

“That was, like, two years ago. Drunk.”

Bang. Then a click–the clip’s empty. “By the way—you decided if you’re going to Cotria this weekend? Jeonghan will be back again, you know.”

You pause, watching Jihoon reload the magazine, shiny bullet by bullet. You definitely know Jeonghan’s coming home—minus all the time you spend on Find My Friends, you were always acutely aware of when he was in town. The real question is if you wanted to see him again. Usually, you’d count down the days, make plans at all your favorite restaurants, buy a bottle of cheap wine to split over a shitty Godzilla movie. That was when you still talked.

The last time you saw him was when he visited you in Acros. After the music store, you milled around a couple shops, walked through an art gallery. (Remember when you got lost at the Prado? he had asked. You were staring at that painting with all the butts.

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.)

“I dunno,” is what you land on. “I'm busy.”

“Well, Jeonghan asked me.” Jihoon takes down his old target and sets up a fresh one, another formless, black silhouette.

“Asked you what?”

“If I could ask you to come.”

“Does Josh know?”

“He actually already helped with arrangements for you to go back,” Jihoon replies, palming the gun again. “He said only if you wanted to, though.”

The tightness in your chest seems to coil over itself once more. Joshua had asked you about Jeonghan over breakfast one morning, before handing you a coffee and a croissant to soften the blow. You had been talking a lot more lately, which, somehow, you didn’t mind. If he wasn’t making fun of you, he was actually a decent listener.

You watch Jihoon steady his arms.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

–

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car.

Surprising, maybe. Accidental? Never.

You’re getting ahead of yourself, though. It really started earlier tonight, at the charity event you attended with Joshua.

Lesser beings would blame the wine, a cheap chardonnay only fit for sorority girls on a Friday night. Naturally, you and Joshua were responsible for downing about half the bottle—a fun amount, you’d like to say, although you admit you were surprised at your date’s ability to hold his alcohol.

You, however, can peg the real culprit: a reasonably slutty dress, removed from the annals of Somi’s closet, back when she was less of a Paris Hilton and more of a Princess Diana.

The evidence: damning. As you were getting ready—Can you zip me up? you had asked Joshua, fiddling with the rollers in your hair, already a generous ten minutes late. Then the slow, lingering skim of his touch, molasses up the hollow of your spine. At dinner, a warm hand on your knee. You didn’t hang around much longer after that, but walking to the car was a wondrous excuse for the flat of his palm to find the small of your back, fondly, comfortably, as if you had known each other for years.

Since you had spoken in the garden, certainly you had acted like more of a couple. It came more naturally, likely due to the fact that you had no idea if you were actually a couple or not. You suppose it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Well—sort of.

Now, you’re just being obtuse. What you’re really trying to do is explain how your hand found its way down Joshua’s pants in the back of your limousine. And still, found is too generous of a word. But you digress.

The short version: you kissed Joshua. Jihoon parked the car out back, you had gotten tired of Joshua glancing at you through the side of his eyes, and you kissed him. Regrettably, this hasn’t gotten boring yet. You enjoy the way he searches for your touch, the part of his soft lips.

Sometime between the third and the tenth time your tongue found its way into Joshua’s mouth, Jihoon removed himself from the situation—he was always good at that part. Two wandering hands later, your palm skimmed over the front of Joshua’s slacks. No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song.

“Whoops,” you had babbled. This whole night, you’d been searching for the brakes on the clown car winding through the horny fog of your horrible, vexed mind.

“Fuck, sorry,” Joshua replied just as quickly, the words seeming to slip back down his throat.

Then you had stared at each other and blinked, hard, as if that would erase the fact that, one, the prince of Acros had just cursed approximately half an centimeter from your face, and two, you’d now crossed a bridge that could not be uncrossed.

You could no longer lie to yourself about the fact that you are hopelessly attracted to Joshua. You don’t even know if you want to lie anymore. You still thought of the time you ran into him, birthday suit and all, all those weeks ago in the bathroom. And, yes, you had wondered how big he was, although you blame Somi for planting that evil idea in you.

Hence, with God as your witness (since Jihoon was no longer there), you had said, “I can help, you know. If you want.”

You didn’t expect Joshua to nod so quickly. Then again, you now know yourself to be a poor judge of most things, especially ones relating to whatever this is.

“Do you want to?” he had asked, eyes fogged over.

“Yes. really.” Then you stopped. “Is this your first—”

“No. Does it really seem like it?”

Okay. You’ll have to unpack that later.

So, finally, here you are. Somewhere along the line, your shame had fallen to the wayside, and a new desire now rocks you.

“Could’ve just asked earlier,” you tease, thumbing the buckle of Joshua’s belt.

“Should’ve known you’re not one for subtlety,” he laughs softly, his eyes fixed on how you undo the clasp. It’s a silly comment, but all the blood still rushes to your cheeks at the idea of him wanting you not just now, but all night. “Next time.”

“Really now.” The button at his waistband proves difficult with your new nails, so you instead sit your hand on the tent in his pants, palm him over the fabric. “You’d let me do this in the washroom of a charity ball?”

Delightfully, you watch him squirm. He doesn’t fight you, instead, uses his hands to bring you closer so you can feel his voice on your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he replies.

“His highness,” you say before returning to the wretched button, “Fooling around at a formal event? Scandalous.”

“Says the walking scandal,” Joshua laughs again, nipping at your earlobe. Then a sigh, breathy and tortured, as you finally peel back his slacks.

“Isn’t this about the time where you be quiet and let me do my thing?”

“Is that an order?”

“Yeah, since you seem to like them so much.”

He opens his mouth to complain, but you’ve beaten him to the punch. Skin meets skin; you watch his eyes flutter shut, the slow fall of his shoulders as he exhales.

Fuck, you think to yourself. If that’s all it takes for him to get hard— you force the thought back to where it came from. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Already, you’re reveling in the lewd image before you: the nation’s darling prince, legs spread and slack-jawed in the back of a limo, dizzy at the thought of a pretty girl playing with his cock.

Your hand wraps around his length, pulls it out of his briefs. Feeling the weight, heavy and warm on your palm, makes your skin prickle. He is big, but even if he wasn’t, the way he gasps into your ear when you start pumping him is enough to satisfy.

You start slow, just to be a little mean. He's longer than you expected, you realize. A turn of the wrist at the base, a little more pressure, and you hear him groan, loudly, shamelessly, as he tips his head back.

“Feels good?” you ask, voice lower than a whisper. You know it does—you’re not inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, but something about turning the prince into putty makes the months of horrible foreplay worth it.

“Yeah,” he says, part sigh. “Really good.”

“Good.” Then you hold out your palm in front of his mouth. You tell yourself it’s a litmus test for his freak-o-meter, but there’s a part of you that wants to make this the best handjob of his short, unexciting life.

First, he looks at you, wide eyes unblinking. There's already a flush, pretty and pink, across his cheeks, the column of his neck. Then, it clicks. He spits into your hand, and you watch it trail down the plush curve of his lips, his chin, the ridge of his adam’s apple. The color spreads to his ears; his mouth twists shyly. Oh, he looks perfect, maybe even more than perfect like this.

As if drawn by a magnet, you kiss him, and your hand finds his cock again. The friction alone draws out a low whine from Joshua’s chest, enough for you to feel the sound on your own tongue. Emboldened, you pump faster, harder, loving the way his hips kick up to meet your touch.

Still, he gives no indication that he’s close. Something tells you he has more stamina than you think, which surprises you. Thirty minutes ago, you thought he was a virgin.

“Josh?” you murmur, your lips brushing over his. “Wanna taste you.”

He meets your gaze, expression unreadable. You think maybe you’re moving too fast, that you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, until you feel the shadow of his hand move, first on your waist, then up the back of your neck. He gathers your hair in one hand, easily, as if he’s done this many a time before, and you get the message.

You wet your lips, swollen at this point, and bow your head. You’re running on something crazier than adrenaline at this point—even seeing the bead of precum at his tip is making your jaw feel heavy.

The first taste, always thrilling, sends sparks to your cunt. You seal your lips around his cockhead, feeling its weight on your greedy tongue, and he pulls your hair just enough to make you moan.

“Were you thinking about doing this all night?” Joshua asks, voice deceptively innocent.

You can’t answer. You don’t want to. He tastes good, he even fucking smells good, and you want him bad. Instead, you take him to the base, feel him bump against your palate as you try not to gag. You can’t fit him all the way, so your hands make up the slack. He's even bigger fully hard, and already, you feel the ache in your cheeks, your temples.

“Fuck, you must have been.” A groan, low and slutty. “Doing so good for me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if this is his version of dirty talk, but it’s working. His hand is gentle, restrained behind you, letting you lead. The worse part of you wonders what it would take for him to break, but that’s a project for another time.

Honestly, he doesn’t need to do much—again and again, you chase the feeling of his cock deep in your throat, enough to bruise. You don’t even care if you gag around him; when you do, he pulls your hair back, just enough to make your scalp prickle wonderfully, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you like it.

You feel heady with arousal. You start to wonder how he is in bed, if he’d hold your hair like that, run his mouth like he is now. He's vocal, more than anyone else you’ve been with, and every little noise goes straight to your core, makes your thighs squeeze together pathetically. By now, you’re sure you’ve ruined this set of panties.

“ ��m close,” he says between breaths. “You don’t have to—”

Stupid, stupid boy, you think. You don’t think you’ve wanted to do anything more. So instead of answering, you look up at him, eyes big and watery, and you suck hard. with your tongue nestled underneath his cockhead, right by the vein, it’s almost too easy.

He groans, loud, satisfied, and you feel his release fill your mouth. Even after swallowing, it’s enough to run down your chin, get your makeup all smudged, and you like it. If you weren’t in trouble already, you are now.

“Ah, I made you a mess,” Joshua says, gravelly and intimate. With one hand, he takes the handkerchief out of his suit jacket and cradles your jaw with the other. “Hold still.”

“You,” you manage after clearing your throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice your pocket square.”

“Yes, I do,” he chuckles. He wipes the corners of your mouth, your aching chin, and it almost makes you cry. “You literally gave me head in the back of a car. The pocket square can go.”

He draws you up to his chest so you can rest your head on him. There’s a warm, melty feeling between your ribs, minus what you had just swallowed. Inexplicably, even as the horny fog clears from your brain, you still want to be close, closer than close and then closer still.

“Head? I don’t like hearing you use normal people slang.” You pout, and you feel his laugh radiate from beneath his skin. “Good head, at least?”

“Oh, please. Better than good,” he answers. “You’re perfect. perfect.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you start. Then he shuts you up with his mouth over yours, and you forget to think about liking him, loving him, or marrying him—this, you think you can do.

—

“We’re in Barcelona!”

You’re greeted by a pocket sized Somi and Soonyoung as they grin at you from your phone screen. They look to be on the balcony of a hotel suite, both wearing their matching silk robes.

“Wow,” you reply. “And where was my invite?”

“We did invite you, bitch,” Somi says, pulling down her sunglasses to look at you. “You said you were busy.”

“Well, I mean…” you uncap a bottle of nail polish. “That's not untrue.”

“The ocean needs you,” Soonyoung whines, clutching his chest. “We need you.”

“I'm sorry! Josh and I have been doing engagement stuff.”

“Josh? Since when were you on a nickname basis?”

“Whatever,” you interrupt. “What are you guys gonna do today?”

“Beach,” Soonyoung responds brightly, with Somi’s Don’t let her change the subject! loud in the background.

To be honest, you don’t even know the answer to her question. It just sort of happened, which seems to be the new normal for you. You’re also trying to pull apart last night–the freak-o-meter test came back inconclusive, and, for some reason, Joshua fell asleep with his arm over your middle. (Actually, you can think of a few reasons why he did that, but you’re not really sure how to feel about any of them.)

“Ugh, I miss you guys.” You wipe at your pinkie toe, having smudged the polish beyond repair. “Drink a little extra sangria for me. And by little, I mean a lot.”

“You’re still coming to Somi’s birthday, right?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yes, of course she is,” Somi replies. “Unless you can’t. Which I totally understand.”

“I still can,” you lie. “It just has to be more low-key than usual.”

“No paparazzi,” Somi says. “And I'll tell everyone to keep you on the down low. Super duper down low.”

“No way.” Damn, you curse to yourself—you keep screwing up painting your big toe. “Seriously?”

“Anything for my queen,” she giggles. “Pitbull is also confirmed, by the way. Secret Pitbull now.”

“Good, because that’s the only reason I’m coming.”

“Boo, you whore.” Somi wrinkles her nose at you playfully. (Is she being serious? Soonyoung asks in the background.) “Also, I'm still waiting for my update on the whole prince thing. I've been very patient.”

“No updates. Nothing to report,” you insist. Frustratingly, your cheeks are hot, like you’re in secondary school all over again.

“You fucked him, huh?”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Halfway. Maybe.”

The combined sound of Somi and Soonyoung’s gasps rips apart your phone speakers, and you draw in a big breath. I did it for the plot doesn’t quite seem like the right justification, not like it used to be. The plot never used to involve the M word, love, or any sort of feelings at all. Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

“So you do like him,” Soonyoung says, saucer eyes sparkly on-screen.

“I don't know,” you answer. It’s true, you don’t. To you, like was flirting over text and french kissing. Paradoxically, you had told Joshua all of that, and he still decided to do whatever he did to you on the ledge of the fountain all those days ago. It felt like he ate the heart right out of your chest. Then you had to go and suck his dick, which never made anything less complicated.

“Oh please. Look at you,” Somi laughs. “Yeah, you do.”

Fuck. You’ve smudged all the polish off your big toe again.

–

Not much surprises you these days, but you can’t say you were expecting to see your riding boots to be the first thing you see when you arrive home in Cotria.

The second thing you see is Jeonghan, smiling at you in his big, stupid riding helmet, camo-printed because he bought it when he was 15 and his head never grew much bigger since.

“For old times sake?” He then holds your own helmet up by the straps, and whatever twinge of annoyance you had felt earlier makes way for something softer, more forgiving. “Everything's set up outside.”

It doesn’t take you much time to take him up on the offer. If anything, a long ride usually solves all your problems, and you definitely have problems that need solving.

You saddle up in the stables, wordlessly, moved by habit. It seems to be the same for Jeonghan, too. Even Peanut acts like it hasn’t been years since he’s seen him, and he noses at the box of sugar cubes like he always does. Then again, horses don’t hold grudges, at least, not like you do. Even Joshua seemed more optimistic about this encounter than you did.

“So you're back back,” you say, hooking your feet in the stirrups. “Or do you have more jet-setting to do?”

“Back back,” Jeonghan replies. “Missed home too much.”

He cocks his head towards the old riding trail, the one that loops the long way through the woods. The gesture is but a formality—it’s the only path you ever take. Still, you follow behind his horse, watching the beige swoosh of Peanut’s tail the same way you did when you were a little girl and things were far simpler than they are now.

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today.

Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side.

“Hey, cricket?”

“Yeah?”

“I…” Jeonghan clears his throat and pauses, quite unlike him. “I wanted to come out here to talk.”

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, I…” Another pause. “I know things haven’t felt normal between us. For me, at least.”

You almost drop the reins. A strange, floating feeling is set off in your body, like a flare.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was kinda hoping you would say that.”

“I'm sorry.” A hard swallow. “I haven't really been the best brother, have I?”

“Well, not…not really.” Quickly, frenetically, words bob up in the back of your mouth like you’re playing whack-a-mole. You had been waiting for this conversation to happen for so long, you realized you hadn’t planned much further than that. “It felt like you’d changed. A lot.”

The wind feels like ribbons around you. You sway back and forth on Astrid, as if on a boat.

“Was it the birthday party thing?” you ask. “I didn’t mean for it to…you know.”

“Actually, that was my fault.” Jeonghan smiles bitterly. “I shouldn't have let Mom and Dad run me over like that. You should’ve been there. It was never really the same without you.”

“Well, I should've come,” you admit. “So we both fucked up.”

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.”

You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life.

“You didn’t even look back.”

“I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.”

“Jeonghan, you’re not really making sense right now,” you say, flattened, and he laughs.

“I don't even know what I'm saying. I think I'm trying to say that I just want you to be happy. And that I'm sorry.”

You bite your lip, as if to distract yourself from the strange pressure in your throat. You think you want to cry, but you’re not sure.

“But are you happy?” you ask. “With the coronation and everything? Did you even want this?”

“I am, believe it or not. I know you don’t, but I'm not lying. Somewhere along the line, I started liking all of the talking, the traveling, the interviews. I like that I can help people. Some of it sucks, but not all of it.” He laughs, finally one that sounds like something you can remember. “Not everything you have to do is bad.”

“Jeonghan, I'm getting married because of you. Because of this,” you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I don't know how to do this. Any of this, not like you, not like Mom, or anyone.”

This, in fact, does make Jeonghan stop. He stills and falls silent. At once, it seems the forest goes quiet too.

“Don’t get married, then.” You don’t respond, so he says it again. “You don’t have to go through with it. Not for my sake, at least.”

“What?”

“I've been thinking about it ever since it happened. I can talk to everyone. You’d rather not be with the guy, right?”

Your tongue freezes in your mouth. You thought you had an answer, but it refuses to come out.

“I have a duty to protect you, too. I’ll be fine with or without the press.”

“Jeonghan,” you say quietly. Many moons ago, you would have laughed at the word duty, but instead, your stomach turns over and over and over. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” is his simple answer. “I want to because I care about you. We can figure out the rest.”

Something in your bones feels heavy. You’d also been waiting to hear those words, but it didn’t feel as freeing as you thought it would. You think about Joshua, his books and his perfectly placed bookmarks, his dumb dad jokes, the way he reaches for your hand, fingertips before palm.

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. The engagement ball is probably happening either way, but it’s no big deal. Bigger engagements have been called off in far worse circumstances.”

You’re having trouble believing him, but you have no other choice. Your life would certainly get a lot easier if everything were to just end. No more press releases, scripts, or awkward pictures. And no more worrying about if you could go out on the weekends or just how much of yourself to give up to make things work.

“There's no rush.” He turns to look at you with the same wild shine in his eyes that you’d grown to miss so much. “Truce?”

That, somehow, you’re much happier to hear. You thought you’d be angrier than this, feel the usual metal-red of your gut, but all that’s left is a sobering feeling of relief, of home. At last, things feel close to normal.

“Truce.”

So you ride and ride, but a decision doesn’t come to you as easily as you thought. The sunset breaks; the word duty clings to you, unshakable, unrelenting.

—

Somehow, you have gone full circle: at the end of a long day, you find yourself back at the piano, much like you did when you were seven, and the only thing you could do right was play Hot Cross Buns.

Joshua had bought an unreasonable amount of music books, half guitar for him, half piano for you. You’d forgotten just how much you had liked playing until that night, many nights ago, when you and he had first muddled through that duet.

Yesterday, you and your parents had tea at the waterfront before you had left the country. You were still undecided on the engagement; frustratingly, the needle hadn’t moved much in either direction since Jeonghan had raised his proposal to you.

Congratulations, your mother had told you, right over her cup of oolong.

For what?

You’ve risen to the occasion. You’ve grown up.

To you, this was not a compliment. You didn’t know what it was. You had twisted the ring on your finger, back and forth, a habit you picked up after all the time you spent wearing it. You wondered if somewhere, you had become exactly like Jeonghan, molded and spun into someone unrecognizable. Maybe that was why Joshua finally seemed to like you.

Have you practiced for your first dance? your father asked, and you no longer had time to worry about the state of your personality—you had other fires to put out.

Really, that’s why you’re at the piano today. You thought you could play the damn tune and somehow remember all the ballroom dancing lessons you had taken when you were younger. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t worked yet.

There’s a knock at the doorframe. “Come in,” you say, already knowing that it’s Joshua. No one else does that; Jihoon barges in and just starts talking, and you can hear Joshua’s parents from a mile away because of all the jewelry they have on.

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” Joshua says. He leans against the frame of the piano, already dressed down for the night.

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just magically hoping that I remember how to ballroom dance.”

“Well, first things first, you can’t dance sitting down.” He chuckles, and you pull your lips tight.

“I'm serious, Josh,” you whine.

“You really don’t remember?” He gives you one of those looks, one that you’re quite used to now, with the judgmental wrinkle of the brow. “Didn’t you take lessons?”

“Yeah, like…fifty million years ago.”

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, grinning something foolish. “You don’t look a day over fifty.” Then he offers you his hand, which you take, and he easily pulls you from the bench.

“Flattered,” you say, unable to push down the corners of your smile. “You gonna teach this senior citizen a few moves?”

“Perhaps, as my good deed for the day.” He holds your hand, still firmly in his, and slides it up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Left hand here,” he tells you.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Not yet,” Joshua laughs. “The ballroom hold ring a bell?” His other hand finds your free one, and you interlace fingers simply, easily. Then, the warmth of a hand between your shoulder blades, one that draws you to his chest.

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.”

Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly.

“I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases.

“And country’s already seen it all.”

“They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.”

“Fine,” you pout, noticing that familiar warmth in your stomach.

Joshua begins to count your steps off (one, two, three—ow, that’s my foot! —sorry!). He’s patient with you, more patient than you think you deserve. His hand seems to slot perfectly into the curve of your back; his gaze settles onto you in a way that makes your chest feel heavy, molten.

“For someone who goes out so much, you have a terrible sense of rhythm,” Joshua says, teasing.

“Hey,” you object. “Maybe I just have a bad teacher.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?”

“Well, I'm not about to blame Britney Spears.”

Joshua laughs, and the sound is so close to you, you can feel it on your skin.

“I still think it’s the student’s fault.”

“Me?!” Perfectly timed, your sock-clad feet collide (yours, striped and fuzzy, his, plain white). “Impossible.”

“Too distracting,” he murmurs, and you notice how unfairly pretty his eyes are. “You bump into me, criticize me, you look at me like that…”

You feel dizzy. You don’t know what Joshua’s doing to you, but it’s mean. Your face is warm, and normally you’d blame it all on the alcohol but you haven’t had any. Worst of all, the soft part of you, the lizard-brained, impulsive part, can’t stop thinking about his lips and how they would feel on yours.

It’s a thought you don’t let linger, much like all of the other half-thoughts you have, and you kiss him, as if it was a reprieve from the terrible, horrible way he’s making you feel. (It isn’t.)

“You talk too much,” you tell Joshua, right against his lips. “Not enough teaching.”

“I'm putting you in remediation.”

“Devastating.”

“And giving you homework.”

“Whatever shall I do?”

Joshua answers that question for you. He kisses you, once, twice, still not enough, and, somehow, things feel more simple than they ever had before.

—

Jihoon’s eyes are dark, dagger-sharp in the rearview mirror.

“We’re coming up,” he says. “A few minutes out.”

“I know,” you answer. Yunjin was successful, almost too successful, in her task of finding you an appropriately revealing dress for a newly engaged twenty-something at the party of the year. The filmy silk stretches around your thighs; the cowl neck flirts with the neckline of the bikini top you have on underneath.

You look good, probably better than how you’ve looked in months. And yet, for some reason, you don’t feel good, at least, not how you’d thought you’d feel on the way to the only event you’d been looking forward to this year.

Somi’s gift rattles in your lap. It’s covered in this loud, hot pink wrapping paper unbecoming of something you had spent years tracking down on the antiques circuit. Normally, you’d have a laugh with Jihoon about it, maybe take some selfies in the car, but instead, you find yourself spinning your ring around your finger like you always seem to do these days.

You think of Jeonghan, of Joshua. Of course, what you do or don’t do on your best friend’s birthday is none of their business (although, very inconveniently, Jeonghan did have some event this weekend, and Joshua was traveling). But still, you think of the boldface headlines, the whispering gossip forums, the washed-out image of you in your little dress on the cover of a cheap magazine. This wasn’t exactly a tame party, and things weren’t just about you anymore, not like they used to be.

Marking your arrival isn’t the GPS nor Jihoon, rather, it’s the firefly buzz of the cameras outside your limo as it’s forced to come to a stop. You squint, trying to see past the tint of your windows, and see Somi, radiant in her birthday tiara, as she pushes through the crowd. Behind her is the villa she rented, illuminated by pink and gold strobe lights.

You crack open the car door and are met with a stifling deluge of camera flashes. Music pulses through the air, enough to feel beneath your heels.

“Who's my favorite princess?” Somi exclaims, throwing her arms open. “You made it! you look hot.”

“Not as hot as the birthday girl,” you reply, and you let her squeeze the air out of you in a wonderful, bone-crushing hug. “What's with all the cameras?”

“Professional photographers. Just wanted something to remember the night by, because we are blacking out.” She giggles, already tipsy. “Come, come, we’re doing shots inside.”

“Without me?”

“We’ll catch you up.”

Somi drags you by the hand through the sea of people, and you watch the cameras follow as they always do. She leads you up the stairs, underneath the towering balloon display, and into the foyer, already darkened, lit only by a disco ball chandelier and the neon backlights.

You spot Soonyoung by a champagne tower that seems twice his size, as promised. He's in a leather jacket, no shirt under, and you watch his eyes light up as they meet yours.

“A shot for her highness,” he shouts over the music.

“I thought this was champagne.”

“Tequila's close enough.” He laughs, eyes upturned, bright like gemstones.

The first shot goes down easy. it always does. So does the second, unsurprisingly. Around the third is when Somi tells you that the strippers are coming in an hour. (—Strippers?! —Not everyone has a fiancé, you know.)

And, just like that, you’re back to the beginning. It’s hard to think over the ridiculously good Kesha mix the DJ is playing, but, terribly, you think you’re starting to understand what Jeonghan was talking about. You’re still not sure how you feel about duty, responsibility, sacrifice, those heavy words that feel impossibly heavier in your mouth, but all you know is that, as much fun as you’re having now, it comes at a fair price.

Somi told you nothing, no compromising pictures, no drama, would reach the press, but, as hard as she may try, you feel like enough people have laid eyes on you already that someone was bound to hear something. If not now, then definitely in a few hours when everyone’s on at least two and a half substances, and all bets are off.

Briefly, you recall your appearance at the derby, the memory like a shard of glass. You had stood guileless next to Joshua, tripping over your words because you hadn’t cared enough to read the damn briefing, and he had covered it up with a dad joke or two. Coming up with those abominations must have been hard enough for someone whose first book was the Oxford Dictionary, but you don’t even think God and all his angels could cover up this. More than that, the thought of everyone having to try anyway makes your gut twist.

Someone tells you to smile for a selfie. You recognize her, but you don’t remember her name (Amelia or Alicia, one of Somi’s friend of a friends. On second glance, there are definitely more than 200 people here). Let's dance! another voice shouts in your ear.

Your head hurts. You hate the idea that Jeonghan might be a little right, but you hate even more that you’re starting to agree with him. Maybe you need another shot.

“Your gift,” you say, fighting over the chorus of Your Love Is My Drug. “Somi!”

“Oh my god, you did not!” she squeals. She clasps her hands over yours, wrapped around the box, and draws them to her. “Let me take it to the table. I’ll meet you by the pool—oh, oh, there’s a hot dog stand out there too!”

“Actually,” you start. You’re not that drunk, not yet, but now you think you can feel the ground start to sway under you. it wouldn’t be too far a stretch to say that in half an hour, after a little time at the bar, you’d probably be spending the night, no question. “I think I have to run.”

“Aw, really?” Somi tilts her head and squints, as if trying to read your mind.

“I am so sorry,” you tell her, as sincerely as one can over a pop song from the 2000s. “Swear I'll make it up to you.”

“Life stuff, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It's ok,” she says. “Really really. Go home, figure your shit out, and we can have our own party.”

She holds your joined hands to her heart. Whatever look you gave her, she believed. That, or she knows you better than you think.

So you leave. The car ride home is silent. Jihoon doesn’t ask questions, and you can still hear the sound of the music ringing in your ears, on and on and on.

–

You think the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to was the Crazy Frog ringtone of one of the guys you had slept with during university.

The second worst has got to be five voice memos and three consecutive missed Facetime calls from Somi, which is the first thing you see upon opening your eyes.

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, still coming to. Your bed is empty, but you see Joshua's suitcase in the corner of the room. He must have come home early this morning, while you were still sleeping.

You crack open your text messages.

–OH MY GOD.

–I AM SO SO SORRY.

–someone must have gotten paid off for last night’s pictures…i had no idea i swear

Then a voice memo. Then another voice memo. then a PopCrave Twitter screenshot: YOU CAN TAKE THE PRINCESS OUT OF THE PARTY–OR CAN YOU? followed by the worst, most incriminating photo of you and Soonyoung, arms linked, throwing back a shot.

“No, no, no, no.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the stone-cold drop of your heart to your feet. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Shit. You have to find Joshua and make it right.

Somehow, you thought it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t care what did or didn’t get out as long as you were able to have a good time—you desperately search for that same feeling, knowing that it’s long, long gone. You don’t even think you truly ever believed that.

You race down the palace hallways, ones that feel far more familiar than the rigid bastions they were when you first got here, but it’s Joshua who finds you before you find him. Or rather, it’s his voice you hear, trickling out from behind the library door.

Suddenly, you’re five again, and you’re spying on Jeonghan talking to your parents. You peek through the crack of the doorframe. As Somi would say, nightmare blunt rotation: there stands Joshua, surrounded by both sets of parents, and no one looks happy.

“We knew it,” another voice says—your mother. “We’re sorry, but we said this would happen.”

“It’s no matter. There’s nothing left to do but call the engagement off.”

The room goes quiet. You notice your hands are shaking. Your face feels numb.

“You’re right. I don't think anyone’s getting what they want out of this, anyway.”

“We’ll cancel the ball. There’s no way around it. Likely a relief, right, Joshua?”

The moment seems to squirm, suspended in time. This is what you were waiting for, right? Your parents were right—no one wanted this anyway. You certainly didn’t, and now you get your get out of jail free card. On top of that, you get to hear what you’d been expecting all along—that Joshua never liked you, that this was fun and all, but he’s ready to stop playing pretend.

“I…I disagree.” You freeze. “She's my fiancée. I made a commitment to her, and I'm not going to walk away.”

“Joshua, my dear, this arrangement was never going to work. You can be honest.”

This is the part where Joshua nods, does his perfectly symmetric smile, and agrees. This is what he does, what he’s been doing since forever. The story always ends the same way. That was the point.

Instead: “I am being honest. Since when was it illegal to go to your best friend’s birthday party? I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. She’s not who they, or you, think she is.” Through the door-gap, you watch the pursed, resolute draw of Joshua’s lips. “You didn’t even invite her here to talk about her own engagement. You never once gave her a chance.”

A stunned silence falls over the room.

“I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.”

Your hand flies over your mouth, and something twists deep in you, like you’re drowning from the inside out. You can’t, won’t, believe what you just heard. That somehow, beyond all the fighting, the quiet nights, the snide remarks and the fake smiles, that Joshua loved you? Loved? Enough to say all that to the people that ruled his life with an iron fist? None of this made sense, but nothing’s made sense since you got here.

The room erupts into noise, peals of voices all colliding into each other, and you do what you do best—you leave.

—

No one talks about that morning. You don’t even think anyone knows you were there—part of you wishes that you actually weren’t, so you didn’t have all this on your mind. (Joshua, later that day: I got you something from Seoul. From his suitcase, a bottle of soju. Just kidding. Then a jade bracelet, so vibrant it looked like the ocean.) No one talked about Somi, and no one talked about the party.

In fact, everyone had just rolled on as usual, all the way to the end of the week, the day of your engagement ball. Even you did. The word love felt so big, so burdensome, when Joshua had said it to his parents, but you didn't mind it on you.

The lingering touches, late night talks, tea made the way you like—nothing really had changed much since shit hit the fan, but now you knew that was the label. You guess that when you told Joshua you had never been in love before, you were really telling the truth. Either that, or he was just saying whatever the hell he needed to stop your engagement from imploding.

Still, you found yourself still reaching for him. There was an unfamiliar comfort about his nearness. You woke up this morning cradled to his side, and, for once, it wasn’t a scene you wanted to erase.

Now, your hairstylist hoses your blowout down with hairspray. You’d spent the better part of this morning sitting in different chairs, hair, makeup, nails. A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop: Joshua’s mother would waltz in and tell you, Surprise! You’re a single woman again, just as you should be.

It never happens. You’re wrapped in various mists and creams and powders, all the while fielding all the same questions about the ball (—Excited for tonight? Yeah, of course. —How does it feel being the surprise couple of the year? Surprising.)

It’s not until Yunjin comes in, wheeling in your giant, sparkly engagement gown, all Italian lace and satin brocade, that things feel real.

The dress itself is beautiful, a pale champagne number, gathered at the waist with a smattering of crystals down the train. Earlier, when you’d first tried it on, it looked like a costume fit for the girl playing wife. It was another smothering thing that hung on you, just like everything else in your life.

Today, you watch your form tall in the mirror. You meet her eyes, her uncertain mouth. It’s you, for sure, but there’s a stillness about you that you can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe Joshua’s demeanor was contagious.

Yunjin laces your bodice up, careful eyelet by eyelet—“You’re nervous, huh?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

She laughs. “Breathe. You’re not getting married. Not yet, at least.”

“Yunjin, isn’t it weird that no one has talked to me about Somi’s birthday? Everyone on the planet saw the leaks.”

“Maybe they finally learned to stop giving a shit. You looked hot, you had a good time, end of story. It’s not like anyone died.”

True. She grabs your shoulders and looks at you through the reflection of the mirror.

“Smile. Enjoy yourself. You look so, so beautiful.” You take a deep, soaking breath. You think about Joshua and all the sharp edges of his voice when he said he loved you. You had argued with him a lot, and you had never heard him like that. “You want this, right?”

Well, when she puts it like that? Yeah, you do. You think you really do.

—

The Great Hall is unrecognizable when you stand before it; the pink and white zinnias have been replaced by bouquets of calla lily and eucalyptus, the arched ceilings, once cold and imposing, now are bathed in the buttery, warm glow of candlelight. And the too-big space, usually empty, is now filled with partygoers, radiant in their best dress.

You stand at the top of the grand staircase. A thrill, anxious and skittering, runs up your bones. You’re reminded of your last big public showing at the derby, of the sea of microphones and the eye of the camera and the crowd, all staring you down.

You run through the cruel motions. First, a curtesy, so slow you think the audience can see you tremble. Then you take the first step down the stairs, and you watch them turn to you like the tanned halo-faces of sunflowers.

There, in the center of the crowd stands Joshua, unwavering. He's wearing a deep blue tuxedo, unfairly flattering (though, the lone curl of hair falling into his eyes is strong competition). Meeting his gaze, you watch the corners of his mouth fold up in a way that reminds you to breathe. In, out. You’ve got this.

Every step, you feel like you’re learning to walk for the first time, like you've lost your sea legs. Amongst the guests, you spot Jeonghan, next to him Jihoon. Then back to Joshua, like your eyes can’t stay away. He shoots you a covert thumbs up—you’d expect nothing less from the corniest man on Earth—but, nonetheless, it makes the long walk to the center of the room feel much shorter, despite the torture devices on your feet (Louboutins, not broken in).

One, two steps, and you’re face to face with your fiancé. Your heart is still racing, thrumming against the cage of your bodice like it's trying to escape. You’re sure the whole congregation could hear it if not for the quartet that’s come to life, now playing the opening notes of Blue Danube.

Yes, that’s right, you tell yourself. You still have to dance in front of the whole fucking country.

Before you crash out and make this a national emergency, you feel the warmth of Joshua’s touch. Fingertips before palm, always the same, he finds your hand, like he manages to do every single time.

“I’ve got you,” he says, low enough for only you to hear. And for the first time, you believe him.

—

Really, you could have gotten away with saying nothing. It would be much easier, to be honest.

The ball had gone off without a hitch so far. The music was good, the food even better, and your parents were somehow silenced, instead opting to dance among the crowd like they were young again. Still, you can’t seem to put your mind at ease. With everything that had happened this week, Jeonghan’s offer only seemed to weigh heavier, more urgently upon you. And of course, there was the matter of Joshua choosing to opt into your engagement, against all odds.

You realize you had gotten quite good at running away from things—your family, your responsibilities, the media, even Joshua—not knowing how to bear the weight of an impossible duty. Actually, you thought it was a royal failing until you had seen Joshua in the library that morning, jaw set, unbending.

“Hey, Josh?” you ask, with a few bats of the eyelashes to soften the blow.

He tilts his head in that way he does, and his gaze softens. Damn you, you think. Trying to distract me with those horrible, pretty eyes.

“Can we talk about Sunday?”

“What about Sunday?” He still looks confused, and you know the look well enough at this point to know he’s not faking it.

“Um…Sunday morning. After the party,” you say slowly, as if giving yourself time to back out, just in case. “I heard you talking with our parents.”

In an instant, his expression changes, and his eyebrows roll into their usual furrow. You feel his hand falter behind your shoulder blades.

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice drops. “That.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, realizing all you do is apologize. “It was supposed to be a small thing, no cameras, I barely even stayed—.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Joshua interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I-I know,” you fib. The thing about pretending is that you’ve both become so good at it that you have trouble believing him. “It’s just that I also heard what…what you said.”

Somehow, the wrinkle between his brows grows deeper.

“I said a lot of things that morning.”

You press your lips thin, feeling what you’re about to say ball up on your tongue. Easily, you could change the subject; you didn’t have to know anything, really, you could stay silent and let the world work around you, just as you had been taught. But you watch the soft twist of Joshua’s gaze, how he studies your expression, and you know you can’t go back to how things used to be.

“You said you…” You take a hard swallow. All the blood in your body only wants to exist in the apples of your cheeks, away from your brain where you need it most. “You loved me.”

At once, the world spins off-axis. You feel the anxious flutter of Joshua’s heart under your palm, and your own stomach flips in its cage. The L word coming out of your mouth seems ten-thousand times more ridiculous than anything he could say, probably because you can’t remember the last time you actually said it and it came out all wrong.

He must feel the same way. For once, he can’t meet your eyes. His mouth opens and then closes, as if hoping to delete what you had just said. Maybe you would just keep dancing, beat by beat, and this would all go away.

Silly girl, you think, traitorously. Pick a damn side. Either he likes you or he doesn’t. The problem is that, somehow, both options hurt your feelings.

“I mean, I totally get it if you just said it to keep up the act,” you cut in. “There are a lot of reasons why this is a good idea.”

“The act?”

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “Isn’t that what this is? Haven’t we just been lying to everyone? To ourselves?”

Joshua’s hand at your waist stiffens before he draws you closer to him. You expect him to roll his eyes, do one of those exaggerated sighs that he does when you’re being difficult.

Instead he leans in, close enough for you to feel his voice against your skin.

“Do you think I was lying back there? Or now?”

Your heart lurches.

“I—no, but.” You pause. Every single coherent thought you’ve ever had scatters to the wind. “Well.”

“Because i’m not,” Joshua says, this time, more softly. “Not about this. Or us.”

“But how? Why?” You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your chest swell in a way it never has before. “You’re perfect, and I'm…I’m me.”

“That’s why,” he answers, simply. “You’re smart, funny, honest—sometimes too honest, even. You reminded me there was a better version of me that I had left behind. One that wasn’t perfect, but was happy.”

He holds you in his gaze the same way he did in the garden, carved by moonlight. An impossible warmth fills your skin; at once, it feels like, in your vision, there is only him, like you're in a cartoon.

“At the same time, I understand if—” Joshua starts.

“I feel the same,” you blurt out. “I…I don’t know what this is, and I don’t think I ever really did, but I want to try.”

You watch the surprise write itself all over his doe eyes, his unfairly rounded cheeks. From by the hors d'oeuvres, nosy Jeonghan peeks over the shoulder of another guest, already familiar with your lack of volume control. You watch him grin something stupid, triumphant.

“You’re uptight, judgmental, and you make the worst jokes. But I…I think I might be falling for you too.”

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.

“I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes.

“Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss.

—

The walk back to your bedroom is a blur. All you remember are hands—hands on the small of your back, hands riding up the length of your thigh, hands in your hair, pulling at your roots. You remember hands, and the taste of Joshua’s mouth.

It’s a walk you are not proud of, one that you’re glad happened in the dark, with all the guests gone home.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” Joshua says, pressed to the hollow of your neck as you fumble with the handle of the door to your room. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.”

Then his lips on yours, before you finally remember how to open a door.

“Fuck, Josh,” you breathe between kisses, stumbling backwards until your back hits the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad.”

He bites your lip, lets you sigh into his mouth.

“Dress, off,” you tell him, and you lean forward on the table. Obediently, Joshua gets to work. His touch feels fiery, electric on your skin.

In the mirror, you’re able to see the damage: your lipstick, smudged beyond repair, your blown-out pupils under your heavy lashes. There’s a hickey on your collarbone.

“Now you have me wishing you'd wear one of those party dresses,” Joshua murmurs, still working at the lacing at your waist. “Far easier to take off.”

“Really. The same ones that got me in big trouble with you lot?"

"For what it's worth," he replies, before kissing the back of your neck, then the ticklish space under your ear to make you laugh. "I always liked you in those. Even before we met."

"No way." He’s finished with the lacing; your dress falls to your feet in a glorious heap of silk and lace, leaving you in your slip. Another kiss to your jaw, your cheek. "You hated them."

"I almost bought a copy of Insider, the one with the cover of you in the black dress with the long sleeves."

"Shut up," you laugh again, somewhere in between kisses. He’s talking about Soonyoung's new year's eve party, a few years back. You were getting out the back of a cab, alcohol-flushed and on a phone call with God knows who. "I still have it, you know. I could wear it for you one of these days."

"Don't tempt me." Joshua kneels, bending down to undo your heels. You feel him press his lips to the back of your knee, your thigh. “Friday. Dinner?”

“Done.”

Then he stands back to full height and leans into you, just so you can feel him. Like clockwork, your skin prickles wonderfully even just thinking about blowing him in the back of the limo, that night he had held you down on his cock.

Joshua must see how you squeeze your legs together. He pushes your slip up over the curve of your ass; you feel the rough of his hands over your skin, over the flimsy lace you have on for underwear. Then, before you can say a word, he pulls the waistband back, meanly, enough to tug on the hood of your clit, and lets it snap back against your skin.

“Oh, fuck,” you keen. You had no idea you were so sensitive, but Joshua’s foreplay game was way better than you thought. “Please, Shua.”

“Oh? So you like when I'm a little mean?”

You watch your face in the mirror flush pink, your bitten lips fall open in surprise. He pulls tight on your panties again, loving how your eyes squeeze shut.

“Maybe.” You pause, humiliated. Fuck it, the cat’s already out of the bag. “Yeah.”

Joshua’s hands are warm, so warm, when they peel the fabric down your trembling thighs.

“Legs apart, darling,” he tells you, mouth pressed to your shoulder. “So you like to boss me around the castle, but now you want me to tell you what to do? Is that so?”

Before you can answer, you feel a finger along the seam of your cunt. You can’t see Joshua’s face in the mirror, but you can sure see yours, and you hate how even the smallest of touches has you drooling. Then a touch to your swollen clit, just rough enough to draw a gasp from you.

“I-it’s different,” you protest. Two fingers now, both rolling your clit under them. A whimper tumbles out of your chest, and your hips seem to be moving on their own accord. “Didn’t know you had…experience.”

“Still not sure what made you think otherwise.” A quiet chuckle, then the slow, agonizing push of one of his fingers inside you. “Fuck, you love that, huh? Soaking my hand.”

“Yeah…” The vanity table suddenly feels too crowded to support the weight of your body, especially like this, as Joshua continues to work your clit with his other digit. Feeling your body surge again with heat, you push aside your makeup bag, all your stupid little bottles, so you can prop yourself up on your arms.

Another finger, and your legs are shaking. Quickly, he seems to have figured out how to hit your g-spot every time, every pump of his hand knocking into you just the way you like.

“I think it was how annoying you were that did you in,” you finally answer, trying your best to put up a fair fight. “Kinda detracts from your sex appeal.”

“Annoying?” Joshua asks, right up against the shell of your ear. like this, you can see him in the mirror, and it almost sends you over. the dark hair in his face, the insatiable look in his eyes. Then a third finger, and your eyes roll back. “Am I annoying you? Doesn’t really seem like it.”

Your body answers for you. You feel yourself tighten around his fingers, fuck, you’re so close, you feel your head start to spin. You watch your reflection shake her head, glassy-eyed and dumb.

He laughs cruelly. His free hand reaches up to find your tits, and, over the slip, he grabs one, rough like he’s a meaner man, like he’s slutting you out.

At once, you feel the lightning heat of your release. You cry out, airy and high-pitched, and feel your body rock against Joshua’s as he pins you between himself and the vanity.

“There you go,” he murmurs. His hand slows, letting you ride out your high, before he pulls out. “Wanted to do this ever since I kissed you that night.”

“Which night?” you ask, catching your breath. A kiss to your shoulder blade, the nape of your neck.

“The night you taught me to kiss. Or rather, tried to.”

Ah, yes. The night you told him what Shark Tale was, and the night you made out for so long, you felt it on your lips in the morning. Dumb fucking Joshua, stupid and in love. The affection that surges through your body makes you mad.

“You needed lessons.”

“Not really, don’t you think?”

“Bed. You’re talking too much,” you insist, turning around to see him. “Also, you’re wearing too much.”

“Back to arguing with me, I see. Can’t stay away.” Joshua’s shit-eating grin prompts you to yank his tie impatiently, shutting him up. It comes off easily, just as his belt and the waistband of his slacks. (You weren’t about to let them best you a second time).

“Maybe ‘cause you find a way to be difficult about everything.” You wrinkle your nose, and Joshua’s grin only grows wider. “Don’t make me give you another order,” you warn, fully aware that since you guys got here, it’d been him doing the orders.

You pull your slip over your head, now only in your bra, and lay back in the bed. You think of all the sleepless nights, then the ones spent talking, the ones in his arms. To think they would all culminate to this, to you now watching Joshua undo button by button with a desire unlike any other you’ve felt—it would almost be unbelievable if you weren’t doing it right now.

Like a striptease, you watch his chest peek out between the linen of his shirt. He's wearing a necklace today, one that settles meanly between his pecs. As he moves lower, you can’t help but notice the outline of his cock in his briefs, the spot of precum on the fabric.

Traitorously, you feel your mouth water. The shirt comes off, and your lungs fill with another shaky breath.

You know you’re both letting your freak flag fly (one of you more surprising than the other) but it’s in this moment, caught in the lamplight, that you realize how much things have really changed. Still, you’re not able to tell Joshua that this is the first time you’re sleeping with someone you might be in the L word with, but you think he sees it too, or at least, reads the look on your face.

You feel the dip of the bed underneath as he joins you.

“Are you ok? That wasn’t too much, right?”

“No, it was…it was good. really good,” you admit, feeling your face heat up again. “I just…I dunno. I like you a lot, that’s all.”

“Hm?”

“I—” you stutter, and your mouth freezes up again. “I said I like you a lot.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He sees the dismay on your face and smiles. “Hm…I like you an adequate amount. On a good day.”

Against your will, you crack the fattest smile you think your body is capable of. “You are the worst. The absolute worst, and I still want you to fuck me.”

Upon hearing this, Joshua does not waste time. That he does—it isn’t long before he has your knees hiked to your chest, cock between your pussy lips.

“Say you want it,” he whispers. You feel the cold kiss of his chain on your chest, the slick rock of his length between your legs. He's so hard, so big, your cunt already aches at the thought of it.

“Want it.” Your voice comes out small, breathy. You would fight back, but you’re realizing you quite like this side of him. “Please.”

When the head of his cock presses into you, there is no hiding. Already, you moan, sweet and loud, feeling the familiar pressure in your gut.

“K-keep going,” you babble. Fuck, he barely fit in your mouth and now he’s stuffing your cunt. You wrench your eyes shut, listening to him talk you through it (—Look at you taking me so well. Feels good, huh? You’re so beautiful. Honestly, it’s a miracle Joshua’s ex never had a royal baby with how much they must have fucked.)

Your second orgasm comes quickly, not long after Joshua bottoms out. He groans right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and it’s the best noise you think you’ve heard in your life.

The third comes slowly, more intensely. With your knees to your chest, you think you can feel Joshua all the way in your stomach. Every stroke fucks the sound out of you, his cockhead right up against your g-spot as he fills you again and again. Sometime between orgasm two and three, he’s pulled your tits out from your bra, left marks across your chest.

“Want you to touch yourself,” he tells you, voice low.

Mindlessly, you listen. One hand finds your nipple, the other your clit, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling.

“F-feels good, Shua.” He enters you again, all the way, and the pleasure is white-hot. “O-oh, fuck,” you warble.

“You’re so good at listening to me, you should do it all the time,” he murmurs. “There you go. Take it, take it, just like that. This must be what I have to do to get you to be nice, hm?”

All you can do is stare up at him, positively fucked dumb, and take it, just as he told you to. One, two strokes, and you feel yourself get impossibly tight; “Fill me, need it, need it,” you whine, delirious. Everything from the look in his eyes, the flushed sweat over his brow, his collarbones to the way his expression responds with every word you say, makes you wonder why you wasted time fucking anyone else.

When he comes, he bites your shoulder, hard, and it’s what you need to follow soon after. You feel so fucking full, so satisfied, you think you could die happy here.

Joshua flops down on the bed next to you, boneless. You think he’s about to say something akin to that you should have put a towel down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls your body to him, lets you feel the warmth of his skin play against yours.

He’s murmuring wonderful things to you, which you would gladly reciprocate if words weren’t coming to you one letter a minute. It’s not your fault though—you need to recover physically, emotionally, spiritually after getting the soul fucked out of you.

Then, “Me or you shower first?”

You groan as a response.

“I’m serious.”

“Together?” you offer weakly.

“Fair chance we won’t just be showering then.”

“Oh nooo.”

That’s all Joshua needs to whisk you to the bathroom, where, indeed, he seems to be right yet again.

—

The spring morning washes over Acros like a second skin. The birdsong rouses you; through the curtains comes sunlight from the garden, spackled on the wall as if spots on a doe.

It’s been almost a year since your parents had told you that you were marrying Joshua Hong, prince of Acros. Six months since he had told you he had loved you. Two months since you and Jeonghan had pulled off your first joint production at the youth theater (a roaring success). One month since you were fully, fully moved in, Astrid and Jihoon included.

After your engagement ball, you and Joshua had agreed to take it slow, as slow as two people who had very publicly announced their wedding could. But still, somehow your parents, both sets, could tolerate the two of you wanting to do things the right way. Perhaps they were still shocked things worked out as well as they did.

“Morning,” you call out. The bed beside you is cold. “Josh?”

You’re surprised he’s up. Last night, he went out with you, Somi, and Soonyoung. Somehow, he had drunk enough to get up and solo karaoke a Whitney Houston song, although you’re suspecting the alcohol was just a cover for his true intentions.

Then you look out the window. You spot Joshua, seated on the bench overlooking the garden. This time of year, the roses are in full bloom, their bright heads reaching for the sky in brilliant red and gold.

When you go to join him outside, he’s no longer at the bench. You actually don’t know where the fuck he went, but it’s no matter. Here, you’re able to appreciate the beauty of the season, the rolling green of the country you’re now calling home.

It was also here where you had your first real conversation with Joshua without fighting, funnily enough. Now, you’d say the both of you were more agreeable, but that’d be a lie—somehow, you think you actually enjoy bickering with him, but that’s a conversation for another day.

Behind you, someone (Joshua) clears his throat.

“Now, what are you—” you say, spinning around. It was too damn early for games, but Joshua had no shortage of bad ideas.

It’s then that you see Joshua behind you, on one knee. His smile tells you everything you have to know, and every thought in your mind freezes in an instant.

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.”

You stand there, immovable. Of course you had to be in your pajamas (his shirt and boxers, really), no makeup, hair untouched. And yet, you can’t imagine anything more perfect.

“You drive me crazy,” Joshua continues. “In every way possible. I can't imagine life without your laugh, or your thinking face, or how you always need to have an answer for everything.”

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful.

Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.”

And you say yes, for the very first time.

[END]

#mine #joshua x reader #joshua x you #joshua imagines #joshua scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #joshua #joshua hong #seventeen smut #joshua smut

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gracieheartspedro · 1 year ago

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More Than Friends

how to help the Palestinian people

pairing: best friend!ellie williams x fem!reader (set in the jackson era)

description: you and ellie have been friends for awhile. while at a party for tommy’s birthday, you try to catch the attention of your crushes. sadly, they are all over each other. in a childish effort to get them to pay attention, you two try to make them jealous. 'cause that always ends the way you think, right?

word count: 3.3k words

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, smut, wlw, f!receiving oral (reader), fingering, jealousy, semi-public sex, dirty talk, tons of nicknames, no mentions of reader's appearance. talks of sexuality, but it's vague. reader wants to fuck whoever, it doesn't matter lol. let me know if I missed anything!

author's note: I wrote this after watching one too many ellie edits on tik tok. it was written in two hours, so it's not my finest work but it scratched my little ellie itch. okay, much love xoxoxoxxo

“So… you really like Dina, huh?”

Her face twists immediately at the question. She throws herself back in the wooden chair, cursing under her breath. Her arms cross over her chest, her t-shirt riding up a bit above her jeans.

You saw the way Ellie looked at Dina. She looks at her like she hung the moon. She was always fumbling over her words around her, nervous to say the wrong thing. When she did try to flirt, it came up awkward and strained. And you understood her predicament because you were the same way about Jesse.

You both were pining after two people in a committed relationship.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” She mumbles, gesturing towards the center of the room where Dina and Jesse slow danced. He was leaning down to whisper something in her ear and it made your stomach flip. “She would never go for me.”

You felt bad for Ellie. She was everything you wished you were yourself; beautiful and funny. You felt like you were the only one, besides the Millers, who got her dry humor. You two had met in class about two years ago, now. You were a newcomer to Jackson, arriving about two months prior with your mom. When you got seated next to Ellie, you could tell her give-no-fucks attitude would mesh well with your give-too-many-fucks attitude. Over the years, you two had really rubbed off one another. You two were inseparable.

“You’re the whole package, Els,” You say before nudging her shoulder with your elbow. You two are moping at a table near the exit of the food hall. It was Tommy’s birthday celebration, so everyone in Jackson got together to plan a big bash for him. Ellie felt obligated to come and your mom was pretty close to Maria. More time spent with your best friend wasn’t time wasted, so here you are.

“At least she shows you the time of day,” You say under your breath.

Jesse had been pretty flippant with you. He could never remember your name, let alone that you two shared the same street in Jackson. You also once shared a table at the mess hall. He was so tall and strong. Your crush on him was more physical than it was emotional. He was funny, sure, but you mainly just wanted to get him alone.

“Why are we doing this to ourselves?” She ponders, finally looking away from the canoodling couple across the room, “We could do so much better!”

You know she’s just trying to convince herself of something she doesn’t really believe. The tone of her voice changes when she’s lying.

“Like who? Slim pickin’s out here, Ellie. We have them and maybe 4 other undesirable people. There’s always the butcher’s son, he always had eyes for you.”

She grabs her cup from the table in front of you, “Yeah, men are… not my type.”

You turn your body so your legs are nudging her thighs, “Then, you really don’t have any choices.”

She nods her lips in a thin line. “I wish I could just.. Just go up there and talk to her. Ya know?”

“Why can’t you?”

“The same reason you can’t just go up and talk to Jesse.”

You roll your eyes, leaning forward on your knees. Your body is practically in her bubble, but she just sits back with her arm over the back of your chair.

You and Ellie had no real boundaries. You had no qualms about physical touch and Ellie never said anything or seemed to mind. You two have shared a horse countless times and even a bed. She never steered away from you.

“Well, Dina will talk to you if she sees other girls talking to you,” you state, reflecting on the last time everyone in Jackson got together. Some random girl came up to you two and as soon as Dina saw Ellie laughing with the other girl, she scrambled across the room to see what the fuss was about. You saw the same glint in her eyes that Ellie had.

For some reason, it made you kind of jealous.

You never tried to explore those knee-jerk emotions you had for Ellie. She was your best friend and you were positive she never felt romantic feelings towards you. Plus, you weren’t sure of your feelings about your sexuality. You always told Ellie you just liked who you liked, not really putting any importance on what was between their legs. You weren’t very experienced, but you had hooked up with both genders and liked it all equally.

“That was a coincidence, bug.”

That stupid nickname that she called you. Born from the one time you practically attracted every infected in the area with your scream over a huge beetle. She could not let it go and ended up calling you bug, just to annoy you.

You finally look up at her freckled face, waiting for her to crack a smile. When you squint at her with contempt, she smirks.

“Why don’t we find another girl and test the theory?”

She glances around the populated party, “Everyone here is over the age of 40.”

You turn back to the crowd of people around you and see that she’s right.

You mull it over, your brain working to find a way that you both could get their attention. You two could simply say fuck it and go watch a movie and forget this stupid encounter happened. Joel would probably chew Ellie out, but when doesn’t he do that?

Your next idea is something dangerous but something you had thought about before. You had never brought up the idea to Ellie because you were afraid of her reaction.

“What’s your idea?”

She could read you like a book. You pursed your lips, wondering if you should even propose the idea to her.

“How desperate are you?”

She laughs out loud, completely taken aback by the query. “Jesus, what are you thinkin’?”

You lick your lips, trying to make sure the idea comes out as a whisper.

“Why don’t we make them jealous? Just you and me?”

“How though?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “Well, I’m a girl.”

You glance back at where Dina and Jesse were just dancing. They are both now facing you two’s direction, Jesse engrossed in a conversation with Tommy. Dina is just sipping from her glass, not really staring anywhere specific.

You look back at Ellie who’s also looking at her, but meets your eyes when your face gets closer to hers.

You would tell her how beautiful she was all the time and she just would roll her eyes and change the subject. You were physically attracted to her and there had been a couple of times you had thought about kissing her and wondered what her lips would feel like against yours.

But she was your best friend.

“Wrap your arm over my back,” You are still positioned, your elbows on your knees, your knees facing her thighs, “And rub it.”

She furrows her eyebrows, but she submits and brings the arm that is slouched over the chair to your lower back. You nod, watching as her lids lower. Her hand creeps up and down your side, her fingers grazing your ribs, up to your side boob. “Now what, bug?”

“Now, slowly move your hand up my back,” She does it as you’re speaking and the movement makes the hairs on your arms stand up, “Grab the nape of my neck.”

“Why are you making me do this?”

You lift up off your hands, bringing your face closer to hers. She doesn’t budge, sitting still and only focused on you and your words.

“Because,” Her hand grabs the back of your neck, before slowly bringing it forward to collar bone. The gentleness of her touch and the fact that it’s your Ellie, makes every sense heightened. You don’t even realize how her touch is making you feel until you see her crack a smile.

“Because why?” She whispers, her voice teasing.

“Cause I want them to see you touch me.”

It comes out needy and desperate. Her eyes change when it slips from your lips, instead of being playful, she’s looking at you like you’re her next meal. She leans forward, her face millimeters from yours.

You had never talked to Ellie like this but at this moment, you were completely transfixed on her. She was wearing a flannel over her shoulders covering her usual gray t-shirt. The sleeves were rolled up exposing the tattoo Cat did on her a year ago.

You always thought it was hot, the way it trailed up her arm from her delicate wrist.

Her jeans are ripped and her legs and man-spreaded like she was carrying something in her jeans.

And she smelled like pine. You loved it when you got the privilege to sleep next to her because her linens always smelled like her. You would love the idea of getting into bed with her right now.

“How do you want me to touch you?”

You chew the inside of your lip, “Any way you want to.”

She chuckles before brushing her hand down your exposed arm, “Is this for the bit or do you want me to genuinely touch you?”

You notice her being sincere. You think back to all the times you joked about sleeping with Ellie, and while at the time you chalked them up to being jokes, deep down, maybe it’s actually what you wanted.

With the way she’s looking at you now, you prayed on every star that she would continue pushing your buttons. That somehow she would forget Dina even exists and realize it was you all along.

“Hey guys,” Her voice brings you out of your horny daze. It was the last voice you were expecting, and you can tell by the look on Ellie’s face, she is thinking the same thing.

“Oh, hey Dina!” You quip up, not moving all the much to ensure she sees Ellie’s hand on your bicep.

“You two busy?” The way she asks is almost too demanding. You glance back over at Ellie whose color is draining from her face.

You shake your head, finally sitting up. Ellie’s hand doesn’t leave you though, instead, it just drops to your thigh. You try not to acknowledge it, as you notice Jesse coming up behind Dina. But now it feels so heavy against your legs, the weight of the situation finally hitting you.

It worked.

“We are just talking,” Ellie manages, her voice cracking.

Jesse comes up behind Dina, wrapping his arms around her. You’re suddenly grateful that Ellie’s hand is still on you, the jitters hitting your system subsiding by the physical feeling of her being so near.

“Looked like more than that,” Jesse jokes, his smile taking up a lot of his face, “You good Ellie?”

“Ellie was just telling me about the patrol she just went on with Jesse,” You explain quickly, making sure to look at Dina and not Jesse. “She told me about the infected y’all ran into!”

“Oh yeah, shit was crazy,” Jesse squeezes Dina tighter, “We gotta get back out there again, Ellie. You were a beast at taking those suckers down.”

“U-uh yeah, absolutely.”

You grab her hand as a reassurance. The exchange gets awkward quickly, none of you knowing what else to say.

“Well, we should get goin’,” Dina says tapping Jesse’s arms, “See you two around?”

You two just nod. They walk away, not saying much of anything else. You stare at the wall, humiliated by the last 10 minutes of your life. You were unsure if you could even look Ellie in the eyes again.

Ellie huffs loudly, sitting further back in her chair. “Well, that failed.”

You start to agree until that little bit of Ellie that’s rubbed off on you starts to come up your throat. The not-giving-much-of-a-fuck is creeping up on you.

“Did it? Because I think it went exactly how I wanted it to.”

You finally return your eyes to her bewildered expression. You pull her hand off your lap as you stand up, yanking her up after you.

“You wanted it to go like that? What was the point?”

You pull her closer to you before raising your lips up to her ear. Her hair is tucked behind the crest of her ear, so it tickles your nose a bit before you speak.

She turned you on, so now you needed her to do something about it. Here’s to not giving a fuck.

“The point was to get you to finally touch me.”

The temperature in the room rises a million degrees. Ellie’s eyes light up at the statement and you know that was exactly what she wanted to hear before Dina came up to you.

You start to pull her towards the kitchen door, right near your table. You remember finding a hidden supply closet back there last Christmas party. Your skin was on fire as you dragged her through the appliances to the somewhat large closet. It was practically empty, void of anything anyone at the party may need, so it was safe. Plus it had a lock.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, Ellie’s on you. Her lips hit yours and it was exactly how you imagined it. She was quick and eager with her kisses, her tongue plunging into your mouth immediately. She was grabbing your hips, pushing you towards the wall where all the brooms and mops were. You try not to trip, giggling as you pull her face closer to you.

“So this is what you wanted?” She pulls away from you for a breath, “Using making Dina jealous as a ploy to get to finally kiss you?”

Your hands find the spot above the hem of her jeans, right under her t-shirt. Out of instinct, you start to unbutton her pants.

“Actually, that wasn’t the plan.”

Her eyes are trained on your lips, “Is that so?”

“No, but you were playing the part way too well and I realized something.”

“What did you realize?”

The overhead light was so dim but you could still somehow see her cute freckles.

“That I want you more than I want anyone else. I need you to touch me more often.”

She chuckles, her fingers still pressed into your hips, “Well, bug, I’m touching you just like you asked.”

She drags kisses up your jaw and neck. You try not to fall apart over that alone. Ellie always talked about how inexperienced she was, but she’s probably the most tentative kisser you have ever encountered.

“Can you touch me here?”

You press your hands to the zip of your jeans. She looks down at your body to where you’re touching and she clicks her tongue.

“Ask politely, baby, and I’ll do anything you want.”

The nickname change makes your heart stop.

“Can you, my sweet best friend, touch me and get me off? Please?”

She groans at the question, a sound you never thought she’d make for you.

“Of course,” She grabs the belt loops of your pants before yanking them down your legs without resistance, “What are friends for?”

You know you’re soaked by the way she smiles up at you. She gets down on her knees, looking up at you, as her hands slowly start to spread your legs. You are standing against a wall, watching your best friend’s face creep close to your center.

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. She pulls at your panties, toying with the fabric before you take matters into your own hands and pull them down your legs.

She brings her lower lip between her teeth, “This wet for me?”

You could slap the stupid smirk off her face, but before you can even say something snarky back, she slips her digits between your glistening slit. Your body practically buckles at the prodding, so you brace yourself against the shelf next to you.

Your normal reaction to feeling good is to close your legs together tightly, but Ellie has her left hand mounted to your inner thigh, keeping you open for her, while the other one is slowly creeping up to your weeping hole. She’s gentle when she puts one finger inside you.

Once your body reacts around her, she pulls her finger out to inspect how wet you are. After she’s satisfied with her findings, she adds another which causes you to mewl at the sensation.

“Ellie, please,” You beg, trying to get more friction. She’s not letting you do anything but watch.

“Mmm,” She hums before moving her face closer to you, “Love to hear you moan my name, bug. You wanna be a good girl? Keep begging.”

You never took Ellie as someone who loves to hear her sexual partner beg, but it turns you on even more.

You watch her close in on your clit, her tongue finding the bud and flicking it a couple of times. The moans that come out of your mouth are so deprived. Her fingers slip so seamlessly in and out of you, that you try to remember a time you were so wet. Nothing comes to mind because all your brain is thinking is Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

“Please, please,” you plead, trying your best to egg her on so she goes faster. It works because she picks up the pace fucking you. Her mouth suddenly closes around your clit, and she sucks.

Your one hand is still gripping onto whatever is next to you, but your other hand has to rest somewhere. Her short brown locks are right there, so you grab on.

Her mouth leaves your clit, and instead, her tongue licks up and down your weeping hole. When you bring her closer in, her nose starts to stimulate your sensitive bud.

The sounds are so wet and depraved, you’re sure the bubbling in your stomach is about to come to a tipping point. You find yourself grinding forward, trying to get friction on your clit again. Her nose prods the spot over and over again as you grind down onto her face.

Ellie hums as she fucks you, trying her best to push your limit. You know you’re close and you are sure she can feel how tight your pussy is gripping onto her fingers. She knows you’re close so she kicks it up a notch and shakes her head between your folds. That motion alone sends a tidal wave within you crashing to the shore. You pull her hair so hard, you know it probably hurts but fuck, you needed her to feel how good she was making you feel.

The white-hot feeling starts to subside and you are panting like you just ran a mile. You finally release Ellie’s head, letting her come up for air. Her lips are saturated with your slick and it looks like she’s drunk on you by the way her eyes are half shut. She pulls her two fingers out of your tight hole, making you whine at the emptiness.

She stands up, bringing her two fingers up to your lips.

“Wanna see how good you taste?”

She’s so fucking dirty. It gets you so riled up.

You grab onto her wrist and bring the fingers up to your mouth. You suck them dry, giving into how absurd this is.

“You’re a freak, too,” She beams at you, before bringing you into another feverish kiss. You were so mesmerized by her. She grabs onto your hips, pulling your naked bottom half to her still-clothed legs.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” You grumble, still recovering from the drilling you just had. Her hands travel up your sides, under your t-shirt. She is holding onto your ribcage, looking at your exposed tummy as the shirt rides up.

“I didn’t think you’d go for me, especially when guys like Jesse are your type,” She explains, so enthralled by the way your body looks to her, “I don’t know if I can let him have you, now.”

You smirk, your hands twisting around her shoulders, “Oh, I see. Well, if he can’t have me, then Dina can’t have you.”

“Well, thank God they have each other, then.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams oneshot #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #gracieheartspedro #tlou ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut

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papasmoke · 5 months ago

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My name is Ruwa Romman, and I’m honored to be the first Palestinian elected to public office in the great state of Georgia and the first Palestinian to ever speak at the Democratic National Convention. My story begins in a small village near Jerusalem, called Suba, where my dad’s family is from. My mom’s roots trace back to Al Khalil, or Hebron. My parents, born in Jordan, brought us to Georgia when I was eight, where I now live with my wonderful husband and our sweet pets.

Growing up, my grandfather and I shared a special bond. He was my partner in mischief—whether it was sneaking me sweets from the bodega or slipping a $20 into my pocket with that familiar wink and smile. He was my rock, but he passed away a few years ago, never seeing Suba or any part of Palestine again. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him.

This past year has been especially hard. As we’ve been moral witnesses to the massacres in Gaza, I’ve thought of him, wondering if this was the pain he knew too well. When we watched Palestinians displaced from one end of the Gaza Strip to the other I wanted to ask him how he found the strength to walk all those miles decades ago and leave everything behind.

But in this pain, I’ve also witnessed something profound—a beautiful, multifaith, multiracial, and multigenerational coalition rising from despair within our Democratic Party. For 320 days, we’ve stood together, demanding to enforce our laws on friend and foe alike to reach a ceasefire, end the killing of Palestinians, free all the Israeli and Palestinian hostages, and to begin the difficult work of building a path to collective peace and safety. That’s why we are here—members of this Democratic Party committed to equal rights and dignity for all. What we do here echoes around the world.

They’ll say this is how it’s always been, that nothing can change. But remember Fannie Lou Hamer—shunned for her courage, yet she paved the way for an integrated Democratic Party. Her legacy lives on, and it’s her example we follow.

But we can’t do it alone. This historic moment is full of promise, but only if we stand together. Our party’s greatest strength has always been our ability to unite. Some see that as a weakness, but it’s time we flex that strength.

Let’s commit to each other, to electing Vice President Harris and defeating Donald Trump who uses my identity as a Palestinian as a slur. Let’s fight for the policies long overdue—from restoring access to abortions to ensuring a living wage, to demanding an end to reckless war and a ceasefire in Gaza. To those who doubt us, to the cynics and the naysayers, I say, yes we can—yes we can be a Democratic Party that prioritizes funding our schools and hospitals, not for endless wars. That fights for an America that belongs to all of us—Black, brown, and white, Jews and Palestinians, all of us, like my grandfather taught me, together.

I want to be clear,” Romman said. “We’ve been in negotiations for days. This did not just come up…We’ve been talking about this for at least a week. In addition, the campaign told us that not getting a ‘no’ [initially upon first hearing the request] was a really good sign. For them to give us a ‘no’ the same day that Geoff Duncan [a Republican from Georgia] was on the stage—especially when it was my name—was just absolutely a slap in the face.”

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hazelfoureyes · 7 months ago

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The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (epilogue)

Mom gets fitted for dentures next week 🎊 🎉 🦷 💝

Epilogue (Promises)

You had meant it when you said it so long ago. A promise. One you intended to keep

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x Fem Reader, Valentino x Fem reader (just TRUST ME), nipple chain, Val exists too much, Kaiju cock, pussy wet??, aphrodisiac, Alastor shade, fanatic sinners, misleading porno covers, Angel Dust is perfect as always, blood, stabbing, filming sexy things, Val in a thong, licking, hair pulling, why bad man have big dick, Alastor isn’t horny but he is possessive, pussy in the ether」

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦 Epilogue sexual

***Spoiler for people that need Val warnings*** Val dick touches reader pussy. Val explicit scenes are purple. if you skip the purple parts you will still understand the story and still be in the scene, interacting with him. Reminder, reader is there intentionally and consenting.

minors omg look over there! (🏃‍♀️💨Dni)

“I will admit, I was surprised to get your message.” Val exhaled, one hip out as he rest his weight on his right foot. You hadn’t planned on seeing him again, but as you became comfortable in hell you found yourself remembering the promise to yourself. One you made that day you met Alastor. On the floor of that studio. Your eyes scanned the room. The space was different, the set no longer your cursed cabin scene. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You took a deep breath, you’d practiced this, “Well I’ve been in hell for a while now… and I see you everywhere. I’ve been thinking,” your eyes caught on the door you were confident led to the room that held you. To the bed. Another shaky exhale, you never were much of an actress. “I really missed my chance with you. A powerful overlord… a celebrity.”

A dark chuckle from the moth, his ego fluttering, “Ooh, you’re a little celebrity in your own right. My best seller in ages.”

Oh, right. The tape. You hadn’t watched it yet. Alastor set the VHS copy on the bookshelf, an agreement made you could revisit that memory together if you ever wanted to. Not that you hadn’t heard it before. Nearly two years after its release and still people played it in public. Your first visit to Rosie started with you red faced and sputtering, having had someone on the way there thrust a DVD in front of you.

The stranger asked for an autograph, but as soon as you saw the cover photo the entire thing had been knocked into the street by Alastor’s microphone. He had been trying to shelter you from interacting too much with the movie.

“Was that—is the cover—?” You were frozen as the sinner ran off, mind trying to process the image.

Alastor hummed, “Not what I’d choose, but I signed away all rights when I made the deal. A little misleading of a photo if you ask me.” He watched with glee as a car pulverized the disc and case.

A blood red demonic seal splattered with a white liquid and a slender hand scraping into the wood.

“But that’s the Vees for you!”

Indeed, that was the Vees. Val gestured at you with his cigarette and its dramatic holder, “Aren’t you still with the radio demon? Not that I care.” He took a few steps towards you, getting you into arm’s reach before grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you into him, “Just cuz there's a goalie doesn’t mean I can’t score.”

With how your head was angled back as he had your hair tightly wound in his fist you could see the TV. Always Vox News, you assumed. The time was displayed in the corner. “I am but— he doesn’t, ya know… he doesn’t know I’m here. But he’ll be looking for me soon.”

He stared down at you, pupil-less eyes without emotion. Your scalp began to burn and after a few seconds you had to shift your weight to relieve some of the pull. It made your upper stomach rub against his crotch. Not at all your intention. But you knew you’d have to touch him eventually.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t do shit at anyone else’s speed.” His hand released your hair, “Could be fun though…,” Valentino traced along your jaw with his tongue before squeezing your cheeks in his hand, “fucking Alastor’s woman.”

He was off you as quickly as he had pounced, makeshift jacket swirling behind him as he spun around and walked to the door you’d seen before.

Another glance at the television. You had 10 minutes before Alastor would be calling. A small panic that you didn’t have enough time.

Alastor rarely called on you, because rarely were you very far away. He didn’t have you on a leash, you just enjoyed his company. You’d scroll on your phone while he worked in his radio station or read a book while he enjoyed his breakfast in the morning.

Also, well, going out alone could be intimidating. People swung from two extremes when they saw you— excited fan or terrified sinner.

The fans knew you were with Alastor.

The other sinners knew you were with Alastor.

The DVD incident had spooked you, not helped by the fact it had been your first outing. Alastor had been eager, even if he didn’t say it, to introduce you to the cannibal overlord.

Having you back in his presence brought a deep seated sense of calm to him, one best compared to the feeling he had when gossiping with Rosie over coffee. Naturally he wanted his closest friend to meet the soul who’d stolen his attention. And Rosie was delighted to meet you, evident with the extravagant tea (and a singular coffee) she set up and her litany of questions.

But every time she asked something she also seemed to answer it herself.

“Are you happy to be together again in your body?! I’m sure you are.” She offered you a finger you had to decline.

“I bet you two have been busy.” A wink, “Though you must have been for it to take so long to get down here.”

Alastor shrunk a little as she smacked at his shoulder. You hadn’t seen him allow others to touch him before. Had that been Angel, the second one of his many arms cocked back Alastor would have stepped away or disappeared. Just a hit and you could see how close they were.

You made a point of befriending her, coming often after that initial meeting to her shop for gossip and advice. As time went on, you began to learn about Alastor’s normal. It was nice to have a mutual friend to discuss your worries and ideas with.

“And oh! That video. Talk about hot under the collar!”, a petite laugh, “Did you see it?” Rosie waited for you to answer this time. When you shook your head no, she waved her hand, “For the best. The climax was totally unwatchable!”

You turned to Alastor, not sure what that meant, but he didn’t meet your gaze and instead slowly blinked out of sync at the bookshelves behind Rosie’s shoulder.

“Did you know he’s not into all that?” She took a sip, “You better be patient with him ya got it?”

That question caught you off guard. Apparently for him too, Alastor coming back to life at the change of tone, “This isn’t really a tea topic, dear friend.”

Rosie hummed, “Where are my manners! I was just so relieved he didn’t up and leave for another seven years.”

What’s a scowl shared between friends?

But shared between whatever you and Val were…?

Valentino’s wings unfurled revealing long fishnet covered legs. You watched as he swayed his hips side to side on his way to the bed. The same bed as before. You remembered the shape and purple comforter that you could see down your blindfold.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to already be undressed.” Where were his pants and button up? This was moving faster than you’d anticipated.

He turned back to you as he plopped down onto the bed, “What I wear isn’t any of your business. Though, speaking of business.” He pointed to the corner, a part of the room you’d never seen before. A camera on a tripod stood there. “Turn it on.”

Your grimace was immediate. “You sure you wanna film this one?”

Impatient, he crossed his legs and leaned back on two hands, “Did you think you could just come in here, ask to fuck me and … what? It’d be all on your terms?”

Yes.

You’d worn a dress expressly for ease, and slipped off your panties before going to the camera. For some reason you didn’t want that recorded. It seemed embarrassing. More so than what you were about to do.

Val’s turn to gawk, “You’re seriously not planning on staying dressed.”

“What I wear isn’t any of your business.” You opened the view screen and hit record.

His laugh was dark and deep, “Ooh, I forgot how feisty you were. Maybe this can be a recurring thing.”

Ignoring the comment, you tried to take in the details of the room, checking the walls and small bits of furniture. But you were immensely distracted by the moth demon, who had taken to spreading his legs open and running a hand down his barely contained bulge. Tiny, little, itty black thong, fishnets, nipple chain and… well, the hat.

Two arms pulled you by the waist, hands gripping the flesh of your ass through the dress.

“Why are you dressed like you’re off to teach Sunday school?” His hands slipped under the fabric and dug into your bare skin. He glanced at the camera and its small monitor to make sure he was in frame.

Your knees were brought to either side of his legs before he began to open his stance wider and wider. The action lowered your center more and more until your naked heat was resting on his package. Things were speeding up, he was moving you around so effortlessly. A problem, an absolute problem.

“Ya know I haven’t had a believable good girl to break in awhile.” His hips rose of the bed suddenly and made you bounce on his growing erection. Val groaned, a sound that made your skin crawl.

In the reflection of his glasses you saw the white face of a marble clock on the wall behind you.

“Could we—- can we do this lying down? Missionary? It’s been awhile and I’m feeling insecure.” The thought of the overpowering demon towering on top of you and pinning you down was… a tad terrifying. But you needed to see the clock, you couldn’t keep turning around.

A brief thought, maybe just turning around on his lap and staying facing away from him would work, but then you remembered the camera. Didn’t need your now-rising dress to give the Vees anything exploitative to keep.

Not that everyone in all nine rings hadn’t already seen you spread open and screaming on camera.

“Actually maybe it’s okay, I can,” turn around? Your suggestion was cut short.

Val lifted you like a toy and flipped around. Your head hit the bed hard, brain jostling in your skull. One hand instinctively came to his chest to keep some distance. “No, I like this better.” A wide grin as he settled between your legs.

You leaned to the right to see the clock past his shoulder. Five minutes.

Why didn’t you wear a watch? Fuck.

He dropped his lower half onto you until his full weight was pressing his half hard cock into your stomach. Your breath tightened, running out of moveable space to expand your lungs and diaphragm.

“I wanna see you squirm.” Pink smoke was blown directly into your face, catching you off guard. But, where was the cigarette? You didn’t see it…

Your muscles went loose, the stress of the moment washing away. Both of your hands came to the center of your chest and pressed down. Security. Readiness.

Four minutes.

Alastor didn’t like you having a phone but he didn’t stop you from owning one. You had assumed you’d be on the set where you knew there would be some way to keep track of the time. Or else you’d have just worn a dress with pockets to carry a cellphone. Maybe set a timer.

You weren’t sure about Alastor’s disdain for tech until you witnessed it yourself. That square headed stalker flitting from screen to screen, riding the wires and the radio waves. He had warned you about the Vees, about Vox in particular. He didn’t have much to say about Velvette, and somehow that was better than the nothing he had to say about Valentino.

As Val’s tongue slid up your neck, you thought about Angel. A confidant. You wished he had asked Alastor to kill Val, as a thank you for his efforts in reuniting you two. And, now that you remembered, uniting you at all.

Instead he asked for a bigger room. Large enough for two to comfortably cohabitate.

Alastor maybe couldn’t kill Val, but he could try. When you brought it up with him he was upset. He didn’t like his name being spoken at all unless absolutely necessary

An inadvertent moan you didn’t realize came from you until Valentino chuckled at the sound.

“Feeling it?” He cooed. You weren’t sure which it he meant. This wasn’t going quite to plan.

Three minutes.

So much could happen in three minutes. Too much. He slid down his underwear, sitting up and letting you see him in his full glory.

Why did he have to be such a bad man?

Many men who carried big sticks were unkind. Between their legs or between their fingers.

Alastor was an exception to the rule.

Things did calm down for Alastor after you returned, eventually. Alastor’s desperate need was soothed with you in hell again. His appetite dying. But he hungered in new ways. Ways you hadn’t anticipated to fill your cup so full. Long and intense kisses where his hands dragged down your body and he sighed into your cheeks. You were often pulled into his side and under his arm when sharing the sofa. Soft pets to your hair as you fell asleep.

And when you felt the need, and if he wasn’t feeling up to it, he’d lie beside you and whisper into your ear. Talking soft and low about all the ways you stole his heart and mind while his hand pumped those long fingers in and out of your own needy pussy. He’d grin into the nape of your neck when you were incapable of keeping your voice down any longer. A feeling you’d come to need.

You didn’t need a cock to be full. And by the look of Val’s twitching monster, you’d be broken before he bottomed out.

His thumbs pulled apart your bottom lips, “Ready to spread you open so wide you won’t even feel that lanky fuck in you.”

His third and fourth hands pushed your thighs open and back, hands you could swear felt familiar. Alastor? Or before him?

You struggled to regain focus, your fingers feeling at your bra.

Two minutes.

Legs suddenly too weak to resist, or perhaps Val too strong. Or, a third option, you weren’t trying so hard. Behind his fingers was left a burn on your skin.

“Closer.” Your lips were tingling, it felt good.

“I need you closer.”

His wide chest grew prideful, “Oh? If you’re looking for love you’re in the wrong bed, princesa.”

“No love. Chest. I can’t reach your chest.” You struggled to sit up, but managed to grab the chain connecting his pierced nipples before falling back into the bed.

A screech, a squeak, “Fuck! Watch how you handle that.” His voice rose several octaves. God, you hated him.

You gripped the chain tightly, the feeling keeping you a little grounded. “Oops.” A whirlpool was behind your eyes, all five senses mingling and amplifying. This was dangerous. He hadn’t used this aphrodisiac on you before…maybe he had liked how much you thrashed when he tied you up and mocked you.

His length ran up your core and you jumped. He was so hot. So…. Firm.

No. Too close.

One minute.

You had told Alastor you wouldn’t let it go too far. He said he’d not stop you, because you had said you needed to do it. But you could see the conflict behind his own gaze. What would he do if you returned smelling of Val? Dripping of him?

Almost. Just a few more seconds. His body rolled into you, rocking you with the motion. Every passing had his cock from slit to balls sliding between your wildly wet folds.

Timing was key for your safety. Though Alastor had made it clear you could always just bail and wait for his call.

The more Val rubbed and pressed against you you felt your mind melt a little more. Surely it would slip down your spine at this rate.

A brief worry in the pleasurable fog, what if later on you remembered the pleasure and felt guilty? Guilty to Alastor but most importantly to yourself, for gasping and sighing under the abusive trash that dragged you to hell to begin with.

And what if you didn’t?

Which was worse?

Which would be easier to live with?

He prodded your inner thigh. He was getting closer and closer to actually entering you.

30 seconds.

“Do you remember my promise?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His head was hung as he stared between your bodies. He didn’t see you reach between your breasts into your bra and pull out the Carmine angelic dagger Husk had recommended to Alastor. You hadn’t been quiet about your plans.

“Odd, it’s on recording. Maybe you didn’t realize I was talking to you.” As you moved the dagger from your right side to bury it into Valentino’s chest you remembered the man in the woods. The young man at work. Angel. Here you were again. But if this ended the same as the woods, where would you go? Would Alastor be able to reach you?

“My promise to fucking kill you.”

Valentino keeled back, hand raised to slash your throat out when a green light momentarily blinded him. The sound of chains filled the room as you disappeared into nothingness underneath him. He was left slashing at his own duvet while he tried to slow the bleeding.

Alastor caught you as you fell from the portal he summoned you with. Two feet barely touching the floor as he set you in the reading chair in front of his fireplace.

He nodded at the drops of blood staining your cornflower yellow dress, “Was it a success?”

Your body slipped down the chair, dress getting caught in the friction and riding up. He leaned over and tugged it back down to hide your exposed sex. You were too far gone to feel deja vu.

“No, I think he’s alive. He drugged me with that smoke.” Your legs were spread wide, trying to keep your weight from slipping off the chair. “I was too weak.”

Alastor sat in the chair opposite and took in the scene. Hair messy, legs open, face flush. Bloodied and breathless.

Pride ran a shiver up his spine. His doe’s second murder attempt. While he has despised the idea he couldn’t pretend he didn’t love the initiative.

“Hey, I know you said you wouldn’t ask.” You crossed your legs at the ankle, which did nothing to stop the way the air that was rising up your dress and cooling your core. “But I didn’t fuck him.”

Alastor shrugged, “As they say, all is fair in love and war. I would understand if you did for the sake of killing him. What’s a little sex if it helps murder?”

Your hand slipped down your chest, a ghostly trail in its wake like your touch had an echo. “What a terrible way to confess you love me.”

A choked cough from the radio demon.

Your eyes slipped close. Relaxed. “I feel good.”

He hummed.

“Not from the stabbing, from the stuff in his smoke. My body is thrumming. Is my heart pounding?” You tried to stand but ended up on your knees, cheek coming to rest on his inner leg. As he leaned forward to let his hand enter your dress and rest above your heart, his face got close to yours.

“It’s frantic.” A low whisper into the shell of your ear. Pulling back he paused at your face to lick an errant drop of blood. “You reek of him.”

“He did lick me a couple times.” You watched Alastor sneer, “And he was naked, like, immediately. Oh! Oh fuck,” your head popped up with a renewed clarity, “He recorded it.”

Alastor stilled, he wasn’t thinking about the recording aspect. He was thinking on your heart, on how flushed your skin was, the sweat dripping down your neck. On the thought of Val’s tongue over your skin. “The medicine— or drug you were exposed to,” a deep breath in, “What does it feel like?”

A topic change you hadn’t expected, your body slouched into his leg, arm over his thigh for support. His eyes on your face as they always were when you were in the room.

“Like my body is… illuminescent. Every time my clothes or something touches me, my skin lights up and my brain gets so quiet.” His palm stayed on your heart.

“Hmm,” His hands slipped under your arm, lifting you up. Your feet were entirely off the ground now as he carried you like a dirty cat on its way to the bath. Gently, you were set onto the bed. A lovely juxtaposition.

“Every time I touch where he did, tell me.” Alastor kneeled beside you, deft fingers unbuttoning your dress. A sharp claw popped under the center of your bra and sliced through the fabric.

Your body was humming again, Val’s powerful aphrodisiac lifting up from your senses like dust under heavy footsteps.

Goosebumps formed up your arms as the back of his fingers traced along the outside of your forearm. As he curved up your shoulder and reached your neck you breathed out a low, “There.”

You watched him lean down, warm lips kissing at your skin. A series of kisses as soft and needy as the ones he often placed on your own mouth. A shudder turned nearly violent as his hot tongue ran up your neck to your jaw.

His nose slid up your cheek, “There.” Kisses to your face, across your nose and to the other side.

He pulled back, eyes lusty and heavy lidded. He didn’t say anything, but his grim smile asked you something. You nodded, running your hands down your chest and to your thighs.

A growl you hadn’t heard in so long rumbled in his chest. He rolled you onto your stomach and pulled the dress off entirely, nails raking along your spine until they dimpled the soft fat of your ass.

“There.”

Alastor straddled you at the back of your knees. You wanted to squirm but your muscles had gone weak again. He nipped at the mounds of flesh, massaging and squeezing after every particularly sharp bite. What little part of your brain could form coherent thoughts was trying to piece together an alarm— his face was so close to your still soaking wet entrance.

Images bubbled up where words were failing. Val’s large cock head smearing precum up your slit.

His hands roamed down your legs and feet before turning you back to face him. When you could finally see his expression again, you were surprised to see a look he hadn’t given in so long.

Needy. Desperation screamed through knitted brows, hazy eyes, and a weak smile threatening to fall flat.

As his hands slid down your stomach and reached the junction of your thighs, you started to register the little moans you were making.

But it was getting harder to hear past the radio static and pounding heartbeat in your ears.

Soft fingers traveled between your closed thighs, you hesitated before offering what you thought was a quiet, “There.”

You couldn’t hear yourself think let alone speak as the sounds both in and outside your body grew louder with every signal he’d found a new spot to cover up.

His knees pushed open your left thigh, then your right. Lowering himself, he hitched your knees and lied flat on his stomach. A bite to your inner thigh, nearly the back. A suck, sharp and strong, that ended with a pop as he released.

Nose inching closer and closer to your core, Alastor could see your hole clenching. A dribble of the evidence of your arousal being forced out and down the cleft of your ass.

You heard and felt his breathing quicken, when a finger slid down your folds you couldn’t stop the raise of your hips.

“There.”

The lights went out with a pop. Shaky breaths as his tongue swiped from entrance to clit. Lick after lick to your center like he was trying to make you clean again. Another moan you were only sure was yours cut through the now biting static that filled the air around you.

Your mind tried to piece together a sentence, “Crazy stuff… it had me so horny”, your hands ran up your chest without thinking, “I was almost hoping Val would put it in before time was gone.”

The static cut. Not even the sound of the fireplace or the crickets in the swamp portaled into his room were present anymore.

“Isn’t that insane? Have you ever heard of such a drug?” Your eyes had closed, feeling his breath wafting down your saliva coated lips. “Alastor?”

He was being honest when he said he’d not hold it against you. But he hadn’t even considered a situation where you wanted more to happen. Than had been discussed. The very idea of Valentino mixing with you brought bile to his throat.

The drug was to blame and he could understand that, as a man. But as an overlord, as something more akin to animal in some aspects, he had the clawing urge to reclaim you. To write over even the thought of wanting to feel Valentino.

“My darling little doe, I think you need a reminder of just how much of you I possess. And the parts of me you own in turn.”

You looked down to see glowing eyes from between your legs, his fingers snapped and while you couldn’t see what was happening past the light of his eyes, you could hear the VHS player click and then a small, “Aunt Sara….” whispered in a familiar voice.

“I don’t understand what’s happened….”

It took a moment to register it was your own voice you were hearing from the darkness.

“Aunt Sara isn’t here.”

Alastor’s acting debut crowing from the old TV beside his bayou door. His eyes shifted with a blink from glowing red to black, just sharp dials visible in the shadow of his face.

“She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.”

The prongs of a buck ready to clash over his territory creaked past your open thighs.

“But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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#Alastor #hazbin hotel #Alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor smut #Hazbin hotel smut #Valentino x reader

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takami-takami · 5 months ago

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The Uncommitted Movement and Uncommitted Delegates have been petitioning to have just one Palestinian-American speak at the DNC for months; among a sea of speakers, including a random border patrol agent, Trump voters, and the CEO of Uber.

They were told three words and no other explanation: "It's a no."

The delegates and Palestine protesters have been working tirelessly to get the DNC to rescind this decision on the last day of the convention and apply pressure. There is only one ethnic background that is not allowed to speak at the DNC, and that is Palestinians.

Georgia State Representative Ruwa Romman is at the top of the list of Palestinian democrats that were offered— of which the Uncommitted Movement and delegates generously offered the DNC to take their pick.

In case they don't let her speak, this is her speech.

"My name is Ruwa Romman, and I’m honored to be the first Palestinian elected to public office in the great state of Georgia and the first Palestinian to ever speak at the Democratic National Convention. My story begins in a small village near Jerusalem, called Suba, where my dad’s family is from. My mom’s roots trace back to Al Khalil, or Hebron. My parents, born in Jordan, brought us to Georgia when I was eight, where I now live with my wonderful husband and our sweet pets.

#🐇 rambles #democratic national convention #dnc 2024 #dnc #free palestine

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alotofpockets · 10 months ago

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Meeting again | Part 1 | Leah Williamson x Reader

Where you take your son to Leah's book signing and you reconnect with your high school friend/crush.

Happy birthday to our blonde pookie!

Meeting again universe | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.7k

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You were doing some work around the house when your ex called. “Hey Ryan, what’s up?” You say as you turn off the vacuum. “Hi y/n, I’m so sorry. I know that it’s my day, but I’m going to be stuck at work until late. Is there any way you can pick up Liam from school and take him to that book signing from Leah?” The two of you had gotten a divorce many years ago, when you had finally come to terms with your sexuality. Ryan had always been understanding, and now you were still friends, and co-parented your son Liam together. “Oh yeah, don’t worry, I can do that.” You could hear the relief in his voice. “Thank you so much, I owe you one. He has a half day, so he should be done at school in about an hour. I packed his Arsenal jersey and scarf, he wanted to wear them to the signing. Thank you again, I have to go. Send me pictures of the signing?” Your kid would always be your number one priority, so you hung up the phone and got ready.

“Hey bud, your dad is stuck at work, so I’m going to take you to Waterstones later, is that okay?” The boy greeted you with a hug. “Yes, of course, you’ll get to see Leah again!” Back in high school you and Leah were very close, there was even some gossip about the two of you dating, but when you got wind of that you shut those rumours down quickly by starting a relationship with Ryan, a relationship that drove a wedge between your friendship with Leah. Your love for the women’s game continued to grow though, and you have supported Arsenal all your life, just like Leah. Liam fell in love with it too, and you often found yourself amongst the crowd of Arsenal WFC and Lionesses matches together. Liam was a smart kid, and after finding you looking at TikTok videos of Leah, he started asking questions. “Watch it, or we’re not going.” You said with a fake seriousness. Liam knew full well that it was an empty threat as you loved messing with him.

You decided to make it a special day for your son, by taking him out for lunch before heading over to Waterstones. It was to no surprise to you that he wanted to go to his favourite restaurant. “Smile for your dad.” The boy looked up from his plate with a big grin on his face. Proudly wearing his Williamson jersey and his Arsenal scarf.

The line at Waterstones was long, but you bought the book and joined the line together. You could tell he was excited just by the way his eyes lit up, and his smile was constantly present on his face. His excitement made you glad that you were able to join him on this occasion, but it didn’t trump your nerves of seeing Leah again. Of course, you had seen her play, but you were always just a person in the crowd, and now you were going to be face to face with the girl you’ve had a crush on since you were fifteen.

Never in your life had you been so nervous to see someone from your past, but you set it aside for your son, this was his moment. Plus Leah would probably not even remember you, right? You were a nobody, and she was the England captain and the Arsenal co-captain.

When it was your turn, Liam walked up to the signing table, while you stood back to take pictures. “Hi, what’s your name?” You heard the blonde ask your son. “I’m Liam, it’s very nice to meet you. My mom is a big fan of yours as well.” The sneaky little bastard, you thought as your eyes met Leah’s. Her eyes showed instant recognition. ‘Yours?’ she mouthed your way, and you answered with a nod. “It’s very nice to meet you too Liam, want to come over to this side for a picture?” Leah signed the book, and wrote something on one of the cards laying to the side as Liam made his way around the table. “I see you’re repping my jersey! You know what would go great with that?” He shook his head. “This new cap, would you like one?” Liam looked over to you with hopeful eyes, “Can I mom?” You smiled at the interaction between Leah and your son, “Yeah, of course.” He turned back to Leah, “Thank you so much!” The two posed for a picture. “Any time Liam. Here is your signed book, and could you please give this card to your mom?” He grinned big when he saw a written phone number on the back of the card. “Thank you Leah!”

“Mom! I got you her number, you have to call her!” You look at the card that Liam handed you ‘Would love to catch up, send me a text if you’re up for it :)’ along with her cell. You looked between the card and Leah, who shot you a smile before returning to the next person in line. “Please tell me you’re going to send her a text, please!” Liam was tired of always seeing you admire Leah from afar, and now that you had a real shot to reconnect with her, he wanted you to take it. Plus how cool would it be if his mom would go out with the Leah Williamson? You pocket the card, “Maybe later, you little snitch. I thought we had a deal.” You say playfully as you put your arm around his shoulder. Quite frankly it scared you a little to send her a text. “Let’s head home.”

When you got home you put Leah’s number in your phone and stared at the message screen forever, trying to decide what to text her. You really wanted to reconnect with her, but you also didn’t want to overcompensate, and ruin any chance you had. You settled on something simple, letting her make the next move.

You: Hi Leah, it’s y/n. It was good seeing you today, catching up sounds nice.

You hadn’t expected to get a message back from her so soon.

Leah: So glad we ran into each other. Talk about the details later?

The message notification was staring back at you, your heart was beating out of your chest simply from her message. You quickly put your phone away, without opening her message when Liam walks in. “Mom, you know that I want you to be happy right?” You nod, “Of course, I know that kiddo. What makes you say that?” He shrugs, “I just don’t want you to hold back because of me.” You shake your head, “You’re too smart. I love you, kiddo.” He hugs your side, “I love you too, mom.”

The two of you were hanging out at home, when Ryan called again. “Hey, thank you for sending me those pictures. They really made my day, glad to see him so happy.” You notice the exhaustion behind his words, “Yeah of course, I don’t want you to miss out on stuff because of your job.” Liam was so important to the both of you, but your divorce had led to missing some things here and there, that you always tried to minimise together. “Speaking of work, I should be done around eight. You know I hate to ask, but-” You interrupted him, “You don’t have to ask, of course. Pick him up whenever you are done, okay?” You heard the relief in his voice, “Thank you. Can I talk to him for a moment?” You walk over to Liam and hand him the phone, “It’s your dad.” After handing him your phone, you give him some space to talk to his dad.

You continued vacuuming since you weren’t done when you had to pick up Liam from school. So, you didn’t hear the interaction with Ryan, or when the call was over, and definitely not when you got another phone call. Liam looked at the contact and smirked to himself. When he realised you didn’t hear the phone call, he picked up himself. “Hi Leah, it’s Liam.” The girl had not expected your son to pick up, but she went with it anyway. “Hey Liam! How did you like the book signing?” He told her how much he enjoyed it before Leah continued with her questions. “I was looking for your mom, is she around?” If it were a video call, Leah would have seen the mischievous look in Liam’s eyes, but since it was a voice call he could hide behind the screen. “She is a little busy right now, but she said she wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight if you had time.” Leah knew she should’ve questioned it more, but she wanted to see you so badly, that she set up dinner plans with your son.

Just ten minutes before Leah said she would be there Liam came walking up to you. “Hey mom, so I kind of invited Leah over for dinner tonight.” Never in your life had you turned around so quickly, “You did what?” You could not believe what your son had just told you. “She will be here in-” His sentence was interrupted by the doorbell. “Now.” He said with a big smile. You were frozen in place, Leah Williamson was at your door, and you were in sweats and a tank top, your hair a mess from the house work you had been doing for the past hour. “Are you going to let her in?” You turned to Liam, “You are going to be in so much trouble later.” Again, Liam knew there was no actual threat behind your words, because that’s not how you parented.

On your way to the door, you tried to quickly fix your hair. You open the door, “Oh hi Ryan, you’re here early.” He smiles back at you, “Yeah our last meeting got cancelled, sorry I didn’t let you know.” You shake your head, “No, no it’s okay. Liam, your dad is here!” The boy came running into his dad’s arms. “You’re here!” The bond between them was amazing, he truthly loved the both of you equally. “Have you had something to eat yet?” Liam shakes his head, “How does McDonald’s sound?” You grab Liam’s bag, and give him a quick kiss on his cheek, before waving the both of them off.

As soon as you closed the door, you ran up the stairs to quickly get changed, and look more presentable. You had just finished doing your hair when your doorbell rang again. This time it was Leah standing on the other side of the door. “Hi Leah, come in.” She looked so beautiful in her simple white t-shirt and a pair of green cargo pants. “Hey y/n, thank you. No Liam?” She questioned when you walked her further into the house. “He wanted to be here but his dad came to pick him up a little bit ago. I’m sorry to say that McDonald’s has been picked over dinner with you.” You joke, hoping to make the moment a bit lighter. Hearing Leah’s laugh brought you back to those days where you would sit on the grass, and make fun of the boys on the football team.

“So, Liam is a big fan of football then?” Leah started awkwardly. You loved talking about him, so you just started talking. “Yeah, I started taking him to matches when he was still a little baby. He loved it ever since, I can’t go to an Arsenal match without him nowadays. A gooner from the start, just like you.” Leah blushed slightly. “So, you’ve been coming to our matches all this time?” Now it was your turn to blush. “Maybe.” The both of you laugh. “Ryan surprisingly never got into football, so it’s been something I get to share with Liam.” The name you mentioned caught Leah’s attention. “Wait Ryan is Liam’s dad? You actually married high school Ryan?” You realised that bringing his name up was probably a mistake since he is what drove the two of you apart. “Oh yeah, high school Ryan indeed. Liam’s dad indeed, and I did marry him. We haven’t been married for like five years though.”

Leah’s ears perk up at that. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You shrug your shoulders, “It’s all good, it was time I finally figured out my sexuality. We’re still friends, and he's great with Liam. Anyways, how have you been?” The two of you start talking and catching up, and somehow even though more than a decade had passed and you had lived such different lives, it felt like you had never not known each other.

You walk into the kitchen together, still talking, when the both of you start getting hungry. That is when you realise that you had to go to the grocery store today, and didn’t have much in the house. “So, confession time. I didn’t actually know you were coming over until Liam told me about ten minutes before you arrived.” Leah laughed, “I had a feeling the invite wasn’t extended by you, but I didn’t want the opportunity to go to waste.” You blush at her words. “I am very happy that you are here, don’t get me wrong. I was just not prepared. It was Ryan’s day with the kid, but he got stuck at work so I didn’t have a chance to go to the grocery store like I had originally planned. Let’s see, I have Potato Smileys, and literally nothing else. I am so sorry.” Leah did not care what you would eat one bit, she was just happy to be there with you. “Good thing I love Potato Smileys then!”

You shared a laugh at the situation and decided to make the best of it. While the Potato smileys were in the oven, you set the table with some condiments to go along with them. As you were waiting for the Smileys to cook, you and Leah fell back into conversation. You were reminiscing over old times, and shared stories from the past years since. It was easy talking to her, it really felt like no time had passed.

Once you were done with dinner, you moved to the living room where you each found a comfortable place on the couch to continue catching. Before you realised it, hours had passed by. Leah looked at her watch, and noticed the time first. “Oh it’s late, I hadn’t realised so much time had passed.” You glance at the clock yourself, “Wow, yeah it is. I’m really glad you came over tonight, catching up with you has been great.” Leah smiled in return, “Yes it was, I’ve missed this. I hope we can hang out again soon!” You walk her to the door, “For sure! Liam and I will be at the match Sunday, maybe we can do something after? If you don’t mind him tagging along of course.” Her smile grew big, “I would love that, and for Liam to tag along always!”

As you said goodbye, and Leah got into her car you couldn’t help but feel hopeful for what the future might hold. Just having Leah back into your life in whatever way possible made you extremely happy. Tonight had been so nice, and you really wanted to see Leah again soon, Sunday didn’t feel soon enough. So, you decided to send her a message. You felt less nervous sending this message than the one this afternoon, but still there were some nerves.

You: Would you maybe want to grab a coffee sometime this week? I’d love to meet up sooner than Sunday.

As you were getting ready to go to bed, your phone dinged with a new message.

Leah: I know a great spot! Are you free tomorrow?

You smiled at the text, Leah proposing tomorrow had to mean she wanted to see you again soon too, right? You quickly let her know you’re free, before sending her a goodnight message and calling it a night. Though, your mind kept you up for a while longer, not wanting to let go of today just yet.

Continue reading part 2!

-----

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rafeandonlyrafe · 9 months ago

Text

pizza night

words: 2.2k

warnings: mentions/implications of sex but no actual smut, best friend!rafe, jealousy, angst but happy ending, friends to lovers, rafe with another girl, reader sleeps with kelce

“PIZZA NIGHT!” you shout, rafe letting out a whoop as you carry in the two boxes, plain cheese for you, and a mess of toppings for rafe.

“was worried you weren't gonna show up.” rafe glances at the clock. you're only about five minutes late, only running behind because the pizza place was busy and your order wasn't ready on time.

“as if i would miss our weekly pizza night.” you roll your eyes. you've had to shift times around occasionally to make sure you get the pizza night in, like for rafes football schedule, or you having to help your parents out at a fundraiser. for the past three years, it's been every thursday night, even both getting pizza from your respective locations while you facetime when you're not both in the outer banks.

“come here.” rafe opens his arms up to you. you step into his familiar hold, strong arms wrapping around you, tugging you against his chest. you inhale his scent, so uniquely rafe.

he's been your best friend for as long as you can remember, your parents being friends when both became pregnant around the same time. you did everything together. pizza nights started as plum puree, as your mom loves to joke.

“what do you wanna watch tonight?” rafe asks, knowing whatever you put on will soon become background noise to your chatting, rafe happy to listen to any gossip you have to say.

“umm…” you tap your finger against your chin as rafe plates your pizza for you, loading his plate with three slices for himself. you know he's already got your preferred drink sitting on the coffee table. “mulan.”

“sure.” rafe nods. he used to argue when he was younger. you'd want barbie swan lake or a romcom while he prefered superheroes and action. he learned throughout your friendship to just not fight it.

you immediately start to tell rafe the latest gossip, filling him in on everything he's missed since you saw him last, even though it was only two days ago.

“oh and you'll never guess!” you squeal. “callie, my friend from florida?” you see if the name jogs rafes memory, which he quickly nods. how could he forget. the one other friend that competes with him, despite you only seeing her for weeks at a time when you went to visit your grandparents in florida. “she's coming to the outer banks! she's gonna stay with us for the summer while her parents travel.”

“oh, nice.” rafe nods. he's happy for you, he really is, but he hopes she's not going to get in the way of his time with you, especially pizza night.

“girl, why didn’t you tell me rafe is hot as fuck?” callie giggles, looking out the window where rafe and a couple of his friends are chatting on the patio.

“ew.” you scrunch your nose up. you mean the criticism about callie finding him attractive, not about rafes looks, but callie doesn’t take it that way as she rolls her eyes.

“seriously, he’s so fine.” she slices into another lemon, handing one half to you as you squeeze it to make fresh lemonade.

you just frown. you don’t want callie to find rafe attractive and you’re not sure why the jealous feeling builds in your gut, so you quickly change the subject.

“wanna come to a party friday night? at kelces.” you question.

“oh my god, yes.” callie nods, helping you carry out cups while you bring out the pitcher of lemonade, pouring a glass for yourself and whichever one of your friends also wants one before sitting next to rafe.

callie takes the open spot on the other side of him as the conversation instantly strikes back up. you remain quieter than normal, eyes flicking between them as you watch them interact. you’re glad they’re getting along, truly, but you feel like gouging your eyes out when callie laughs and places her hand on his bicep.

“you okay?” rafe asks after everyone else had gone home, callie having taken your car back to your place to shower while you plan on asking rafe to drive you home.

“yeah.” you put on a wide smile. “whats up?”

“you just seem quieter than usual.” rafe watches your face carefully, noting the way your face falls before you perk back up with a shake of your head.

“nope, im fine. just glad you're getting along with callie!”

“speaking of…” rafe pulls his phone out, handing it to you. “can i have her number?”

“oh… yeah.” you nod quickly, grabbing his phone and typing in her number. you have it memorized along with rafes and your mom and dads, the only ones you’ve typed in enough to know by heart. “why do you want it though?”

“i thought i’d get to know her a bit.” rafe shrugs.

“okay.” you force a smile on your face before standing up. “im gonna walk home. see you thursday for pizza night!”

“y/n, wait-” rafe tries to call you back, but you’ve already disappeared into the house.

you struggle to knock on the door with the pizza boxes in your arms. usually its unlocked, or rafe is there to open it for you the second your car pulls in the driveway.

“shit.” rafe opens the door, his face pale.

“what?” you shove past him, needing to set the cardboard boxes down.

you walk into the kitchen, going to place the boxes down on the counter when you realize there is already a box sitting there, opened up with a couple slices missing. you carefully slide the boxes out of your arms onto the marble before looking at rafe.

“i-i forgot-” rafe says as you look into the living room, seeing callie sat on the couch, her eyes on the television screen as she takes a bite of pizza.

“you forgot about our pizza night?” you question, not even trying to hide your tears this time as they form in your eyes.

“i just didn’t realize it was thursday, y/n i-”

“its fine.” you shake your head, heading towards the door. you need to leave before your emotions explode.

“y/n, please.” rafe grabs your hand right as you reach for the doorknob.

“no.” you turn around to look at rafe, knowing that there are tears streaming down your cheeks, yet you still attempt to force a smile. “no, go. have fun with her.”

you pull out of his grasp and leave, rafe standing on the front porch watching you drive away.

“coming to the party?” callie asks, wearing a tiny dress with high heels, showing off her flawless legs.

“nah.” you shake your head. “im feeling kinda tired.”

“alright.” callie frowns, but doesn’t push you any farther as she walks towards the front door, looking back once before leaving.

you are genuinely tired. you stayed up all last night waiting to hear callie arrive back at your house from rafes. she didn’t get home until 10 in the morning the next day. you know rafe has slept with girls before, but usually when he’s way too drunk after a party, and never with a girl you considered your friend.

you turn the tv on to a random channel, just needing something to distract yourself and stop you from crying again.

hours tick by as the sun sets, your eyes burning from staring at the television and holding back tears when a sudden knock on the door makes you jump.

you stand up, hoping its rafe, hoping he’s coming to apologize and to put all his attention back on you. you feel bad when you open the door and see its topper, your face no doubt giving away your disappointment.

“y/n, are you okay?” he asks. “you aren’t at the party.” he states the obvious as you stand in your sweatpants and a flimsy tanktop.

“just not feeling it.” you shrug.

“is it… callie and rafe?” topper asks. he doesn’t need you to confirm as tears well in your eyes.

“i-i like him. i didn’t even realize until i saw them together.” you finally admit it to yourself why you’re so upset.

“shit.” topper pulls you into a hug as you cry into his shirt, glad for his comfort as he rubs his hand up and down your back, hoping he can help you feel better.

“i shouldn’t be telling you this…” topper sighs. “but kelce has a crush on you. if you want to go to the party and… i don’t know, make rafe jealous back.”

“he won’t get jealous.” you shake your head. “he likes her.”

topper just stares at you with a look of pity. so in your head about your friendship that you can’t even put together the pieces that rafe likes you back.

you look down at your outfit. honestly, you can’t even manage to put on anything other than your crocs, you’re not going to change into a dress and heels just to dance up on a guy you don’t even really like.

“just come wearing that.” topper says, sensing your apprehension. “im serious, you look good. it’ll show how different you are then all the other girls there.”

you look back into your house at your couch, the tv still turned on before looking back to topper. he nods at you with encouragement.

“i need to get drunk immediately.” you tell him as he laughs, pulling you out the door.

you let out a groan as you turn over, snuggling into water warm body is wrapped around you as sleep slowly clears from your head.

“good morning, beautiful.” kelce says, making you blink your eyes open as the memories of last night come back, of ignoring rafe and callie dancing together as you move to kelce. topper was beyond right about the outfit as you captured the eye of most of the guys there, especially rafe as he tried to get your attention, but you were up in kelces room before he could steal you away.

it felt good to sleep with kelce, but not completely right.

“morning.” you smile. kelce is handsome, especially with the warm morning light shining in on the two of you, but your heart hurts as you wish it was rafes face you were looking into.

“can i have you again?” kelce asks, reaching down to grab your ass.

“yeah.” you nod with a smile. another distraction won’t hurt.

“where were you?” rafe asks as you arrive home, not expecting to see him snuggled up to callie on the couch.

“sleeping with kelce.” you say with a shrug. if rafe isn’t gonna hide his relationship with callie, you certainly aren’t going to hide what you were doing either.

“he doesn’t care about you, y/n.” rafe stands up, callies face shifting to one of worry as she looks between the two of you, realization sinking in. “he just wants to sleep with you.”

“okay, and?” you laugh, a bitter, spiteful laugh. “he’s got a big dick, and maybe i just wanted to sleep with him too.”

you stomp away towards your room, blaring music from your speaker the second you’re inside. you don’t want to hear any noise rafe and callie might make as you flop down on your bed, quickly falling asleep despite the blaring music.

the music being turned down wakes you up as someone sits on your bed. you groan and turn onto your back, expecting to see rafe.

“callie?” you question, glancing at the bag slung over his shoulder and the suitcase sitting in your open doorway.

you sit up quickly. “are you going to stay with rafe?”

“no.” she says with a gentle laugh and shake of her head. “im going back to florida.”

“what?” you question.

“i didn’t mean to come between you and him. i thought you didn’t like him. i… i don’t want this to ruin our friendship, so i’m leaving. he was fun to be with, but it was never serious for either of us. he’s serious about you.”

the words sink in as you look to her with hope in your eyes. “you talked to him about it?”

“i did.” she smiles with a gentle nod, glancing towards the clock on your nightstand. “the taxi is waiting outside to take me to the airport.”

you shoot forward to wrap your arms around callie, pulling her into a tight hug. “thank you.”

“of course.” she holds you back just as tight. “come visit me in florida, okay?”

you nod enthusiastically before she gets up to leave.

“finally.” topper sighs with relief as he opens the door to tanneyhill. “i’ve been trying to get him to go over and talk to you for the past four hours.” topper pulls you inside before you can even react. “seriously, you guys just need to date already. he slept with callie, you slept with kelce, and now you’re even. go make out.” topper shoves you into the living room before fleeing.

it takes a second for rafe to look up, his eyes red with tears.

“i had no clue.” rafe shakes his head. “i had no clue you liked me. i never would have done anything with callie if i knew. i thought i’d never get to have you, so i thought settling for your friend would be the next best thing.”

“i don’t like you.” you say before quickly clarifying. “i love you, rafe.”

rafe is standing and making his way towards you so quickly that you don’t even process his movements until his lips meet yours in a fierce kiss.

you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, feeling his arms wrap around your body, holding you tight to him, not allowing you to escape or leave ever again.

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cottonlemonade · 7 months ago

Text

Wingman On Crutches

word count: 571 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: Matsukawa x chubby!Reader (feat. Parts of Seijoh 4)

genre: fluff

warnings: some swearing

request: Menu B with strawberry milk, matcha pudding and a matcha roll. I slide right next to Mattsun || fluffy, jealous classmate crush Matsukawa, as manager

“Why is she talking to him?”, Issei huffed. Iwaizumi followed his eyes and suppressed a sigh when he saw Makki talking to you somewhere on the side of the court. You were placing towels and water bottles down in pairs so the players could easily grab them.

“Because they’re friends.”, the ace observed, bouncing a volleyball off his friend’s head to get his attention back for training, “Come on, we gotta warm up.”

“If I would have twisted my ankle like that Victorian lady over there I could sit out practice and talk to y/n.”, Issei grumbled.

“Then why don’t you ask Makki to trade you his injuries for a curry bun?”, Iwaizumi asked, sarcastically.

“You‘re not funny.“

“Good, wasn‘t trying to be. - Get your ass over there so I can toss to you, come on. Don‘t make me pair up with Shittykawa.“

In view of his friend‘s nerves being on the line, Issei obliged and reluctantly turned his back to you to face Iwaizumi.

For a minute or two they threw the ball back and forth, then your distinct laugh rang through the gym and Issei all but pulled a muscle to turn around.

You were doubled over, both arms around your supremely squishy tummy as Makki continued to say something undoubtedly dumb.

“Quick, Iwa, spike the volleyball over there.“, he urged.

“Why?“

“To stop them!?“

“From… laughing?“

“YES! First it‘s laughing, then it‘s inside jokes, then it‘s hanging out just those two, then one day he’ll accidentally brush her hand while they reach for something together and boom! They’re married!“

“You really have to stop watching TV with your sister, dude.“

Before Iwaizumi could stop him, Issei called, “Yo, Makki! Hobble over here for a sec, will ya?“

Makki gave you a quick little bow, excusing himself and used his crutches to laboriously get to his friends.

“What‘s up? Want me to count or something?“

“What did you talk about with y/n?“

“What?“

“What did you say to make her laugh? You know she is off limits, dude. I called dibs like two years ago!“

Makki blinked.

“I know. I told her about that time we went to the movies and I almost wet my pants because of a jumpscare and you weren‘t even fazed by it.“

“You- you did?“

Makki nodded, “Yeah and how you helped your little brother with his school project the other week.“

“He failed that assignment.“, Matsukawa admitted quietly.

“Not the point. I was talking you up, dude! As if I‘d ever go behind your back.“ Makki used a crutch to hit his friend’s leg.

Issei rubbed his thigh and felt his eyes starting to sting.

“Bro…“

“I know, I know. I told her, you and I wanted to go to the store after practice for curry buns but I will conveniently remember that I have to get home to help my mom with dinner so you can be alone.“

Tears were definitely threatening to fall now and Issei put a hand on his friend‘s shoulder, “I love you.“

A volleyball hit Issei‘s head for a second time that afternoon and when he turned he saw Iwaizumi‘s face twitching with impatience.

Before he got back to the drills he lowered his voice and said, “Could you casually somehow slip in how intimidated all of you feel when we shower together after training?“

Makki squinted, then sighed.

“I‘ll… see what I can do.“

a/n: someone please come and collect this man.

This request is for 🫀anon. Thank you so much for this silly request! I hope it was what you imagined and thank you also for your kind words ^^ please enjoy 🌟

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 10 months ago

Text

#395

“Hey Bobby, I’m glad you came. C’mon in. Yeah, my wood shop is grown over a bit. I was hoping you would help me bring it back. Watch your step…. Let me get the door behind you….

“…Well, this is a bit awkward. I guess I will go ahead. When I saw you open the door to the stall next to me, I was just as shocked as you were. I never expected the mouth on the other side of that glory hole that throated my fat dick with expertise to be you.

“I’ve known you since your mom brought you home from the hospital. Your dad and I used to go fishing together. I never would have guessed.

“But then, ever since Beth passed away 9 years ago, I really haven’t done anything with anybody. You are what 16?... 19 really? Well, at least you’re not jailbait anymore. I’ve seen you in town a few times throughout the years, but you have grown into a man…. And you are a damned good cocksucker too.

“Where did you learn to suck dick like that?... From that glory hole? Seriously? That glory hole on the interstate is only a year old. …Two years?

“…Wait, you’re the one who put it in? Well damn boy, where did you get the idea? …From the internet? Damn!

“When I first saw it, I stuck my cock through to see if I would fit. I did. It was freshly done, as it still had jagged edges to it. No one was on the other side. So instead of just waiting, I went to my truck and got some sandpaper. I was sitting on the one side for an hour before a mouth finally came in. My dick slid through that hole so nicely.

“I don’t go there that often. Most faggots don’t know what to do with a fat cock like mine. But you do. I let you go for fifteen or twenty minutes. It felt good. Real good. I haven’t had a talented mouth on it in a long time.

“When I finished, I waited to see who it was. I was thinking that if it was local, I wanted to get something going on the side, something kinda convenient with a local fag. Imagine my surprise when the faggot turned out to be you.

“…That’s not right. I shouldn’t call you a faggot; it’s not nice….

“…Wait a minute. But that’s what you are. Nothing wrong with that in my eyes. I had a faggot in the city I used to use regularly until he moved out east. He was a reseller of my woodwork. I used him every time I made a delivery on Sundays. I would deliver on Sundays when he was the only one in his warehouse, and he would greet me naked. All the time I was there, he waited on me. And whenever I was horny, he was there to take me in his holes.

“How would you like to suck my dick? I’m horny now. And your mouth looks inviting.

“Good. I want you to strip naked. Don’t worry. You are the first person in here in five or six years. Nobody is going to come by. I assume your parents don’t know. They probably would have thrown you out if they had.

“You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone. I don’t intend on ruining a good thing.

“How often do you go to the glory hole?... You certainly are a horn dog. I like that. I would like my cock to be taken care of just as often.

“Remember this dick? It definitely remembers your mouth.

“…Well aren’t you a pretty one. No need to cover up. I’m not interested in your pecker at all.

“Get on your knees, open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and look up at me. Now that’s the look of a hungry faggot.

“No. No. I said I’m not interested in your pecker. Leave it alone. You can jerk off when you get home. When you are here naked in my shop, you have to realize that there is only one cock here that matters, and it sure as hell ain’t yours. You understand that faggot?

“…Good! Now suck! There you go! There’s that tongue…. Ahhh. This is why, when I went to your dad’s barber shop for a trim the other day, I told him that I was looking for someone to help me fix this place up. He suggested you, like I knew he was going to.

“And here you are. Fuck. Your fucking mouth is mine. The best part of not being at the glory hole is that I can hold your head like this. Take it! Take it all the way down. I’m gonna look forward to using this throat every day.

“Yeah, you got the job faggot. Don’t worry you’ll be paid well, and I’m not just saying in cum. Everybody will think that Bobby Reynolds is my new apprentice. But every morning when you walk in that door naked you are my faggot to use, however I want.

“You understand that faggot? Nod or shake your head. Atta boy.

“Right to the root. Try to breathe around it. Oh fuck! This is better than the glory hole. I can control the blowjob. I can feel your throat struggling to throat my dick. I have a faggot on his knees, bare-assed ready to do whatever I tell him.

“Speaking of that ass. Take a moment there to catch your breath while I look at your pussy. Stand up and come over to the shop table. You get fucked at the glory hole as well?

“No. I guess the situation doesn’t lend to it. When was the last time you had a cock in here?... Never? You mean you are still virgin back there?

“Fuck yeah. Wasn’t expecting to pop a cherry today, but damn, it’s turning out to be a great day. Hop up on the table.

“No. No. This IS happening. I’m going to cunt you. On the table son.

“Throughout the day, in between you doing actual work, my cock is going inside your holes whenever I want. Both holes. I’m not going to even ask you first. I’ll push you to your knees or bend you over. This is what I did to the shop owner in the city, and I liked it.

“On your back. Let me lower the table…. Legs up! Rest them on my shoulders. It’s a good thing you put a lot of throat slime on my dick. If you relax your hole and push out a little bit there will be less pain.

“Look up at me. I want to see the pain in your eyes, and your struggle across your face.

“Oh! That’s my head. Relax your whole body…. I’m halfway in. Relax. I’m going to be in here for some time. I can go for hours if I want to. Just go with it.

“There you go! Surrendering this hole to me is going to be your number one job responsibility around here.

“Look at me. You’re doing fine. It’s going to get more intense. I need to turn this into a cunt. I need to get you to the point that your hole can take me at any moment.

“If you want, you can unbutton my shirt and run your hands over my hairy chest. Don’t ignore my nipples. Be gentle with them.

“You ready faggot? Yesterday you were the son of good neighbors down the road, but after today, you will be my cunt. You ready to become that?

“Faggot here we go.”

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percevalec · 5 months ago

Text

THIS WONT STAY IN VEGAS {part 3}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: You went clubbing with your friend, celebrating her moving to Vegas. You got drunk and don't remember anything. The next morning you find yourself in bed with a stranger and a ring around your finger

Words: 7.7k

Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, smut, not proof read.

18+, please don’t read in you’re underage

do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

You stand there by the sink, left puzzled by Arthur’s cryptic words. You try to remember who Alexandra is, but nothing comes to mind. The name doesn’t ring a bell.

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As you're walking back to Charles' room your mind suddenly reminded you that you do know her, well not personally. You remember reading something about her being his ex girlfriend during that google search you did on your way to the airport.

As you enter the room, you see Charles laying on the bed, his phone in his hand. “Hey” you say as you walk over and lay next to him. By this point none of you found it weird or uncomfortable to spend time together, it was like second nature to always be close to each other. Mostly because you had to keep the act up in front of Pascal. Also you simply enjoyed each other's company, but you'd never admit that to yourself.

Charles looks up from his phone as you enter the room, a soft smile forming on his lips. "Hey" he replies, setting his phone aside. He watches as you plop down on the bed, his eyes following your movements. “Guess what” you say, lifting your head to look over at him. Charles rolls onto his side to face you, his interest piqued by your tone. "What?" he asks, his gaze fixed on your face. “Arthur knows” you say in a surprisingly casual tone. Charles' eyes widened in surprise at your words. He wasn't expecting that. "Wait, what?! How does he know?" he asks, extremely confused as to why you’re so calm. “He overheard our conversation from three days ago, but he said he didn’t really care and he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone”. Charles takes a moment to absorb the information, relief washing over him at the fact that Arthur had promised to keep the secret. "Well that's good at least" he sighs. "The last thing we need is the media or my mom finding out."

You respond with a slight guilt in your voice “Yeah, I think your mom likes me which makes this whole thing even more complicated than it already is” Charles nods in agreement, sadness in his expression. "She does, she loves every little thing about you." He reaches out and takes your hand in his, his fingers tracing your ring. "It's hard because she would be upset with both of us if she knew the truth." You sigh at his words, know "Right," he says quietly, disappointment in his voice. He had forgotten that he wasn't supposed to touch you like that, not when it was all pretend. “Oh, i almost forgot, remember the party your mom is hosting next sunday” Charles furrows his eyebrows at the sudden change of conversation "Yeah, why?" he says, his mind already drifting to the thought of the event. “Arthur told me to let you know that alexandra is coming, who is she?”. You still ask despite knowing the answer. You were curious to know what he would say.

Charles's eyes widened at the mention of the name "Alexandra." He hadn't expected you to ever say her name, he was left momentarily speechless. Groaning before answering. "She's an ex-girlfriend" he says, his tone guarded. “...Can I ask what happened?” you ask as you look down at the bed, avoiding his gaze. Charles lets out another deep sigh. "It's a bit of an old story," he says, his voice becoming quieter. "We dated for a few years, and then we just grew apart and eventually, it ended”. You nod your head as you listen to his story unsure on what to say. You look up at him and decide on “I'm sorry”. "It's fine," he replies, offering a small smile, though you can tell there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "It was a long time ago." He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “So why is your mom inviting her? especially now that we’re “married”. Charles sighs “She's the daughter of one of my moms friends, so she's always been around, even before we were dating. I'm surprised she even agreed to coming, we’ve been avoiding each other for a while”.

You could tell this wasn't a simple story of a failed relationship. Maybe she meant more to Charles than you thought. “Maybe it's because she’s seen the articles about our perfect love story” you say laughing. Charles chuckles dryly, "Oh, I'm sure that's why," he says, rolling his eyes. "And she likely can't wait to make some snarky comment about it". “We can just avoid her, either way we have to be extremely convincing about our relationship during the party” Charles nods, taking your words to heart. "Yeah, well we can try to avoid her as much as possible, but she will probably want to talk to us." He sighs, contemplating the situation. "And you're right, we definitely have to sell this whole “perfect love” act even more at the party."

“Do you think it will be hard?” you ask.

Charles leans back against the headboard of the bed, mulling over your question. "Honestly?" he says, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "I don't know. Pretending to be in love with you in front of our families has been... easier than I thought. But with Alexandra there, it could get complicated. She has a way of getting under my skin."

You’re not sure why his words made your stomach turn, but they did. So you ask the question you really don't want to know the answer to. “Do you still love her?”

Charles is caught off guard by your direct question, his initial instinct was to deflect. But looking at your face, he knew he couldn't lie. "I don't know," he admits quietly, shaking his head. "There are still... feelings. But it's complicated ." He looks back at you, searching your eyes for any hint of jealousy or annoyance. “Well maybe she can be the reason for our divorce” you suggest, trying to make a positive out of a negative. You needed an excuse for the divorce either way, You had originally thought about a big public fight but this made things easier, Charles leaving you to be with his true love. It would be the first thing both of you didn't lie about.

“You’ll realize you love her more than you loved me, that’s something the media will buy”. Charles hears the tinge of sadness in your voice and looks at you, his face softening. "You think so?" he asks, his tone laced with a hint of guilt for answering your question about Alexandra in the first place. "You'd be okay with the world thinking I fell for my ex girlfriend while being married to you?". Not truly wanting to answer his question, you reply “it doesn’t matter what i think, it's just an excuse to get out of this” Charles let out a deep sigh, the thought of having to explain to the world that he fell for someone else while being married to you didn't sit well with him, but he had no choice. "Yeah, I guess that's the best way" he finally says, reluctantly agreeing with your plan. “I’m sorry I'm in the way of you and her” you say in a low voice, almost whispering. Charles shakes his head, reaching over to take your hand in his. "You're not in the way," he says firmly, looking into your eyes. "This whole situation is just... complicated. And it's not your fault. It's not like you wanted to be fake married to me." You nod your head forcing a smile “yeah, of course”.

Charles's heart twists at the sight of your forced smile. He wishes he could do more to ease your pain, but he knows that the situation is out of his control. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “You love doing that don’t you” you ask chuckling, referring to him putting your hair behind your ear. A small smile tugs at the corner of Charles's lips as he realizes he's been caught. "Yeah, I guess I do," he admits sheepishly. "It just... feels natural, I guess." He lets his hand linger against your cheek for a moment, his touch tender. "Sometimes I wonder," you say, your voice soft and full of unsaid feelings. "What if we had met in a different way?” A soft sigh escaped your lips as you continued "I wonder where we’d be now". Charles lets out a wistful sigh as he contemplates your question, his mind wandering to the what if's. "Me too," he says quietly, his gaze fixed on your face. "If we had met under different circumstances... I wonder what could've been."

Neither of you say anything. You just stare into each other's eyes.

"You're staring" he finally says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re staring back” you reply, laughing at his words

Charles lets out a low chuckle, his smirk widening. "Fair enough," he concedes, his eyes never leaving yours. “I'm getting sleepy, it's been a long day. Goodnight Charlie” you say before kissing his cheek and turning over. Charles’s heart skips a beat at the feel of your lips on his cheek, a small shiver running down his spine. He looks at your turned back, his gaze lingering on your form. “Goodnight,” he says quietly, the hint of a smile on his lips.

WEEK 2 DAY 3

You and Charles wake up around the same time as always. You both get ready and head downstairs to the kitchen. That’s when you both realize that you're the only one home. "Looks like we've got the place to ourselves today," he says with a hint of surprise in his voice. “What should we do?” you ask as you walk closer to him.

Charles and you have now spent 14 days together, counting from the day you saw each other at the club, and you’re becoming inseparable. Despite not letting yourself, you still feel attracted to Charles and everyday it gets harder to suppress your feelings. Even after he confessed he still feels something for Alex. What you don't know is that he only started thinking about her again to not think about you. He started this ever since you turned him down the other day. He remembers your words perfectly “this could never work”.

Charles thinks about your question for a moment, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "Well, we've got the whole house to ourselves," he says, a hint of excitement in his tone. "Why don't we make the most of it?".

You walk closer. “Yeah? And how would we do that?. Charles grins as you walk closer to him, his eyes sparkling with a hint of playfulness. "Well, let's see," he says, pretending to think. "We could watch a movie, bake something, or..." He steps closer to you, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. “Or….?” you whisper. Charles closes the remaining distance between you, his body just inches away from yours. He looks down at you, his gaze intense. "Or we could do something... more fun," he says, his voice a sultry whisper. “Actually, I think I'm craving Italian, take me to dinner” you say laughing as you step back. Charles feigns disappointment for a moment before chuckling softly. "Fine, Italian it is," he says, playfully rolling his eyes. "But only if I get to pick where we're going”. “You know this place better than I do anyways” Charles grins, happy to be the one who gets to choose. "Exactly," he says, a hint of smugness in his voice. "I know all the best spots in this city." He held out his hand "Ready to go?".

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On your way to the restaurant you surprisingly only get stopped 3 times for pictures. Charles seems completely unfazed, smiling and waving graciously each time. As you finally arrive at the restaurant, he leads you inside, a hand placed on your lower back.

Charles and you are led to a secluded table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. He pulls out a chair for you before taking his own seat. "I've been here many times," he says, looking around the elegant space. "It's one of my favorite Italian spots in the city." You look around taking in the beauty “You know, i'll definitely miss Monaco when this is over”. "Yeah," he says quietly, his gaze drifting to the window outside. "But you'll come back to visit, right?" His ask, eyes flicking back to you. “Only if you bring me back here” you joke. A small smile tugs at the corner of Charles's lips. "Of course," he says, playing along. "This is definitely the best Italian food you'll ever have. You'll be craving it for months after you're gone."

You order your meals and continue talking as you eat, the conversation flowing effortlessly between you.

Charles leans back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You know," he says suddenly, his eyes fixed on yours. "You're not bad to be married to. We make a pretty convincing couple." You laugh at his comment “Shut up” you say smiling. Charles mock-gasps in exaggerated surprise, placing a hand against his chest. "Hey, it's not my fault we're so good at pretending!" he protests, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Everything continues going fine when suddenly your heart drops as you hear a voice calling your name. No one knew you here except Charles and his family. So it could only be one person, Leonardo.

“Y/N Y/L/N … or i guess it’s Y/N Leclerc now” he says chuckling “Never thought i would see you here again, especially married” Charles head snaps up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, his muscles tensing almost instantly. He looks at you and sees the color drain from your face. “Leo, i never thought i would see you again either” you say giving Charles an apologetic look. This is the one thing you should have told him. The real reason you came to Monaco the first time.

A few years back you were madly in love with Leonardo. You both met in New York, his mom used to Co-own the magazine company with your mother. Everything was perfect, whenever you thought about getting married you always pictured him waiting at the altar. So you agreed to move back home with him in Monaco, that's when your relationship started falling apart. He would come home late and blame it on the crazy traffic “so many tourists” he would say, trying to use it as an excuse. You believed him. Until one day you walked in the house and found him fucking some random girl. Your world came down and you swore to never return, he ruined you, you were a mess after the incident. You always turned down anything to do with Monaco in fear you would run into him in the small country. Charles dragging you here is what made you come to love Monaco, you realized the only bad thing here was Leo.

Charles looks at you, confusion and a hint of hurt crossing his face. He had no idea about your past with the man who had suddenly appeared. He remains silent, watching the interaction between you and Leo. “I couldn't believe it when I first read the articles and saw that you got married to a F1 driver,” he says, looking back and forth to you and charles. “Well unexpected things can happen” you say, giving him a fake smile. “How is she?” Leo asks Charles. “Well she's better with me than she ever was with you” Charles replied. He took a gamble with his response, he knew nothing about the man standing at your table, but by the look on your face he could tell you wanted him gone.

“Hmm right, I'm sure she told you all about me, I just can't believe you convinced her to move back” he says laughing. “Just go leo, there's nothing we need to talk about, besides, i know you have bad luck and get stuck in traffic” you say glaring at him. “I will go, but not because you're telling me to. Tiffany is waiting in the car, you’ve met her Y/N." Leo says smiling as he nudges your shoulder and leaves. You hold in your breath as he says the last few words, assuming she's the girl you caught him with. Charles watches the exchange between you and Leo, his jaw clenching tighter with each word spoken. He can sense the tension in the air, the history that lies between you and Leo. His mind is racing with questions

Charles is left speechless as he processes what just happened. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He stares at Leo as he leaves the restaurant. Finally, he turns to you, his gaze a mix of confusion and hurt. "What the hell was that?" he snaps, his voice barely above a murmur. “Can we just go, i'll explain on the way home” You say as you stand up. Charles lets out a deep breath, his hands clenched into fists. "Yeah," he mutters, getting up from his seat. "Let's just go."

The walk home is filled with an uncomfortable silence. Charles's mind is reeling with questions, his body tense with anger. He glances over at you, his jaw set in a tight line as he listens silently to you laying out the details of your past with Leo. His eyes stay fixed on the sidewalk. When you finish speaking, the walk falls quiet again as Charles processes everything he's just heard. “I'm sorry i should have told you” you say breaking the silence. Charles sighs, his grip on his fist loosening slightly. "Yeah, you should have," he says, his voice betraying a hint of hurt. "I can't believe you kept something like that from me, especially with all the time we've spent together”. “I didn't think it would be important for you to know,” you say, slightly agitated. Charles turns to you, his eyes flashing with a hint of anger. "You didn't think it was important for me to know about your ex-boyfriend who lives in Monaco?" he says, his voice strained. "You don't think that's something I should've known about?" your eyes tear up “How was i supposed to know we would run into him” Charles glances at you, seeing the tears welling up in your eyes. He takes a deep breath, his hand twitching slightly as he fights the urge to reach out to you. "Yeah, whatever" he mutters, his tone softening a bit. "But it still would've been nice to know that I could’ve been confronted by your ex at some point". “You don't get to be mad with me about this, you also didn't tell me about Alex, or how you still love her”

Charles bristles at your words, his jaw clenching at the mention of Alexandra. "That's different," he snaps, his eyes flickering between you and the road. "I eventually told you where my feelings stand. You never told me anything about Leo". You hold back tears, “There was no point in telling you anyways, there's only 2 weeks left before I never have to see you again” Charles’ heart clenches at your words, the reality of the situation washing over him yet again. He lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, that's right. Two more weeks of pretending until we can go back to our separate lives, right?" “Don't make me regret agreeing to this” you say as tears run down your eyes. You watch the anger and hurt falter from Charles at the sight of your tears. His heart aches at the sight of your pain, and he feels a pang of guilt for lashing out at you. He lets out a deep sigh. "I don't want you to regret anything," he mutters, his voice softer now.

The rest of the walk is silent until you reach home.

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

Charles follows you upstairs and into his bedroom. The room is quiet, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the air. He closes the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he gazes at you. You walk over to the nightstand, taking off your earrings before glaring back at him. He watches you silently for a few moments, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. He looks conflicted, a mix of anger and longing on his expression. After a moment, he crosses the room and sits down on the edge of the bed, gesturing for you to join him. You comply and join him, letting out a sigh as you sit down next to him, the mattress sinking under your combined weight. He reaches out tentatively, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice full of remorse. "I shouldn’t have gotten angry”. You let the silence linger a bit before replying “It’s fine, I should have told you.” Charles looks down at your joined hands, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. "Yeah, you should have," he says quietly. "But I can understand why you didn’t. It’s not exactly easy to talk about past relationships”. You dont reply and simply rest against him. He hesitates for a moment before gently wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer, watching as you turn your head up to look at him. He looks down at you, his eyes meeting yours.

He takes in the sight of your face, so close to his own. His gaze flickers back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his heart starting to race. Charles can feel the heat radiating off your body, the sound of your breathing filling his ears. He looks down at you, his lips parting slightly as he fights the desire to close the distance between you. He clenches his jaw, his hand unconsciously tightening around your waist, his other hand on your cheek feels warm and soft. His thumb tracing small circles on your skin. He pulls your face closer, now just inches apart. He inhales deeply, the scent of your perfume filling his nostrils.

“Charles we ca-” Charles’ hand moves from your cheek to your chin, holding it tightly. "Shut up, shut up Y/N. Stop reminding me that I can't have you". His words leave you shocked, you expected him to let go like he's done other times, but part of you is glad he didn't. “Kiss me” you whisper. Charles's heart thunders in his chest, his breaths quickening at your words. For a moment he hesitates, warring with his own feelings, but in the end, he gives in. His hand slides from your face to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he jumps at the sound of someone knocking the bedroom door. You also jump at the sudden noise ruining the moment. “We’re home” Arthur yells through the door. Charles lets out a curse word under his breath as he hears Arthur's voice from the other side of the door. He reluctantly pulls away from you, his hand sliding off your neck as he calls out, "Okay whatever”.

You slightly move away from Charles as you laugh. He shoots you a mock-annoyed look, his lips twitching in a faint smile despite his best efforts. "Oh, you think it’s funny, huh?" he teases, crossing his arms over his chest. “We can never have a moment can we” you say smiling. Charles lets out a short laugh, his arms dropping back to his sides. "No, apparently not," he mutters, shaking his head. "Someone’s always interrupting us”. Without hesitation you bluntly speak your thoughts “i wish i could remember the night we hooked up”. Charles almost chokes on his own breath at your sudden words. His mind goes blank for a moment as he processes what you just said. Then, he laughs hoarsely. "Y/N, you can't just say things like that without warning”. “Please, I know you've also thought the same thing��. Charles is speechless for a moment, rendered speechless by your comment. He has thought it, the memory of that night a blur due to all the alcohol that was consumed. But hearing you say it out loud, without any hint of embarrassment, throws him off. He shakes his head, a mixture of amusement and desire flickering in his eyes.

WEEK 2 DAY 7

The days pass and Sunday, the day of the party, quickly approaches. Charles' mom is in a frenzy, preparing for the event. Charles himself is nervous, the thought of seeing Alexandra again making him visibly uneasy.

The night approaches and both you and Charles get ready in his room. Charles stands in front of the mirror in the bedroom, adjusting his tie. He glances at you, taking in your appearance. "You look good," he says quietly, a hint of a smile on his face. “Thank you” you reply while trying to cover the blush creeping in on your face. “We should probably head downstairs” you suggest as you walk towards him. Charles's eyes move over your figure. He swallows, his mind flashing back to the memories of you almost kissing him yesterday. Charles nods, tearing his gaze away from you. "Yeah, we should," he mutters. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the night ahead. He holds out his hand for you to take. "Ready?" You take his hand and smile as you walk towards the party.

The Party is buzzing with chatter and laughter of guests, music playing in the background. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the sparkle of champagne. Charles tightens his grip on your hand as you walk further into the room, his eyes scanning the crowd.

A few minutes go by and not much has happened yet. Just random guests congratulating you or boring you with small talk. While Charles is talking to one of the guests, you whisper “I'm going to go get a drink” in his ear. Charles nods, understanding your need to escape the boring talk for a moment. "Yeah, okay" He lets go of your hand reluctantly, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. You leave and make your way to the drink station. As you’re pouring yourself a drink you think about how in a few hours this whole situation was going to end in a week. You were going to miss Charles more than you wanted to admit, your mind thought back to the conversation you had with him about how it was “never going to work” but maybe it could work. He made you happy and you needed to accept that. You need to stop pushing him away. So you decided on telling him how you felt tonight.

But as you come back with your drink, you notice Charles engaged in conversation with Alexandra. They're standing close together, their faces mere feet apart. Charles' expression is polite and guarded, Alex's lips twisted in a smile. Fuck you thought to yourself. The stupid “plan” of letting Charles flirt with Alex to win her back had completely slipped your mind. What if maybe he did want to get the divorce?, after all there he was talking with her.

Charles turns at the sound of your footsteps approaching, his eyes locking on yours as you come to a stop next to him. A flicker of nervousness passes over his face, replaced quickly by a neutral expression. Alexandra looks up at you, her smile faltering slightly as she takes in your presence. “Hey” you say politely greeting the woman your husband was going to eventually leave you for. "Hey," Alexandra says, her voice cool and aloof. Her gaze moves between you and Charles, a hint of contempt in her eyes. Charles stays silent, his hand unconsciously clenching at his side. “I’m Y/N” you say, extending your hand to greet her. Alexandra looks at your hand, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your gesture. After a moment, she reaches out and shakes your hand, her grip strong and deliberate. "I'm Alexandra," she says with a harsh tone “I used to date Charles”. He watches the interaction between you and Alexandra, his jaw clenching at the slight hostility coming from her. He doesn't like the way she's looking at you, the jealousy in her eyes. “I know,” You respond in a calm tone before turning to Charles “i hope i'm not interrupting anything” "No, of course not," Charles says quickly, shaking his head. He glances at Alexandra, who purses her lips and says nothing.

You softly smile “well i'm going to excuse myself, enjoy the party”. Charles reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you back. "Wait," he says urgently, his voice low. “What” you whisper back. He leans in close to you, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't go," he murmurs, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. "Please." You swallow as you say words you don't mean “This is your chance to win her back Charles. It will help our little divorce story”. Charles looks torn at your words, his gaze flickering between you and Alexandra. His heart is torn between wanting to keep you with him and wanting to keep up the façade and follow through with a plan he doesn't even want part in. He's only agreeing because he thinks you’re never going to give him a chance. Not with the way you dont let him touch you or say sweet things to you, and how you always have to remind him none of this is real, and you never gave him any hope that this would last more than 4 weeks you agreed to spend with him before going back to Vegas and finalizing the divorce.

"I know," he mutters, his voice strained. "Just... don't go too far. Stay somewhere I can see you." You nod and make your way through the crowd of people. Charles watches you walk away, his heart heavy with mixed emotions. He turns back to Alexandra, who is watching you leave with a hint of happiness in her eyes.

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A few hours pass and Chales and Alex are still talking with each other. You can't stand the sight of him making her laugh or how her hand lingers too long on his arm. You need a distraction from this, so you make your way to the bathroom, taking a moment to compose yourself. Your heart is racing with a mix of emotions, the sight of them together stirring up feelings of jealousy and pain you never thought you would experience at the hands of a fake relationship. You make the irrational decision and decide to pull out your phone and dial Leo's number.

“Hey leonardo, its Y/N”

Leo picks up on the other end of the line, his voice deep and smooth. "Hey Y/N, what's up?"

“I sent you my location, can you meet me here”

Leo's curiosity is piqued at your request. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a few minutes".

“Hurry” is all you say before hanging up the call. A sense of dread washing over you.

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You check your phone and see that Leo has texted you, letting you know that he's arrived. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to do. Leo walks in through the door, his eyes scanning the room as he takes in the sight of the party. He spots you immediately, his face breaking into a smile as he walks over to you. “Hi” you say in a low voice. "Hey," Leo replies, his voice just as low. He glances around, making sure no one is eavesdropping on your conversation. "What's going on? Finally realized I'm better than that F1 driver?" he says laughing. Why, just why did you have to do this.”'Let's talk somewhere more private” You say as you drag him to a vacant room.

As Charles continues talking with Alex, his eyes instinctively drift towards you. He observes you in the distance, walking with someone to the empty room. A puzzled expression forms on his face as he wonders who you even know at the party. Minutes go by, and Charles notices that you haven’t left the room. His curiosity piqued, a sense of worry creeping in, he excuses himself from the conversation and makes his way towards the room you’re in."

You and Leo walk through the crowd, Leo following you as you lead the way to an empty room. As you enter, you shut the door behind you, the noise from the party outside quickly fading to a low murmur. “I just need to get my mind off him” You say as you walk closer to him. Leo looks at you, a hint of curiosity and confusion in his eyes as you approach. “What exactly is the reason you invited me here?" You close the distance between both of you “I don't know” you whisper. He grabs your face “Want me to kiss you?”

Charles was simply talking to Alex, nothing more, yet here you were about to kiss your ex, all because you don't believe Charles actually likes you.

You nod at Leo's words, but as he's about to close the distance you hear the door open.

Charles enters the room, his footsteps halting suddenly as he takes in the sight before him. His eyes widen in shock as he sees you and Leo so close together. He stands frozen for a moment, unable to speak. His mind is racing, processing the scene before him. He looks from you to Leo, anger and hurt warring in his expression. “I- I can e- Charles it's not what you think” You say as you back away from Leo. Charles clenches his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The sight has struck him like a blow to the gut, bringing up a tidal wave of emotions. He says nothing as he grabs your wrist and drags you up the stairs to his room.

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12:00 AM WEEK 3 DAY 1

Charles pushes you into the room, the door slamming shut behind you with a loud thud. The room is plunged into silence for a moment as he turns to face you, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. “Charles, I'm sorry” you say as you turn around to face him. He stares at you with dark eyes and an intense stare. "Sorry?" he repeats, his voice low and harsh. "You're sorry for what, huh? For kissing another guy?". Tears formed in your eye “I didn't kiss him. And even if i did it's not like we are actually together”. Charles lets out a strangled laugh at that, his expression hardening. "Oh, so that makes it okay then? You could just kiss whoever you want because we're not together?" Silence lingers before you speak up “I saw you talking to Alex for hours and i got jealous, i acted on impulse i fucked up i know”. Charles takes a step towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because that's what you wanted me to do, try and fall in love with her so the divorce can have a reason behind it” He yells “But did you ever think that I don't want to leave you”. His words still somehow caught you by surprise.

“What?” you whisper. Charles lets out a sigh, his hand raking through his hair. "Jesus, do I really have to spell it out for you?" he snaps. "I don't want to leave you, I never did. I want to be with you, always. But you... you always turned me down. Did you even think about how I would feel?".

“You told me you still loved her” you reply. Charles scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Love her?" he says, his voice dripping with bitterness. "I said that to see if you would just finally admit your possible feelings for me. But It was all an act, a performance to please you so we could have an “excuse” for our divorce. ... You were the one I truly want”. “I'm sorry” is all you manage to say. Despite everything his eyes soften slightly as he looks at you. "Sorry doesn't fix everything, you know," he mutters, his voice laced with a hint of pain. “I wasn't thinking, I was jealous of her, I thought she was the one you wanted, and you’ve been with her longer and know her better. I didn't think I stood a chance next to her” Charles's expression softens further as he hears your words. "You thought I didn't want you?" he asks, his voice quieter now. "That I'd rather be with her than you?" He takes a step closer to you, his eyes roaming over your face. "You've really been that blind?" he asks, a hint of disbelief in his tone. "All this time, you really thought I didn't want you?" He reaches out, tentatively taking your hand in his. “You tried to tell me so many times, in so many ways. Yet i never tried to give us a chance” you whisper

Charles nods, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Yeah, I tried. But you didn't listen," he says, his voice a mixture of anger and resignation. "You were so fixated on the divorce, on this act, that you didn't see the genuine feelings I had for you." You say nothing, you simply just look into his eyes. Charles lets out a sigh, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "Did you really think all those looks, all those little moments between us, were just pretend?" he asks, his voice quiet but laced with a hint of hurt. “I’ve always felt something for you” you finally admit. Charles's breath hitches at your words, his eyes searching your face. "Do you really mean that?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You nod “I tried to avoid the feelings because I was scared about what the media and your fans would say, and I didn't want to keep up the lie of how we met but I don't care, I don't care anymore because all I know is that I want you”

HIs expression softens further as he hears your confession, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "You idiot," he mutters, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You wasted all this time trying to deny what you really want, all because you were scared of what other people would think?"

You can't help but laugh at your stupid actions. Charles smiles at the sound of your laughter, the tension in the room slowly beginning to ease. "You just had to make everything so complicated, didn't you?" he teases, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “I won't mess up again” you say leaning into his touch. Charles's eyes hold a fierce determination as he speaks, his hand still resting on your cheek. "I hope not, because I'm not going to let anyone or anything come between us again. No more lies, no more hiding. Just you and me." You smile at his words “I like that idea”. Charles grins at your response, his hand sliding down to cup your chin. "Good," he says, his voice taking on a huskier tone. "Because I've been dreaming about having you all to myself for far too long”.

You feel a sense of desire wash over you as he speaks. Now that both of you have made it clear where your feelings stand, you can finally give in to the attraction you have for him. The desire that you've been trying to convince yourself doesn't exist. “You know… everyone is downstairs so no one is going to interrupt us if we kiss” you tell Charles in a low seductive voice. Charles's grin widens at your suggestion, his eyes darkening with need. "Finally. no interruptions" he responds, his tone matching yours. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as his lips move towards yours. You spent so much time pushing him away so it's only fair that you make the first move. After 3 weeks since the last kiss, your lips meet again. Charles responds eagerly, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. There is a hint of desperation in the way he kisses you, as if he's trying to make up for the time he's lost. His hands slide your lower back, pulling you against his body. Neither of you care about the party downstairs.

The kiss deepens, Charles's tongue tangling with yours as he devours your mouth. The only sound in the room is the mingled gasps and moans as the kiss becomes more intense and passionate. “I need you” you whine as you break the kiss. Charles's eyes widen at your words, a primal desire igniting within him at the needy tone of your voice. He tightens his grip on you, his hands roaming your body without restraint. "You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you to say that" he says as his lips find their way to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You guide Charles backwards, never breaking the contact of his lips on your skin. You steer him towards the bed, your movements purposeful and full of want. As the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, he pushes you onto the bed, climbing on top of you in one fluid motion. You waste no time, you quickly remove his tie and unbutton his shirt. His breathing quickens at your actions, his body responding eagerly to your touch. His hands roam your body, desperate to once again feel your skin against his. He nips and kisses at your lips as he pushes your dress up over your head, discarding it carelessly on the floor beside the bed.

“Please touch me” you say in between kisses. Charles' eyes darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Oh now you want me to touch you" he says, his voice thick with lust and humor. His mouth continues its descent, his tongue tracing a path over your chest and down to your stomach. His hands move lower, gripping the waistband of your panties, as if silently asking for permission. You eagerly nod watching his fingers quickly push them down over your hips, leaving you bare. His eyes roam over your body, a look of pure hunger in his gaze. “So beautiful,” he whispers. Charles stands up to take off his pants, his eyes watching you intently as he throws them aside. He shifts his body as he comes near you again, pressing himself against you, his skin now flush against yours. His hands wander down to your hips, gripping them possessively as he pulls you closer. You moan at the feeling of having him pressed up against you. Charles smiles at you , his eyes fixated on yours. "Just relax, I've got you." He lifts himself up with one arm, his eyes roaming over your body as he positions himself with your entrance.

You can't help but moan at the feeling of him going inside of you. He looks down at you, his eyes locking on yours as he slowly applies speed, his lips parting slightly as he lets out a gasp. "Are you okay?" he asks huskily, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah” you reply in a shaky breath as you watch him thrust into you. Charles groaned, his head falling back as he felt you on him. “O-oh fuck.” He gasps, his hands automatically moving to your hips guiding your moves.

After moments of continuing like this you feel yourself reaching your high “Charles in gonna…” you say in between your sounds of pleasure. Charles smiles at you “Fuck, me too” he says, his voice desperate. His thrusts become harder making you both reach your climax. He moans against your ear as you move your hips to ride out your high.

“I needed that for so long” you moan as Charles lays next to you, his chest heaving with exhausted breaths. He nuzzles his face into your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your body.

“Could have done this a lot sooner ” he says, his voice hoarse and raw. “Whatever” you say as you chuckle. Charles moves away from your neck, his eyes looking into yours with a warm expression before speaking. “I'm sure this made it clear but i don't want to go back to vegas, i don't want to get divorced” You grin widens at his words, your eyes lighting up with pleasure. “Is that so?” you say, your tone light and teasing. “You’re sure you don’t want to go back to pretending we’re in love?” you joke. Charles laughs at your words “Stop it” he says as he pokes your side. You laugh along with him, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sorry, sorry," you say, your tone unapologetic. "I just couldn't resist. But in all seriousness,” you continue, your expression growing more sincere. “I don't want a divorce either. I want you, all of you. For real this time”.

“No more pushing me away,” he says in a low voice.

You shake your head, your eyes fixed intently on his. "No more pushing you away," you agreed, your voice firm and unwavering. "No more games, no more secrets. Just us, no pretending, no Vegas." You smile as you continue your sentence “But when we meet someone new, and they ask about us. Will we still keep up the lie on how we met?” you ask Charles. He laughs at your question “Well yes, we still can't have anyone finding out the truth”. You nod your head in understandment “Well then there's still one more person we need to lie to”

Charles raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth “Yeah? who?”

“My mom, in New York” You reply smiling

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

A/N: Finally the end! I really hope you guys enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed and loved writing it. I'm new to the writing community and the love you guys have showed me is amazing and it really motivates me. Thank you <3.

TAGLIST: @tsireyasgf @v4mp1r3bl0g @asparklysoul @sltwins @janeh22 @aleatorio1234 @perfectlycoralsheep thank you for reading, I appreciate it so much :)

#part 3 #charles leclerc #cl16 imagine #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x you #cl16 one shot #cl16 #y/n #female!reader #fluff #smau #angst #charles leclerc fluff #smut

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whosscruffylooking · 2 months ago

Text

Open Arms Chapter One

steve harrington x fem!reader Open Arms Masterlist word count : 6k Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things This chapter takes place during Season 2 Episodes 1-5

~1984~

Chapter Two

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Another day in Hawkins. Another day of high school. Another day stuck in the same small, sleepy town you’ve known for as long as you can remember. It feels like nothing ever changes here, like every day just blurs into the next, predictable and quiet.

Every day, you wake up wishing for some kind of miracle, something that could shake things up, make life a little less ordinary. Something that could turn your world… Upside Down.

“Y/N!” your mom calls out from the kitchen, “Is Steve giving you a ride today?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Mom, seriously…when was the last time Steve drove me to school? He has a girlfriend to pick up now.”

Steve, your best friend since the first grade. To everyone else he was The Reigning King of Hawkins High. To you he was just the boy next door who reigns havoc on your life, makes everything a little more complicated whether you want it or not.

Your mom hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time you found yourself a boyfriend.”

“I’m perfectly fine, thanks.”

She gives a little shrug. “I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be nice to be taken out on a date once in a while?”

“Mom,” you sigh, “please take your matchmaking somewhere else.”

She’s not wrong, though. You haven’t let yourself even think about dating anyone else since the last “almost” with Steve. Around a year ago, he’d done something reckless enough to mess up things with Nancy, and she seemed to be getting closer to Jonathan Byers. You had just gotten out of a relationship yourself.

It happens every time: he messes things up with a girl, or you’re fresh out of a breakup, and suddenly, like clockwork, you’re back in each other’s lives, circling each other. It’s as if you’re both bound to this endless cycle of almosts—falling together just to fall apart again. You know the game by heart, and you’re tired of it, tired of the late nights that never lead to anything real, the unspoken words that hang heavy in the air between you both. But still, you can’t seem to let go.

Nothing ever actually happens. You just end up crashing at each other’s houses, watching movies till you both fall asleep, or driving out to Lover’s Lake to stargaze and rant about your trainwreck love lives. But you both know what it is—and what it isn’t. The truth is, you’re bound by a history no one else could touch. Growing up together, you made the stupid decision of being a lot of each other’s firsts, and you’ve always been the one person who truly gets him. It’s a bond that runs deeper than most things in your life, yet it never seems to go anywhere beyond these stolen moments. And maybe that’s why it hurts the most—knowing he’s always right there but never fully yours.

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At school, you overhear the girls in the hallway whispering about the new guy in town. Though “guy” isn’t the word they use—they’re calling him a real man, with a muscle car to match and actual muscles to back it up. You’ve never been the type to shy away from guys, and you’ve certainly never had any trouble attracting attention. Still, something about the way they talk about him piques your curiosity, though you’d never admit it.

You notice the once-empty locker beside yours is finally in use, a few things tossed inside. You wonder briefly who claimed it. That curiosity doesn’t last long.

“Excuse me, gorgeous, but I think that’s my locker.”

You turn to find the living, breathing embodiment of the girls’ descriptions. Tall, sharp-jawed, with piercing blue eyes, and that effortless, cocky grin. You don’t even have to ask if it’s him.

“Oh—my bad,” you say, stepping aside.

“And what’s your name?” he asks, his smile unwavering.

Who does he remind you of?

“Y/N…” You try to pinpoint it, that nagging sense of familiarity.

He tosses his keys into the locker, eyes still fixed on yours, something almost playful in his gaze.

Then it hits you.

“I’m—”

“Knight Rider?” you say slyly, a smirk playing at your lips. He blushes just a little, caught off guard, and you savor the small victory.

“Well played,” he says, taking your hand into his for a confident but gentle shake.

“That’s just the beginning,” you respond, shutting your locker with a quiet click, eager to keep the mystery between you two alive.

“I hope so. I’m Billy by the way,” he replies, his voice softer now, still slightly in awe of you. There’s something in his eyes—a challenge. And you can tell, he’s baited.

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At lunch, you find yourself walking through the crowded cafeteria, scanning the room for a familiar face. As luck would have it, you bump into Nancy and Steve near the food line.

“Hey,” Steve greets, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity. “What did you think of the new guy? Total douche, right?”

You catch the look on his face, a mix of hope and something else you can’t quite place. It’s clear he’s fishing for your opinion, eager for you to agree with him.

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual, though you can’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean…” Your voice comes out just a bit higher than usual, betraying your uncertainty. “He’s like the entire cast of The Outsiders wrapped up in one package.” You leave it at that, the playful jab hanging in the air between you three.

Nancy chuckles, gripping her tray closely as she looks between you and Steve. You take the opportunity to point at her, nodding toward Steve. “Looks like your girl might agree with me too.”

Nancy gasps and bursts into laughter. “I don’t know, I guess. He’s not really my type though.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “That’s so funny, because I’m pretty sure I saw a David Hasselhoff photo in your locker just last week?”

Steve’s face falls slightly, and you catch the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh please,” he says, his tone a bit too defensive, “he is not David Hasselhoff.”

“Knight Rider,” Nancy interjects, her eyes darting between you and Steve. You both freeze, caught off guard.

“What?” You ask, happy she sees the resemblance too.

Nancy looks back and forth between you two, realization dawning on her. “He has the car, the curls, and the mus—muscle car.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing her. “You just said the car twice. Sure you didn’t mean another kind of muscle?”

Nancy giggles at your comment, but Steve pushes you playfully, though there’s a layer of something more in his touch—like he’s trying to keep things light but it doesn’t quite feel like it used to.

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Steve mutters under his breath, though it’s more playful than anything else.

You smile, your tone laced with the usual teasing. “All too often.”

But as you both lock eyes, something shifts. It’s not just a playful exchange anymore. The usual banter feels heavy now, the space between you both thick with unspoken words. Steve’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same distance creeping between you two that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. You quickly look away, forcing the feeling down as Nancy continues to laugh, unaware of the sudden tension lingering.

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You’re walking down the hall, a few steps ahead of Steve, the sounds of lockers slamming and voices all around you fading as the tension between you both hangs in the air. Every time you glance over your shoulder, his gaze is already on you—lingering, just a bit too long.

You both fall into an uneasy silence. It’s not the comfortable quiet you used to share, but something heavier. Something unspoken.

You stop for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I’ll see you in class,” you murmur, turning to leave.

But Steve’s voice stops you. “Hey,” he calls softly, his hand brushing yours as he steps into your path. His touch is warm, too warm for something so casual. His fingers linger for a split second before he pulls away, but the moment still sits between you, unresolved.

You look up, meeting his eyes. His usual cocky confidence is gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to break the silence.

“Steve…” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You want to say something that makes it all feel normal again, but the words feel stuck in your throat.

He opens his mouth, hesitates, then shuts it again. “Never mind.” The smile he forces doesn’t reach his eyes again. It’s strained, tight. And suddenly, you can’t look at him anymore.

Turning quickly, you walk past him, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

From down the hall, Nancy watches the exchange, arms folded, leaning against the locker as she observes. There’s no jealousy in her gaze—she’s been there too. She knows the space between two people who care for each other but don’t know how to bridge it. She’s seen it with Jonathan, with the way they get tangled in unspoken words and moments that feel like too much, but too little at the same time. It’s just the way things go sometimes.

───⋆｡°✩🕰️✩°｡⋆───

*Flashback*

2 years ago

It’s a Friday afternoon, and the hallways of Hawkins High are quieter than usual. Most of the students have gone home, leaving the echoes of footsteps and lockers slamming shut. You and Steve are walking side by side, the familiar warmth of his presence at your side like it always has been—comforting, easy.

You laugh as Steve pulls an exaggerated face, trying to get you to laugh at his antics as he mimics one of the teachers. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“You’re such an idiot,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

He bumps you back, almost knocking you into the lockers. “You love me for it,” he smirks, and there’s a hint of something else in his gaze, something unspoken that lingers between you, like a question neither of you has the courage to ask.

You roll your eyes again, but there’s no denying the way your heart skips. “Yeah, maybe,” you say, trying to brush it off. But you both know that maybe means something more.

You reach the end of the hallway, your steps slowing as the moment stretches, neither of you wanting to be the first to turn back, to end this rare, quiet time between just the two of you.

He glances over at you, his steps slowing, his voice quieter when he speaks again. “Hey, so… Bryan still around?”

You stop walking, surprised by the question, but it’s Steve, and it’s always been easy with him. “No,” you reply, shaking your head. “He’s out of the picture.”

Steve’s expression softens, a slight smile playing on his lips as if the weight of something between you two has been lifted. “Good. He never really seemed like the right guy for you.”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected warmth in his words, but you don’t let it show. “Yeah, well… sometimes you don’t really see things until it’s too late.”

Steve nods, looking down for a moment as if he’s trying to decide something. He looks back up at you, his usual carefree grin returning. “Well, if you’re not busy tonight, you wanna come over to my place? We can grab some takeout, watch movies… you know, normal hangout stuff.”

There’s something in his invitation that feels different this time, but you brush it off. It’s Steve. He always invites you over. You’ve done it a million times before—movies, pizza, talking about everything and nothing. It’s what you do.

“Yeah,” you agree, “sounds good.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression shifting. You feel your stomach flutter, the air between you thickening as the playful banter dies down.

You find yourself leaning in, just a bit, and you see Steve’s breath catch, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours.

But before you can get any closer, a loud bang from down the hall makes both of you snap apart like you’ve been caught.

You both step back, instantly awkward, eyes darting everywhere except at each other. The spell breaks, but the tension still lingers, heavy in the air. You glance at Steve, and his expression is unreadable—like he’s trying to hide something, or maybe it’s you who’s hiding it.

You break the silence first, a half-laugh escaping your lips. “Well… that was close.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed but also relieved. “Yeah, totally. We’re just—uh, messing around, right?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but your heart is racing, and you know he feels it too. “Right. Just messing around.”

But neither of you says anything more. You both head in opposite directions down the hallway, still feeling the echo of what almost happened, both of you wondering if the other is thinking about it too.

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At last, it’s the day of the party. You’ve spent longer than you’d like to admit getting ready, but you’re finally happy with your look. Blue bell-bottom jeans, a tight orange top with a center zip that falls just below the line of modesty—it’s bold, but you feel good in it. Confident, even.

You arrive at the party, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside you. The music pulses through the house, and people are scattered, laughing and talking, their faces blurry in the haze of a dimly lit room. As much as you try to act like you don’t care, the anxiety creeps in. Funny how someone so confident can still feel out of place in a crowd.

You push through, trying to find your core group, but as you weave through the bodies, there’s really only one person you’re looking for. Steve. The one person who has always had a way of making you feel like you belong.

On your way through the crowd, you bump into Jonathan Byers. Another one of your longtime friends. You’ve all grown up together in Hawkins, so you’ve seen each other through the years—some friendships stronger than others, but still, it’s hard to forget those familiar faces.

“Jonathan!” you call out with a smile, pulling him into a quick hug. “Loving the look, very you.” You nod at his usual, low-key style—flannel and jeans. He’s always been the quiet, thoughtful one in the group, and you just want him to feel good about his understated vibe.

“I like… your shirt,” he says, his words trailing off awkwardly.

Well, at least your shirt is doing what you intended it to. Maybe just not with the target audience.

“Looking for Nancy?” you ask, hoping he’ll pick up the conversation.

“Yeah,” Jonathan responds, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t really associate with anyone else here.”

You put on a mock-offended face, “Ouch.”

He immediately backpedals, realizing how it sounded. “I mean, you were gone for a while. We kinda lost touch.” His gaze drops a little, clearly uncomfortable, referring to the time when your parents separated again, and you spent some months with your mom in California. It had been a rough time for you, especially being away from Steve. You’re still not sure how you survived that.

“Well, I’m back now,” you say, brushing off the past. “Come on, join me. I’m on a mission to find Steve and Nancy.”

Jonathan nods, grateful for the company. “Alright, lead the way.”

And there he is, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, laughing at something someone said, a bottle of beer loosely held in his hand. He’s effortlessly cool as usual, but there’s something different tonight. Maybe it’s the way his eyes flicker over to Nancy every now and then, or the tightness in his posture that betrays the casual air he’s trying to maintain.

Nancy stands next to him, arms crossed, her jaw clenched in that familiar way when she’s upset—though it’s hard to say if it’s the alcohol or something else that’s fueling her frustration tonight. She’s leaning a little too heavily on the counter, her face flushed, the words she’s muttering barely audible over the noise of the party.

Steve’s smile is gone now, replaced by a more serious expression. He’s trying to keep things light, but it’s clear she’s not having it.

As you and Jonathan walk toward the kitchen, you spot Steve and Nancy in their little world, tucked away by the counter. You can hear the edge in Nancy’s voice, even from a distance, though you can’t make out the words. Jonathan follows your gaze, his brow furrowing. You can’t blame him for looking the way he does—he’s been around long enough to know the dance between Steve and Nancy.

“Is she okay?” you ask, your voice quiet, though it feels more like an automatic question than one you really expect an answer to. You’ve seen enough of this cycle to know the routine.

Jonathan glances over, shaking his head just slightly. “I don’t think so,” he says, a rare seriousness in his tone. “But you know Nancy. She’ll push through.”

You feel the knot in your stomach tighten as you watch Steve’s stance shift, his body leaning toward Nancy as if trying to reach her without crowding her, trying to give her space but also not let her slip too far away. There’s something fragile in the air, something more than just the tension between them. It’s like Steve’s holding on by a thread, and maybe Nancy is, too, but neither of them wants to admit it.

“You should probably go talk to them,” Jonathan says, glancing at you. He doesn’t know what to say either, but it’s obvious that Steve’s been trying to manage things on his own. You could step in—or let him handle it.

You glance at Jonathan again, silently debating what to do. Jonathan nudges you gently with his elbow. “You good?” he asks. You nod, taking a step forward, your voice hesitant but warm. “Hey, guys, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to break through the tension without adding to it.

Nancy shoots you a sharp look before turning away, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got that defeated, yet resigned, look on his face as he exhales deeply. He’s trying to hide it, but the frustration is written all over him.

“Just the usual,” Steve says with a small, forced smile, looking at you.

Nancy, still with her arms crossed, shoots you a look that says more than her words do. It’s not that she’s mad at you; it’s just that she doesn’t want to be the center of attention right now. She’s not ready to have the conversation.

Jonathan stands by you, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to say something. You don’t know what the right thing is. The silence in the room is thick now.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Nancy slurs, her words trailing off as she pushes past Steve, who’s still trying to calm her down.

“Please don’t,” Steve says, his voice low and frustrated, but he’s too late. He sighs and chases after her, leaving you standing alone for the moment.

Not long after, a voice you’re starting to recognize from the past few days calls out from behind you.

“So if I’m Knight Rider, then who does that make you?” Billy’s voice is smooth, cocky, and unmistakable. He’s standing just a few feet away now, that grin still plastered on his face.

You turn to meet his gaze, letting a playful smile tug at the corners of your lips. You raise an eyebrow, a silent challenge in your eyes. “You’ll have to learn more about me to find out.”

He steps a little closer, eyes narrowing with amusement. “When?”

The question hangs in the air, and for a split second, you feel that old rush of excitement—the thrill of the unknown. Remembering your mom’s less-than-subtle hints this morning, you decide to play along.

“How about Wednesday night? We can go see the new Terminator movie. You look like someone who appreciates a little Arnold Schwarzenegger,” you say, testing the waters, letting a hint of flirtation slip into your voice.

Billy doesn’t hesitate, that confident grin of his widening. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up. And…I’ve been to the gym Arnold works out in.”

You raise your hand to stop him, a slight smirk on your face. “Right…I’m sure you have. Also, I’ve seen how you drive your car. Maybe I’ll meet you there,” you tease, enjoying the playful banter.

He chuckles, stepping back, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. “I’ll go nice and slow just for you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, the tension between you both shifting into something lighter, something you haven’t felt in a while. But as you look past him, your eyes flicker briefly to Steve, catching him trying to pry the solo cup out of Nancy’s hand. Just as the music halts, that red solo cup and the red mystery punch within it spills all over Nancy’s white shirt.

Her face is in complete disbelief, she sways back and forth her reaction clearly slowed down by her alcohol intake.

“Screw you.”

Jonathan follows her quickly into the bathroom.

“You know,” Billy starts again, “Rumor has it that you and Harrington have quite the colorful history? Why is it that you two aren’t prom king and queen this year?”

Something in Billy’s tone instantly makes you second-guess your plans for Wednesday. His fading smirk tells you he’s noticed the flash of disdain on your face.

“What does it matter if you’re the one taking me on a date Wednesday?” you say, your voice edged with a warning. You’re feeling oddly protective over you and Harrington’s history, a past that’s none of Billy’s business.

Billy raises an eyebrow, caught off guard but intrigued. “Fair enough,” he replies, but the cocky glint in his eyes lingers, as if he’s still sizing up the situation.

Shortly after, you spot Steve storming out of the bathroom alone, Nancy nowhere in sight. His expression is tense as he heads straight for the drink station, a familiar frustration in his stride. You catch a glimpse of Jonathan making his way toward Nancy, so you turn to Billy with a polite excuse and make your way over to Steve.

“Hey, you don’t need to be drinking any more right now,” you say, noticing that Steve has downed two cups of punch in the short walk it took to reach him.

“I’ve got a pretty damn good reason to,” he mutters, his jaw tight as he opens a beer.

“Steve, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but at least think about the fact that you still have to drive home,” you warn, trying to keep your tone light.

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “You can drive me.”

“I never volunteered for that,” you reply, crossing your arms.

For a moment, he looks at you, really looks at you, and you can tell he’s realizing that things are different. You’re not just there to pick up his pieces anymore. You have your own life to live tonight—a party to enjoy, and maybe even boys to dance with. The weight of another round of Steve-and-Nancy drama? That’s not something you’re willing to carry this time.

“You’re right,” Steve says, setting the beer down with a sigh. “I’ll just go sit out on the porch and sober up a bit. Then I’ll head out. And I wanna make sure Nancy gets home safe.”

You give his arm a quick squeeze, silently admiring that, even in the middle of an argument, he’s still looking out for her. That is… until his gaze drifts to the front door, where he sees Jonathan helping a barely-standing Nancy out to his car.

Crap.

“Go sit on the porch. I’ll be right there,” you say quickly, hinting you’ll handle it. You rush outside to catch up with Jonathan. “You know how this looks, right?”

Jonathan gives a solemn nod. “She asked me.”

Nancy lifts her head slightly, her words slurred and muddled. “I don’t want… Steve to take me home. Not Steve. I want to see Barb’s parents. Take me to Barb’s house.”

You pause, taken aback. “Barb’s parents? Why do you want to see Barb’s parents right now?”

Jonathan stiffens, worry flickering in his eyes. “Uh, I really think I should get her home now. Maybe check on Steve too.”

Without another word, they’re off, leaving you standing in the night with a sense of unease. You know Barbara Holland was Nancy’s best friend, missing since last year. But why would she bring that up now? And why with such urgency?

You find Steve out back, leaning against the porch railing, eyes glazed with frustration and a hint of sadness.

“Steve…why would Nancy want to see Barb’s parents tonight?”

He shakes his head slowly, the alcohol clearly loosening his grip on restraint. “God, I wish I could tell you everything right now. It would make things so much easier. You’re my best friend. I tell you everything. But for the past year, I’ve been keeping so many secrets from you.”

A pit forms in your stomach. “What do you mean, Steve?”

He looks at you, eyes haunted, and whispers, “If I told you, you’d die.”

You laugh nervously, trying to shake the unease settling over you. “C’mon, it can’t be that serious.”

“There’s stuff going on around here that you have no clue about.” He reaches up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering a second longer than they should. Your heart skips, half hoping this is just the alcohol, half hoping it’s not. He always does this, walks that fine line.

His voice cracks slightly as he murmurs, “I just want to keep you safe.”

In that moment, you realize it’s not just words—it’s a plea, and you can feel the weight of something dark lurking just beyond his gaze, something he desperately wants to shield you from.

You give Steve a gentle pinch, trying to ground him. “I’m safe, Steve. I’m right here, see?”

But he only shakes his head, eyes dark with something close to dread. “Here is where it’s least safe. Those things… they’re out there.”

A chill runs down your spine. “What things, Steve?” You search his face, recognizing the unmistakable truth behind his words.

He just looks away, jaw clenched. Instinctively, your mind flashes back to last year, the disappearances of Will Byers and Barb. Then Nancy and Jonathan, vanishing for days without a word. Everyone assumed Jonathan had to hold things together while Joyce spiraled, refusing to believe her son was dead. There was even a funeral, and she still wouldn’t admit it. Then, against all logic, Will came back with no real explanation.

You remember Steve acting strangely after everything went down. He kept trying to make peace with Jonathan over the fight they got into outside the movie theater, but he dodged every question you asked about the night he went to Jonathan’s house, laughing nervously or changing the subject so fast it left you spinning. Then there was the night you found a bat in the trunk of his car—nails hammered into it like some kind of makeshift weapon. When you questioned him, he just shrugged it off, calling it a “guy thing,” and you let it go, though every instinct told you there was more to the story.

Whenever you pushed for answers, Steve would wave it off, teasing you about reading too many mysteries and spending too much time theorizing. But seeing the fear in his eyes now, the weight he’s carrying, it hits you like a punch: you were right to question everything. And he knows it, too.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You drive Steve’s car back to his house, figuring you’ll pick up your mom’s in the morning. One night won’t matter.

Helping him up to his room, you can’t shake the strange coincidences piling up around Hawkins.

“I missed this,” he mumbles, settling onto his bed.

“What?”

“You… in my room,” he says softly, grabbing your hand. “Stay tonight. Don’t leave.”

“You have a girlfriend, Steve. I don’t stay over when you have a girlfriend.”

He sighs, eyes full of something almost desperate. “What kind of girlfriend says she isn’t really in love with you?”

You freeze. “I’m sorry—what?”

“She said we’re just… acting like we’re in love,” he says, voice rough with frustration and something else.

You can see it—the hurt he’s tried to bury, the way he’s tried so hard to be enough for someone. To finally feel wanted.

His arms slip around your waist, his head resting against your stomach, and you feel his shoulders shake. Silent tears he doesn’t want you to see.

“Hey, hey… She was drunk, okay? Everyone says stupid things when they’re drunk. Talk to her tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

“She meant it,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You gently push him back onto the bed, pulling the covers over him. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow, Steve. Get some rest, and we’ll figure out the Nancy thing together.”

You hate to leave him like this, but you know it’s the right thing to do. So, once again, you walk away, leaving your best friend alone with his heartbreak and the last traces of alcohol on his breath. Another turn in the endless cycle that is your friendship—always there for him, even as it pulls you back into the same, unbroken loop.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The next day, Billy and Steve square off on the basketball court, the air thick with tension. Billy’s been taunting him non-stop, poking at Steve’s so-called “King Steve” reputation like it’s a worn-out joke. But Steve keeps his cool, mostly.

Until Billy casually drops your name.

“So tell me, Harrington,” Billy sneers with a smirk, “what made you go for the Wheeler girl over Y/N?”

Steve feels the muscles in his jaw clench, but he doesn’t take the bait. He knows better than to react. But Billy’s not done. He moves closer, a low chuckle escaping as he continues, “I mean, the King and the Princess of Hawkins High—cute match and all. But damn, man, have you seen the hips on her? Perfect for holding onto. Word is you already took her for a test drive, too. So I gotta wonder… why didn’t you ever claim her? Or maybe you just weren’t man enough?”

Steve’s control snaps. He shoves Billy hard, fire in his eyes as he stands inches from him, fists clenched. “Say one more thing about her. I dare you.”

Billy laughs, clearly enjoying himself, but there’s an edge to Steve’s stance, a fierce protectiveness that makes even Billy pause. Steve glares, his voice low and dangerous. “Y/N’s worth more than someone like you will ever know. So keep her name out of your mouth, or you’ll regret it.”

Right on cue, Nancy’s soft voice cuts through the tension. “Steve?” She stands just a few feet away, looking pale and uneasy, clearly having seen the entire thing unfold.

Billy smirks, throwing a last taunt over his shoulder. “Good luck, Harrington.” He saunters off, leaving Steve standing there, fists still clenched, his heart pounding.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

“Y/N!” your mom calls from downstairs. “Steve is here!”

Steve coming through the front door? That’s unusual—he’s always climbed the vines up to your window. You quickly spray a bit of perfume, fix your hair, then catch yourself in the mirror. Why are you even putting in effort for him?

When you come down, your mom throws you an excited smile, her back to Steve so he can’t see. She’s still holding onto that hope she’s had since first grade that you and Steve would end up together.

And then there he is, standing in the entryway with a bouquet of sunflowers—your favorite. Your heart stumbles as you take in every inch of him. For a brief second, you let yourself imagine you’re the only girl he brings flowers to. But realistically, he’s probably just coming from Nancy’s or on his way there next.

He hands you the flowers, his gaze lingering. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say, trying to steady your voice.

“Well, I should get going,” he says, and your heart sinks. That’s it?

“But, uh, make sure to open your window. There’s a nice breeze out tonight,” he adds with a wink. You bite back a smile, catching on.

You say your goodbyes and dash up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s questions as Steve leaves. You open your window, sitting on your bed, waiting for him like you have a hundred times before. Somehow, after all these years, the excitement still feels brand new.

“Miss me?” He slips through the window, quietly so your mom doesn’t hear, and makes himself at home. He turns on your record player, the soft hum of music filling the room, then joins you on the bed.

He stares down at his hands. “I’m sorry for the position I put you in last night. It wasn’t fair, and you deserve better.”

You try to catch his gaze, but he’s clearly embarrassed. “That’s what best friends are for,” you say, hoping to ease his guilt.

You bite your tongue, unsure whether to bring up what he shared last night—but you’ve never hidden things from each other, and you don’t want to start now. “You told me about Nancy… how she said it felt like you were just acting in love.”

He sighs, defeated. “Yeah. I confronted her about it today. Asked if she could say she loved me, and she couldn’t.”

Your heart aches for him. “I’m sorry, Steve. Maybe she’s just… having a moment. A lot’s happened this year.”

The silence hangs between you for a moment, heavy with unsaid words.

“I’m gonna bring her flowers after this. I don’t think it’ll change anything, but she deserves an apology for everything I put her through,” he finally says, breaking the quiet. You smile, resting your hand on his knee. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He looks down at your hand on his knee, his fingers hovering for a moment before he covers it with his own. His expression softens, a hint of something he quickly tries to hide, but you can see it—a sadness mixed with a reluctant acceptance, like he knows exactly what all of this means.

He lets out a quiet sigh, staring at your intertwined hands. There’s a heaviness in his eyes. Like even if things with Nancy are ending, there’s something between you and him that’s never quite let go.

His fingers tighten around yours, just for a second, before he releases your hand and gives you a small, bittersweet smile.

“You should go,” you whisper. You don’t want him to. But he needs to.

He reluctantly resigns himself.

“Can I come pick you up in an hour? Maybe we can go to the movies or something?”

You know you should say no, but you can’t. “If you and Nancy aren’t making out and making up within the next hour then yes, we can go to a movie.”

He stares at you, and you can’t quite read him. You avert your gaze.

“It’s so funny,” he speaks almost as if he can’t believe himself, “No matter what…or who…I always need you.”

And with that he’s out the window and on his way to try and win back another woman.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

#strange things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #slow burn #angst #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #billy hargrove #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #Open Arms AU

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sooniebby · 2 years ago

Text

ఌ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘

꧁ 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Teaser ➤ first night together… a kiss? How about a dildo <3

Pt 1

Word count › 4.2k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › none

Kinks › size kink, a/b/o, phone sex

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

“So… Riki… do you ever think properly?” Miss Watanabe Yuki asked as she stared at her son and his… uh, new mate basically. Her dark hair with slivers of gray hair mixed in, she was certainly much older than (Name)’s own mother.

Riki rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t. Is there anyway to fix this?”

“No. There is not! Because the only way is if you died or, uh, actually that’s the only way.” Miss Watanabe said, frowning.

(Name) glanced at Riki. “I don’t mind if you died.” That was a lie, his inner ‘omega’ screamed at the idea of losing Riki.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Riki rolled his eyes. When he had brought (Name) home, no one should’ve been here but luck wasn’t on his side when his mother was here.

Miss Watanabe sighed. “Well, this is your mess. You’re both adults basically. There is nothing I can do beside help Mister Tanaka get comfortable as an omega.”

(Name) bit his lip. “Thank you…”

“I have a shift at the hospital tonight. I’ll be hoping you guys don’t do anything else idiotic tonight, alright? Stay far apart—”

“—won’t be difficult.” Riki cut in, earning a sharp glare from his mother that he gladly returned.

“Just try not to trigger his heat. I’ll be back in the afternoon.” And with that, Riki and (Name) were the only ones left. Riki huffed and got up, walking away to his room.

Just leaving (Name) there by himself. (Name) frowned. He wasn’t even sure why Riki was angry. Did he not want this? What idiot marks someone they don’t want?

Watanabe Riki apparently.

(Name) was about to just turn in the tv when a pair of clothes was dropped on his head. He turned back to see Riki, a blank stare on his face.

“Clothes to change into. You can sleep in my mom’s bedroom.”

“Why not yours?”

Riki raised an eyebrow. “And kickstart your heat? Unless you wanna fuck, don’t come near me, dumbass.”

(Name) blushed at the thought. As well as the sudden gush of slick from his ass. Riki’s nose flared up at the scent and he quickly covered it, looking away.

“I’ll be in my room. Ignore me.” He muttered before speed walking away. The door slammed shut right behind him. (Name) was left by himself in a random house. He took the clothes off his head and sniffed them for Riki’s scent but it wasn’t there. The only scent there was of laundry detergent.

A whimper left his lips in disappointment. Was he not worthy enough for his alpha’s scent? His alpha? God damn, he was already bonded to Riki that he was crying over his scent.

(Name) reached up and felt his face. Oh, he was actually crying. He clinched the clothes in his arms as he tried to keep his sobbing mute. Everything was so heighten for him.

Newly presenting and getting an alpha that seemed upset at being with him, he felt so ashamed. What would his parents think? He didn’t even want to think about it.

The rejection they would have towards him was already ingrained in his head. (Name) didn’t want to change. His uniform had Riki’s smell on it. The only scent he could get from him.

He placed the clean clothes on the coffee table and sniffed his own shirt. Riki’s scent was on it, faintly but it was there. He sighed in relief and kept it near his nose, moving to lay down on his back on the couch.

What it smelled like was hard to explain but to (Name) it belonged to someone he liked. Mainly his omega, really, but his omega was him…

So it was him liking Riki.

But he couldn’t even remember what he had said to Riki back then. Riki looked so different from middle school. Taller for one. And he was more cutesy back then. He thought for a moment, just wondering what he could’ve said that pushed Riki to hate him.

Until he did.

And, maybe Riki was right to hate him.

ꕥ 4 years ago ꕥ

(Name) watched as a couple of alphas played basketball not too far away from him. He hated them so much. His parents had only fueled that hatred by always saying birthing a beta was their life’s failure.

He had started to take it out on any alpha he came across. And in turn, many alphas didn’t pay any attention to him. Betas and other omegas thought he was a little shit but in a fun way. Alphas always had a sense of pride to them—it was funny to see a little beta talk shit about them in their face.

So (Name) gained a reputation of back talking alphas, no matter the age, at their middle school. But he was still a smarty pants so most teachers ignored it as long as he didn’t go too far.

And he usually didn’t. At most, a few alphas cried but most alphas didn’t give too shots. Their egos already too big to be knocked down by a useless beta.

But there was one who’s ego wasn’t large. Watanabe Riki. An alpha raised only be his omega mother who had taught him to be as kind and friendly as possible. Treat omegas and betas as equals. That his alpha status meant nothing in favor of good manners.

So most saw him as a prime example of a good alpha. An alpha who cared.

Riki mainly kept to himself. Only two friends who was a beta and omega respectively. He wasn’t on (Name)’s radar. The only alphas he went for was the ones that annoyed him or started it.

But one day, Riki unfortunately came across your path. He was walking with his omega friend when a few other omegas started an argument with him. It was out of no where, Riki wasn’t even sure what he did.

His friend was also so confused on why they were fighting. It was somewhat calm before one of the omegas pushed his friend. Riki growled at the omega and pushed her back into her friend group, but with his added strength of being an alpha, he had made all of them tumble down.

And in the eyes of (Name) who was just passing by, all he saw was an alpha bullying a group of poor omegas. (Name) grunted out in anger and ran over to Riki to punch him in the face.

“What the fuck, Tanaka!!” Riki’s friend had screeched but (Name) paid her no mind. (Name) didn’t think that she was a omega due to her much muted scent compared to the others.

(Name) grasped Riki’s shirt, pulling him close before grinning at the height difference. He was taller than Riki. Riki only came to his neck in height. (Name) was 5’8, his full height now compared to Riki’s 5’6.

“An alpha this fucking short? How pathetic. Is that why you’re bullying omegas? To feel better about yourself?” He chastised, shaking Riki while the poor alpha just stared at him in confusion.

“What are you—?”

“—but it makes sense. An alpha that doesn’t matter to anyone but his mommy will try anything to seem important! Idiot alphas like you aren’t important in this world and it’s time your kin knew that.”

Riki stared at (Name) in shock. What… What did he do to deserve such hatred? He’s never even talked to this beta before.

“Try not to bully omegas anymore, alright? Idiot alpha. Do everyone a favor and not show your face around me or those omegas ever again.” (Name) pushed Riki to the ground. “Disappear even. No will care.”

“You fucking asshole!” Riki’s friend yelled, shoving (Name) away as she ran to comfort Riki. (Name) was confused on why she was acting like this for a bully until he saw Riki’s expression.

The alpha was crying.

The first ever alpha he’s ever seen cry hysterically about his words. Riki hugged his friend tightly as tears streamed down his face, snot and sniffling. His whimpering and whining was heard as he cried as if he was a five year old again.

And maybe he had never dealt with something so terrible said to him.

To be told to essentially kill yourself… it was… much for a middle schooler.

Even the omegas that were pushed looked… guilty about what happened. And in the first time ever, (Name) felt disgusted with himself. He wondered to himself what good was he at taking his anger out on people who didn’t deserve it.

After that, he didn’t do anything like that again.

But he also never saw Riki again.

ꕥ

(Name) wanted to throw up. He.. he never remembered himself being so terrible. Did he forgot because he was so ashamed. How could he do that him. His inner omega burned at the harsh words he had once used.

He can’t let Riki continue to feel this way. (Name) sprung out of the couch and ran to Riki’s room, opening it with ease.

Riki jumped up in shock, cock out and everything. But (Name) was too frantic to notice. Riki quickly covered himself with a blanket and was about ready to yell at the idiot when (Name) hugged him.

He froze, shocked at (Name) willingly touching him. (Name) was crying, moving himself to sit on Riki’s lap as he hugged him tightly.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Alpha. I was so terrible to you,” (Name) whined.

“Sorry… sorry for what?”

“For hurting you so much. I hate that I did that to you.”

Riki sighed. “It’s just the mating mark talking. I’m sure you don’t even remember it.” He moved to push (Name) away but was stopped by a kiss on his lips.

His eyes widened as he felt (Name) pull away from the kiss, a blush on his cheeks. It was his first kiss but he’d never tell (Name) that.

“Maybe the mating mark made me realize what I had done but I am sorry. This is… it’s all so new to me. Being an omega and being mated so quickly, I don’t know what to do.”

(Name) sighed. “But you’re the only thing I feel close to. It doesn’t feel scary to be with you… and I don’t hate being mated to you… I might like it… a little bit.” He muttered.

“Is it the heat talking?” Riki asked.

“What? No. It’s my feelings. Do you hate me…?”

“I don’t think I could if I tried… don’t make fun of me but I only came to our school to get revenge. What you said to me that day messed with me… I still have dreams about it…”

“And I don’t think I can just forget it and forgive you so easily but I’m happy you apologized..” Riki smiled softly. “I like the idea of being mated to you. But I hate that I didn’t give you a choice… I was wrong for that.”

(Name) smiled, pulling Riki in for another hug. “I don’t feel too bad about it but I’m scared. I lived as a beta for so long. Please be patient with me.”

Riki hummed, hesitantly moving his arms to wrap around (Name)’s waist. He smiled to himself, knowing that whatever relationship he would build with (Name) would be better that anything he dreamed of.

(Name), while feeling a bit odd from being hugged, felt a dribble of slick drip from inside of him. Oh. The feeling of Riki’s much larger body and hands on his own body was doing something to his omega.

No wonder Riki had told him earlier to stay away. If being touched by him was about to awaken something, what being in a room filled with his scents.

Riki seemed to also realize the problem with having (Name) in his room as he pushed him away, albeit with no force really.

“Out. Out. I can’t have you in here.” He said, ready to carry (Name) to his mom’s bedroom when (Name) stopped him.

“Why not..? We’re mated, aren’t we..?”

“Yes but it’s your first heat! You don’t even like me that much. I already took so much from you, I can’t take away your first time.”

“But what if I want to give it to you… what if I told you you wouldn’t be the first man I fucked?”

Riki growled at the thought of (Name) with another but pushed the thought away. “Stop it. It’s your heat talking. Go, please. My rut is coming in a few hours.”

(Name) whined. “No. I’m scared to spend it alone. Be with me, please.” He grasped one of Riki’s hand, blushing at how he needed two hands to fully cover just one of Riki’s.

“I would but my rut is coming. Having a rut and heat together is perfect time for pups. I will not ruin anything else for you.”

Oh. (Name) quickly imagined the thought of children and while they seemed nice in the future. He didn’t want them right now. Guess Riki is right, he thought to himself. Even though his inner omega was purring at the thought of pups, his more rational immediately said no.

His scent soured as he pulled away from Riki. “Okay…”

Riki bit his lip as he tried to think of a way to help his omega.

“Oh, phone sex.”

“Huh?”

“Go to my mom’s room and lock the door. Call me and I’ll guide you through using a dildo. It should be good enough for now. Your heat should only last a day or two.”

(Name) didn’t like the thought of phone sex. Sure, if they were at different homes but Riki was right there. He had him to himself. His mother wasn’t even home!

It was perfect for sex but knew being in rut and heat meant pups, undoubtedly.

“Here, put your number in my phone.” Riki said as he walked away to his closet. (Name) just finished as Riki came back with..

With a dildo.

“Why do you own that?”

“Gag gift from a few friends. I haven’t used it,” he said, nonchalantly. (Name) shrugged and took it from him, a bit intimidated at how thick the fake dildo was. It had to maybe be eight inches?

Hopefully that slick will do some heavy lifting. (Name) gave Riki a chaste kiss on his lips before walking away. He heard Riki lock his room door as he walked to Miss Watanabe’s room right after grabbing his phone. It felt odd to masturbate in her room but she did say for them to stay apart.

Oh well.

(Name) locked the door and turned on a lamp to illuminate the room. It was a basic room with a nice big bed in the middle. He laid down on it, humming at how soft it was. With one hand, he slipped his clothes off, finally free to feel the cool fresh hair on his skin.

His phone rang beside him. He hesitated but picked it up, bring it to his ear. Riki’s breathing was first heard before a muted voice was heard.

“R…Riki?”

“First name basis already?” His voice was shaky, as if he was scared to speak.

It made sense. This phone call was supposed to substitute sex. And Riki was a virgin. (Name) himself wasn’t but he never told anyone. It wasn’t good sex anyway.

“We’re mates… we should be calling each other by our first name.”

Riki’s hum in response went straight to (Name)’s dick. He glanced down at his cock, surprised it even moved. That wasn’t his inner omega talking..

That was his own attraction to Riki’s voice.

“How wet are you?”

“I think I’m dried up.” (Name) muttered, reaching to touch his asshole. It was mainly dry—not enough for him to use the dildo unless he wanted to tear his ass open.

Riki was quiet for a moment before laughing. “That hole of yours can’t work without my permission, huh?”

(Name) blushed. Well he didn’t think of it like that but the thought of Riki being the effect for any slick that came out made his head mushy. Oh he liked the thought of that.

“That’s good actually. You’ll need me whenever you want to masturbate. You can only think of me.”

“I already do..” (Name) said, smirking at the choked sound Riki gave. He liked the little power he had over him.

“…does thinking about me fucking you help with your slick problem? My hands spreading your ass apart as slick drips down.”

(Name) moaned at the image. He could feel slick beginning to gather as it slowly slipped out. Riki was quiet for a moment but (Name) was sure he heard the faint sound of a bottle closing.

Was… was he getting off too?

He felt himself get excited at the thought. He hoped it was true.

As slick began to gush out, he slipped in two fingers, wanting to get quickly to the dildo part. He sighed at the feeling, making sure his phone picked up any noises he made.

(Name) from five hours ago would’ve fainted at the thought of doing this but right now, he wished he had met Riki earlier.

As he stretched himself out with two fingers, he used his free hand to put the phone on speaker. He pulled at his nipple, trying to get himself to produce more slick.

Only Riki’s stuttered breathing was heard from the phone. He was certainly preoccupied with something. The sound of something wet and slick confirmed (Name)’s thought on him jerking off to his voice.

“Riki…”

“Hngh?”

“I wish it was your fingers.. they’re so big.. they could stretch me so wide.” (Name) moaned, slipping in a third. Riki grunted as a stuttered moan left (Name)’s lips as he reached his prostate.

His stomach felt a bit weird. As if something inside of him was craving something. (Name), in this moment, thought about if his body would change? Since it seemed like his omega was simply dormant all these years.

Did he.. did he already have a womb?

His ass clenched around his fingers at the thought. He wasn’t omega material, especially with his more skinnier frame. Most omegas had a bit more meat on them. Especially with the ass and chest area.

(Name) cupped his chest and frowned. No way could he make Riki happy with such a body.

“(Name)…”

“Hm?” (Name) felt himself grin at Riki saying his name. It sounded so good coming from him. Riki stayed silent for a moment before growling.

“Your door is locked, right?”

“Yes…”

“Good. Good. I almost lost myself.”

(Name) glanced over to the door. He wished he hadn’t. A moan left his lips as he felt he was a bit ready for the dildo. He grabbed the dildo and brought it down to his hole.

“Riki… I’m going to put it in now.”

“Okay. Think of me,” a laugh left Riki. “I wish I was there to fuck you. It hurts.”

“What does?”

“My dick. I want to fuck you.”

(Name) blushed, “I want you too…” he hummed as he began to push the dildo inside, gasping at how different it felt. It didn’t hurt as much because of the copious amount of slick he was leaking but it certainly felt odd.

He would have to get used to someone inside of him like this.

“How does it feel?” Riki suddenly asked, sounding a bit different than his usual self. Was his rut getting to him already?

“Good…” (Name) moaned. “So good…” he continued to push the dildo inside until it reached the hilt, shuddering at it pressing deeply into his prostate.

“Good… it can move y’know?”

“Huh?” (Name) questioned before screaming at the sudden movement from the dildo. The dildo vibrated directly on his prostate, earning (Name) his first orgasm of the night. His own cum splattered on his stomach as he cried at the feeling.

Why didn’t Riki tell him that?!

“This is only the lowest level… how far should I go, Omega?”

“I.. ngh, want to feel as if you were here…” (Name) muttered, grabbing the base of the dildo as he pulled out only thrust it back inside. The vibration was a nice touch that teased his prostate in a way his fingers could never.

“So the highest then? Because if I was there with you, my cock inside your tight wet heat, I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”

(Name) arched his back with a cry as the vibration went to the highest level. It was harsh against his prostate as he left it positioned there. He didn’t even have to move it anymore if Riki left it at this level.

He could cum all night with it like this.

And it seemed Riki knew this as the vibration went back to the lowest level. (Name) whined in anger, wanting to punch Riki for messing with his masturbation.

“Riki..!”

“What’s wrong?” Riki asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Please.. it feels better higher.”

“But do you deserve it?”

(Name) groaned. “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“You suck so much…” (name) whined, reaching down to use the dildo once more.

“I hope you aren’t touching the dildo. I’m supposed to be the one fucking you, yeah?”

“Yes…”

“So let me fuck you.”

(Name) huffed but did as he was told, gripping the bed sheets beneath him. The vibration suddenly went up as (Name) screamed out. His heat was here, he could faintly tell by how much slick was coming out.

His mind was drifting away from answering anything Riki was telling him. He couldn’t think. The only thing on his mind was chasing his orgasm with the vibrating cock inside of him.

It was only a few minutes but (Name) was able to reach three more orgasms. His cock weeped at the overstimulation. (Name) as well began to whine about it being too much.

“Just one more, Omega. I have something else to tell you.” Riki sighed, the sound of him jerking off now more apparent. His voice was shaky and his breathing was heavy.

He was close.

“The dildo…”

(Name) whimpered. He couldn’t say anything at all. The constant pressure against his prostate was becoming too much.

“It’s based off of my real cock.”

(Name) could only cry as he came, arching his back. No way. This entire time… Riki was technically inside of him. The dildo was powered off as (Name) panted, not moving an inch to take it out.

He liked it inside.

Especially the fact that it was based off Riki’s own cock. His inner omega purred at the thought. Could he keep the dildo? He hoped so. Ah, he had to thank Riki’s friends for the gift.

The call was still going as (Name) could hear Riki move around before silence. (Name) soon found himself falling asleep.

He was excited for this dumb heat to be over.

ꕥ

“I’m not angry. But c’mon… you couldn’t have told me?” Miss Watanabe asked.

Of course she was shocked to see a sleeping (Name) in her room with cum all over his stomach and a dildo shoved up his ass once she was able to pick the lock. Riki was still in his room, his rut having fully started.

(Name) wanted to see him. His heat was over, according to Miss Watanabe. First omega heats never lasted longer than a day and hardly felt like anything besides being horny.

He wanted to ask if that meant he could spend Riki’s rut with him but he already felt like he was on thin ice.

Surely asking his mate’s mother if he could he fucked by her son isn’t something great.

“Have you talked to your parents, Tanaka-San?”

“No… I don’t want to. They’ll get angry at me.”

“Why? Sure it’s unfortunate but nothing too horrible. You were just a beta.” She said as she plopped down on the couch right beside (Name).

“That’s the thing. I was always just a beta. If I tell them that I was originally an omega this whole time they’ll kill me.”

“You weren’t bitched…?”

“No…? Riki said I was always an omega. He could tell since middle school.”

Miss Watanabe looked shocked. “If he didn’t bitch you… I…” fear suddenly appeared on her face. “Do you take any sort of medication?”

(Name) stared at her with raised eyebrows. “Yes… it’s vitamins. My doctor prescribed them.”

“Is your doctor working at a hospital? Have you met them at a hospital?”

“No… they’re a family doctor. She comes to our house.” (Name) suddenly felt panicked. And it certainly didn’t help that Miss Watanabe was panicked as well.

She tried to calm herself down. “Okay, don’t go home for a few days. I need you to come to the hospital I work at to get some tests run.”

“Why? What’s wrong with me?”

“The only way your omega could be dormant for so long is if you took suppressants. It’s the only possible way Riki could even tell too. He’s always had a sharper nose than most.”

But suppressants were illegal, (Name) wanted to say. They had too many side effects on omegas and alphas to be safe for consumption. It led to infertility for most and erratic behavior with one’s inner secondary gender. He’s heard so many horror stories of omegas becoming betas due to the medication.

No.

(Name) looked at Miss Watanabe. She knew he had finally connected the dots.

His parents were utterly insane.

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Guys I just wanted to write some smut and suddenly I got a whole ass plot! Hope y’all liked some new development tho

What are your parents doing? Guess you’ll find out next time <3

Tags: @the-ultimate-librarian @yuwaimo @acehasyettobe

Ask to tagged for the next part

#bottom male reader

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