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sylusjinwoon · 7 months ago

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{ 143 }

arise.

jinwoo sung x shadow!fem.reader

warnings: unedited; dark themes like stalking, obsession, and m*rder; read with caution.

“arise.”

there was a voice pulling you out of the dark depths, dragging your soul back to the surface as you let out a soft gasp in response.

you felt the wisps of shadows surrounding your form, covering your body in complete and total darkness. your eyes were blank, and you felt a strange… emptiness deep inside of you.

your eyes were suddenly drawn to a handsome young man standing in front of you. he was bathed in complete darkness, seeming to meld with the darkness itself as he was dressed in a black trench coat. his eyes were glowing a startling purple hue, and you found yourself becoming mesmerized by the mere sight of him.

as your eyes take him in, you were dimly aware of the translucent screen that somewhat hinders your vision. you take a moment to read what the screen says.

[ shadow extraction has been completed. would you like to give her a name? ]

a new name? even your own thoughts sounded fuzzy, like there was static settled within your head

"no, she shall forever remain..." the young man then says a series of syllables, one that fills you with nostalgia as you finally realized that it was probably your name that he had spoken out loud.

"..." you open your mouth and softly call out to him.

"who are you...?” your own voice takes on a softer quality, and you felt as though you had somehow become one with the night itself.

a pained expression fills the young man when he brings you closer to him.

"my name is jinwoo... and you don't have to worry about a single thing. just... just stay by my side from now on."

despite how empty you once felt after being reborn, there was a strange warmth felt spreading across your chest, making you smile as you fell into his embrace.

this was going to be a strange, new life for you, with you being resurrected as sung jinwoo's shadow soldier.

{ ... }

happiness was felt coursing through your veins the moment you decided to meet with your boyfriend.

he was the best man for you, and you loved him so much-

you could not picture a life without him.

as you looked through your chat logs with him, you burned each and every loving word into your memories. you were simply exploring the city, making your way toward the plaza- the planned meeting place of your boyfriend.

suddenly, as you were walking, you felt the hairs stick up from the back of your neck.

huff huff huff…

heavy pants were heard coming from behind you, and you glance back to see a tall man dressed in a hoodie. desire was seen flooding his gaze, and you could feel your heart clenching with fear in response.

you were ready to run, lips already open wide in a gape as a scream was ready to escape from them-

only to feel your screams die against your throat when you felt a comforting embrace around you.

"hey babe, i saw you and decided to meet you anyways."

you smile and look back up at him, only to scream when the entirety of his features was covered in static.

{ ... }

you woke up with a start, feeling the puddle of shadows surrounding you as you slept on the floor next to jinwoo's bed. your shadowy form looked back up at him, and you were happy to see that he was still sleeping soundly.

"is something the matter, my comrade?"

beru was looking down at you, keeping watch over your king while lazily gazing at you.

"you look like you have just woken up from a nightmare. our king will be upset if you are troubled, my dear."

you end up curling up against the floor, feeling your hair hiding your features.

"i think i'm starting to remember something..." your voice was soft, and you felt your heart pounding with anticipation.

"hm, is that so? and just what do you recall?"

you close your eyes and begin to explain, "i think... i was in love... i had a lover who i cherished deeply."

"but, there was someone else, someone tall, someone who was always watching me-"

"that is enough, thy comrade of mine." beru ends up stopping you from explaining any further. "our king still sleeps, and if he knows how much of a turmoil you are in, then he will cease to rest."

you shiver in response, giving the former ant king a nod. you had been a part of jinwoo's shadow army for a few months now, yet you had never once faced combat or joined him in any of his raids. so when igris and beru told you that you were special to their king-

you couldn't help but believe them.

"rest, go back to sleep and keep our king company when the morning comes. i assure you that nothing will make him happier."

you nod and gently fall back within the pool of darkness, sinking into it. with your thoughts now in a limbo, you felt the exhaustion coursing through you. you close your eyes then, feeling like you were falling asleep within the gentle depths of the ocean as darkness surrounded you. basking in such a tranquil feeling, you closed your eyes and began to dream once more.

{ ... }

your stalker had been following you for close to a year now.

it was scary how he was always there, waiting for his next move.

it happened when you began working at the hunter's association within the city of seoul, being known as an a-rank healer as you were placed on missions against high leveled gates.

you were a highly efficient healer, yet you caught the attention of two men who became infatuated with you.

one man became your kind and loving boyfriend,

while the other man became your stalker.

their presence were constantly revolving around you, with one bringing you immense joy-

while the other gave you hell.

you had to suffer through your stalker's constant harassment, yet was too kind to try and alert your boyfriend to the mounting problems.

after all, you figured you could deal with it.

from unhinged love letters sent to your mailbox-

to the constant calls made to your cellphone-

and the thousands upon thousands of texts-

it was enough to make you incredibly anxious.

yet there was little you could do about it.

because when your stalker sent you the same message through a letter, text, and a phone call, his deep voice whispering in your ear

"no one is going to believe you, my precious heart. if you say a word to anyone about my obsession with you, then i'll make sure to have your precious little boyfriend killed with a bullet to his chest."

you knew that you were trapped.

not wanting to endanger the man that you loved, you kept quiet and continued to suffer in silence.

{ ... }

your memories were getting stronger now, with you recalling bits and pieces of your life when you were still alive and well.

you knew that you had a boyfriend that you loved dearly-

and you also knew that you had a stalker that followed your every move, casting a dark shadow within your life.

but what was perhaps most frustrating was how you could never figure out what their faces looked like, or even what their names were.

each time you try to remember a specific detail about their features, your hazy mind would seem to block out their faces from the confines of your mind.

and it was frustrating, to say the least.

however, as you began dwelling on your memories, you couldn't help but have a sneaking suspicion that jinwoo was at the center of it all.

from hearing the discussion amongst the other shadow soldiers, you knew that jinwoo had the ability to call forth the souls of the monsters he had slain.

"arise."

you remember it vividly now, hearing that same, singular line as you were brought back from your death. you felt no pain when he extracted your soul from what you assumed was your decaying body.

which brought you to one conclusion that made the most sense to you:

did jinwoo kill you out of spite and brought you back so that you could stay with him?

was he your stalker?

and did he do this so that you were given no choice but to stay with him forever?

the mere thought of it all was enough to make your stomach churn.

as these thoughts continued to swirl within the depths of your mind, and the more you thought about it, the more it made sense to you.

why else did his other soldiers like beru and igris try to prevent you from remembering certain details of your memories?

why did they constantly change the subject and tell you 'not to worry about it' each time you unlocked a new memory.

it had to be jinwoo-

he had to be your stalker.

so you spent several days ignoring him, not even responding or coming out of his shadow even when he called out your name. instead, you kept quiet and lay in wait while in his shadow, searching for the perfect moment to strike-

waiting for him to be at his most vulnerable.

with his shadow seen lengthening against the hardwood floors of his room, you appear out of it, eyes glowing a deep shade of purple, further displaying your anger for the man who was currently sleeping.

you allow your nails to lengthen in response to your anger, turning into claws as you hovered over jinwoo's body, hands wrapped around his neck as your nails dug into his skin.

he awakens with a start, but does nothing to stop you. his own eyes glowed as well, however, his expression remains calm. as if sensing the scent of his blood, igris, beru, and tusk all surround you, their weapons pointed at your shadowy figure, ready to decapitate you if you dared to hurt their king.

"return." jinwoo's voice was calm and steady, eyes flashing with anger as he hones in his gaze on his three most loyal fighters.

"my king, she has an intent to harm you, we cannot-"

"then i'll die by her hands, RETURN. NOW."

jinwoo's angry voice echoes throughout the room, and all three of his soldiers went back into his shadow without wasting another second. his words make you hesitate, eyes filled with confusion for a brief moment before you went back to choking him.

your nails were felt digging into the base of his throat, "be honest with me, did you kill me?"

he closes his eyes, not even moving an inch when your nails drew even more blood from his neck.

"no." was his simple answer.

you were filled with a red hot vexation, squeezing his neck ever so slightly in response. "bullshit... it was you who brought me back... you were the one that had slain me, so why are you pretending that it wasn't you?"

"why would i ever wish to kill the woman i love?"

his question makes you falter, but you hung on to your determination.

"you don't love me, what you hold is an obsession over me. that's why you killed me; so that i could always remain by your side."

a look of pain crosses jinwoo's features when he lifts up a hand to gently frame at your face.

"it's true... i always wanted you to remain by my side, but while you were still alive and well."

a sudden wave of nausea hits you, making you feel a sharp pain against your head as you let go of jinwoo's neck, feeling something shattering from deep inside of you as your heart began to pulse.

"sarang, hey... i was so eager to see you again that i decided to meet you."

and there it was, your memories were filled with such clarity now, as you could see jinwoo smiling down at you. he was donned in his usual black turtleneck and dress pants, and seeing his handsome smile was enough to make your heart ache in response, momentarily forgetting about the fear he had given you.

but your relief was short lived when you came face to face with the hooded man, your stalker looking at you with jealousy and hatred shining within his black eyes.

"if i can't have you, no one can."

baek jun, the name of your stalker-

and the man that killed you...

{ ... }

you were walking back from the grocery store, buying ingredients to make jinwoo's favorite dinner consisting of kimchi stew and bulgogi beef with rice.

jinwoo had sent you a series of texts, asking you to be careful and to come home soon without 'dawdling around the city.'

but you simply brushed off his concern, feeling safe and sound the moment jinwoo had placed the strongest of his shadow soldiers within your shadow.

however, such protection didn't make you immune to a bullet.

you were dimly aware of what sounded like fireworks when a sudden impact was felt at the back of your head. no pain was felt as you immediately lost your life, your brain bleeding in response to the bullet that was still lodged into your skull, your blood seeming to mix in with the shadows as the same hooded man pocketed his gun.

"fucking whore... leading me around the nose like that... looking down at me for bein' a b-class hunter. that's what you get for not choosin' me."

but you were unable to respond, your lifeless body laid completely still as your eyes remained empty and unseeing. your killer had already left the moment jinwoo appears next to you, using his shadow exchange ability, immediately warping to where you were.

"no, fuck don't do this to me, NO!"

jinwoo's screams of anguish echoes throughout the night as he held your lifeless body closer to him. sobs wracked through his chest, and it felt like his whole world was ending the moment your blood seeped into the fabric of his clothes.

his whole body was shaking when he lays you back down on the ground, whispering i love you, i love you, i love you over and over again.

he loses his senses for a few moments until finally calming down, eyes no longer shedding tears as they glowed a vibrant purple once more.

jinwoo stands back to his full height, placing a hand over your lifeless body before speaking a single word, one that would change your destiny forever.

"arise."

{ ... }

"i remember everything."

you could feel painful gasps escape from your parted lips, but no tears could come out. you were in so much pain-

but more so than your own pain was jinwoo's.

he holds your shadowy form closer to him, with tears streaming down his face as he presses a kiss against your parted lips.

"i'm pathetic, i know, unable to let you go as i turned you into a shadow soldier- so that i will always have you with me."

you nod and continue to cling to him, shaking when you ask him, "and... what happened to that bastard, jun?"

you feel jinwoo press a kiss against your forehead. "i left him for you to handle... as a gift for when you remembered."

your eyes were felt widening in response, yet you were given little time to react when jinwoo hangs on to you, surrounding you with shadows as he used his abilities once more, warping you to an unknown location...

{ ... }

baek jun was a selfish man who believed that he had suffered long enough when he was a mere kid.

his dad was an abusive fucker, always drinking while beating up his mom. he hated how weak he was, sustaining new bruises and black eyes each time he tried to protect his mom.

so when he realized he had gained a newfound strength with regenerative abilities the moment these gates appeared all around south korea-

he took advantage of it and killed his deadbeat dad.

his mom was so grateful to him, and when realized how he could make money off of his abilities, he took that chance and joined the hunter’s association. as he rose up the ranks while working as a hunter, he found that it was easy for him to rake in some easy cash with each raid.

he figured he could keep working as a hunter all while messing around with some of the females he worked with, getting drunk with them while taking advantage of their drunken state-

but that all changed the moment this pretty little a-rank healer arrived.

and damn, was she a sight for sore eyes.

he had never seen a lovelier woman before, becoming mesmerized by her beauty.

but what perhaps made his obsession grow for her was when she healed him during one of their raids.

the healer had joined his team, and when he sustained a nasty burn from one of those fire breathing beasts, she had came to him with a sweet smile on her face, telling him how everything was going to be okay while the warmth of her healing aura surrounds him.

so it wasn't his fault that he became obsessed with her-

it was her fault for flirting with him to begin with. she was the one who flashed him that sexy smile, pressing her breast up against his arm all while smiling sweetly at him-

(damn, he was getting hard all over again at the thought).

how else did she think he was going to react when she began dating that s-rank fucker? the asshole already had everything that jun didn't have-

good looks-

money-

power.

and now, he had taken his woman, too.

he saw nothing wrong with killing a whore like her. if she wanted to fuck around, then so be it.

jun would gladly teach her a lesson-

and if he could do it all over again, then he would.

feeling happy now that the source of his pain and obsession was gone, jun spends the whole night bar hopping, using the entirety of his earnings on bitter alcohol that was powerful enough to make his head spin and forget.

feeling tired of all the shitty whisky and soju, jun drunkenly enters a convenience store, stealing a whole case of ice cold beer while cracking each can open and gulping down the liquid with a content sigh, burping before moving on to the next can.

in his drunken stupor, he recognizes a pretty woman standing right in front of him. his black eyes look up at her, and he swore that he felt his heart jump out of his chest in complete and utter fear.

the mere sight of her was enough to make him believe that perhaps ghosts do exist.

she smiled sweetly at him, giggling as he watches her nails lengthen to sharp claws-

his screams were cut short when she slashes through his vocal chords, filling him with pain as his eyes were suddenly basked in a darkness while his body was ripped to shreds-

baek jun never stood a chance against jinwoo's shadow lover.

{ ... }

jinwoo was simply at his desk, reading the news when he felt your shadowy arms wrapping around his neck.

"thank you, my liege."

he chuckles and moves his lips so that he could press a kiss against your cheek. "don't mention it, and please, call me jinwoo, like you've always done."

you could feel the embarrassment paint your features as you press your lips against his cheek.

"i know but... the fact that you held back your own anger, giving me the chance to rip that bastard to shreds- it... it makes me happy."

he simply hums in response, bringing you into his arms while tossing the newspaper in the bin, where the headlines read:

CORRUPT HUNTER FOUND DEAD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY.

as jinwoo carried your wispy form back to his bed, he held on tightly to you, promising to be with you forever as he keeps you by his side.

and despite how your future had been altered drastically due to both jun and jinwoo's actions, you found yourself not regretting it...

because now, you knew that you would forever remain by his side... no matter what...

{ epilogue }

jinwoo had defeated the last of the monarchs, but was somewhat saved when the rulers intervened.

they commended him on his powers and sheer tenacity, happy to have witnessed such a victorious occasion when jinwoo stops their praise.

"i don't know if this could be called showing your appreciation, but i do have a request."

"i will do everything within my powers to aid you." the ruler states while standing before jinwoo.

"just once more... could i use the cup of reincarnation just once more?" jinwoo's eyes were glowing purple as he sat before the ruler, the wind blowing through his hair as a soft expression paints his features.

the ruler seems to consider his words for a moment.

"did you just ask whether you could use the 'cup of reincarnation' to turn back time?"

"that's right." jinwoo answers without a hint of hesitation.

"even if you were to turn back time using god's gadget, the consciousness of the higher beings will still remain. you'd still do it even though the deceased monarchs would come back to life with their memories from this life intact?"

"that's right. and once you turn back time, i want you to not send anyone to earth. i will take care of the monarchs and their armies by myself in the dimensional gap."

the ruler shakes their head in response. "you're willingly taking on the entire war all by yourself. what's your reasoning for doing this? we've used the cup of reincarnation many times, but this is the best result we've gotten yet."

jinwoo stabs his dagger down into the ground with his head bowed, thinking about those he had lost-

thinking about you.

"i lost too many people in this battle." a tiny smile decorates his features when he looks back up at the ruler. "and i want to bring them back."

the ruler takes flight while looking down at jinwoo, "the durability of the cup of reincarnation has almost been exhausted. if you are to fail this time, you won't be able to turn back time again."

they try to reason with him, "if you stop now, you could be remembered as the hero who stopped the invasion of the monarchs, and forever be remembered by the people. however... no one will remember the fight you are getting into now. if you are to lose, the fragments will be waiting for you, and even if you are to win, no one will be there to congratulate you. and you still wish to turn back time?"

jinwoo takes a moment to consider the ruler's words before smiling and standing back to his full height, his shadow lengthening from beneath the radiance of the ruler's light.

"i will go back in time."

"... so you want to save not just a portion of the world, but the entire world, with your own hands. your will to carry on everything by yourself... reminds me of ashborn, your predecessor."

the ruler stands proudly before jinwoo. "i understand. i wish you the best of luck."

"wait." jinwoo then hesitates for a moment, taking a second to look back at his shadow, all while swearing that he could see your own kind eyes looking back at him.

"what would happen to the shadow soldiers which didn't exist in the past?" jinwoo asks while keeping an eye on the hundreds of eyes that peek back at him from his shadow.

"the beings which overlap with the past would perish. and the beings which do not, will remain."

the ruler's words bring a great comfort to jinwoo when he smiles, giving them a nod before stating with confidence, "got it. i'm ready now."

“may your courage save your world.”

and with those final words, the world was suddenly bathed in a bright, blinding light...

{ ... }

you are 14 again, and you had just woken up late.

your hair was a mess as you wolfed down the breakfast sandwich your mother had made for you. your school uniform was wrinkled, along with some of the buttons of your blouse a bit mismatched due to your hurried state-

but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"i'm late i'm late i'm late!"

you were mentally berating yourself, but... something about your dream had kept you in a deep sleep for much longer than usual. despite not remembering it at all, you knew that you felt comforted by it.

which was why you didn't hear your mother calling out your name when she tried to wake you up, making you sleep in for an extra 30 minutes-

and now, you were in a panic.

as you made a sharp right turn, your face immediately ran into a chest, causing you to gasp as you fell back.

"ouch!" you rub at the tip of your nose, eyes slightly watering as you looked up to see a familiar boy looking down at you.

he calls out your name, grey eyes shining with amusement as he offered a hand for you to take.

it was that strange boy that transferred to your school recently due to his parents and little sister moving to this part of the city. and despite not knowing him too well, he had this strange desire to be your best friend.

"jinwoo..." you softly call out his name and take his hand, allowing him to help you back up to your feet. "w-what are you doing out here? i thought you were in class?"

he hums and ends up interlocking his fingertips together with yours. "i had a hunch that you would be late, so i waited right here for you."

"geez, okay, weirdo." you pout at him, fighting back the urge to call him out on all these weird 'hunches' he had ever since he first met you. you were about to say something when you realized that jinwoo was walking in the opposite direction of where your school was.

"uhm, where are you going? our school is that way, unless your brain was so filled with games that you forgot?"

jinwoo begins to laugh, the sound sending another wave of nostalgia to course through you when he pulls your form even closer to him. "i know, but i figured since we're both already so late, why not skip?"

you gasp, already feeling the protest fall from your lips when he inches closer to you, eyes now glowing a strange, purple hue.

"come on, i just want to spend some time with you. if it makes you feel better, i'll take all the blame."

your eyes were shining with happiness now, "really? you'd risk getting grounded for me?"

he rolls his eyes, but suddenly, his gaze takes on a more solemn shade of grey, no longer glowing at you. "you have no idea the lengths i would go through for you."

you were caught off guard by the severity of his words, trembling slightly when he smiles at you once more.

"let's get some ice cream! my treat!"

and with his promises of ice cream, you immediately forget about the strange feelings of nostalgia and the seriousness of his words, laughing with him as he takes you on a fun little adventure-

just as a small example of how far he would go to make you happy as he swore to better protect you in this life.

a.n. - so i heard aleks le say jinwoo's iconic arise phrase and had to write a story for it. i am strangely proud of this fic, writing a total of 4.5k words 🥹 this is currently unedited because i'm too eager to post this, but please, i hope you all enjoy this.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo #.stories

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etoiile · 1 year ago

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whipped ooc fluffy clingy grumpy sae. enjoy!

as much as sae hated to admit it, he couldn't sleep without you.

it felt so stupid. so childish. he was an independent man. he needed no one - especially not for something as trivial and mindless as sleeping. that was so dumb. lukewarm. half-baked! (am i using itoshi lang right)

but he just couldn't help it. when you were gone, he'd look longingly over to your side of the bed, wishing your warmth was filling it. he'd position your pillow vertically so that he could snuggle into your scent, but it wasn't nearly the same. he'd roll around, trying to find a comfortable position, but he couldn't stay in one for more than 5 minutes without getting antsy. he would constantly subconsciously reach out to grab you, only to realize that you were, in fact, much to his extreme dismay and disappointment, not there. he'd pout before rolling over with a sigh.

each night you were gone, sae would get an hour or two of sleep maximum, and none minimum. he'd begrudgingly roll out of bed once his alarm sounded, grumbling some nonsense about how the world sucked and was a terrible place and all the losers in it should just die as he shuffled to the bathroom to go brush his teeth.

he sucked at soccer practice. he missed a bunch of passes, he was screaming at all his teammates for taking a singular wrong step, and he looked like he was about to crash at any point. it got so bad that his coach pulled him out and made him sit out for the rest of practice, which, as you can imagine did absolute wonders for his already wonderful mood.

on the way home, sae decided that the world was simply a horrible place. everything around him was awful. those flowers were too purple. they were probably fake, just like all the people in the world. that dog is too loud. why is it barking so loud? it's not that deep. it was so dramatic, just like all the people in the world. the sky was too blue. how dare it be so bright and beautiful if the only not-awful person in the world wasn't here to see it? discrimination. the world sucked.

that night, as sae hopped back into bed for another night of no sleep, he imagined what it would be like if you were here with him. he reached to the lump of blanket on your side to pull it close to him, but was very surprised when the lump squealed and moved.

sae was speechless when you pulled the blanket off of you, giggling, "surprise!" as you explained how you got to come home from your work trip a day early. sae sat there frozen for a second before the initial shock wore off and he crashed into you immediately.

"and so- WOAH! sae?" you questioned, flat on your back with your nearly 6 foot boyfriend completely on top of you and smushing you into the bed.

sae was silent as he nuzzled his nose deep into the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent like it was some sort of addictive drug. "missed you," he mumbled into your neck, which made you giggle.

"yes, yes, i missed you too, my dear. now would you please get off of me? i can't breathe." you chuckled, rubbing his back soothingly.

he paused a moment to think before nestling deeper into you, if even possible. "no." he replied. "you've been gone too long. i wanna stay here."

you sighed, knowing there was no way to shove him off of you. "alright, my love." you smiled. "i love you lots."

he mumbled an "i love you too" before drifting off to sleep in your arms.

it was the best night's sleep he'd ever had.

not proofread. idk why he lowkey became nagi at the end.

𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 ©𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

#ami writes 💌#sae x reader #sae fluff #sae x you #sae drabble #sae imagines #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock drabbles #blue lock imagines #sae headcanons #sae hcs #clingy sae #whipped sae #hehe had to add the two tags at the end #clingy whipped sae is my fav sae

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adoregojo · 1 year ago

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⊹ ࣪ ˖ conversations on the lap ₊˚⊹

characters ➤ bachira, reo, isagi, nagi warning ➤ disgustingly fluffy,

bachira.m

"so today the couch made us do extra exercise today." the brown-yellow haired male explained co-speech his hands to emphasis his words while you listened carefully.

"mhm."

"then shidou stepped on rin's foot, i don't think it was an accident," he kept looking back at you every second to make sure you were still interested, so you run your fingers through his slick brown locks while nodding for him to continue, both to assure him you were listening and because he loved when you did that, said it made him feel fuzzy and soft.

"than a huugee fight began and me and otoya were like 'fight, fight, fight!'" he raised his fists to the air in intense for you to laugh, which he always succeeded at because you were letting out a light chuckle that made his chest huff proudly.

"aha." you hummed.

"then they were pulling each other's hair like a girls fight, i almost got bald from laughing!" bachira couldn't help but snort at the memory while holding his chest, he was actually rolling on the ground laughing his ass off at that time.

"i'm really glad you didn't." you said softly, as you bent down pushing his hair out of the way to press your lips on his forehead which made him bashfully giggle kicking his feet a little, his carefree smile turned into a sheepish one, somehow all the exhaustion from practice flow out the window when he was with you.

"would you think i still look handsome if i was bald tho?" suddenly he said with a serious face.

"meg.."

reo.m

"would you love me if i was worm?" the heir asked you, this was a Poverty of the week where reo would question you about how much you love him, it's not like he doubts your feelings for him however there was days where he just didn't needs extra love to feel alive breath into him again, yes this is how much your words affect him.

"i'd sure do." you assured him with a gentle smile.

"if i die would you get with another man?" the thoughts of another guy stealing you away for him will haunt him for eternity since he had that one nightmare, he had to sped his next week crying in your arms while you held him like a baby, and him begging you not to get bored of him. definitely his worst nightmare of all time.

"don't think i will."

the purple head took your hand and suffocated it between his palm, like he was begging you to be honest, "do you still love me?" reo pouted at you, you swore you almost saw tears run down his face as if you were gonna actually reject him.

you felt bad for almost laughing at his childish behaviour, but at the same time lucky because you were the only one who gets to see the reo mikage like this. "we're engaged, but sure yes i still love you very dearly." you made sure your tone was confident enough to wipe that expression out of his handsome face.

you caressed his cheek with your hand, rubbing your thumb across his skin in comfort. reo couldn't help but lean forward your loving touch that made him feel he was in the safest place he could ask for. you gave him a kiss on the tip of his nose and he chuckled sheepishly at the action.

"i feel very loved right now." he says as a little blush crossed his face with his usual grin back on it place.

"m glad."

isagi.y

"why do people call it building when it's already built." if you got money on every time your boyfriend would ask stupid questions like that you would've beaten the mikage themselves.

"english rules i guess." you said as you let a sigh, it's not that you hated it but something his questions are so unrelated that it gave you headaches. but you never persuaded him to stop it, letting him ask whatever came to his mind like you were the divining goddess with all the answers.

"do you think ants have a life like us?"

"guess so."

"did you know that noel noa is the best world player right now?" he pointed his finger out with a goody smile as if he was saying something unusual, missing the glasses he looked like a damn nerd and you loved it. he stared confused at you as you laughed a bit at his words, at least he made you laugh?

"i do, i hope one day you'll be even better than him." your words were genuine enough for his beep ocean eyes to glee at you and to caught some bug stomach, he would never get use to flicker you always gave him with such simple words.

a lovesick smile spread on his face as he ask the next question unintentionally, "can i have a kiss?"

before he could catch up on his words, your soft lips smacked his own into a gentle kiss. he kissed you back but not enough before you backed away. he was awestruck as his face turned red before mirroring your smile.

"thank you."

nagi.s

"im dead."

"sei, you're not dead." you called him out with a pinch he barely reacted to, ever since he stepped in the apartment all he has been able to do is jump on you like he hadn't seen you in years taking all the space on the couch with his massive build, not patting an eye at your cries for him to get up because you couldn't feel your legs anymore.

"careful what you say, it might be the last thing i hear." he muffled while his cheek was resting on your thigh, felt it was like his one and only pillow. he was like a fat lazy cat especially when he kept rubbing his face against your thighs skin.

"you're so dramatic." you complained as you stroked his back which nagi let out a quiet sound at almost like a purr.

"you love me though." he said softly, his voice low and his words meant for your ears only.

"unfortunately." you teased back,

"hmph." nagi pouted at your words.

"was your day that bad? you want me to give you kisses to ease it?" you mostly meant it as a joke until you never seen someone mood change so fast, even for nagi. his was half closed eyes were now more opened in excitement that flowers would float around him.

he pointed his finger at his forehead, "i want one here." as you gave him a kiss where he pointed you couldn't help but let a smile slip on your face, nagi didn't seem to mind as long as he felt your affection.

this time it was each finger pointing at one of his cheek, "here too." you don't know if it consider cheating but he looked so eager you simply obeyed and gave him a pack each cheek.

"and here." finally he pointed at his lips for a final request, the cherry on top. your lips against his were always heavenly, like you two were kissing for the first time and it still made him light-headed when you two parted. the tip of his ears getting red as you spared him a shining smile that was to him the brightest light in the merciless cold night that he was begging to warm his iced heart to make his heart beat again.

"how about now?"

"I'm on the verge of dying, you should give me more kisses so i could survive."

have a nice day everyone!!

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #bachira x reader #isagi x reader #nagi x reader #reo x reader

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

If you’re taking any requests could I request prince Steve and his soulmate wanting to have their first kiss before the wedding since they’re shy about so many people witnessing it

for you my love ♡ prince!steve au

You glance over the pages of your book to watch the Prince. He's stretching by the balcony, the summer air ruffling his hair, the sun kissing his skin. He's tan from weeks of being outside, and when he moves, it's almost like watching the sun itself. Too much. Your eyes burn after a few moments and you look down again.

“Steve?” you ask, turning a page.

He stops stretching his shoulders to smile at you. His button up rolled at the sleeves and tight on the arms, he's a poster boy. He's everything a Prince should be, and very soon he's going to be your husband. He's barely even your boyfriend.

Your soulmark jitters through colours. It's an odd thing, gaussian and scratchy at once, wrapped around your wrist like poorly wound bandages made of light. His, whenever he's with you, glows a steady pinky-purple. You've no idea what it means.

When you see him, yours is almost always white burning blue. But he smiles fondly and it melds to a softer pink, almost too pale to detect. “What?”

“We're getting married in sixteen days.”

He crosses the room to sit beside you on the bed. Your sheets are white as the soulmark, crinkled under his weight. “There's still time to send you away.” You laugh a startled laugh and try to keep that lightness about you when he clasps your knee. “But I'd die alone, after that, and the kingdom would collapse, and I'd be miserable, so…” He smiles at you, a silky smoothness to his voice as he continues, “I'd rather you stayed.”

“I want to stay. I want–” You bite the soft inside of your bottom lip. “I wanted to ask for a favour.”

“Anything you want. Unless it's to help you with your tutoring. That's never going to happen. I'd make it worse–”

“No, it's not that.” Bite the bullet. Ask the question, even if you're sitting in bed together, even if he's the most beautiful boy this side of the ocean. “I was wondering if you'd kiss me.”

Steve stares at you, slack-jawed for a sliver of a second, but he realises himself and his teeth click as he closes his mouth.

“I don't want the first time we kiss to be– to be in front of so many people. I don't even know what to do.”

“You don't?” he asks.

“No.” You rub your thumb against the pages of your book before sitting up to escape. “It was a stupid thing to ask you for, I'm sorry.”

He takes your arm into his hand. “It's not stupid. I'll kiss you. I want to kiss you, I really want to. I've been worried about it, too. Kissing isn't one size fits all, you know? It's different for everyone.”

“Right.” Your heart beats in your ears. “So you will?”

“I will,” he says, quieter than either of you had been speaking before. He takes the book from your hand carefully and puts it aside, pulling at your arm with similar care as he shuffles close to you on the bed.

You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands. You hadn't thought he'd kiss you straight away, but what difference does it make? You want him to kiss you now, you want—

“You sure?” he asks.

You nod, not trusting your tongue to make words, the weight of it like lead in your mouth. Steve's hand climbs carefully from the bracelet at your wrist to your elbow, but eventually it slides between your arm and your side to the place just below your breasts.

The other. He almost kills you, his other hand, brought so tentatively to your face. He doesn't cup your cheek but his palm turns upward, and his fingertips trail from the skin shy of your nose to just under your chin, and then he closes his eyes and you follow suit, too afraid to see anything after that, your skin alive with his touch.

He kisses like a prince.

Soft. Delicate. Steve clasps your shoulder very gently and guides your face to his, your lips pressing together, the thrum of a spark between you like a firecracker, a Catherine wheel, that spinning expense of energy with nowhere to go but your mouth. His lips part the slightest bit against yours as he kisses up into your lips.

When he pulls away a handful of seconds later, your faces are awash with a lavender light.

“Was that okay?” he asks.

The light turns darker, a terrible heat flushing through you. You wish you had the bravery to ask for another kiss. “Yes,” you say, nearly whispering. “That was fine.”

“We can do better than fine, yeah?”

You almost choke on air. "Yeah. Yes."

He's smiling as he leans back in.

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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writerracha · 2 years ago

Text

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ on the run — lee know x female reader

↻ 4.9k :: best friends to lovers :: cw. auditory voyeurism. dirty talk. fingering. oral sex (f and m receiving). soft deepthroat and throat fucking. use of "angel" nickname. unprotected sex. claiming. marking. creampie.

you have been accused of a crime you didn't commit. you have to run away, and your best friend minho comes with you. you're on the road, away from all you've ever known. but you are not alone. minho is here, and there are things you need to tell each other. noisy motel room neighbors might help you do just that.

↻ 18+ mdni :: not proof read, pls be kind :: masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

You’ve been running for so long.

Out of breath, out of hope. You wonder if, one day, all of this will stop. Falsely accused, framed by someone you thought loved you. You were sure you were done for, that you would have to spend the better part of your life in jail for a crime you didn’t commit - but then Minho had taken your hand and taken you away.

He hadn’t hesitated. He just told you to get in the car, and when you did, he drove away. From your hometown, from everything both of you have always known. Now you are halfway across the country, with nothing to your name, just a car and some money.

You don’t understand why he did it. Why he came with you. Minho was not involved in this, not in the slightest - yet he just left everything behind to stay with you. I don’t want you to be alone, he told you when you asked him why he helped you. I could never leave you on your own. Minho was your friend, your best friend. You met in high school and never let each other go. But he didn’t have to do this. Sacrifice his entire life, risk it all, and for what? Maybe you would get caught. Maybe the truth would come out. Maybe not. For now Minho kept telling you to look and move forward. Even when you felt your heart would tumble out from between your lips, even when the fear was so cold you thought you would die, Minho’s voice soothed you. It will be okay, Y/N. I will always be with you.

You were on the road a lot at first. Avoiding people, putting as much distance between you and your hometown as you could. Minho had fortunately thought to take some cash out before you left, so you had funds. It would not last very long, but it would have to do. Then you would figure it out.

The motel room is cold, so you slide your legs under the covers to keep warm. You decided to stop for the night and get some actual rest. You did not do it all the time to save cash. Most nights you would sleep at intervals, the other one driving while the other closed their eyes. But it was more exhausting than anything, so Minho had insisted on sleeping in actual beds for once. The motel was a dingy place off the highway, but it was better than nothing, and at least, here, no one would ask questions.

You rest your head against your knees, watching the television without really seeing it. Your thoughts are restless, trying to figure out a way out of this - if not for you, then at least for Minho. Your best friend did not deserve to throw his life away for you. Especially not because your ex boyfriend, that piece of garbage, had been so angry at you breaking up with him he framed you for something he did. Why did people believe him?

A sigh escapes your lips as the door of the room opens on Minho. His hoodie is drawn on his head, his hair tucked away. You feel relief to see him - the room felt cold and threatening without him. You’ve never been good at being alone, and it’s even worse now.

“Hey,” he tells you, giving you a smile as he removes his sneakers. “How did the shower feel?”

“Really good,” you chuckle. “Did you find everything?”

He nods, placing the plastic bag on the bed.

“I found you a paler shade, but they didn’t have much for me. I had to get purple.”

“Purple?” you repeat, surprised.

“Let’s hope it suits me,” he grins with a shrug.

You take out the two boxes of hair dye from the bag, eyeing them. It was Minho’s idea to transform yourselves a little bit, just in case. All of it felt so much like a game you sometimes forgot it was real. But it was.

Minho’s feet make no noise against the carpet of the room. He sits on the opposite bed and you glance at him. He removed his hood, his soft brown hair disheveled on his head. He has dark eyes under his eyes, and you know his exhaustion mirrors yours. You feel a pang of guilt in your stomach, but you know what he will say if you say it out loud. I’m not leaving you alone.

“Thanks for getting this,” you tell him.

He nods towards the drugstore plastic bag. “Got us a few things to eat, too. Nothing fancy, but…”

“It’s great. I’m not too hungry, though.”

“Me neither. It’s so cold here.”

“I know, right? I tried to fix the heater, but I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”

Minho shuffles towards the appliance and toys with it for a minute. You try to watch the television, but instead your eyes are focused on him. His dark hoodie, his faded jeans, his white socks. The frown on his face and the slight pout of his lips that he gets when he’s focused. Minho is the best friend you’ve ever had. You know him well - and him, you. You’ve gone through heartbreaks, defeats, joys, and countless other things together. But this? This is changing you. Both of you.

And even if you feel awful about dragging him into this, you are glad he’s here.

You wouldn’t want it to be anybody else.

After some time, Minho clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Nothing we can do with this…”

“It’s fine, Min,” you say. “We’ll warm up some other way.”

He gives you a long look and you realize what it could infer. You blush slightly.

“I just mean, we could share a bed. Share the warmth.”

He gives you a nod, his eyes looking soft in the dim light of the room. “Okay.”

You tap the space next to you playfully. With an amused chuckle, Minho comes to sit next to you, tucking his legs under the sheets. The bed is not that big, so even if there is some space between you, it doesn’t feel like it. You are not shy about it - you’ve slept in the same bed numerous times, you’ve even cuddled before. But this still feels new, in a way. It feels odd.

It feels like you and Minho are the only people left in the world.

You watch the television, your head falling against his shoulder. He leans towards you so you’re more comfortable, his hand ending up on your leg - above the comforter. With him next to you, the both of you bundled up in hoodies, you feel much less cold. Neither of you talk. Neither of you move, either. You just breathe and let the sound of the television lull you to sleep.

Except you do not want to sleep. Except you like Minho’s warmth a little bit too much, except he smells so much like himself you feel like drowning in delight. Except you desperately want to slide your fingers in between his, except you want to push your legs against his, except you wonder how his neck would feel under your lips. You have to admit it - you want him.

You have for a while. It started even before all of this - random thoughts crossing your mind about kissing your best friend, about letting him treat you right like he always said guys should do. When he took your hand and ran away with you, your mind was too occupied with the mess to think about him like that, but now that the adrenaline is dying down, that this odd routine is settling him, you find yourself thinking about it again. Minho. Your best friend. Your everything.

Your heart aches when you think about what he did for you.

What he still does every day for you.

How he smiles at you, how he looks at you.

For now you just enjoy the moment of quiet, letting your body relax, your thoughts wander off. You are sure you are going to fall asleep right there when a noise attracts your attention. You frown, trying to listen more attentively. It’s coming from the room next to yours - thumps on the wall, voices talking.

It quickly becomes obvious what is going on. The thumping becomes regular, and the voices turn into moans. It’s not too loud, but you can still hear it above the television. You feel yourself blush, wondering if Minho is hearing it too. You’re torn between laughing and pretending like you’re not hearing it. But as the moans grow louder, and the banging of what sounds like a headboard against the wall fastening, you can’t pretend.

Minho is the first to laugh. You snort, the both of you falling into giggles.

“Someone is having fun,” he says.

“Clearly, yeah,” you laugh.

Minho raises the volume of the television a little bit, and it muffles the sound, but you can still hear it well. You try to ignore it, but a part of you can’t help but listen. It really does sound like they are having fun. The girl is vocal, and from what you can hear, the guy is too, telling her things you can’t quite make out. She’s moaning a lot.

You try really hard not to be turned on by the sounds, but you can’t help it. Maybe it’s because you haven’t had sex in a while - but there is something so lewd about just sitting there while other people are having sex next door. The girl’s moans are full of pleasure, and from the rhythm of the thumping, the guy is pounding into her at a fast pace.

You breathe out slowly, suddenly feeling very warm next to Minho. With a quick glance you confirm he is still staring at the television, looking entranced by what is happening on the screen. Either he doesn’t care about what he’s hearing or he’s good at ignoring it.

The hand he has on your leg has gone very still.

You bite your lip hard, trying to resist the urge to push your thighs together. You can feel yourself getting wet at the sounds, your imagination running wild. What position are they in? Are they lovers, or is it just a hook-up? You can’t help but think of being in her place, hands pinned to the mattress, a cock buried deep inside you, Minho breathing in your neck…

You snap back to reality. Minho? No, no. You can’t think about him that way, not now, not when he’s lying next to you in bed, warm and soft.

Miraculously you are able to keep yourself in check. Only a few minutes later, the woman cries out particularly loud and then everything goes silent. You guess they are done - either they are going to sleep or they are leaving. Either way, you can finally breathe again, and it looks like Minho is relieved too.

“I think I’m going to sleep,” you tell him in a low voice. “You can keep watching tv if you want, I don’t mind.”

“I’m exhausted, too, don’t worry,” Minho smiles, looking at you. His cheeks are a little red, you notice. “I’ll just run to the bathroom and join you.”

You nod, replacing the pillows on the mattress as he closes the television and disappears in the small bathroom. You hear the tap water, so you guess he’s brushing his teeth - you settle comfortably under the sheets, closing your eyes. You’re so tired, your body sore, your mind heavy, surely sleep will come easily.

Except it doesn’t - because all you can think about are those sounds.

Instinctively your hand reaches between your legs, finding their way inside your leggings to your underwear. You push two fingers against your aching core. The fabric of your panties is a little wet, and you guess that if you were to touch yourself underneath, you’d find your folds soaked. The pressure feels too good, so you keep it there for a few seconds, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Those moans. Those sighs. What if someone loved you like that? Made you feel good like that? Lips against your skin, maybe a mouth against your cunt, a tongue sucking in your clit, your fingers tugging at Minho’s hair…

Fuck!

You nearly cum at the thought, but at the same time the bathroom door opens and Minho comes back towards the bed. You remove your hand from between your legs, feeling ashamed and embarrassed. Fortunately it is dark enough for him not to see you, and he slides back into his spot next to yours. The mattress shifts under his weight, but you do not move, your head buried on the pillow.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Min.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. You can’t find sleep, unable to toss and turn in the bed because you are scared to wake up Minho. At some point you find yourself drifting off, but you startle back awake.

The moans have started again.

Clearly the pair next door has not left, because they are back at it. You let out an audible sigh and Minho, next to you, laughs a little.

“I guess we’re not sleeping,” he says.

“I guess not.”

You both lay down, facing the ceiling. The moans aren’t too loud for now, but you can imagine it’s only a matter of time before they get as intense as earlier.

“You remember my ex, the law student?” Minho asks, all of a sudden.

You frown, turning your head towards him. “Yeah, why?”

“She was so loud, too,” he tells you. “Even worse than that.”

Surprise flashes in your eyes but you can’t help chuckle. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess when I told her I like it when my partners are vocal, she took it to heart. But like, way too much. And it sounded so fake.”

You are glad that the room is plunged in darkness because you can feel your cheeks heat up. You and Minho have talked about sex before - you’ve even shared intimate details, but for some reason it feels different now. Maybe because minutes before you were touching yourself to the thought of him.

“Wow,” you laugh. “That’s like the opposite of my ex. He didn’t make any sound and he didn’t like it when I did…”

Minho sighs. “What a dick, honestly.”

“I got used to it,” you shrug.

“He never treated you right,” Minho insists. “You have such a pretty voice, too. I’d never tell you not to make noise.”

You feel your chest tightening, your mouth going dry. Now that your eyes are adjusted to the darkness you can see Minho pretty well, and now he’s looking flustered, blinking rapidly.

“I - I mean… L-like I said, I just…”

“Minho,” you whisper, interrupting him.

Your heart is beating so fast you feel like you’ll be sick, but you can’t hold it back. Especially not with the moans coming from the other room, with the warmth between your legs, with what he has just told you. I’d never tell you not to make noise. You just need to know. You need to know.

Maybe the dark is giving you courage. Maybe it’s everything Minho does for you. Maybe it’s the way his eyes shine, so close to yours.

“Why did you come with me?” you finally ask, your voice just a whisper.

He blinks, looking at you with wide, deep eyes. “I…”

For a second you think he will say the same thing he always does. A part of you wants to hear it again, because you could never get tired of it, and because you know it is true - but another part of you wants to hear something else. You don’t even know if it’s possible. If it’s something he feels. But you have to try. You have to know.

Minho takes a deep breath. “Because I love you.”

You feel like bursting into tears because it’s all you ever wanted to hear. You grasp at the covers, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

“Please tell me you feel the same,” Minho adds, hopefully, desperately.

“I love you,” you breathe out. “Of course I love you.”

And it’s the simplest thing. Minho reaches for you as you reach for him, your lips meeting halfway, bodies tumbling in a sweet embrace. He pulls you close, holding you in his arms, his kiss feverish, desperate, relieved, hungry. His lips dance with yours, one of his hands holding your head. You wrap your arms around him, not wasting a second to close the distance between your bodies. His chest is firm, and as your hips meet his, you realize he’s a little hard, just like you’re wet.

The moans continue in the next room but you barely notice them. All you can hear is the sound of Minho’s breathing, his mouth on yours. You sigh as he pulls up one of your legs over his pelvis, making you straddle him. You lay down over him, not an inch between your bodies, your lips still meeting. He kisses you firmly and deeply, his hands all over your body, feeling your waist, your legs, your ass. You remove his t-shirt. You arch your back.

“I love you, Minho,” you keep repeating.

“I love you,” he answers every time.

He pushes his tongue on your lips so you open your mouth to let him in. It’s wet and warm and it sends your mind reeling. You feel drunk, you feel dizzy, and Minho kisses you so well it’s like the rest of the world fades.

“I love you so much,” he breathes. “Fuck, you’re everything to me… Everything I want.”

“Minho,” you sigh. “Put your hands on me, please.”

He nods, kissing you again, his hands discovering your body. He takes one of your tits in his hand, massaging it slowly, and you roll your hips against him. He’s getting harder, his cock almost flush with your wetness, and you feel your walls throb with the craving of him. You moan against his touch, and he rolls you on your back again, towering over you.

“Y/N,” he whispers, looking you in the eyes.

“Hm?”

“Please make all the noise you want,” he says.

You smile, playing with his hair. “I promise, as long as you do, too.”

With a grin he leans down to kiss you again, removing your shirt. You’re not wearing a bra, so he goes down to kiss your tits, swirling your tongue around your hard nipples, making you moan. Minho hums appreciatively.

“You sound so lovely,” he says. “I could never not want to hear you…”

“Keep talking to me,” you tell him, your fingers in his air as he plays with your breasts, kissing them, licking them, teasing them. “Please keep telling me things.”

“I promise, my angel. I promise.”

Minho trails his tongue down your stomach, pushing your sweatpants down, leaving you in just your underwear. He looks down at you, placing two fingers against your clit, above the fabric. He starts to draw soft circles, making you shiver.

“F-fuck, Minho…”

“You’re so wet, angel. Is it because of our neighbors?”

You bite your lip. “A little,” you say, although it’s hard to speak as Minho keeps stroking your wetness. “But also - also… You…”

“Me?” he asks, finally pulling down your panties to reveal your slicked folds.

“I could only t-think of you… Hearing them…”

“You imagined it was me making you moan like that? Fucking you deep into the motel bed? Is that what you would like, my angel?”

You nod, Minho’s breath feeling warm against your cunt, his agile fingers exploring your folds. He spreads your legs, holding your legs apart. “Y-yes…”

“I’ll do my best,” he smiles. “I just want to spend some time down here before I fuck you… I’ve wanted to treat you right for so long… I want to make you cum, is that all right?”

As he asks, he pushes two fingers inside of you, and you let out a shuddering moan.

“Tell me,” he says softly.

“Y-yes, Minho, please! Make me cum!”

“Fuck, just hearing you say that, I could cum on the spot.”

But he doesn’t - instead he leans into you, his mouth covering your wetness. His tongue swirls around your clit, collecting your slick, and you can’t help but moan uncontrollably. He makes you feel so good, so loved. His lips kissing you, his tongue everywhere, pushing and teasing. He moves his fingers inside of you at the same time, curving them into your sweet spots, and you grasp at the sheets, lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, yes, keep moaning for me, angel,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back.”

You couldn’t if you wanted to - Minho is too good at what he does, like he already knows everything that makes you go crazy. His rhythm accelerates, then slows down, his mouth deliciously eating your cunt. You can’t think anymore, one of your hands is lost in his soft hair. Your moans accompany the ones from next door, combined with the wet sounds of Minho’s tongue and fingers around your drenched pussy.

“I’m gonna cum,” you cry out. “Minho, I’m…”

He doesn’t say anything, just accelerates exactly what he was doing, and your orgasm flashes through you. Minho keeps licking your cunt until you stop shaking, and then slowly makes his way up your body, placing wet kisses on your skin. You don’t think you’ve ever moaned this loud in your life, and as you start to come down your high, you feel a little embarrassed.

When he kisses your lips, tasting of you, you open your eyes. Even in the dark you can see that his mouth is a little swollen, still wet with your juices.

“S-sorry…” you whimper.

He frowns, stroking your hair. “Why are you sorry?”

“Was I too loud?”

He smiles, cupping your cheeks. “You could never be too loud. I just hope it was good for you.”

“Are you kidding?” you chuckle. “That was the best orgasm of my life.”

Minho laughs, and your heart swells at the sight of his teeth, the shape of his eyes. He is so beautiful. And he loves you. With a sudden surge of love you bounce upwards, kissing him deeply, and you want to touch him everywhere. Minho lets your hands roam over his body, and you quickly reach his boxers, where you find his hard cock. You palm it over the fabric and it twitches a little. Minho grunts.

“You still want this?” he asks.

You nod. “I want you. All of you.”

He answers with a kiss, and helps you get rid of his boxers, his cock springing free. You stroke with one hand, the other pushing him down the bed.

“Want to taste you, too,” you say, and you feel his breath shudder inside your mouth.

Kneeling next to him, you kiss his stomach, his hips, his thighs - admiring at the same time the firm muscles of his body. Minho gathers your hair in his hand, holding it back from your face, breathing hard.

You take his cock in your hand, kissing the tip, and you hear him grunt. You’re glad he doesn’t hold back making noise, just like he promised. You glance at him as you wrap your lips around his cock, slowly. Minho looks back at you, his eyes glassy, his mouth parted. You keep your eyes on each other as you go down his cock, taking all you can of him, and when you almost reach down he throws his head backwards in pleasure.

“F-fuck, Y/N!” he growls. “You’re taking me whole… S-such a warm mouth…”

You hum around his cock, starting to bob your head up and down, sucking him. Your tongue works too, teasing and licking him. Minho moans, the sound filling the room and your heart, and it’s so alluring you have to press two fingers against your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” Minho breathes. “Don’t stop, take it deeper… Just a little more - fuck, yes! Right there.”

He thrusts his hips a little as you keep sucking him. He feels big in your mouth, and you know your lips will be sore, but you don’t care. Making him feel this good is intoxicating, and you don’t want to stop.

“My angel,” he moans. “Looking so pretty with my cock around her lips…”

He keeps whispering things, and you can’t help but moan alongside him, touching yourself at the same time. You could cum like this again, with Minho’s cock between your lips, his fingers pulling your hair softly. But after another minute, he strokes your cheek.

“Come back to me, angel,” he whispers. “I don’t want to cum like this.”

You are eager for his lips again so you do not insist, and Minho wraps you into an embrace, kissing you softly. He is warm, so warm - your bodies are a little sweaty, eager for each other.

When he stops, you frown. “Is everything all right?”

“They stopped,” he says, and you realize he is right.

The room next door has gone silent again. You chuckle, but at the moment, you don’t really care. Neither does Minho, because he shrugs and kisses you again. He lays you down on the mattress again, holding your legs apart, his cock teasing your entrance.

“I don’t have -” he looks at you.

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I don’t mind. I want you to fuck me like that.”

He growls, leaning into your ear. The tip of his cock enters your hole, but he doesn’t go further, just feeling it there. You whimper for more, but Minho is busy kissing your neck and your ear.

“I love hearing you say lewd stuff like that,” he chuckles. “It’s really hot.”

“I like hearing you say it too,” you admit, kissing his shoulder. “Tell me something… Something you never thought you would say aloud.”

A flash appears in his eyes, and he smiles. He kisses you, and whispers it against your lips.

“I want to fuck you raw and mark you as mine,” he breathes. “Fill your sweet cunt with my cum and fuck it again, deep inside of you. Claim you. Keep you with me forever.”

Your cunt tightens so much at the words you are sure Minho will feel it - and from the way his hips thrust forward, he might have.

“I’m yours,” you whisper. “I’m yours, yours, yours.”

Minho pushes deeper inside of you with every word until he bottoms out, stretching you, filling you. You moan his name again and again as he starts to fuck you, his hips gently meeting yours at first, letting you get used to him.

“Mine,” he repeats. “Mine, as much as I’m yours.”

You nod as his movements start getting sharper, slamming into you, his cock reaching deep inside of you. You can hear the wet sounds of your cunt around his dick and it makes you dizzy.

“Tell me I’m yours,” Minho breathes, pumping his cock into you.

“You’re mine,” you say, digging your fingers into his back. Your nails mark him, and they must hurt him, but Minho only moans louder. “Mine, mine.”

He fucks you into the mattress, his hands holding your waist, your legs spread apart for him. After some time he lifts your ass a little, holding your legs up around him, and with this angle he reaches even deeper inside of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

You moan with him, your voices and breathing mixing together. You are so close to cumming, clenching his cock hard, coating it with your juices.

“Minho, fuck! I’m cumming!” you cry out.

Your climax rushes through you. Minho follows a second after, pushing as deep inside of you as he can. You can feel the warm spurts of white cum filling you, his cock throbbing, and when he is done he keeps fucking you for a minute.

“My angel… mine,” he whispers.

When both of your bodies start to untense, Minho removes himself from you, stroking your cunt with his fingers. He gathers some of your juices mixed with his cum, and brings it to your lips. You stare up at him and lick his fingers clean. He stares at you with a soft smile, tenderness spilling out of his eyes.

He falls back on the mattress next to you, as spent as you are.

“That was the hottest sex of my life,” he breathes.

“Me too,” you chuckle, turning just to wrap an arm around his chest.

He plays with your hair, kisses the top of your hair. “You know I meant it, right?”

“What?”

“Everything I said. I love you so much, Y/N.”

You look up at him, feeling your heart swell in your chest. “I know. Me too, Min. I love you. You’re mine. I want to stay with you forever.”

He smiles. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”

You stay like that for a minute, just breathing, until Minho squeezes your hand, helping you up on your feet. He wants to help you clean up and feel good before you go to sleep. Holding your hand, he guides you towards the bathroom. Only then do you realize something and laugh.

“If we could hear them so well… Do you think our neighbors heard us?”

Minho laughs. “Definitely.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

this was much longer than I thought it would be... but there it is! I had so much fun writing this I hope you will like it! please share your thoughts with me if you want ♡ reblogs and feedback is much appreciated!! ♡

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sugar-petals · 2 years ago

Text

𝖘𝖚𝖇!NCT ; { 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚍 | 18+}

[ # 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜. ] domme/sub. oral sex. kinks. toys. breath play. semi-public sex.

⟨ AUTHOR’S NOTE. ❌ here’s to a 9-part hc, this time it’s the neos! 5k words total — at this point, i might just name my blog oral fixation central instead of pretty boy central. i picked members who i thought would suit the scenario best, from power bottoms to innocent subs: pick your preference from the little ‘feat’ list below ⬇︎ and if you like what i do: interact and/or reblog ♥︎ enjoy! x

[ + PAIRINGS.] crop top!mark, shy!taeyong, poly soft sub!shotaro, hard sub!yuta, experienced!jungwoo, tease!yangyang, trophy bf!xiaojun, service sub!johnny, pro!ten x femdom!reader respectively

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⇢ MARK 마크 - All about the eye contact while hugging your thighs. You’re comfortably reclined, playing with his soft flowy bangs. His shampoo smells so. Fricking. Good. He’s kneeling there, ass up, one hell of a sight. Why have one nice thing when you could have two at once? Mark eating your cake, you can check out his cake — and spank it later — it’s a win-win. Mark is the kind of guy who blurts out a thousand thoughts per minute, but when he eats you out, the laser focus he’s known for when rapping returns to its full glory. As if he could read your wants and wishes out of your gaze. If you want clit kisses, you get them. Still, Mark often confuses himself in typical style („Hold on, hold on! The towel goes here below, wait, I got it wrong!“), but! He is not confused by you. It’s more about figuring out his technique. Was more cautious at the beginning already, however not because he thought you were unapproachable or mysterious. Mark loves you very much and thinks you’re beyond hilarious. Which is why eating you out is constantly interrupted by mutual laughing fits, no surprise there. His tunnel vision can only last for so long! You make your boyfriend cry tears by making funny faces. He’s caught off guard. It’s good to lighten the mood. Being funnier than Mark is hard to pull off, which makes it even more rewarding to make his face glow from heat, thigh squeezing, and grinning. One hand on his cheek if you can reach, the other at the back of his neck. Mark has the softest peach fuzz on his nape, so satisfying to stroke. What starts out hasty or confused turns into comfy relaxation and trust, Mark knows how much it soothes you.

One scenario became his and your definite favorite. Mark got his driving license, parked in front of your home, honked, and had the audacity to sit there behind the steering wheel with a purple crop top on such a fine evening. Horny and intrigued immediately, all you did was stare during your drive to the take-out spot you like so very much. His hair had gotten pretty long, it was so cute. But Mark’s body was just as inviting, you wanted to touch and ravage and wreck him so damn badly. Mark barely made it halfway through the city that you asked him to drive off the main street. Innocent mind he is, your baby assumed you knew a shortcut through the traffic. Mark winds up stopping the car incredulously somewhere close to an empty laundromat store, this area of the city was fast asleep and abandoned. When you whispered you wanted to fuck him, Mark’s jaw simply dropped. A perfect exercise for what was about to— come. Perfectly sat on his face, you were deepthroating a whiny Mark laying on the backseat seven minutes later, sucking him off in a proper rhythm, seamless, with Mark nipping and dipping his way into your heart from behind. Mark was ready to die fulfilled by getting crushed. He came down your throat so fast, you had to wait until you could ride him hard: A perfect opportunity to enjoy some more chaotic rapper tongue action before, and moaning out loud when you came on his face. Since you were only getting started but Mark was dizzy with love, you took matters into your own hands and went for the ride of your lives.

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⇢ TAEYONG 태용 - Insecure and shifty-eyed at first, both hands trembling in the pockets of his grey hoodie. Leader Taeyong mode: Disengage. Listening well is his guideline here, he relies on bits of praise and your instructions („More to the left — yes… feels good“) to know what works. Sub training is the word. Since he’s more of an intuitive lover who prefers not to jump right into it, Taeyong will build the scenario rather carefully with your orders in mind. Morning, noon, or night, doesn’t matter. The time spent gearing up, arranging his room with the right lights and a movie to watch first, the mood at the moment, that’s time well-spent. Impressionable Taeyong is a perfectionist of staging something in every sense of the word. His tendency for theatrics and hot as fuck eyebrow expressions extends to licking you up when his new mixtape plays. Even when he’s fucked-out from the day, he still reserves this energy for his one and only. Getting better and to the point as he progresses is always the bar. The hoodie stays on. The inhibitions come off. Once he gets going and the playlist switches to Baekhyun, Taeyong sucks your clit like it’s your birthday. You reach the point of no return in one minute flat no matter how slow or fast he goes. Your sweet sloppy sub is well aware where the most sensitive nerve endings are and caters to your every throbbing, pulsing, and twitching of the legs. And if you’re insatiable, horny at 7 in the morning again, Taeyong will drop everything he does and climbs back into your bed to play with your wetness at the tips of his fingers, sucking them rigorously like the true cumslut he is. The scent of his crisp aftershave will make you cum in no time, he smells so fucking good and masculine. This handsome man’s all yours.

Recently figured out how mommy cums as soon as he moans her name. So, he has to use it diligently, not too early, not excessively. You help him place his hands on the outer point of your hips, use his bubbling spit as lube, and show your boo how to angle his glorious jaw. Sooner or later, he almost looks like he’s posing in an expensive photoshoot, that’s how physical he is. Subspace is always just around the corner, so you make a habit of reassuring him that he sucks you off right, that you love this way of pleasure, that he’s good at it. Which is no lie. His tongue is flexible and versatile, to say the very least. And his room isn’t the only place where your little encounter goes down. Taeyong once drove you out to see his old school — you both just wanted to revisit the empty building for some memories. Taeyong got nostalgic, plus he loves to show you forgotten aspects of his life that few other people know. The sports facilities in particular. But eventually, you pressed Taeyong against a locker, heavily made out, and within a blink of his pretty doe eyes, his head was between your legs on an old bench. Your dirty talk was off the fucking charts. The pet names you were peppering him with, too. Three minutes after you hit the peak, Taeyong gladly heard the janitor’s keys click in a close-by room, so you just wound up hiding behind some trees of the school’s baseball field. Out of breath, the two of you. Jeez, did he dress you in record time, and jumped up, and showed you the door out. Those reflexes. While you wait for the janitor to leave, a very amused Taeyong shows you pictures of himself when he was enrolled on his phone… as if he didn’t swallow your every drop just minutes earlier. Yeah, he’s fascinating.

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⇢ SHOTARO 쇼타로 - Kissy lips, kissy face. Squeals with absolute joy when you offer him to have a go — don’t underestimate how much he worships your body. And how much he loves sex, long as it’s not too rough. Shotaro doesn’t like hard subbing, gentle femdom sounds more like it. He won’t risk anything… yet. Wait one or two years and he might as well be super freaky. Until then, no experiments, Yuta’s kinky influence has not corrupted him, but he won’t stop to take a breather either. The perfect mix of commitment and flirt, batting his puppy eyes at you constantly with a very careful mouth at work. Shotaro’s friendly impression is not going to be blown away all of a sudden, that’s not even reserved for moaning his soul out when you peg him. The only time the sweet smile wanes is when your baby feels like you’re not into it — before you even voice it to him. Shotaro is concerned concerned. „Wait! Should I do it differently?“ is the panicked response, and you cool him down for a solid minute with head pats. Making mistakes is what he fears most: Looking pathetic, degraded, embarrassed and unskilled. Needless to say, he’s not the type of submissive who likes humiliation, more points to soft subbing. You say, you’re Shotaro. How could you go wrong. You couldn’t look awful if you tried. Although `going with the flow´ is a washed-out phrase that’s far too simple as a motto, a little bit of calm and laissez-faire really works for him. Not interrupting himself, not checking if absolutely everything is done right, but going ahead and just working his tongue to get some feedback later.

Where he clearly excels is a polyamorous dynamic, romantic and/or sexual: Hear me out. Naturally, he needs no experience with it. He fits right into the mix, acting as a mediator and mood-maker between three parties. Three is good, although four or five is too much for Shotaro to handle, even if the pairs kind of split into couple units within one room. Like two here, three there, or something like that. It’s better to focus and galvanize all the attention on you without distractions or further chaos that would just make the situation uncomfortable. So, three it is. Not a gangbang, just a triad, and if it’s two girls he’ll pleasure at once, he’s right at home. Shotaro is so amicable, his winning smile could put anyone at ease. As I said, despite his lack of experience, he’s a natural. One girl gets to relish his gentle fingers circling and rubbing, the other girl will see his mouth do wonders at the same time. Actually, Shotaro is more confident with a third party around, it’s puzzling. Until you remember he’s part of frickin’ NCT: Their collective buzzing hive mind has likely programmed every member to be good at poly should they choose to try it — don’t ask why, just enjoy. Being around so many people made Shotaro a little awkward in a one-on-one setting, which doesn’t diminish his affection for his main partner, mind you. But you can definitely tell he thrives on poly dynamics, it feels like protection to him. Shotaro’s number one prowess of being able to please will come through immediately, and he’ll do anything to set up the room as romantically as possible. Scented candles, warm blankets, music. Everyone feels secure, and it’s a night you’ll ask to repeat soon. He’s the absolute sweetest, I know.

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⇢ YUTA 유타 - Enjoys you spitting on him beforehand. Properly. Degradingly, with no hesitation, anywhere across his face. Wastes no time submitting to your sadistic, tormenting deeds. Any viable spot in your living space will serve as a theatre for a great scene. Even the cold basement: You, facing any wall standing, Yuta chained and squatted between your legs to eat his meal from behind-below, begging to be crushed, suffocated. Rest assured you’ll feel warmed up in just two minutes. Nastiest groans between loud slurping noises ever. Moves his head side to side a whole lot. Other people around? „Don’t care“ — Yuta wants everyone to know he pleasures your clit superbly well. Likes, wants, craves the aid of ultra-fancy battery toys. Where’s the excitement, the literal buzz? He’s not happy if you don’t get one hell of a show, whipped cream included (yes, his secret weapon). And, you know… him wearing a red rope harness, even thin heels, hard to balance on as the extra challenge. Dressed for the occasion. Always knows, observes, notices when you love it and when you don’t, or if you think some technique is just eh, mediocre, maybe „time for an upgrade“. The upgrade is more tongue-flicking, by the way. Mister Quick & Sloppy knows what’s good. Yuta shows up carrying a little vibrator collection 70% of the time, some very handy electrical friends that he’s gonna use one after the other while you can just relax. Why just one toy when you could have even more sensations? Alternating with his energetic tongue, it’s an interesting method mix, freaky and experimental. So much more intense, and new. They didn’t lie when they said Yuta had vibes. The things he’s smuggled through crowded hotel lobbies with a stone-cold face just to get you off. And: The toys he ordered online, where Taeyong picked up the package, so Yuta lied it was just another boring game he bought to pass the time.

Looks at you very intensely with his head between your legs, and you wink back by habit. It actually flusters him profusely. Don’t underestimate Yuta’s ability to become extremely shy, this man has such a soft spot for his domme. Especially after she destroyed him totally… he loves it, going past his limits all the time. A cane is all you need to break him, only to get all the head you want with Yuta crying. Hard and mischievous shell, soft and whimpery core. One of the best pleasers, knows you inside out. Yuta has his intricately detailed knowledge about the ladies down. Plus his power bottom tendencies equal the amounts of sheer masochism he possesses: Mercilessly smack him across the face between streaks of sucking, right after he catches a breath, and he will be yours. Yuta will plead you to do it again and again. Never cared about shallow orgasms, wants to make you cum for real, it’s the same with him wanting to scream. Wishes there was a way for you to choke him out while he’s doing down on you, but your hands would reach him awkwardly, preferring to pull on his hair anyway: So he just clamps down on his own neck with one hand, circling your nipples with his spit-covered fingers using the other hand, that fucking perv. That Yuta is crazy you already know, but that he likes to pile on several sex techniques at once is a revelation. That he has the skills to do it is not. Sex god. Your nasty boy deserves to be ruined.

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⇢ JUNGWOO 정우 - Prince of chapstick, he feels super smooth. The face, the same. So soft. The prettiest. Prettiest boy to ever pretty. Long as it’s a chill environment and it’s mostly vanilla, he’s down for anything, your goofy sweetheart. Don’t laugh, you could even put on a random Sunday soccer match on his laptop. If there’s no intense penalty shootout and it’s a little monotonous, both teams equally strong so nothing really happens, that’s perfect as a relaxing backdrop with all the occasional commentary and fan chants, volume turned down by 80%. It would sound weird with any other guy, but Jungwoo makes it work. It could be any sports event, in fact. Ice hockey, billiards, whatever. Or music. Or him wearing a silky jersey himself while he goes down on you, his sporty side is such a turn-on. But no stress, no edge, just being sweet together and flirting a lot. He’s cute and hot and kind at once — the amount of facial expressions you’ll see is astounding. Likes the occasional deeper dive if you know what I mean, though not as in, ambushing you with crazy tongue twisters and whatnot. Deliberate is the word. Is not content staying all too superficial or messy, it has to be rhythmical and make sense, making you comfortable. You thought he would be chaotic, but Jungwoo knows exactly what to do, how to dip, so you don’t worry. Except that you’re an immensely possessive domme behind a generous exterior — with eagle eyes, for that matter.

Since your lil’ pup acts like he has done it before a couple times, and Jungwoo confirms he has experience, you feel a bit jealous and even go on bantering. „Enjoyed it?“ Yes, even if you wish you weren’t, you’re jelly. Jungwoo reacts with a sheepish and embarrassed face, he doesn’t want to spill the beans. What’s done is done, he protects the privacy of his exes, evades questions. You eventually calm yourself to take it easy, it’s none of your biz, although saying his past is his past doesn’t really work as a catchphrase for you: You have to make it crystal clear, have him close in, make him say „I am“ when you ask „are you mine, then?“ Despite his seductive come-hither gaze being a masterclass and his humor being outrageous, Jungwoo is a surprisingly patient lover, hating to just rush it or be inaccurate with his plush tongue. You can feel his adoration. And he’s upbeat. A reassuring smile makes your day, it helps you rid yourself off the stress. Every word you say is appreciated. He hates when someone walks all over their partner, it just isn’t right to him. Listening is more important. Jungwoo hates you being pent up, hates you worried or preoccupied. At work, he can deal with himself. At home, he will vent quickly when there’s a bigger problem, but he’d rather tune into you first. He’d do anything to make you feel like you got rid of your problems, he’s your escapist fantasy turned real. Jungwoo has no problem being considered just that. In fact, he wants it, knowing you can take it out on him in gentle ways: Hands in his soft blonde hair, swaying your hips, cumming when he kisses you.

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⇢ YANGYANG 양양 - Eating you out as his signature move? Well, well. Yes and no. Because seemingly, he does anything but: At first. It’s 99% endless teasing everywhere else on your body. Until, completely on edge, you guide his shoulders and have him get to work. With permission, of course, knowing he enjoys it. You wouldn’t hurt this cutie at all costs, though he likes his head controlled by you like this to begin with. So don’t worry too much, he isn’t made of cotton candy, even if his hair color sometimes suggests that. Ironically, it’s the other way around. He wants to taste your cotton candy. With your hands around his temples, holding him in place. Which makes for a sexy POV from both of your positions. Yangyang is working hard, why is he still so immensely eager, how much energy does he even have? It’s admirable how he can tease your body for so long with ghosting kisses and suggestive eye contact. Yangyang being the master of stamina might come as a surprise, but you know how it goes with Libra men. Pleasers till the end of time. That’s exactly why he indulges you so much in prep. Edging is his thing, though you tend to take back control by cussing him out for licking your ankles like a maniac. „What are you, a deprived Victorian man? You sexy fucking sucker, you, God damn…“ Insults make him squeal and laugh, and soon he’s back to the main event, anyway.

Now seriously, why does the cutie trail off so much? Which, granted, makes you even hornier. Propped onto your couch, Yangyang is humming and licking your thighs with that seductive, way too infuriating grin. Even munching on them when he’s extra cocky, up until you say you’ll fucking spank his soul out if he keeps on smiling like a devil. You’ll mark him up at full capacity, slap his butt, pinch his nose, swear you’ll tickle him until he taps out. But kinky Yangyang is not stopped by any threat of punishment whatsoever. What are you gonna do, smack his ass and hope he stops nibbling on your legs for good? If anything, he gets even more riled up and ready to stimulate you even more. Shit, your body’s on fire from all the attention it gets. So, good luck with this sheer untamable brat. He kisses your belly, sucks on your chest at random. Your fingers, too. The neck. The entire palette. Even the fucking ears. Yuta would be proud of Yangyang’s utter depravity. Little did you know it’s all a tastemaker. In your world, he’s increasing the suspense. In his world, he’s courting you, paying attention to all body parts, showing off what he can do with his lips. Oral sex? Nope, kissing first! Holy fuck, he’s absolutely fucking peppering you. You thought Yangyang was too intimidated to go down on you and delayed it, turns out you misunderstood. Guy is just the king of foreplay. And out of all head squad members? Surprise! His oral fixation is the most unruly and developed.

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⇢ XIAOJUN 샤오쥔 - Okay, prepare yourselves. Xiaojun is a little extra with those kind of things, to say the least. Not kinky, just particular. In fact, he is the type to use his whole damn face. Yep. Very deliberately, slow-mo, so you can see and feel everything. Yes, chin and all. His entire technique would appear lazy, uncoordinated and weird to an outsider, but from your perspective, he’s just nasty, he’s giving it his all: Which is exactly what you like. Xiaojun knows that you’re obsessed with the beauty of his otherwordly features from outer space, and he’s always generous with it — „I’m yours, that’s why“. So why not give it a shot, his mouth can only do so much! Does Xiaojun look down on anyone who sticks to the basics? Probably not, he’s too busy in his own relationship. Being perfect, being hot, being all you need, he goes the extra mile for everything. And that happens to include cunnilingus. The cheekbones, the nose, the forehead, even… You get to feel it, too, not just the lips doing their thing. He’s brave, he’s naughty, he’s sensual all at once. Wants you all over him, after all. Slathered up in your wetness, is this Xiaojun’s new makeup routine? It sure looks like it. The man is glowing for all the right reasons.

There is a bit of vanity in his style. He’s your designated trophy boyfriend, after all. Gotta look and act the part, doesn’t he. Swipe his hair back while he licks you, put up mirrors for sexy time, doll himself up beforehand with soft and pretty clothes, even a few necklaces. No mediocre. Xiaojun is like Narcissus between your legs, but really, he’s just conscious of how he comes across: And who can blame him. That’s not a boyfriend. That’s a masterpiece. Xiaojun doesn’t need beauty standards, they need him! Few people can handle his awesomeness. Knowing you want his body, his fucking soul, he is all the more eager to satisfy your heated desires with no regard to form: Come as you are. Your PJs, work or uni clothes, naked, near-naked, whatever. He’s the one to look at. Xiaojun puts great emphasis in slow-paced presentation that matches some tender music in the background. It could go on for hours if you wanted. Dejun could do the juiciest and unusual things while a ballad is playing in the background, but you’re into it. Because it’s not torturously done, but well aware that you think he’s stunningly handsome, so he’ll indulge you. Looks good in any position, as one would expect. Enjoys it if you sit on him lots because he likes to be below, this overpowering angle. The same idea applies here: Torturously slow is the key. You’re a strict and controlled domme, that suits him the very best.

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⇢ JOHNNY 쟈니 - Sassy, sassy boy. Talks a lot at the beginning, 100k words friends to lovers. Is this Youtube? Johnny needs to know exactly what you want and how he can achieve it. Fair enough, he wants the juicy intel, all of your boundaries and soft limits, your ideas, your sweet spots, your no-gos and best ways to make you comfortable. And hey, that’s a smart and normal thing to do: He just does it all at once, like an essay. Wow. You can tell he thought about everything and wondered about everything. A caring boyfriend, if you think of it. The whole shebang is kind of cute. Johnny has no business being ignorant; nor does he like to disappoint his girlfriend. He already caught your attention with his tight shirt, in fact, he distracted you while you were going through your phone, so now he, um, takes responsibility for his banging body being so hot. „Do you want any snacks before, something to drink? Probably some water, right. Wait a minute, I’ll get it for you. Do you want warm water or cold water? Okay, cold, right. With a slice of lemon or without? Should we turn on the TV or some music? Which blanket do you prefer today, the lighter one or the heavy-duty?“

On it goes, it’s the service sub in him. This is like fucking Hotel Johnny Seo. He wants to be like a personal butler to you, except that said butler has some impressive dancer glutes and no suit on. Johnny really does leave nothing to chance and you appreciate it: Circumspect, as ever, and it’s important to be comfy before getting down to business. Johnny knows it always makes a difference when you’re warm and hydrated, so he keeps on asking questions to make sure it’s all set. But once he is engrossed, lips on your labia… the opposite is true. Why does he stop talking out of literal nowhere, what on earth is going on. Johnny’s dead silent, focused, in a different mindset. Unrecognizable. He barely even moves his body, even if there’s a lot to move indeed. God, is he fucking tall — a bit difficult to drape and position himself on the sheets, but he’ll manage. Kind of folding himself in half will do the trick. You already blew his literal back out with your strap the day before, so his spine’s like jelly anyway: Bending, not a problem. Once he kneels properly, it’s all tunnel vision. Although to be fair, he moans every now and then — which is very stimulating, to say the very least. Puts his spectacular lips to good use and, if he’s honest, wants to be „nothing but a sex toy“ (his words, verbatim!) that you can bend around to your delights. You were kind of confused by what he meant, so Johnny explained it. The point is that you can adjust him however you like and he’s there to give you a good time.

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⇢ ten 텐 - Red alert, the final boss is here. Let's make tonight your birthday. Ten’s piping hot sexual style puts any existing man, no matter how experienced, to a literal devastating shame. Because he has what? The flavor. It’s exceedingly difficult to put his energy into fitting words. Similar to Yuta, he flaunts some seriously rapid flicking tongue movements, but knows when to slow it down for a minute: Nuance! It’s exactly what does the trick. Despite his quick and accurate manner, he won’t overstimulate or overtake you. Overtaking in a sense of, being faster than the pleasure can arrive, which is a mistake he knows is frequently committed. Ten knows that going too hard doesn’t feel good, so he refrains from going on for a second round right away especially. „Fifteen minutes rest is due,“ is what he’ll say, laying down face to face on his side with you. Presenting his cute puffy lips, and also for a chance to look him in the eyes properly. Those cat eyes. They’re magnetic. After enough tension builds and you’re impatient, Ten dives off between your thighs again. Patience (with stamina) is a virtue and he has it. Paired with the most graphic dirty talk you’ve ever heard, Ten is fully in his element, hands in the right places, hair falling the right way, lips promptly sucking you up. If you know his Instagram, you know which bedroom eyes will await you. On the majority of days, Ten is the type who will crawl up to you from the edge of the bed like a feline. You don’t know what’s first to touch. Grab his ass? Cup his face? Pinch his waist? Fuck it, just do everything at once.

Not a fan of 69, he’ll dedicate himself fully to you. Twisting himself around is his job on stage, but he’s remarkably still once chest down in bed. Or the edge of the bathtub, whatever you fancy. Few angles are too awkward for ten. Talk about bathroom sex: He’s probably the only person on earth who mastered giving head in the shower. Even without a mat or towel under his knees, which is crazy. He stays stable as if by sheer magic, the floor being painfully hard and slippery doesn’t bother him, though you insist he use at least a small towel to kneel on when it’s not spontaneous oral. Ten is only focused on his task, nothing else fazes him. He trusts you with the temperature control, and if he’s getting waterboarded from above with the shower on? Then he’s getting waterboarded. Ten won’t care. He’s the goat, he knows he can breathe somehow, and he doesn’t want you getting cold — „just turn the valve, honey“. You often take precautions and turn on the bathroom heating way before, but Ten insists on his ways and can clearly see your goosebumps. Your right leg over your shoulder, your boyfriend eats you out from below with the water stream trailing right over his face. The divine baptism! You can squeeze, grind, and fuck his face stupid in the most erratic thrusts on the bathroom carpet ten minutes later for a solid round two. He wants to be completely at your mercy, laying there on his back, dripping wet long dark hair, getting you off hands-free. This guy lets you do anything. Any-fucking-thing. Ten is a legend.

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// FINAL NOTE. leave some feedback if you liked it 🍒 and for more content like this, browse my rec blog’s specifically dedicated sub!nct tag. have fun! 🙌

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similar posts: multi version /// bts version /// exo version

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kaylinelizabeth4004 · 1 year ago

Text

Beggin’

(Broadchurch) Alec Hardy x Reader

Synopsis: Alec has no concept of time and barges in Y/N’s house to investigate. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, face riding/sitting, oral sex (f receiving), slight praise, no beta we die like his heart

She'd just come out of the shower, hair up in a half hearted bun. Y/N was exhausted, the current case was on her mind. A murder, that was evident. The victim was an old woman in her home, a single gunshot to the chest and her house ransacked. But it didn't look right.

As she changed into some comfy short shorts and an oversized Elvis Presley t-shirt, she visualized the scene in her head. It just wasn't right. She remembered a little purple jewelry box up near the dresser, and it didn't appear to be opened. She made a mental note to check that out, along with the neighbors alibi and how sound could transfer in a duplex.

Of course she knew when she agreed to be a Detective Sergeant that it was going to be time consuming, that this career would become you to an extent. And she wanted that. After she accidentally stumbled into this career and saw her first scene, she knew that was what she wanted with her life. But she hadn't realized that that would mean when she does even the most basic functions, her brain would be so wholly preoccupied. She took her hair out, brushed her teeth, pulled the covers down then went to turn out the lights before climbing into them. And all throughout it, she was speculating about silencers and times of death.

Her head had barely hit the pillow before she heard a banging at her front door. She laid there for a moment, contemplating her options. It was either some tragedy has happened or some idiot come to hurt her. And quite frankly she knew she could hold her own. Y/N wasn't a fool, she wasn't going to go answer it without precaution. She quickly went and retrieved a bread knife from the kitchen before going to the door.

The knife was in position when she opened it. Instead of finding some craved criminal, or even some sobbing family member, she found her boyfriend/boss with a box of papers.

"Alec? It's one in the morning."

His eyes narrowed at the sight of her. He looked tired, but he did always look just a little tired. His hair was messed up and his beard just a touch scruffy.

"I don't trust Anderson."

"What?" She asked. He didn't answer as he walked into her house and deposited the box of files on her kitchen table. She didn't mind Alec coming over, hell she loved the chance to see him, but this was all a little unprompted for her.

"Y/N, didya get anything on Imogen Walker? I don't like her. I also don't like this bloke, who does he think he is? Fucking hell," Alec started pulling stuff out to work on.

Y/N wanted to protest, but she also knew that she wasn't going to get much sleep even if she tried. This was at least productive and she got to spend time with him. She grabbed a blanket from the living room, wrapped it around herself, and sat down at the table.

"Imogen has a few misdemeanors but nothing of this caliber, nothing that would suggest murder." She said, "As for Gary, he did have a stay in the hospital back in his twenties for mental illness. I requested the documents for the diagnosis and behavior during the stay but they probably won't come in until later today or tomorrow. I think you need to focus on her niece, her alibi is shaky at best."

If Y/N focused on DI Alec Hardy's face, she might have seen the shadow of a smile on his lips that he quickly hid with other possible motives and questions. He'd never say so, but he loved these moments. The times when he could share what he was truly passionate about with someone that he truly loved ... Those moments were the best. All he would need was Daisy cracking jokes in the corner for this moment to be complete.

It was long after the sun came up before Y/N finally decided to make some tea for the two of them. She told Alec who grumbled a one worded response she didn't bother to try and understand. Maybe it was Alec or the case, but she strangely wasn't tired. Her mind kept whirling with all the possibilities and she enjoyed the time with Alec.

"Y/N! Do you have the SOCO reports from the car in there?" Hardy called to her. "I need to call -"

He stopped, looking at her from above his glasses, his lips still perched out from his words that fell forgotten. She gave him a strange look, placing the two cuppas down on the table then passing him the SOCO report he'd wanted. Yet he still stared, didn't even bother to say a word. "Hardy?"

DI Alec Hardy was not a man of many words, but when he needed to use words he always had the right thing to say. Or at least he believed it to be the right thing to say. But now, in a moment when words would definitely be helpful, he had nothing. He just stared like a man gone wild. Y/N didn't even know what he was staring at, and she shifted awkwardly on her feet. Which drew extra attention.

"Alec? What're you looking at?"

He seemed to snap out of it, shoving his glasses up his nose and glancing back down at the paper. Y/N didn't know what to make of it, but thought perhaps he was exhausted. She pulled the kitchen chair to her, putting a leg on either side so she could rest her chest on the back of it while she read. And yet again, she looked up to see his warm brown eyes trapped on her and her body.

"Alec?" He didn't answer. "Alec! What's going on?"

Alec adjusted in his seat and said calmly, "nothing."

"Bull."

"Nothing is wrong. Can we continue?"

She felt silly for a moment, maybe she was exaggerating. Then she propped a leg on the chair and she saw his eyes wander again. Okay enough was enough. "Alec, what the hell?"

"Y/N-"

"Oh ho, don't Y/N me to try and get out of answering my question. What's got you looking at me at all weird?"

A pink started to spread on his cheeks and ears, but he looked away. No way, she thought. There's no way 'shitface' just blushed. Yes they'd been dating and she knew he was more than that nickname, but sometimes the occasion calling for it. Like when was blushing early in the morning for no reason, and she'd never seen him blush unless they were making love. Oh. Oh. Her eyes widened, and she felt a little smile on her lips. She stood up slowly, watching the way he tried to fight his gaze from following after.

"Alec, anything you want to tell me?" Y/N went and sat down on the edge of the table in front of him. He swallowed.

"Don't laugh."

"Darling, I would never laugh."

He rolled his eyes and looked away, not having the strength to say it while looking at her. He swiped his glasses off and groaned. "I... those shorts. I really like those shorts."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. That was not quite the answer she was expecting. "The shorts?"

"Your thighs, they... I like seeing them."

Her mouth fell open in a little o, adjusting her legs slightly as though thinking about them meant she had to move them. He likes her thighs, enough to distract him from work. Alec saw this reaction and immediately flushed darker, "you think I'm stupid."

"Gosh, no, no, no not at all," she said, "I just didn't know."

He still seemed embarrassed. Alec grabbed his glasses and shoved them back on his face, going to grab his work again. But Y/N felt bad, she certainly hadn't meant it like that, she would never shame him for something in the bedroom. She just wanted to know. And she found it very sweet that he found her so attractive. It made her feel sexy.

With a gentle touch she made him set his paper down. He looked with wide eyes. Y/N moved with slow, deliberate movements so Alec could take the time to digest it all. She carefully climbed onto his chair until her thighs were straddling him in his seat, though she hovered above him. She could see his adam's apple bob up and down as she placed her weight on him, leaning forward to take his glasses off. They were so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. She smiled, "hi."

His large hands came to rest on her thighs almost instinctively, squeezing the flesh there. From under her, she could feel the hard length of his cock pressing against his pants. It made her rock her hips just slightly to meet it. He let out a hiss, grip tightening. She quite liked him holding her there, the way he ran his hands down the length of her thighs with a tight grip. He cherished them.

"Y/N..." he murmured, eyes half shut as he lifted a hand to cup her jaw. She leaned in and captured his lips with her own, exploring the kiss and grinding against his hips as he branded her with his touch. She always loved the feeling of his kisses, the way he fell into her touch like it was instinctual. His jaw was always delightfully scratchy and she loved to run her fingers along his beard.

When they broke and their foreheads fell against each other, each gasping for breath, he spoke softly. "Darling.. I have a request."

Alec didn't often ask for much in the bedroom. Y/N certainly wasn't trying to prevent him, he just tended to stay quiet. So she pressed a soft kiss to his scratchy beard and nodded for him to continue. He swallowed nervously before continuing, "I've this fantasy. I've only had it for you."

Alec got embarrassed sometimes when talking about sex. Oh sure, he was great during the act. But he always treated any fantasies or ideas as something stupid and silly. But Y/N didn't think that, she wanted to make it pleasurable for the both of them. If he was willing to do things for her, then she would be willing to do things for him. In a voice that came out far huskier than she intended, she said, "I want to hear it."

"I, I want you to sit on my face."

Her eyebrows shot up and she pulled away to look at him, to check that was what he wanted. His flush got darker and he tried to turn away, but she grabbed his face before he could. The corner of her mouth quirked up, "Alec Hardy, even in your fantasies you want to go down on me. Are you sure that's what you want?"

He nodded vigorously, his gaze intense. She nodded an affirmation and got off, offering a hand for him to take as she guided him into the bedroom. "Tell me where you want us."

Alec nodded. He began to take off his clothing, tossing them on the chair in the corner. Then he got onto the bed near the headboard and told you to strip as well. Here came the part he got excited about, even if excited for Alec meant a pair of wild eyebrows lifted high.

Now naked, Y/N went from the edge of the bed and crawled up to him, showing off her assets. He took a deep shaking breath. She situated herself so her cunt was right above Alec's head, thighs already shaking slightly but she was determined to stay above. Then she felt his hands grab at the back of her thighs, pulling her down.

"Alec!" She squealed, "I can't! What if I hurt you?"

"Hurt you?" He asked in an incredulous way, as though the thought was the furthest thing from his mind. "How could you hurt me?"

"My weight on you.."

He answered what he believed to be a silly question with a silly answer, and dragged her down squarely on his mouth. She laughed a little as she settled, but his hot tongue on her clit was enough to distract her to silence. Well, not silence, but certainly not laughter.

This was a sensation unlike any she'd had. Alec had gone down on her before and it was bloody fantastic, she always left panting and delirious with pleasure. But this seemed to open a whole new wave of sensations. He came into it with a crazed intensity, yearning to taste every part of her he could. His touch was everywhere, hot as it skimmed over her skin and seared her. His lips were plush as they parted to let his tongue slide along her folds, tasting her. That delightful beard was going to cause a rash tomorrow morning but she didn't care as she rocked her hips to meet his tongue's ministrations.

She tasted like sweat and sex and everything good in the world, if he could bottle it up he would. Though in the back of his mind he knew Y/N worried about crushing him with her weight, it was that sensation of being fully engulfed by her that he was so attracted to. Those burning thighs were right by his head, holding him there and clenching with each stroke of pleasure. He held onto them tightly, letting her know just how much he enjoyed it. It was better than just regular oral, it was deeper and intimate. One look up at her was enough to make him shudder and hold her tighter. She looked like a goddess, head thrown back with those raspy little moans pouring from her. Her breasts heaved on her chest, begging to be touched. If he died then and there, with the image of her above him, he'd die a very happy man.

Y/N gasped his name over and over, rolling her hips and meeting his expert tongue. He was everywhere, scorching all of her. Alec’s touch was making her dizzy with pleasure and if she wasn’t careful she’d never leave her spot here. That coil inside of her started to tighten, twisting as tingles were sent all throughout her body. She could feel her orgasm coming, tightening and tightening until with a sobbing gasp she came on Alec Hardy’s tongue.

He never stopped for one second, just lapping at her oversensitive clit until he could feel her coming down from her high. Then he adjusted, helping guide her down his body so he was sitting and she was straddling him. She melted against his chest, head in the crook between his shoulder and neck, breaths uneven.

“Oh my god,” she said finally.

Alec kissed her forehead and rubbed her back, “thank you, darling.”

She gave him a thumbs up, “you tell me all your fantasies, love, because holy fuck.”

Alec nodded, “duly noted.”

“Shut up,” she said, burying her face deeper into him with a smile.

#broadchurch #broadchurch fanfiction #i’m happy the 12 of you who read broadchurch fics will enjoy this #alec hardy #alec hardy x reader #alec hardy fanfic #Alec Hardy is shy and bad at asking for what he wants #but we love him anyway #no beta we die like danny #damn that’s harsh #fanfic #shenandoah I long to stop Becca from reading this fic #no one will get that reference but them and if you do get it I swear you do not know me in real life #I don’t exist I am a figment of your imagination like Alec’s mental health #we don’t exist

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narcjsistx · 3 months ago

Text

— 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓 | Reo Mikage

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 4.9k (4964)

𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄: fluff / angst

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓: dreams that always seemed achievable don't always remain so. pro!player Reo Mikage, adult AU. mention of death, guns, suicide (not described and not heavy to read)

The air is tense, the whole stadium doesn't even dare to breathe. The few who speak do so to pray, pray that that damned goal enters the net and thus marks the team's victory. The most audible noise is that of football boots running on the green lawn, and of the hits the ball receives in the shooting area. Everyone trembles, even the security or cleaning workers who stopped only to witness the possible victory or defeat

The ball flies into the air, a member of the enemy team tries to catch it but it is promptly passed back by a teammate. Even the smallest second counts in matters like these, so all enemy defenders try to regain possession of the ball as quickly as possible. It's a matter of less than a second when someone emerges from midfield, shoes tightly tightened and a blue uniform dressed with honour

With a sharp kick, the ball ends up in the net without even giving the goalkeeper the chance to realize which direction it is coming from

The stadium explodes, the screams become even too loud for the human ear to bear. The winning team cries, everyone throws themselves on the person who kicked the winning goal: Reo Mikage, Japan striker and soon to be your future husband

You join in the screams, and the tears you had contained until then pour out like a raging river. Sitting in the stands dedicated to the players' families, you hug the jacket with the visible writing "Mikage #1 Fan" that you had taken off due to the heat. You look up at the field again and find your boyfriend's soft eyes staring at you: he looks at you in a special way, but with a look that is much more proud than any other time. His irises scream "Did you see? You're happy? Are you proud?" and you can't help but let out a nervous laugh as you wipe away your tears

From the large screen placed in front of you, Reo's goal is broadcast again, and immediately afterwards, a recording of your reaction is accompanied. You die of embarrassment, but after years of being his girlfriend you're used to things like this. While the cameras are still filming you and the screams are continuing, you come down from the stands quickly putting on your jacket; you jump the steps that separate you from the pitch and even before you get close to the net you find yourself in the arms of Reo, who has escaped from his teammates to run to you

You hold him tightly to you, while he surrounds your waist with his body now all wet with sweat. The purple hair plastered to his forehead and his still slightly short breath make him so damn cute that you're surprised not to find any small or hidden imperfections in him. Even after being engaded to him for 10 years, every day you fall in love with Reo Mikage again

"You were very good" you whisper, remaining hugged to him, feeling his body trembling with emotion "Really very good" you say, breaking away from his embrace, while he holds you close to him, placing his hands on your hips. You dry your tears laughing, but he moves your hand away and with a thumb he wipes away the last tears at the edge of your eyes "It's thanks to you. Knowing that you were here only gave me determination" he says, wiping away the last tear, to then place a sweet kiss on your forehead

"REOOOOOO" shouts one of his teammates, who motions for him to come to the center of the field where they are opening some sparkling wines. You laugh at the emotional faces of his colleagues, however you notice a bit of dissent on his face "What's bothering you now?" you ask, and he pulls you into another hug "I want to stay here with you" he sighs, and even though you want this too, you know he has to celebrate because he won a really important match "Don't worry. I'll wait for you here" you say caressing him sweaty hair, and even though he doesn't seem to agree, he accepts. You break away from the hug, but before you can even turn around he pulls you by the wrist and, placing his hand halfway down your back, kisses you. The stadium erupts into another roar, and the image of the hottest couple of the moment is broadcast on the arena's big screen

You place your free hands on his cheeks, smiling as he presses his lips to yours. He breaks away shortly after and without saying a word, he runs away with his teammate. You remain enchanted by the kiss for a few more seconds, but you immediately compose yourself, and with a feeling of lightness, you step aside a little. You enjoy his happiness from afar, the emotion that lives in him as he lifts the cup while he is at the center of his team, who celebrate him like never before. Today's match was particularly complicated, fortunately ending with a 6-5 after almost the entire second half of the game was characterized by yellow cards. Today's match brings home an old trophy that Japan hadn't won for 27 years, but thanks to your boyfriend, can once again say it's Japanese property

The players enjoy moments of happiness after 90 minutes, including 2 extra minutes, of pure agony. Immediately someone is picked up by journalists for the usual interviews, but a large part rushes towards Reo with microphones and cameras ready to record his words. You understand that at the moment you can't be with him because he will surely have to have some interviews, so you decide to take his bag from the side of the field and stand at the end of the crowd of journalists, who otherwise will crush you

"Anxious?" asks a voice you recognize well "Enough. You? You just won a game, Nagi" you say turning, where you find your boyfriend's best friend, who seems to have escaped from the journalists "Nothing overly exciting. I just sweated more than expected" he says doing a few close to you, taking Mikage's bag "I'll bring it to him when we go to the locker room, don't worry" he says, knowing you can't say no "Thank you, and above all... you were very good too" you say crossing arms, finally with free hands. The boy shrugs, then continues straight where a line of journalists begins to follow him. You giggle at the scene, and before you can notice, Reo steps forward into the crowd of reporters only to pull you by the wrist and make you come with him “What do you want to do?” you ask entering the crowd of people, who however let you pass quite a bit "My wife can participate in the interviews, right?" he says giving you a determined look, and your heart skips a beat at that moment

Reo had proposed to you about six months ago, and at the end of this month, you would have become husband and wife. You had been together since he was 19 and you were 18, having met thanks to Ego's strange experiment: you worked as Anri's assistant, and more than a few times you had happened to sneak from the control room to some training camp. You once came across a former teammate of his in training, who, seeing a woman after months of "prisoner" inside the Blue Lock, had had a rather excessive reaction. Hearing your screams as you ran into the training field while escaping from the boy who proclaimed a kiss, someone had decided to check what was happening: that someone was Reo

Reo had more or less calmed down his teammate, giving you the option to lock yourself in one of the locker rooms for protection. Once the boy left, Mikage came to the locker room to check on your condition and, despite knowing that it was not legal for you to be there, he asked Anri and Ego to have you checked by a doctor to make sure that you were okay. That was your first meeting 11 years ago, and throughout his stay at the Blue Lock facility, you communicated through letters you hid in the cafeteria. Knowing that you certainly couldn't meet him, you had hidden a letter of thanks in the tray that you knew would end up with him. A few days later, while cleaning the cafeteria under Anri's orders, you found a reply letter from him, hidden in the empty rice bowl. You had sent a letter again, hiding it in the tray, and he had replied to you again. This has been your method of communication for over two years, until his exit by elimination

From the first letter, you had started rooting for him in every match, and maybe for you it was even love at first sight. Reo was one of the last to leave the Blue Lock, but he was practically immediately taken into an equally strong Japan team, and then with a bit of luck, he still managed to join the official Japan team at the end. As soon as he left the facility, you introduced yourself to him, and after not even a few months of knowing each other, he was actually the one who asked you to be his girlfriend. You had been together for 10 years now and every day you were grateful that you had the chance to be with such a fabulous guy. You had met his parents almost immediately, and you were quite surprised to find out about his family's heritage, which Reo didn't show off out

Together, you arrive in front of the journalist's cameras, who welcomes both of you with a light smile. "What were we saying?" says the boy, holding you close, putting his arm around your shoulders "Oh, we were talking about the match. The goal was decisive for the team's victory, and the fact that it was scored by you, who at the moment is one of the most loved and followed, it makes the fans crazy about you" says the man holding the microphone "Even for me it is unthinkable to have made the winning move for such an important match, but I had already thought of having to do it today to dedicate it to her. The goal is for Japan, but above all for my wife" he says in one breath, and the cameras get closer and closer. The journalist bursts into genuine laughter, while your cheeks get a little redder at his words "Prove your power to your wife, huh? But if I'm not mistaken, your wedding is still a few days away" says the man, and Reo nods "The wedding will be on the 28th of this month, but I have considered Y/n my wife for a long time already. The wedding is just an excuse to see her in the white dress" he says jokingly, and everyone bursts in a laugh, including you "I understand. So we can already call you Y/n Mikage, miss?" the man says, shifting his attention to you "Oh, if you want to, do it. It pleases me enormously" you nod, and Reo kisses your hair delicately, and you can already imagine the myriad of edits you will see when scrolling through Tiktok or Instagram of this scene

"Well, I don't know what else to say other than to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding. Are there any other plans in mind, work or personal?" the journalist asks, and at the same moment you and Reo turn to look at each other, a little thoughtful "Work... I think I'll continue with the Japanese team, I struggled to get into the team and above all I can't abandon my best friend and the other teammates alone... personal, in addition to marriage..." Reo says not really wanting to answer the question "We will have a family. We would like to have two or three children" you say answering the question. You know well that Reo didn't want to answer because neither of you had decided to tell the world, because you had talked about the 'children' issue relatively recently but you both agreed with the idea of having them immediately after marriage "What she said" Reo says sighing, but with a smile on his face

The journalist nods, thanks for the time dedicated and leaves room for others, who would only like to have the same answers you gave to the man "Can you do me a favor? Can you waiting for me in front of the locker room? I should take a while and I know you won't particularly love answering the questions they ask you" he says while another journalist positions himself in front of you, with the microphone ready "Sure, see you there" you say, stepping aside, and you mentally thank him since sooner or later some journalist will ask you he would ask some strange question, as has already happened in some interviews where you appeared at the request of the television stations

Once you arrive at the door, you wait there for about twenty minutes. Some teammates start to enter, greeting you because they know you anyway. Nagi arrives after a while, with Reo's bag "He's still finishing the interviews, he told me it will take a while longer. Do you need a ride home?" the boy asks before entering the locker room "I want to wait for him, maybe I'll sit in the stadium cafeteria" you say shaking your hand, greeting him. Nagi nods and enters the room, and soon after, the rest of the players leave, and you hear them talking about a certain dinner

About another hour passes before you see Reo pop into the hallway. “Still here?” he asks, seeing you from afar, motioning for you to enter the locker room with him because he's the only one who still has to change "I waited" you say nodding, sitting on the central bench of the room, while your boyfriend opens his locker "It was more tiring answering everyone's questions rather than winning the game..." he says sighing, taking off his player t-shirt filled of sweat "I suspected it. Did they ask you any particular questions?" you ask as you see him grab a change of underwear, before also taking off his shorts and his underwear; although naked, you've seen him so many times that you're no longer surprised "Oh, one about marriage. They asked me if I forced you to marry me just to maintain a homosexual relationship with Nagi" he says rolling his eyes, entering the showers of the changing room. You burst out laughing at his answer, trying to avoid the tears caused by laughter "With Nagi? You should collaborate less on the field, then" you say passing him the bubble bath

"Ugh, don't make me think. When they asked me that question I didn't know whether to slap the reporter or not. Hell, I'm getting married in less than two weeks!" he says annoyed, pointing to the shampoo "These are questions made specifically to create hype, don't worry" you say passing him the shampoo, which he passes through his purple hair "Tired?" you ask, seeing him wash himself. “A little. But I think I have plans tonight, or rather, we have” he says, water splashing on him "What do you mean?” you ask in surprise "The team was talking about a possible dinner at a restaurant to celebrate the victory. Players and girlfriends included" he says turning off the shower jet on his hair to rinse it "Oh! I understand, some of them were talking about it when they came out of the locker room" you say remembering the boys who were talking about it earlier "I would like not to go and spend the evening at home, possibly in bed, but my father finances that restaurant... I think we have to go" he says sighing, wrapping a towel around his waist before getting out of the shower

"Okay. Do you know what time?" you ask crossing your legs “I think 10pm” you say as he dries himself off grabbing another towel. Reo puts on his underwear, his hair still a little wet and his chest clean and smelling good. You smile at him, motioning for him to sit on the bench "Rest a bit. I'll take care of the hair" you say, getting up, taking the hairdryer from the locker room, which you pass through your boyfriend's hair as soon as it's turned on. Reo relaxes as you run your hand through his hair, the warm air drying it quickly and making the room slightly warmer. You comb them delicately, and then put them in the little ponytail that he usually always wear

"Thank you" he says when he sees through the mirror of the room that you have done "You're welcome!" you say, leaving a kiss on his cheek. Before you can even break the closeness, he places his arm around your waist, holding you close to him; you place your hands on his bare chest and feel him relax a little as he hugs you "I can't wait for the wedding day" he whispers close to your ear, tightening his grip "The idea of seeing you shine in your wedding dress, I can't get her out of my head. I've always been annoyed by crying in front of others but I think that day I'll care less than nothing" he says, leaving a few kisses on your neck, not in a lustful way, but rather in an affectionate way. You wrap your hands around his neck and let your bodies touch "Bride of the Mikage heir... I'll take your surname too, how strange" you say resting your forehead on his shoulder, with his chest heaving he lowers and raises slowly "Y/n Mikage. I could die, once everything is official" the boy says, and a small laugh spontaneously escapes your lips "And yet it will happen soon. What we have been planning since we got together so many years ago is about to happen" you say enjoying the contact with your future husband. This time Reo is the one chuckling, as he breaks away for a few moments just to look at your face "I may not be the strongest attacker in the world, but I think I won in another way" he says, and you look at him fascinated, affectionately throwing him a cheek "You are also the strongest striker in the world!" you say scolding him ironically, and both of you can't help but laugh

A few hours pass before you both find yourself at the entrance of the luxurious restaurant, chosen by the team coach. You shine in your long pearly white dress, adorned with a fur of the same color. Arm in arm with you is obviously Reo, who instead opted for a black suit. A crowd of photographers and more journalists fills the sides of the restaurant avenue, creating a crowd with also several fans. Reo greets everyone and more than a few people ask for his autograph, which he signs extremely quickly. Some fans greet you too, and you happily return the greeting: fortunately, Reo's fanbase loves you, or rather, loves your couple. You are trending on any app due to the news of the wedding, and every day you are happy to see the positive comments on social media under the posts dedicated to Reo's career, to you, or to your couple

The restaurant is one you already know because of Mikage's father, who let you dine in there, knowing the owner, for some dates or family reunion that you also attended. An entire room, larger than the house you used to live in before living with Reo, was taken over solely to hold all the players and their partners. You know some of the girlfriends of Reo's other colleagues, that you greet with a wave of the hand or by talking to those with you have familiar. Everyone present sits at the seats placed along the entire table, and you end up between Reo's seat and that of Honna, a girl wherewith you have a good relationship

The dinner proceeds peacefully, filled with the various toasts that the table makes for the team's upcoming victories. One topic that often comes up is your marriage, and both you and Reo are a little embarrassed to have to answer all the questions, but you know that people ask them with good intentions and not with malice

The evening drags on, and it's already past one in the morning when, by chance, you see some waiters passing by your table with some security guards. You're a little perplexed, and Reo seems to notice. "Did something happen?" he asks, leaning towards you a little more "I don't know. It's strange that some security guards passed..." you say thoughtfully, seeing how some of them have just closed the door of the room where you are. Reo turns around, also noticing the strange movement "I noticed" he says, returning to look at the movement near the door "Wait here" he says, and then asks Nagi and another teammate to get up with him. You watch him get up with the two boys, and with a slow pace they approach the door, where a couple of waiters have positioned themselves. You try to reassure yourself that it's just your stupid paranoia, so you calmly go back to the topic you were talking about with Honna. You spend more than 5 minutes talking, but Reo doesn't seem to come back: you turn around and he's still talking to the waiters, but why doesn't he come back? What are they talking about that makes the waiter seem so worried?

You apologize to Honna and get up, walking towards your boyfriend. The closer you get, the more you hear words you don't like, but you think they've simply changed the topic. You come up behind Reo, and gently tug at his jacket sleeve to get his attention "Hey" you say, and he turns around; his face looks very worried "Is something happening?" you ask. The boy looks down, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair "There's some problem outside the restaurant, some fans of the opposing team are making a mess..." he says, biting his lips. You look at him a little perplexed "Is it serious? You seem worried" you ask "The police are coming because they suspect he has a weapon, but it wouldn't be anything serious. He can't enter the restaurant with all that security" he says trying to smile, but you understand that he's only doing it so you don't worry "Reo, shouldn't we be leaving? We ask to leave through the back door of the kitchen..." you ask, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around your waist "Don't worry. It's nothing serious, really" he says kissing your forehead

Back at the table, however, your mind is a tangle of thoughts. In a remote corner of your mind, you think that the man's goal is Reo himself: after all, he kicked the decisive and victorious goal, and thanks to him if the enemy team lost. You tell yourself that these are useless worries, but you can't calm down. The dinner continues as if it were nothing, and no one has warned of the man's presence, probably kept secret from the team so as not to trigger unnecessary alarms. You sigh continuously and play nervously with the fabric of the tablecloth, trying to appear calm when you're not even a little. "Darling" he says suddenly grabbing your hand, massaging the palm gently "If you're not calm, let's go. I ask to get a taxi to pass as soon as possible and let's go home" he says as he continues to massage your hand, getting down on the thigh. You nod, and while Reo apologizes to the others for leaving so suddenly, you put your fur coat back on

He takes your wrist loosely, guiding you towards the exit where you know he'll ask to go through the kitchens. You breathe a sigh of relief knowing you're finally leaving, but you hear a window glass shatter. The whole room including you turns towards the main noise, where, scattered between the glass, a man is lying curled up on the floor

Many players and partners stand up, and you feel Reo's grip pushing you a little further behind him, behind his back. Everyone observes the man with a few pieces of glass stuck in his skin, and some waiter rushes towards the unknown person, and before anyone even realizes it, a gun is noticed hidden between his trousers and shirt

“Fuck" Reo says, placing a hand on your head to pull you down. Your breath catches in your throat when you see the weapon, pulling your boyfriend as far as you can under the shelter of a vase “Oh my god” you say panicked, starting to tremble. The man moves all the waiters who go against him, and more than a slight glance at the other players, his attention is completely captured by Reo. The emblem clearly visible on the man's shirt is that of the team that lost today

"Please, hide yourself better near the vase" you say again behind his back, but Reo only dismisses you by keeping an arm around you, keeping you firmly covered "Don't move" he orders you as he tries to hide you. The trembling is also joined by tears, which fall silently due to panic "Reo please listen to me, hide" you say practically begging him, but he doesn't seem to give in "Don't worry, put yourself here" he says, forcing you under the protection of vase. You hold his arm close to you, crying into it “I'm fine" he says, turning away for a second, but it doesn't take long before his body jolts suddenly

A little further away, the man with the gun pointed at your boyfriend, fires the shot. The bullet runs fast, landing precisely against Reo's back. Your boyfriend freezes, moving his pupils towards his chest where the tip of the bullet exits his chest. Your mind stops at the precise moment Reo gasps, and still in shock, his body ends up against yours. You find Reo's head on your shoulder, your chests against each other where you feel your dress quickly getting stained with blood. His blood

“Oh my god...” you say not daring to look down where your boyfriend is “Oh my god...” you say louder as your breathing becomes erratic. You dare to look at your boyfriend for just one second, and it's enough for you to burst into a desperate scream as you try to fix him in front of you. "REO!" you scream holding his cheeks, moving your hands to his shoulders “REO DAMN ANSWER ME” you scream even louder, but his gaze seems completely blank. Your gaze wanders between his face, the wound that's getting bigger and bigger, and the way he's slowly breathing more and more laboriously

You tremble like a wet dog, trying to stay calm because you know it's the only thing you can do at the moment "Reo, please, answer me" you say shaking him slightly, but beyond a light batting of his eyelashes, no reactions come from him. The world falls on you the moment you see his chest swell in a last desperate attempt to breathe. "Reo I'm begging you, give me a sign that you're okay" you say as you observe him, and the more seconds pass, the more you feel that your boyfriend is abandoning you. Out of nowhere a small smile appears on his lips, he closes his eyes and with difficulty moves closer to your ear

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I really do, darling. Thank you for making me so happy when you gave me the chance to be your husband"

Reo utters words before collapsing onto you, with his head on your shoulder. His chest no longer moves and you no longer hear his heart beating

You remain paralyzed, your hands unable to touch his back. You stop breathing the same moment Reo leaves. The heaviness of the world falls on you, and in passing, you momentarily see before you a possible scene that could soon have happened: you and Reo with two wedding rings on your fingers, while you have children around you who laugh and play peacefully

You explode into a desperate scream, calling the name of your now dead husband. You look for signs of life in his face, but what you see is only horrible death; you hold him close, bursting into desperate tears. Everyone is probably watching you, even your lover's killer. The pain you feel in this moment is unlike any in the world: it is a wound that is not yet finished, which is slowly tearing your flesh apart while it enjoys your torment, and you already know that even if it never heals, it will never be completely healable

Morning newspaper: Tokyo Today News - 28/08

Journalist: "Y/n Y/s, girlfriend of the recently deceased Reo Mikage, heir to the Mikage fortune and important player of the Japanese team as a striker, was found dead this morning. The woman left a letter specifying that she took her own life because she has been empty since the day she lost her lover. If they were both alive, they should have gotten married today... line to the studio, stay tuned for the next news"

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kissesforsatoru · 1 year ago

Note

Yandere Ran tying up his virgin girlfriend who never even had a boyfriend and finally agreed to sleep with Ran after waiting for 4 months 👉🏼👈🏼

TIE ME UP, LAY ME DOWN | wc : 3.4k

HAITANI RAN x FEM!READER

₊˚⌗ ran has been so patient. so, so reassuring and attentive with you. he deserves a nice little reward, and you give it to him in the form of fluffy, purple handcuffs.

⤷ cw : NSFW 18+, general yandere themes, thoughts about non-con but no actual non-con, bondage (handcuffs), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, ran has a big dick, dirty talk, virgin! reader, somewhat shy reader turned into a slut, ran is a tease, but so is reader lowkey, praise, he calls you a good girl a few times, use of pet names (baby, pretty girl, sweet thing, and reader calls ran "ran baby"), way too much kissing, not joking guys there's a shit ton of kissing, bad grammar. this is not edited. please let me know if i missed anything.

note : pls pls ignore how bad the layout is on pc, i don't know why it looks like that and i can't figure out how to fix it 😭

ran loves to kiss you.

he loves the feeling of your lips against his, with you shyly following along ‘cause you've never done this shit before. he loves your cute little noises whenever he presses into you a little too aggressively or licks along your lips for you to open up. he loves the feeling of your body under him, the warmth of you and the way you squirm cause the kiss is just too much for you to handle. he especially loves the taste of you. he goes crazy whenever you give him a little passage, parting your pretty lips for him to delve his tongue inside and lap and taste and savor how fucking delicious you are. and god, you’re the most delicious thing ran has ever tasted.

he gets so fucking turned on whenever he kisses you, and it drives him crazy. he's never gotten so hard from a little kissing before, but you– you make him feel like his dick is gonna fall off because of how hard it is.

you never let him go too far though, never let him get past a barely heated make out before you start pushing at his chest and grabbing at his arms that've dipped under your shirt, telling him that you aren't ready.

ran loves you, he's downright crazy about you, really, but he'll really die if he has to shamefully go jack himself off while thinking of all the nasty things he wants to do to you one more time. it’s not good enough; his hand and thoughts can only do so much compared to the real thing that he’s fantasized about plenty. he wants to utterly ruin you, but you just won't let him.

he’s had thoughts in passing to just pretend he doesn’t hear you when you tell him to stop, let himself get lost in you, kiss his way down your body, pin you under him and shove his cock all the way in and fuck you nice and rough. whisper dirty things in your ear and humiliate you till you’re crying as you cream around his cock. but ran knows that you would hate him if he did that, and that kills him. he’s got you right where he wants you, and he refuses to ruin that because he’s horny. abnormally horny, yes, but sex still isn’t worth his relationship with you. he’s worked too damn hard to convince you that he’s not a playboy using you for sex for him to go and do exactly that.

so, whenever you tell him not yet, he pulls away, withdrawals his hands from your godsent body, kisses you sweetly on your forehead and then tells you, it’s okay baby, we can wait as long as you need. even if it’s bullshit and he really can’t fucking wait to have his cock buried deep inside of you, he still says it, reassures you as much as you need. he wants you comfortable with him, wants you to trust him so that he can finally have his way with you sooner than later.

it’s another one of those times where he’s got you pressed under him on the bed and he just can’t get enough of you, licking messily into your mouth and pushing his hands under your shirt to knead your soft, plush skin. you’re whining and squirming, as you always do, trying to kiss him back the best you can, but his kiss is imposing, too needy and too fast for you to really keep up. you’re still pliant though, allowing him to rub his hands on your hips and kiss into you roughly, groaning when you run your hands through his hair and tug gently.

he thinks you’ve come an awful long way from when the two of you first started dating at least. you never used to feel him up or pull him closer, just shyly grab at his shoulders as he kisses you, but now you’ve gotten so bold to tug on his hair when you know how riled up that gets him; it drawls out fluttery moans from him that make you sigh a laugh as you melt even more into the kiss. as much as he loves the feeling though, he hates it when you do that because of how turned on it makes him. you get him all fucked up just to deny him the next second.

he jokes to you all the time about how damn cruel you can be to do that to him, but you always tell him you promise you’ll make it worth his while one of these days. he’s damn set on holding you to that.

“mmh– ran baby, hang on a sec,” you struggle to say through kisses. ran doesn’t pull away still at your protest; he crawls further on top of you, pressing himself against you as he squeezes your hips and keeps placing wet kisses to your mouth. it’s not until you gently push on his shoulders that he groans and finally sits up, looking down at you with a cute little pout.

“’m sorry, just… just hang on a sec,” you say to him as you push yourself up too, panting softly.

“too much? wanna stop already?” he asks you, a disappointed lilt emerging his tone. you shake your head curtly before pushing yourself off the bed. Ran quickly grabs onto your wrists and tugs you back.

“where ya goin’ then, pretty girl?”

“got’ya something. just wait here.”

“give it t’ me later. ‘m not done kissin’ you,” he drawls as he pulls you closer to place kiss you, leaning further towards you to deepen it, but you pull away and push at his hand to let go of your wrist.

“promise i’ll be quick and you’re really gonna like it. we can, uh, kiss some more when i get back,” you scamper out of the room before ran can grab onto you again, hands on your cheeks to feel how warm they are. kissing just gets you so flustered every time, ran does it so sensually and imposingly that it makes you wanna squeal. the warmth in your cheeks only blazes more when you pull out what you got for your boyfriend from the shopping bag, realizing that kissing isn’t the only thing you’ll be doing tonight.

your stomach flutters as you nervously walk back into the room to see ran laying back on the bed. he sits back up and wraps his arms around your waist when you crawl onto his lap, ready to get back to kissing you already, but you hold out a pair of purple, fluffy hand cuffs in front of his face before he can. he takes them from you, looks at them for a second, and then at you with a raised eyebrow.

“baby, what the fuck? what’re these for?”

“saw ‘em in your cart on that porn website when you let me use your computer the other day,” you say looking away from him, “and, uh, i wanna… i wanna try them with you,” you whisper the last part, playing with your fingers to distract yourself from the absolute embarrassment you’re feeling.

“oh yeah?” he smirks, “who knew my sweet little girlfriend was into bondage?”

“ran!” you gasp, smacking his shoulder lightly as you huff angrily, and he laughs.

“what else you wanna do then, baby? you get these just f’me to cuff you or were you hopin’ for somethin’ else to happen too?” he kisses you softly along your shoulder and collarbone, looking up at you through his long, pretty lashes, waiting for you to answer. a fluttery sigh leaves your lips when one of his hands pushes under your shirt and rubs on your hip, while the other rubs on your thigh, dangerously close to your pussy that’s already fluttering in anticipation.

“please don’t make me say it,” you whine, placing your hands gently over his eyes. the way he looks at you jostles all of your feelings and makes your body go haywire—you don’t want him looking at you like that when you’re already so turned on just by the idea of him fucking you tonight. it’s too embarrassing for you to handle.

you squeal when ran suddenly flips the both of you over so you’re now laying under him. he kisses more along your neck and up to behind your ear where he nibbles and licks, drawing out an airy moan from you.

“c’mon, baby, you have t’ say it if you want it,” he coaxes, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away to look down at you. his hands are still on you, distracting you from your racing thoughts.

you gulp thickly, and then, “please, ran,” you shiver feeling his cold fingers graze along your tummy just above the hem of your shorts teasingly, and he smirks lazily down at you. you gulp again, “want you t’ touch me.”

ran gently takes your wrists into his hands and clicks the hand cuffs around them, securing them around your wrist to a comfortable tightness before putting them down back on the bed above your head, “i won’t bind your hands to the bed this time, so just be a good girl and keep your hands there 'til 'm done. if y’ move ‘em, i’ll haf’ta punish you, y’ understand?” you whimper softly as you nod your head and ran promptly grabs at the juncture between your neck and chin, squeezing lightly in warning, “words, pretty girl. need you t' use your words.”

“yes, i understand,” you whisper shyly, jutting out your lip in a pout, but ran only kisses you, whispering praises against your lips for obeying him.

pulling away from you, ran crawls down your body, pushing up your shirt as he does. he takes a handful of one of your boobs before leaning down and placing gentle kisses on your tummy, just above the hem of the spandex shorts you’ve got on. you hum as your stomach flutters whenever his lips graze lightly against a sensitive area. he slowly trails kisses further down, kisses just above your pussy and along your thighs, until finally, he places a drawn-out kiss on your clothed clit.

an airy gasp escapes your lips that quickly turns into a dreamy moan when rans tongue dips out and licks a small stripe over your clit. you get the urge to move your hands already, wanting to grab onto him and threat your fingers through his hair, but you don't; instead, you squirm and huff as he continues to press his tongue into you and lick, now going from your entrance to the very top of your cunt.

you feel him smirk as he kisses your clit on last time before pulling away, "sensitive already and i've barely done shit. you really are a virgin, aren't y' baby?" he teases, and you pout.

"jus' feels good, don't tease me," you huff.

"'m not baby, jus' means 'm the only one that gets to make y' feel good," he hums and then taps on your thigh, "now, lift your legs f'me so i can take off your shorts 'nd panties." you do as he says and he coos good girl as he pulls your clothes off your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor.

your nerves rear up again as he looks down at you, and you have half a mind to close your legs and hide yourself from him, but his hands ar planted firmly on your thighs, keeping your legs open. you watch shyly as he licks his lips and settles himself between your legs, his face right in front of your glistening pussy. you jolt and shiver feeling the warmth of his breath fan across your sensitivity.

"such a pretty pussy, and 'ts all f'me" he whispers, and then his mouth is on you, latching onto your clit and sucking--hard. almost, almost your hands move from where they lay on the bed, be the warning from earlier rings in your mind, making you clasp your hands together and push them into the bed. you know if you move he'll stop eating you out. the pleasure coursing through your body as he laps and sucks and slobbers all over your cunt feels too damn good to give up.

ran wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you further into his mouth, drawing more moans from you. his tongue dips into your entrance for just a second before he pulls it out and drags it between your lips to latch back onto your clit where his tongue swirls around and presses into it. your slick mixed with his spit makes all kinds of disgusting sultry noises that are exaggerated as he slurps up all of your juices.

it's not long before you feel something growing in the pit of your stomach, coiling up tightly until you're pushed over the edge and your hips are convulsing against rans mouth. "ran- shitshitshit," you moan out his name as you close your eyes and allow the pleasure to overtake you, but even as you orgasm ran doesn't pull away; he continues lapping at you lazily, enjoying the way your body jolts whenever his tongue rolls over your clit. he only does pull away when you finally come down and sink into the bed with a sigh.

"you taste so damn good, baby. y' wanna taste?" he asks, pushes himself up and crawls over your limp body to kiss you on your mouth, shoving his tongue inside for you to taste yourself on him. bitter, you think, but your pleasure high spurs you on to kiss him back, whimpering softly into the kiss from how sensitive you are.

when he pulls away, he smirks down at you, "you look so fuckin' lewd right now, you know that pretty girl? never thought i'd see y' like this, but fuck do i love it," he says and you fluster, moving your hands finally to cover your face from him. he clicks his tongue.

"hey, didn't i tell y' not t' move your hands, hm? 'm not done with y' just yet, sweet thing," he drawls, hooking his thumb under the chain of the cuffs to push your hands back against the bed, "gonna fuck this pretty little pussy now, can't wait any longer t' be inside y'," you moan when his free hand cups your pussy and he smirks, sitting up to take off his own clothes. his shirt is already off, he rarely has one on when he's with you cause you like his tattoo, and his sweats come off easily, exposing his long, thick cock to you.

you quickly gain coherency back as you stare at him wide eyes. you knew your boyfriend was big, but not this big. "ran baby, will it fit...? 'ts... big." you say as ran tosses his pants in the same place he threw yours and crawls back over you, gently pushing you back into the bed.

"'course it will, baby. I'll make it fit," he says and hum skeptically. "don't worry, i'll be gentle," he tells you, dipping down to kiss you sweetly on your lips. you feel his cock press against your entrance, and you squeak, trying to pull away to see what he's doing, but he only pushes his mouth harder against yours. he enters you slowly and gets halfway in before he stops pulls away from the kiss.

"holy shit, baby, you're so fuckin' tight," he groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, "you gotta relax or my dick 'll fall off," he tells you, kissing lightly at your neck and rubbing softly on your thigh to ease and soothe you a little bit. you breath softly and try your best to relax, and within a few seconds he gets back to pushing into you until the base of his cock presses into you.

"ohhh," you moan softly as he drags his cock back out and then shoves it back in all the way to the base, and then he does it again and again. his pace starts out slow, but he quickly loses himself in your warmth and fucks you faster and faster with each thrust, your sweet moans of his name and babbles of 'so good, keep goin'' spurring him on more.

ran pulls out of your neck and sits up, one of his hands coming to grab at your hips to guide your body along with his thrusts, while the other gathers your wrists and pins them further into the bed as he fucks into you. the new position allows his cock to stroke deeper inside of you, only coaxing more delicious moans from you that ran eagerly swallows up into a kiss.

"so fuckin' wet f'me," he slurs, pulling away to look between the two at the squelching mess of slick and precum smeared all over the both of you, "shit-hah-y' love my cock that much, pretty girl? y're suckin' me back in ever time i pull out," he grunts out and you swallow hard, nodding eagerly, babbling about how much you adore his cock drilling into you in all of the right ways.

you feel drunk on pleasure, drunk on his cock. the way he fills you all the way up, pushes his cock deep inside of you, stretching your pussy around him, feels so fucking good you can't help but choke on your moans, spilling disgustingly loud from your lips, making you sound like a proper whore from a porn video.

"ran, please," you say between moans, your eyes rolling back at a particularly rough thrust, "keep makin' me feel good, please don't stop- gods, ran, y're so deep," you whine, panting hard as you look up at him in time to see his eyes glaze over with unadulterated lust. his grip on your wrists and hips tightens as he pulls out and plunges back into you again at an angle, hitting a spot that makes you cry out in pleasure.

"fuck- y' sound so fuckin' sexy when y' beg me like that, baby," he all but growls, his head falling back as he groans in pleasure. both of you are panting heavily, but the noises are easily drowned out by the slap of skin against skin, and the nasty slosh of all of sweat and sex; it's downright nasty, but the pleasure you feel is too good, too mind fogging for you to really give a shit about what kind of noises the two of you are making.

"ah-shit, 'm gonna cum soon," he tells you, voice straining, "y' gonna cum too, baby? y' wanna cum f'me?" he asks, leaning back down into your neck to inhale your delicious scent as he humps messily into you, grinding his hips on yours to create even more stimulation. he lets go of both your wrists and hips to push hus arms under you and wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him into a tight hug as he continues jutting into you.

"fuck, yes, ‘m cumming!" you moan, feeling your walls tighten around his cock. you wrap your legs around his waist as your body begins to writhe, and you orgasm for the second time that night, your body jolting every time his hips rub into your sensitive, worn clit.

as you come down from your high, your pussy pulsates around him and he grunts, quickly letting you go and pulling out to cum hotly on your stomach. you hum and flutter your eyes as you watch him fists his cock, milking it of every last drop of cum. when he's done, he sighs and falls back into you, uncaring of the sticky mess between the two of you.

"god, knew y'd feel good, but shit, i don't think i've cum so hard in my life," he says, still breathing heavily against your warm and tingling skin. you bring your cuffed hands up to stroke his head gently, soothing him for all of his hard work at making you feel good.

"ran baby, can you please take these handcuffs off me before you get comfortable and fall asleep?" you ask him and he shifts to look at you, smirking.

"mm, i dunno, baby, i kinda like you all bound for me. you'll have t' beg me t' take 'em off," he says, and you gasp, smacking him lightly on the shoulder, drawing out a raspy laugh from him as he pushes himself up to take off the cuffs.

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formulaforza · 1 year ago

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miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—07. Homegrown —word count: 15.8k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... I don't really have much to say lol... just that I love this chapter and it got a little out of hand. I hope you love it like I do!

Chris takes a personal day at work on the Thursday Charles gets into Georgia. She wants to make sure she’s the one picking him up from the airport, doesn’t want to spend a single second longer than she needs to without seeing him, hugging him, kissing him.

His flight lands at 10:15, but by the time he gets through customs, baggage, and calls Chris three times after getting lost in the Atlanta airport, it’s 11:30. She finally finds him outside the Maynard Terminal, backpack slung over his shoulders, suitcase next to him. He looks so perfectly like a boyfriend, she thinks. “I can see you,” she says. “Do you see my car?”

“No,” he laughs, and it pours from the car speakers like sweet honey. “I don’t.”

“Okay, well, stay put, then. I’m coming to you.” She manages to make her way across two lanes to be right on the curb, and then he spots her, his whole expression taking shape when their eyes lock. She rolls her window down as he approaches, and slots the car into park. “Oh my god,” she giggles. “Is that Charles Leclerc?”

He rolls his eyes. “Open the trunk?”

“Charles Leclerc wants me to open the trunk?” She says, pushing the button on her door-panel to pop the hatch open.

“Charles Leclerc wants you,” he says, hoisting his suitcase up into the back of the car, tossing his backpack there, too. “Could have stopped there,” he chuckles, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. She blushes, a cheek-aching smile still on her face. He slams the trunk shut and makes his way around the car, opening the passenger door. “Hi, pretty girl,” he properly greets her. “What’s this?” He asks.

Sitting there, on the passenger seat, is a bouquet of flowers. Red roses, white roses, and white carnations for passion, new romance, and luck. Filler greens and red estelles for encouragement. Manilla and sheer white tissue paper wrap the flowers, a dark red ribbon tied into a bow around the stems. Next to it, is a matching envelope with his name scribbled in purple pen. Inside the envelope is a white greeting card with “just because” printed in simple, black lettering, a handwritten note from Chris on the inside.

Chris smiles. “They’re for you.”

“For me?” He asks, the hint of a giggle in his tone. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Chris shrugs, watches him carefully pick up the flowers and the card and climb into the car where he further examines them. “It’s not a big deal,” she says, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “I had to go with Hannah to the florist this morning.”

“No, it’s so cool. Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before.”

Chris frowns. “Never?”

“I mean,” he shrugs, “my mum once, but that doesn’t count,” and then he starts to open the envelope, but Chris stops him.

“No, please,” she says, her hand covering his. “I can’t watch you read it, I’ll die.”

He laughs, “you’re so cute.”

Her face stays straight and solemn. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” he sets the flowers and the card down securely between his feet. “I’ll wait.”

“Thank you.”

Chris can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. God, she feels like such a child. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to kiss you, now.”

“Okay,” she giggles. “You’re going to kiss me, now.”

His lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss. It’s like they hadn’t been apart at all, the way their mouths perfectly fit together. His hand finds her cheek, thumb moving carefully over her skin, letting her deepen the kiss. They let themselves just be for a few moments, to let everything else fade away and cling onto their perfect moment. “Seriously,” he says when they pull apart, and then he gives her another quick peck. “Thank you,” and then another on her forehead. “I missed you. How are you?”

“I’m good,” she nods. “Hungry. Very hungry. How are you?”

“Hungry, also.”

“How hungry?”

“Very.”

Chris nods, kisses him again, just because she can. Because she couldn’t for so many days. “I know a place, but it’s a surprise.”

It’s a twenty-three minute drive to Pig’n’Chik Barbeque in Northern Atlanta. Charles is visibly apprehensive of the little red building and the parking lot filled with the aroma of southern barbeque, but he keeps his commentary to himself. Chris knows it’s probably a little overkill, the hole-in-the wall joint being even a little too gimmicky for her taste, but that’s the whole point. The place is supposed to be gimmicky, while also being good. Chris used to love this place as a little kid—Bill would always take the kids there whenever they’d gone to the city. It was his favorite place then, and so it will always hold a place in her heart.

Charles holds open the door, a bell attached to it announcing their entrance, eliciting a greeting from the staff, a “Hey, guys! How’re you doing?”

“Good, thank you,” Chris smiles, moving through the restaurant towards the diner-style bar at the back. She holds her hand out behind her for Charles, turns to tell him: “You might not have been able to get a seat at your sushi bar, but I can get us up at the Pig’n’Chik bar,” she laughs.

Charles matches her laugh, a playful eye roll and the shake of his head before they’re sitting down on the red leather barstools.

She’s telling him before they even have the menus in front of them what they need to order; fried pickles to split, lemonade to drink because it’s not pig’n’chik without their lemonade. She’s going to order the shrimp and grits and he absolutely needs to have the catfish.

When he cocks his head at the idea of… eating… catfish… she tells him he’s not allowed to look it up, and that he also has to trust her. “It’s the best thing on the menu,” she says.

Charles quirks a brow. “Then why aren’t you eating it?”

“Because the hushpuppies will kill me,” she answers matter-of-factly. “Honestly, you probably shouldn’t eat them, either.” The grease that comes along with eating a deep-fried batter ball isn’t good for anyone’s system, especially not someone who isn’t used to this kind of food. The last thing she needs this weekend is a boyfriend who can’t be more than three feet from a bathroom.

It’s an hour and a half, at least, until they’re pulling into what Chris affectionately calls her “driveway.” Charles thinks that anyone else would more likely call it a dirt road. A trail, even, that turns into a driveway after the trees clear and you can actually see the house.

“This is all yours?” he asks, swears her yard is the size of his apartment lobby.

She nods. “I mean, it’s mostly trees, but, yeah.”

He’s taken on a tour of the old-style farmhouse, which, by the way, is so incredibly her you’d think the place was built for her—lots of beadboard, all this delicate woodworking that a FaceTime call has never been able to do justice. Thick glass windows with the frame painted over, no central heating or cooling, a couple window air conditioners and old radiators to boot. The most like her, though, is the back porch. It’s screened in, has a creek to the floor that the dusty, antique rugs can only attempt to muffle. There’s two couches that couldn’t match less, but still somehow go with each other, both cozy with throw pillows and cushions and warmth. The whole place smells like her, sounds like her, feels like her. He’s immediately comfortable.

Chris and Charles spend most of their afternoon trying to plan out their evening. Starting tomorrow morning, their weekend is on a strict schedule, so they want to make the most of their free time tonight before their dinner with her family. They want to make the most of it so badly that they can’t decide on anything at all, and end up falling asleep on her living room couch.

When Chris’ alarm goes off—the one she’d set the first time she caught herself dozing off, realizing Charles was already passed out next to her—they grumpily get ready to head over to her parents’ house. It’s then, while Charles navigates around Chris and the countertop of her makeup, that she tells him all about Thanksgiving, about her mom pointing out the hickey, and she offers up a warning. “They’re going to pretend they hate you for like, half an hour,” she tells him. “Pretend you’re intimidated.”

“And…” Charles begins, running gelled fingers through his hair. “What if they actually don’t like me?”

“My mom likes everyone,” she says, gestures away at his words. “And my Dad, well, you’ve already met him. He liked you good enough then.”

“He liked me enough to talk to me for ten minutes,” Charles counters. “That doesn’t mean he liked me enough to date his daughter.”

Chris smiles in the mirror, carefully applying her lipstick. “Lucky for you,” she says, “he doesn’t get a say.”

– – –

His leg bounces for the entirety of the ten-minute drive, so much so that at a stop light he can feel how much he shakes the car. Despite that, he doesn’t realize just how nervous he is until they’re in the driveway—which is just as long and trail-like as Chris’ is. Their house is bigger, though. Much bigger.

His palms are clammy, and he wipes them off on his jeans—should he have worn something nicer than jeans? Jeans are really all he brought besides clothes for the wedding, for sleeping, for working out in. Jeans are fine. Jeans are good. Their driveway is a dirt road, jeans are good.

“Relax,” Chris says, trying (and failing) to hold back a little chuckle. “It’s not that serious.” He rolls his eyes because it quite literally is that serious. You only get one chance to make a first impression on your girlfriend’s parents, and when your girlfriend is as close to their family as Chris is, it’s an impression you’d really rather not screw the fuck up. “And the longer we sit here, the longer they’re going to watch from the kitchen window.”

With a deep breath, he climbs out of the car, walks up the rest of the drive and onto the porch a pace behind Chris. She raises her hand to knock twice, turning the doorknob and letting herself in before anyone could even attempt to answer the knock. He steps in behind her, into a wallpapered entryway with a tall table full of keys and pictures and discarded mail on one side, and a wooden bench with tan throw pillows on the other side. “Mom! Dad! We’re here!” She shouts into the house.

A woman’s voice calls back, “in the kitchen! Dad’s upstairs in the office.”

Chris slips off her shoes and Charles follows suit, slotting them under the wooden bench next to hers. He hadn’t worn a coat, but she ducks into a hall closet to hang hers up. He’d worn a sweatshirt over a t-shirt, and he’s pretty sure he’d already sweat through the t-shirt.

He thinks he could smell his way to the kitchen, the way the scent of the home cooked dinner fills the entire house. He follows behind Chris like a lost puppy into the kitchen, and as soon as she turns the corner and walks through the archway, she’s being greeted by her mom, wrapped into an oven-mitt clad hug. He gets a perfect view of her mom, gaze slotted over Chris’ shoulder. She’s not so scary, he thinks. He can recognize more than one of Chris’ features on her face—in the way she smiles and the shape of her eyes, too. That’s where her smile comes from, and her eyes, too.

Over her shoulder, Chris’ mom opens her eyes, waves a bangle-bracelet clad, oven-mitt covered hand in his direction. Charles steps fully into the kitchen, determined to make a good first impression. “And I take it this,” her mom says, pulling away from the hug, “is the charming gentleman you’ve been telling me nothing about?”

Chris laughs, catching his eyes when she says: “Yes, Mom, this is Charles. Charles, this is my mom, Cindy.”

“Hi,” Charles offers a handshake. His friends had reminded him—briefed him, basically—that Americans are fond of their personal space, and he figures if Chris is right, and they are going to be playing the intimidation game with him, there’s no chance he’s getting anything more than a—

“Oh, please,” Cindy laughs, swatting his hand out of the way. “We hug in this family,” and he’s already being pulled in. His surprised eyes catch Chris’, who looks back at him with an oh, my God. I’m so sorry, glance, which makes him chuckle. If this is what pretending not to like him looks like, he’d hate to see what actually liking him is all about. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he hums, finally pulling away from the hug. “I have heard so much about you.”

“I can’t say the same,” Cindy laughs pointedly at Chris. “But what I have heard has all been good.”

“Well, anything you want to know, I came tonight with my life story ready.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Cindy nods. “Her dad’ll like that a lot.”

“Mama, where’s Beans?” Chris asks, and before he knows it he’s following her out into the backyard for the introduction that he knows is actually the most important. As they stepped onto the lush, green grass, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. In the corner of the yard, the aforementioned Beans, a friendly Golden Retriever, lays beneath the growing shade of an old oak tree. The fur around his snout is a distinguished shade of white, and he looks up with wise, kind eyes as Chris approaches, his tail shaking slowly at her presence.

“Here he is, my Beanie Baby,” Chris says with affectionate enthusiasm, crouching down to stroke the dog’s ears. He follows suit, squatting down beside her. “Beanie, this is Charles.”

Charles approaches cautiously, fully aware of just how important this introduction was. He extends his hand, letting Beans sniff it gently. The elderly Golden accepts the gesture, the pace of his tail wagging picking up speed. “Hey Beans,” Charles said softly, voice warm. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

Beans responds with a content sigh, his old eyes conveying the years of love and happiness he’s had in this very yard. He leans into Charles’ touch, relishing in the attention.

Chris laughs, “I think he likes you. He’s a bit slower these days, but he’s still the sweetest dog you’ll ever meet.”

After much convincing, and the promise (and fulfillment) of several treat bribes, they’re able to convince Beans to come back into the house, where he curls up on his bed with his milkbones.

Chris’ dad, who joins everyone else downstairs ten minutes later, pops into the dining room while Chris and Charles are setting the table. Chris looks up in the direction of his footsteps with that radiant smile, warm eyes, like always. “Hi, Dad,” she says, her voice drenched in affection.

“Mums,” the man smiles softly, greeting her with open arms and a gentle hug.

“You remember Charles,” she says, and he steps forward, leaving the silverware settings on the tablecloth. Charles extends his hand first, is met with Bill’s firm, heavy handshake.

“Mr. Elliott, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” His voice is stiff, polite, but there’s still a touch of earnestness that betrays his nerves. “Thank you for having me, I’ve heard a lot about you and your family.”

“Now, son, if I’m bein’ completely honest with you. I never thought I was gonna see you again after Texas. I wasn’t feelin’ you out the way I should’a been, if you know what I mean?”

Charles nods, even though he thinks he picked up about seventy-five percent of what was said. “Yes, sir.” He thinks he’d probably answer any question thrown his way, if it meant when he left tonight it was in her parents’ good graces.

Her parents, Bill especially, do maintain their intimidating presence for just as long as Chris says they will. Sat at the dinner table with all of them, next to Chris and across from Cindy and Bill, he can’t help but feel the weight of the situation as they all eat.

“So, Charles,” Bill says, wiping his mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of wine. They’re all nursing glasses of wine, even Charles, who despite never having been particularly fond of the drink, was too scared to say no when Cindy offered. He’d glared daggers at Chris to keep her from speaking up. “Monaco, right?”

Charles nods. “That’s right.”

“A racecar driver from the rich and famous’ playground,” Bill continued. His voice is low and inquisitive. “I’m sure you can see why I might be a lil’...” he chuckles, “worried about you.”

Next to him, Chris cocks her head defensively, leans forward in her seat. “What are you trying to imply, Dad?” Charles unconsciously moves his hand to her lower back in an attempt to reassure her silently. He knows why Bill’s asking questions like this, he knows the reputation certain aspects of his life carry with them. It does put a butterfly or two in his stomach that she’s so eager to jump to his defense, though.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just quite the party lifestyle you live, isn’t it, Charles?”

“I don’t know if I would say that,” Charles laughs awkwardly. Chris takes a big sip of her wine, leans back in her chair again. He moves his hand from her back to her leg, where she interlocks it with her own under the table. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll go out with my friends when I’m in town, or we have something to celebrate, but… I’ve honestly become more of a home person these last years.”

Bill raises his brows, takes another bite of his food. “Really?” Charles nods. “That must be difficult, son, all the traveling you do. Alotta’ people in alotta’ cities. How d’ya handle that?”

Charles smiles, fully aware that Bill is just attempting to gauge his character. “It can be lonely at times, but I'm committed to a steady relationship. I like to think I’ve learned to balance my racing career and my personal life.”

“A steady relationship with our daughter.”

Chris squeezes his hand, he squeezes back, smiles softly. “A steady, committed relationship with your daughter, yes.”

Cindy takes a sip of her wine, smiles into the red liquid. She seems satisfied. Bill, not so much. “And what is it that you like most about her?” He asks.

“Dad,” Chris laughs pointedly at her father, a hint of disbelief in the action. “That’s enough.”

“Sorry, Charles,” Cindy interrupts with an awkward chuckle, an attempt to keep the peace before Chris lunges over the table at her dad. Charles isn’t offended by the question, so he wonders if maybe Cindy is apologizing to Chris more than she is to Charles. “He doesn’t mean to come off so investigative. Chris is just our baby, everyone has always looked out for her.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” he nods, takes a bite of food. “As for the question nobody wants you to ask me,” he looks to Bill, remnants of his food still in his mouth. He speaks with the napkin over his lips. “It’s hard to even find a place to start with that, right? I mean, she…” he glances to Chris, finds that she’s already listening to him intently. He smiles, “you are an incredible person,” and he has to look away, because if he keeps going while staring into her brown eyes, he’s going to be as red as a tomato, completely and utterly smitten. “If you really want me to pick something, I guess I would say her kindness, and I’m sure you’re both familiar enough with her heart that I don’t need to ramble on about how lucky I am to have her in my life.”

Chris sinks in her seat, finishes off what’s left of her wine. “Well, now that I’m properly embarrassed for the rest of my life.”

Cindy laughs. “Oh, Chrissy, I haven’t even gotten the baby pictures out yet.” Chris turns to bury herself in Charles’ arm. He can feel how warm her face is through the fabric of his sweatshirt, and it makes him laugh.

“Oh, my God,” she mumbles.

Charles’ ears perk up. “There’s baby pictures?”

Chris nods against his arm. “She’s a scrapbooker.”

He’s so boggled by the way that they can just switch up after that, the way that they stop trying to intimidate him and welcome him with open arms. He thinks that his Mum could never, that she knows within the first thirty seconds of meeting someone if she likes them or not. When it comes to Pascale Leclerc, you’re forever categorized by her first impression. He didn’t tell Chris that, because he didn’t want to worry her more than she already was in her sweats and messy-hair in Abu Dhabi.

After the meal had been cleaned up, the four of them sat comfortably in the living room of Chris’ childhood home. Their home is so nice, so warm and welcoming. He wonders if it’s always been such a comfortable place.

Chris is sprawled out on the corner-seat of the sectional couch, Beans taking up the seat next to her, his head in her lap while she pets him mindlessly. Charles sits on the floor, back to the corner cushion, legs outstretched in front of him under the coffee table. Bill is in the recliner in the corner, working his way through a newspaper crossword puzzle, half-dozing off every ten minutes.

Cindy carries a cardboard box down the stairs, sets it down on the coffee table in the middle of the family room. It’s full to the brim with worn, leather-bound scrapbooks, with Christyn Claire neatly written on the side of the box. She sits down on the floor next to him. Carefully, she pulls one out and gently sets it on the table, brushing the dust off the black leather cover.

Charles watches as she flips open the pages, each one filled with their own vibrant photos, handwritten notes, and little trinkets that tell a story of young Chris. Charles can’t help the smile on his face when he sees the images of her in every stage of life, from a curious toddler with messy, curly pigtails to a teenager with the same smile he can’t get enough of.

Cindy’s eyes sparkle with pride, and she has an anecdote for each and every photo. He’s captivated by it, not just the snapshots, but also the obvious love Cindy carries for her daughter.

“This is Chrissy on the first day of school,” She explained, pointing to a picture of a young girl with a backpack almost as big as herself. “She was so excited to learn, has always been eager to take on new challenges.” Charles nods, hangs onto every word she says. “She’s always been a quick learner, even then.”

Cindy continues to flip through the pages, her and Charles silently sharing in knowing smiles at photos they both know Chris would find particularly embarrassing, making sure she doesn’t catch onto their shared moment from her seat on the couch. Cindy reveals photos from family vacations, birthdays, and school events. Her tales of Chris’ adventures—combined with Chris’ personal renditions added in—make for quite a delightful, and humorous, evening.

“Ah, this one,” Cindy chuckles as she turns the page, revealing a picture of a grinning Chris covered head to toe in colorful paint. “We had an art day in the backyard, and Chrissy decided she'd rather paint herself than the paper.”

He laughed along, felt like he was growing more and more connected to Chris and her family with every shared memory. Part of him wonders if this is still a part of the protective parent act. If it is, it’s definitely doing its job. You can’t be mean to someone when you look at them and imagine the tiny version of them playing dress-up in a princess themed bedroom, or helping wash Dad’s car, or taking a nap at the beach on a mermaid towel. He should get a few baby pictures from his mom, he thinks. To show them to Chris, just so that she isn’t allowed to hurt him.

“She’s always had a big heart,” Cindy said, her smile warm. “Her friends were like extended family,” she continues, pointing out a picture of Chris and several other little children. She points to a blonde, “You’ve met Hannah, right?”

“We’re going there, next, Ma,” Chris interjects.

“Oh, well. This is her when she was five. I think Chris invited her to spend the night for weeks at a time.”

Charles nods, everything he knows about her, the way that she makes friends with anyone she interacts with, it all tracks, can all be seen in these pictures. He thinks that he could sit on the floor all night and go through every single picture in every single scrapbook, and still wouldn’t have enough, wouldn’t know enough about her.

– – –

They leave the Elliott’s house a little after nine, and the air outside is cooler, now, the day fully transitioned into night. Charles sits in the passenger seat, eyeing Chris’ ability to perfectly maintain a speed two under the limit, and the way that she flipped her brights on everytime another car wasn’t cruising down the road. It seemed like this entire town was half-covered in wooded areas, so he supposes it’s better to keep an eye out for any wild animals. The warmth of the evening experience with her parents still radiates through him, but their conversation is now focused on their next destination; Chase and Hannah’s house.

Chris, in the driver’s seat, is more animated than ever. She was preparing him carefully for the meeting, the anticipation of how her best friend and brother would perceive him hung in the air. She explained on the drive from the airport earlier that day that she’d “promised Hannah she would meet you before the wedding.”

As they rolled to a stop at a red light, Charles cast a quick glance over to her, feeling the weight of her guidance. “What should I know about them? Any advice on how to impress them?”

“Gosh,” she’d said, “I don’t know. Hannah’s easy. Chase is weird, but, just talk about cars or something. He really likes, um,” she pauses. “He races with you… from Australia, I think.”

Charles mulled over the comment, committing it to memory. There’s only one Australian he can think of racing against. “Daniel?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Daniel Ricciardo. He really likes him.”

Charles absorbs the information, realizing that Daniel would serve as an excellent conversation starter about racing. The light turns green, and she checks the intersection for a comically long amount of time before proceeding. He does everything he can not to laugh, and is hit with a sudden wave of gratitude towards the way he’s been wholly and completely welcomed into her life like this. The night of endless nerves aside, the excitement of learning all the chapters of her life that predate him is something he isn’t going to take for granted.

– – –

They arrive at Chase and Hannah’s house for a relatively relaxed night in, greeted by the warm glow of a bonfire crackling in the backyard. The air was filled with the smokey scent of burning wood, and the soft lull of a country song pouring from a speaker.

“Hi!” Hannah calls before the couple is even halfway through the back gate. “Hi, Hi, Hi, oh my gosh!” she squeals, hurrying over to the gate to greet them. “It’s about fucking time,” she adds, pulling Chris into a tight hug. You’d think it was the first time they’d seen each other in weeks, but Charles knew they were together just that morning. “And you,” the blonde continues, “must be Charles. Unlike everyone else around here, I’ve actually heard a lot about you,” she laughs.

He laughs too, accepts her open-arms for a hug. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“William Chase,” Hannah calls to the man standing over the fire, a stoker stick in one hand, a glass beer bottle in the other. His head shoots up from the embers when he’s called. He holds his beer up as a welcoming gesture, but Hannah isn’t satisfied. “Get over here!”

He meets them halfway through the yard, in a part that’s unlit by either the house lights or the glow of the fire. “Hey,” Chase says with a relaxed smile, pulling Chris into a side hug, and then approaching Charles with an outstretched hand. “You must be Charles,” he says, the two exchanging a laid-back handshake before pulling each other into a bro-hug. “It’s good to meet you, man. You want a beer or something?”

“I can get it myself,” Charles assures, “just tell me where they are.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hannah scoffs, “You’re a guest,” she insists, and it is already halfway up the steps of the back porch. “You want one, too, Chris?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Chris smiles, her hand finding his in the space between their bodies, interlocking their fingers and pulling him over to the fire Chase has already returned to.

Chris and Charles find a cozy spot on the porch swing that sits in front of the firepit, a shared bench that seemed to be the ideal medium between two chairs and sitting on top of each other, perfect for family introductions. They sit side by side, thighs brushing against each other, his arm around her nursing his beer. Charles keeps the swing moving with his feet, but Chris has one leg crossed over the other, the base of her beer bottle leaving a darkened ring of condensation on her jeans everytime she picks it up.

“You want another one, Chris?” Chase asks, shaking his empty beer bottle by its neck when he heads back inside for another round, and per Hannah’s request, to check on Reid.

“I’m okay,” Chris smiles. She’s turned fully sideways, now, her back resting against his shoulder, both legs off the ground and onto the other end of the bench. “I’m driving home,” and then she cranes her neck to look at him. “Do you want another?”

“No,” he says, because he’s pretty sure he can already feel her dozing off while they swing, is almost certain it’s going to end up being him driving back to her place tonight. “Thank you, though,” and then he kisses the top of her head, pulls his arm out from under her body weight to wrap around her front lazily. She adjusts to his adjustment, leans into him and finds a comfortable curve in his chest.

Even among the scent of wood and fresh cut grass and smoke, he’s found himself in the perfect position to smell her hair without even trying. He thinks he’s finally nailed her shampoo, coconut and rose, he’s almost sure of it.

“Mate, Chris was telling me you’re a Daniel Ricciardo fan?” Charles asks, looking for a way to break the ice into a more active conversation, utilizing the very few tools he has at his disposal. Chase and Hannah seem both way lower-stress than Bill and Cindy did, but he'd still like to leave tonight knowing he made a good impression. Or, at least leave knowing he tried his hardest to make one.

“Yeah, man. We actually started racing at COTA in 2020, and Renault and Daniel did this thing with our team, gave me a little good-luck message and stuff. It was real cool. I’ve been a fan of him since.”

Surprised, and trying to find common ground, Charles asks: “Do you follow Formula One?”

“You know, I tried after the whole Daniel thing, but,” he shrugs nonchalantly, takes another swig of his beer and leans back in his seat. “Honestly, all respect, but there’s just nothing quite like the roar of a stock car at Daytona for me. It’s like thunder, man.”

Charles nodded, an eager grin on his face. He doesn’t know much about NASCAR, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t study up on it during the flight over. “The sound of those engines at full throttle must be crazy. It’s V8’s, right?”

“Yeah, V8. What are y’all running? Isn’t it hybrids?”

“Yes,” Charles laughs. “They’re crazy with the engineering. Basically, you have a turbo V6 combined with energy recovery systems… it all helps keep us lightweight.”

“That’s another thing that blows my mind, how light your cars are! I know you pull crazy downforce, but I swear it’s a totally different game on an oval, dude. Our cars are like, thirty-three hundo.”

Charles’ eyes go wide. He knew they were heavier, but that’s like… it’s more than double, he thinks, or has to be close to it “Oh, my God!” He laughs, taking another sip of his beer. Chris chuckles, too—he feels it in his chest. He also feels the nonsensical shapes and patterns that she traces over his sweatshirt sleeve while he talks, the way she seems completely lost in toying with the fabric.

“I know, you guys got fuckin’ feathers compared to us!” Chase gins, joining in on the laughter.

Charles leans forwards a bit, and when he does it, Chris adjusts her positioning. She’s somehow managed to slide gracefully down until she was curled up on the wooden bench, resting on her side with her head on his tights. She’d found a makeshift pillow in his lap, and he couldn’t mind it less. “Yeah, I don’t know,” he says, checking his watch so that when Chris asks him later tonight ‘when did I fall asleep?’ he can give her a proper answer. “We are all about precision, crazy aero packages. It’s not just about speed and downforce, it has to be managed so perfectly.”

“There ain’t no time for precision when you’re wheel-to-wheel at Talladega. It’s all about survival. We’re out there swapping paint and shit. Bumping and drafting are all a part of the game.”

“How crazy is that?” He questions, even though he doesn’t have more than an educated guess as to what drafting is. “The way the air affects your car when you’re always that close?”

“I mean, I guess I don’t notice it all that much because I’m so used to it, but yeah. We’re always pushing the limits, especially in the high-banked ovals. Drafting is both your best friend and your worst enemy.”

“Drafting, mate,” he peruses, taking a shot in the dark when he says: “that’s like getting the slipstream, no?”

“Exactly, yeah,” Chase nods. “All drag reduction shit.”

“It’s crazy, when we’re wheel-to-wheel, we’ll do about anything not to make contact”

“It’s ‘cause your shit weighs ten pounds,” Chase laughs. “It’ll fly away if there’s any contact.”

They go on like that for some time, comparing technicalities. There are few things Charles appreciates more in life than actually getting to sit down and talk racing with someone—true, technical, perfectionist racing. There’s no investigating what the problem with this year’s car is, or what he hopes happens next season. It’s just… how they work. How different formula racing is from stock cars. He feels like this is something he can actually talk about, a conversation he knows he can contribute knowledge to.

“Riveting stuff, boys, really,” Hannah finally interjects, sitting down into her camping chair. Charles hadn’t even noticed she’d left, but here she was popping the bottle cap off another beer, taking a big swig. “You put Chris to sleep and I’m on my fucking way.”

Charles stills, his movements suddenly gentler as he tries to crane his neck to see her face. “She’s asleep?” He asks, half-whispered.

Hannah nods, and Chase chuckles, “Dude, she’s been out cold for like half an hour.”

He smiles down at her, shaking his head, and then checks his watch again. 10:36pm, she didn’t even make it an hour and a half, poor girl. Charles brushes her hair out of her face and carries on with the conversation. His mind is completely absent to the fact that his fingers continue their exploration of her hair, a natural masterpiece of unruly waves. Each strand has its own rhythm, defying any form of order. The curls become even more pronounced as they cascade toward the nape of her neck, dancing freely with the erratic breeze.

At the root of her bangs, there’s a stubborn cowlick, and one side of her face-framing cut has a mind of its own, constantly threatening to tumble into her eyes. Amidst all that delightful chaos, small, intricate braids intermingle with the curls, held together with tiny brown elastics. His touch is reverent as he selects one, playfully twisting it around his finger while he speaks.

With painstaking care, he slides the elastic from the braid, and doesn't miss a beat in conversation with Hannah and Chase as he carefully unravels it. Their words dance in the air around him, and by the time he becomes cognizant of his actions, he’s on the last little braid.

When it’s time to turn in for the evening, when the conversations are more yawns than actual questions, Charles wakes Chris up softly. He runs his hand up and down her upper arm slowly, squeezes her elbow to coax the sleep from her heavy eyes. “Baby,” he hums softly.

Chris stirs with a groan, sits up and stares back at him with empty eyes, like she has no clue what year it is. He bites back a smile at the state of her, raises his brows and waits for her to say something, to scold him grumpily for waking her up. Chris Elliott is a force to be reckoned with when she’s woken up, and it’s something you only have to witness once to be scared of ever seeing again. She doesn’t scold, though.

Instead, a soft smile pulls on the corner of her lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles back. She’s already leaning against the far armrest of the swing, curling up into the corner like she’s going to go back to sleep. She probably will, it’s been far too easy to wake her up. His hand finds her knee, thumb rubbing circles along the denim fabric. “Are you ready to go home?”

She nods, but her eyes are already closed again. Chase is already dousing the fire with water. Hannah’s already inside cleaning up. Charles opts to leave her there, sweet and peaceful, while he collects her things from inside.

It’s the first time he’s been in the house, and it's just as ambient as the backyard is. The warm glow of the dimmed lights accentuate the charm of their modern-farmhouse decor; wooden shelves bathed in the soft radiance, full of potted succulents, framed photographs, and small artworks that offer a glimpse into their lives. Large, strategically placed windows allowed for a gentle cascade of moonlight to slow, making the entire place feel calm and serene.

Chris has been wearing a pair of Hannah’s slippers since she went inside for the first time, so the first thing he looks for is her shoes. He finds them in the entryway, just outside the door, and finds her keys on a small table there, too. Her phone is on the kitchen counter, the purple silicone case practically glowing against the black granite countertops and pristine white cabinetry. In the living room, he notices a little figure lying on the couch—Reid, he assumes, lies nestled under a Cars blanket, a scene of pure childhood innocence set against the backdrop of grown-up sophistication. The entire room excludes warmth, thanks to an oversized gray sofa and a plush rug, all enhanced by the dull LCD of the quiet television and subtle nighttime lighting. Behind a throw pillow on the same couch, he finally uncovers her purse, carefully slipping it out so as to not disturb the sleeping child.

“It’s not worth the fight sometimes,” Hannah explains, but Charles didn’t need one. He remembers the age of begging to have a sleepover on the living room couch, to stay out past his bedtime and watch shows on the big television. It was the highlight of his weekends, sometimes.

“He’s adorable,” Charles says. “I love the blanket.”

Hannah chuckles softly, crossing her arms over each other to hug her small frame. “It’s his favorite movie,” she shrugs. “Wants to be just like his dad.”

He puts all of her things in the car before he even attempts at getting her into the car. Everything is neatly put into a place, her address typed into his GPS by Hannah and plugged into the aux on the radio, and she still sleeps on the swing.

His humor buoyed by the absurdity of the situation, Charles decided to start with the slippers. He gently slid them off her feet, one by one, and handed them over to Chase, who watched on with the bemusement of an audience at a comedy show. With a soft, nearly conspiratorial tone, Charles whispers: “Chris, baby,” planting a tender kiss on her forehead.

In response, she produces a mumbling symphony of incoherent sounds. “That’s not French, mon amour,” he chides playfully, prompting a breathy laugh from her lips. His aim is to keep her here, to prolong that delicate state of semi-sleep where she tattered between slumber and annoyance. “Let’s go home, yes?” he inquired.

Chris, in her hazy state, offered a subtle nod. Charles grinned, heart painfully warm, and said, “Could you help me out?”

In response, she obligingly wraps her arms around his neck, and he effortlessly hoists her into his arms, carrying her in a bridal-style embrace. He guides her to the waiting car with gentle steps, Chase strolling alongside them to open the car door. She stirs when he sets her in the seat, fastening her seatbelt.

Chase shuts the door and the two of them exchange a classic, old-as-time bro-handshake-goodbye, a silent acknowledgement of both their meeting today and their future introductions all weekend long.

It’s not until they’re at her house, the soft purr of the engine falling silent as he properly parked in the driveway, that she’s really awake. Her sleepy eyes flutter open with the automatic cab lights.

He moves swiftly, circling the car quickly to open the door for her. As she grumpily emerges from the car, he gives her an encouraging smile. “Go get ‘em, killer.” he playfully whispers, his hands working against her shoulders. She meets him with a death-glare he could never possibly be afraid of.

Chuckling, he plucks her phone from the passenger seat, locks the car before following her up the driveway.

The journey inside concludes shortly in her room. Chris has an early morning ahead, and a late night, too. Charles marvels at the resilience; doesn’t know how she’ll manage tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. As she settles in under the comforter, he can’t help but watch her for a moment, all sweet and sleepy and beautiful, like always.

Soon enough, the exhaustion creeps up on him, too, and he finally succumbs to sleep’s gentle embrace, entwined with the woman he finds himself cherishing more with what feels like each passing breath.

– – –

He wakes up when the soft chimes of her alarm break through the morning darkness. The dim glow of the clock on the nightstand reads 6:30 am, and it was clear that daylight has yet to pierce the veil of a southern winter outside.

He can’t help but appreciate her attempts to tiptoe through her morning routine. The effort is commendable, really, but the old, creaky wooden floors and the protesting door dram betray her intentions. He doesn’t mind, though—How could he? Any moment with her, even early morning ones where she bustles around the space, is better than a moment without.

Lying in the cozy bed—which, by the way, her bed is so fucking comfortable, he allows himself to fully wake up, knows that her morning rituals would be far more entertaining than any dream he could have cocooned in sleep.

His sleepy gaze watches her as she moves through the bedroom gracefully, her face illuminated by the soft glow of dawn creeping in from the curtains. He smiles at the little sounds and routines that make up her life, the ones he never gets to see, to savor. Watching her move about is a special kind of beauty, one that makes him feel lucky, insanely so, to experience a life with her in it.

Leaving the comfort of the bed, he ventures out into the kitchen. He knew she had an early start, a long day away from him, and he was determined to steal every extra moment they could share.

She’s finishing her lunch, packing it into her backpack when he sneaks up behind her, snaking his arms around her middle and hugging her from behind. “Hi,” she laughs, turning around in his arms to face him properly.

He gives her a kiss and her lips taste like her morning coffee. He marvels at the ease with which she can make someone’s day—make his day.

She grins, and there is a special kind of mischief in her eyes when she playfully warns him: “Promise you won’t get lost in the woods and eaten by a bear today,” she says, and then, because she can’t help but add it, “At least wait until I’m there to witness it.”

With a chuckle, he teases, “I can always outrun you, they say you only have to be faster than the other guy.”

Her laughter bubbles out, filling the room, and his chest, with warmth. “You wouldn’t let me get eaten by a bear,” she replies.

He pauses for a minute, then playfully concedes, “Well, I might.”

“Wouldn’t.”

“Would.”

– – –

After she left work, he found himself helpless in the war against sleep. What was the point if she wasn’t around to keep him up? If nothing was around to keep him up? It was almost eight o’clock before he finally got up for the day, feeling refreshed and ready for yet another evening of introductions.

His breakfast consists of a simple serving of toast, nothing anywhere near extravagant, but enough to stave off his hunger. Not to mention, he’d rather not make a mess in her house with the very first thing he does all day.

After breakfast, he heads out for a run, decides he’s going to try and navigate his way around without getting lost. He fails, miserably, because it seems like everywhere he looks has the same landmarks—trees, trees, and more trees. The cool air is invigorating, though, and the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the pavement keeps his mind clear, gives him a certain appreciation for the fact that he doesn’t have to keep his eyes and ears open for anyone who might be watching him. No, here it’s just him, just Charles. There’s nothing special about it, which is what makes it so fucking special.

Returning home—to her home—he enjoys a shower that washes away the cold sweat of the run. Dressed and ready, he ponders his plans for the rest of his day. It’s hours still until Chris is home and the festivities really kick off.

As if on cue, his phone buzzes, Chase’s name popping up on the Caller ID. Hannah had insisted on him exchanging numbers with both of them the night earlier. Just in case Chris decides to fuck off to another country again without telling us, she’d said.

He answers, listens to Chase’s offer to join in on a round of 9 holes with him and Bill, considers it for only a moment, and accepts enthusiastically. He’s in the passenger seat of Chase’s truck within the half-hour.

“Survived the dragon, I see?” Chase greets Charles with a smile, clearly still amused over the previous night’s encounter.

Charles chuckles. “Just barely.”

– – –

The day was pristine for golf, with a brilliant blue sky overhead and a gentle breeze. Charles has played at some pretty impressive courses around the world, but something about this one felt special. The green really wasn’t all the lush, and the views weren’t outstandingly picturesque, but. But, there was something that felt so special about it.

Bill, the most experienced of them, begins the round with an expertly executed swing that has Charles chuckling under his breath. His ball soars through the air, landing with pinpoint accuracy in the fairway. Chase follows with a powerful drive that seems to only gain momentum as it sails. It gracefully lands not far from Bill’s.

Charles takes his stance, feels a bit like a circus clown amidst his partners, but steadies himself nonetheless. He draws the club back, manages a swing with a surprising degree of finesse. The ball leaps from the tee and manages an astonishingly straight shot that lands in a… respectable position. He’s not too far off Bill and Chase.

Charles would never call himself a golfer, but he’s grateful for Chase and Bill’s attitude—the way they are constantly pretending he’s better than he is, blaming any mistakes (he has a beach full of sand in his shoes from all the traps) on the fact he’s rented his clubs from the course.

As they stroll down the lush, sunlit fairway on one of the holes, Charles decides he’s brave enough to start a conversation, rather than just participate in one. He turns to Chase as he addresses the only topic he can think of. “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh? You’re feeling good?”

Chase grinned, golf club slung casually over his shoulder. “Dude, more than anything. I’ve been trying to marry Hannah for a long time. I’m lucky, you know.”

Bill nodded, “Y’all are all but by now.”

“Anything specific you’re excited for?” Charles questions, can’t help but be curious about the details. “Or just a big ball of excited?”

Chase chuckles. “I’m really looking forward to the ceremony. The moment I see her walking down the aisle, it’s gonna be somethin’ else.”

Charles smiles. He wasn’t expecting such a romantic answer, not given what he’s experienced from Chase up to this point. His answer feels more like something you tell your closest friends, not your little sister’s boyfriend you’d just met for the first time the night before. “How about the holiday? Any special plans?”

Chase’s eyes lit up into a laugh. “Ah, the honeymoon. Yeah, we’re going somewhere… sometime. I don’t know, it’s not at the top of our list of things to get done.”

“All I know, Son,” Bill, whose been quiet for what feels like some time now, offers up some wisdom, “Tomorrow’s gonna be real overwhelmin’, but remember it’s your day. Savor all of it.”

Chase nods in agreement, “Don’t worry, Pops,” he chuckles, pats Bill on the shoulder, “I’ll savor it all.”

“And if you get nervous,” Charles laughs, “feel free to let it mess you up out here,” he says, gesturing to the fairway. The whole trio shares a laugh, but Charles seriously wouldn’t mind if the other two suddenly forgot how to golf.

With Chase excusing himself to meet up with Hannah at the rehearsal dinner venue, Charles is left with just Bill, the pair heading up to the country club’s restaurant for a late lunch. The ambiance inside is refined, and they sit next to big floor-to-ceiling windows that offer views of the manicured greens and vast wooded area they’re situated inside.

As they settle into their table, Charles takes a sip of his water, wiping the condensation from his hand on the side of his pants. He can feel the weight of the conversation that’s likely to follow—there’s no Cindy or Chris around to keep him in check like there was last night.

Bill, cutting right to the chase, speaks in a casual tone. “So, Charles, how’re you finding our little corner of Georgia? I reckon it’s awful different from Monaco.”

Charles smiled, appreciating the comfortability of his voice. Maybe Chris was right, he was getting himself worked up yesterday over nothing. “It’s different, for sure,” he laughs. “Home is home, but there is something about the calmness here, the open space. It’s refreshing. And meeting everyone, it’s been great.”

Bill, who’s been nothing but stern in his expression for the entire time Charles has known him, seems to soften, even if just slightly. “I gotta admit, I was a lil’bit… cautious when I first learned about you and Chris. Fathers, y’know, we worry.”

“I can imagine,” Charles nods. He understands. Of course he understands. “You have my word, I have pure intents. Chris means a lot to me.”

Bill seems fully contemplative now, his usual sternness fully replaced when he looks back at Charles. “She’s real happy with you from what I can see, and her brother tells me you treat her real well. That’s the kinda stuff that matters to me.”

His chest feels stupidly warm at the remark. If Chris is half as happy as he is, they’ve really got something here. Something real. Scary real. “I care about her deeply, Sir, and I want her to be happy, too.”

Bill chuckles under his breath, shakes his head softly. “You’re not seventeen, son. You can call me Bill.”

“I care a lot about your daughter, Bill.” It’s an easy thing to do, he thinks. There can’t be a person in this world that knows her and doesn’t care for her. Not when everything about her makes him believe in luck, in something otherworldly—Gods or guardian angels or invisible strings.

“See?” Bill questions, picking around what’s left on his plate with his fork. “We’re already buddies.”

– – –

Bill drops Charles off just before Chris gets home from work. He’s not in the house for ten minutes, is still moving around the kitchen searching for a glass to fill with water when the door swings open. Chris enters the kitchen with Reid, half a dozen things in her arms and a familiar four-year-old in tow. “Hey,” she greets, lifting her bags onto the counter next to him, setting down all of her belongings.

“Hi,” he greets, hand finding a familiar space on her lower back, pulling her closer to him, to lean down and give her a quick kiss. “How was your day?”

“Long… and chaotic,” she sighs, forcing a weary smile onto her lips. Charles frowns. Searching her eyes for elaboration, she just shrugs. “Reid, say hi to Charles,” she introduces. “Charles, this is my little tornado, my nephew, Reid.”

Reid looks up at him with bright eyes and a mischievous grin. “Can I call you Chuck?”

Charles laughs. “No, you can call him Charles,” Chris answers on his behalf, before he gets the chance to tell the kid to call him whatever he wants.

Reid rolls his eyes. “Hi, Charles,” he huffs. “Auntie Chris says you’re gonna help me get ready.”

Charles smiles warmly. “That’s what I hear. It’s quite a mission to accomplish, do you think you are up for it?”

Reid nodded enthusiastically. “Totally. I’m almost five.”

Chris chuckles, and Charles’ eyes shoot over to her when she does. Hearing her laugh isn’t enough, he needs to see it, to share in it. “Good luck with the tie,” she tells him. Charles winks at Chris, grins down at the kid in front of him. “Reid, you like Cars, right?”

Reid’s eyes go wide, his head snapping over to look at Chris, who matches his expression with a smile on her face. He turns back to face Charles, “How did you know that?”

“So, it’s true?”

Reid nods apprehensively. “I love Cars. My Dad is in Cars 3, y’know? He’s got, like, a awesome race car.”

Charles feigned surprise, “No way! That’s like being a superhero.” He leans down conspiratorially, speaks quietly, just to Reid. “Do you know Lightning McQueen?”

Reid’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he launched into a passionate monologue about the Cars movies, the story, and the characters—paying a special interest to Chase’s automotive-self in the animated world. Charles listens with genuine interest while Chris quietly prepares a snack for the boy.

He gets ready while Reid eats, moves around Chris in the bathroom. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, using her entire arm to move her stuff off one side of the sink vanity. “I’m taking up your side,” she continues, pulling her curling iron out of her hair, carefully cradling the steaming strands. Charles smiles. His side. He kisses her softly, then— mindful of her unfinished makeup and hair. She smiles out of it, gives him another quick peck, “what was that for?”

He shrugs, reaching for his hair gel, “Just because.”

– – –

They get to Dahlonega right at five o’clock, thanks in massive part to Charles’ ability to comfortably drive above the speed limit, and in small part to Chris’ ability to finish her makeup while Charles does a poor job at avoiding potholes.

Every event this weekend takes place at the same place—a vineyard about thirty (if you speed) minutes from Chris’ house, but it’s nothing like what he would usually think of as a quote-en-quote vineyard. It’s more of a… barn put in the middle of a field, but. It’s beautiful nonetheless.

“How do I look?” Chris asks as they walk up the long drive from the parking lot to the barn. She runs her hands over the thighs of her jeans, straightening them out.

“Do a spin,” Charles says, and she does. “Hot,” he nods, smiles. Chris rolls her eyes. “Always hot.”

Hannah is running around with a woman wearing a nametag—the wedding planner, he assumes—like a chicken with its head cut off when they get there. Reid bolts away from them as soon as Chase is in his eyeline, chatting with his groomsmen around the bar. Charles trails behind Chris, hand interlocked with hers, as she makes her way over to a frazzled Hannah.

She greets them with a smile, swiping her hair off her shoulders and opening her arms for hugs. “You look beautiful,” Charles comments, kisses either of her cheeks.

“Oh,” She laughs. “This is new.”

Charles laughs, pulling away from the hug, “Sorry.”

“Oh, no. It’s fun,” she says, looking to Chris. “You should’ve dated someone French a long time ago.”

“He’s not French.”

“But y—”

Chris cuts her off. “Monégasque,” she continues. Charles smiles meekly. “And very proud.”

The setting sun cast a warm glow over the venue as the wedding rehearsal began. Charles found himself sitting in the second row, behind both Chase’s family and with the rest of the partners of the bridal party.

They’re orchestrated by the meticulous woman with a name tag from earlier, carefully moved through the motions of the ceremony tomorrow. Charles watches with quiet amusement as they navigate each and every step with precision. The officiant guided them through the script, the words blending into a hum that surrounded the ceremony space.

He partakes in the bland small talk with the other partners—how beautiful, how exciting, how sweet—all the stuff that random strangers with no present connections have to talk about. Charles can't help but glance at Chris intermittently, catching her eye and exchanging silent conversations that only they understand. She’s just so pretty up there, her brown curls cascading off her shoulders while she holds two mock-up bouquets of flowers. She bounces in place, practically, obviously half as tired and bored with it all as he is.

As the run-throughs progress, he can feel her restlessness like it’s his own. Her wide eyes betray her thoughts when, without words she tells him, this is so boring.

He chuckles under his breath, meeting her gaze with the minute raise of his brows, an unspoken agreement passing between them. So boring.

The repetition of the steps continues, though, each run-through blending together into the next. Charles and Chris share more glances, continue to communicate the same sentiment of impatience to a point of amusement. In the stolen moments, he finds solace in the connection, a reminder that even the most orchestrated events can’t stifle their shared sense of humor.

As the rehearsal finally drew to a close, the sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm, golden hue over the gathering. The group dispersed, heading towards the dinner that awaited them.

When Charles catches up to Chris, she’s talking with the best man—Ryan, who the wedding planner kept asking to take this a bit more seriously. He seems nice enough, brother-y enough. Charles thinks he probably has a few good stories about Chris, even more about Chase.

“Everyone always thought we had a thing going,” Chris tells him after the introduction has finished, while the two of them wait at the bar for their drinks.

His brows raise, leaning back off the bar to scan the room for the guy. “Do you want me to be jealous?” He asks, lets his hand rest on the small of her back, thumb moving smoothly against the fabric of her top.

“No,” she says, but the smile on her lips tells him she’d be entertained by the sight of a jealous version of him. “I just didn’t want you to hear it from someone else this weekend.”

He nods, picking up the drink that’s set down in front of him/ “Well, did you?” He asks, taking a swig of the dark liquor.

“Did I what?” Chris asks, moving her drink closer to her, stirring it with a little black straw.

“Did you guys date?”

“Oh,” she shakes her head. “Never.”

Charles nods. “Shame, I was going to put on a show.”

The welcome party kicks into full swing after the satisfying sit-down meal. Laughter and chatter fill the rustic barn, the air buzzing with the lively energy of the gathering, of the weekend. Charles, having eaten the entirety of his dinner earlier, finds himself following Chris as she seamlessly navigates the crowd.

The burger truck, stationed at the edge of the venue, offered a tempting array of late-night treats. The scene of grilled meat wafted through the air, enticing those who weren’t around for the earlier, intimate dinner.

The barn was alive with the murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses, the bursts of laughter. It seems like a million people fill the space, a million strangers—a mix of extended family and friends and coworkers and distant relatives and even distant-er friends. For him, all of these faces are unfamiliar, and he relies on Chris like a lifeline to guide him through most of the interactions.

She effortlessly leads the way, introducing him with a warmth that mirrors her nature of being. She moves through the place like she owned it, with a grace that seems to come naturally to her, connecting with friends and family alike. Everyone seems thrilled to see her, absolutely beside themselves. He understands them, even if he doesn’t know them, and observes with quiet admiration her ability to make everyone feel at ease.

She seems to flourish in social settings, her personality shining brightly. She greets old friends with hugs, shares jokes with cousins, compliments grandparents’ outfits, and introduces him to each and every one of them, punctuates every interaction with her infectious laughter.

He’s always felt like he’s more of a one-on-one guy, that his connections are better made independently rather than in groups. Chris, though, could lead a crowd anywhere with this unwavering confidence. She doesn’t make a single misstep all night, navigating the whole evening perfectly, makes an evening he’d spent the majority of outside his comfort zone anything but unsettling. With her, his words feel valued, important, intelligent. He’s content to be her partner in social settings longer than anyone should be.

It’s long past midnight when they finally get back to her house, the fatigue of the day well-settled on their skin, casting a convincing sleeping spell that made the prospect of a comfortable bed a welcomed one.

The house is silent, the hush of the night hugging them as they reach the bedroom, the weariness of their bones palpable. Anything but falling into the comforter seems like quite the ambitious endeavor.

The comfort of the sheets cradles them as they sink into the mattress, a shared haven offering respite from the busy weekend. “Next time I come here,” Charles yawns, the effort of the evening present in his voice, “we are doing nothing.”

She must be more drained, he thinks, she’d worked almost a whole day before this, but contently, she responds with a gentle hum, snuggled up close to him. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Perfect.” The simplicity of doing nothing seems like the perfect plan, a promise of unhurried moments and the luxury of just being together. He wants more of that. He wants more of her.

– – –

He wakes up for the first time that morning, if you can really call it waking up, to the shift of the bed as she climbs out of it. He doesn’t check the clock, doesn’t even hear more than the creak of the floor before he’s back asleep. He wakes up for the second time, and you still probably can’t call it that, to her standing over him, fingers running through his hair. She gives him a kiss and comments on something he can’t hear through sleep.

The third time he wakes up that morning, it’s to the ringing of his phone on the bedside table. Her name is on the screen, a photo of her grinning in front of a statue in Monaco and holding a thumbs-up. 8:34, his phone reads. The sun is shining in through the opening in the curtains.

She’d forgotten the steamer on the living room coffee table when one of the other bridesmaids picked her up two hours earlier. He says he’ll bring it, asks if the girls want coffee, swears he remembers her order. She texts him the other three girls’ orders. Within the hour, he’s riding with the wedding planner on a golf cart from the parking lot to the bridal suite with four long-winded coffees in one hand and a steamer in the other.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the bridal suite, but it wasn’t what he found. The chaos hangs in the air like a sweet perfume. He weaves between makeup artists, hair stylists, and bridesmaids to find Chris, talking with Hannah and a makeup artist about what’s about to be painted onto the bride-to-be’s face, fulfilling her maid-of-honor duties.

Chris looks up quickly to scan the room, eyes landing on him and immediately returning to the conversation at hand before doing a double-take, a heavy sigh leaving her lips when she recognizes him and the objects he carries.

“Hey,” she greets, takes the steamer from his hand and kisses him. “You’re a lifesaver, thank you,” and she kisses him again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he laughs, pulls a coffee out of the cardboard cup holder and hands it to her. “Your hot dirty chai with one shot of espresso, oat milk, and salted caramel.”

“A man after my heart,” she says, taking a sip of the drink. He winks—anything more and he’d blush bright red—and continues reading the orders off.

“Brown sugar oat milk latte with blonde espresso for Hannah,” he says, pulling it out and handing it to the blonde and pulling out the next one. “This is the… Iced matcha latte with soy milk and strawberry cold foam, and the…” he holds up the cupholder, one drink left in it, “Caramel brûlée latte.”

The groom’s house—which is where he’s affectionately sent to after the coffee delivery—is a direct contrast to the bridal suite. College football plays on the television, the cheers and groans of the game providing a lively soundtrack to the prelude of the wedding. The girls were all half-ready, but the guys are still shoveling breakfast foods into their mouths on the leather sofa.

Noon arrives, and with it the collective decision that it was time to actually start getting ready for the wedding. Chase and his groomsmen needed to be ready for pictures at three, which meant that Charles and the rest of the bridesmaid’s boyfriends needed to be ready to be anywhere but the groom’s house at three.

Between the laughter and the beers and the arguing over the best way to iron a shirt, there’s a knock on the door. He doesn’t even bother to look who it is, assumes it’s a relative of some sort. When Ryan, the never-had-a-thing, you-don’t-need-to-be-jealous Best Man has a hand on his shoulder, telling him “Chris is outside, she wants to talk to you,” he meets the guy with furrowed brows.

He finds her just where Ryan said she was, pacing outside on the concrete patio, ready head-to-toe for the wedding procession. He can’t help but be struck by her beauty, the way the delicate fabric of her dress accentuates her figure, the way the color complimented the glow of her skin perfectly. Her hair is pulled back off her face, revealing the curve of her neck, her subtle makeup highlighting her features.

He feels like he’s seen her a million times by now, in a million different ways, but there was something almost ethereal… angelic about her in this moment. The nerves in her eyes and the tension in her shoulders only add to the charm, make her feel more real, more human.

He’s never looked at her and thought she wasn’t beautiful, but there are moments where he’s particularly struck by her allure. This is one of them.

As soon as she lays eyes on him, her words rush out in a torrent. No hello, no pleasantries, just— “I’m freaking out, Charles. This speech… I’m just. I’m terrified I’m going to mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess it up,” he promises. He’s heard Chris’ maid-of-honor speech probably a dozen times by now, and she’s a different level of nervous every time. This might be the most nervous he’s seen her about it, though. “Can you… can you listen to it, please?”

He nods, his gaze steadying her shaky one. “Of course, let’s hear it.”

She unfolds the tiny, half-crumpled piece of paper out and delves into her speech. He focuses on her words, the genuine affection and admiration for Hannah present in each and every syllable. When she finishes, she meets his eyes, a mix of hope and anxiety in hers.

“Well?” She asked, her lip caught between her teeth.

Charles smiles. “It’s amazing. You are going to do great.”

“Are you sure? Because the part where I talk about Colorado—”

Charles shakes his head, puts his hands on her shoulders. “It’s perfect,” he says, gives her a quick kiss. “You’re perfect.”

She sighs, relief visibly washing away the tension. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grins, “You would still do great. But I’m here anytime you need it.” She gives him a quick hug, and he can feel the gratitude seeping through the squeeze, so he makes it last just that moment longer. He just, he gets such a surge of pride that he gets to call her his, that he’s lucky enough to call her his girlfriend. “Go knock ‘em dead,” he laughs.

When three o’clock finally does roll around, the wedding party separates to head off for pictures, and Charles, along with the other significant others, joins the convoy heading down to the ceremony space. The excitement among the group was palpable, everyone connected in some way to Hannah and Chase’s love story, ready to witness and be a part of their union.

The ceremony starts at four, and hell if he can’t stop catching Chris’ eyes the entire time. He doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed a wedding quite like he’s enjoying this one. Chase and Hannah are lovely, and the officiant’s words resonate with sincerity, but he’s less attuned to the details of the ceremony itself and more absorbed in the captivating spectacle that is Chris.

Her laughter, musical and infectious, is all he hears when the entire place laughs, and her discrete attempts to wipe away tears, to pretend they aren’t falling, melt his heart entirely. Even the way she plays with the ribbon on the bouquets she holds—something so small and trivial, it all captivates him.

He finds himself swept away by a tide of emotions, some messy kaleidoscope of feelings that defy articulation. There’s something magnetic about her, an irresistible urge to kiss her that seems to linger in the back of his mind, always. It’s all lined up for him, a million synchronized harmonies that underscore every interaction.

The changing colors of leaves and the smell of rain on a pine patio, the heartbeat of a conversation, a light in every room. His perception of his own emotions, the way he feels about this fucking woman, it’s so clear it becomes cloudy. Every stolen glance and shared smile is this integral part of their connection, this thing that he can’t let go of.

There’s something so fucking special about her, and he can’t make sense of any of it.

Cocktail hour is at five, and the whole family—everyone at this entire wedding he knows—are off doing ‘golden hour’ pictures. Charles lingers by the bar, stuck to the outskirts like a wallflower.

He’s suddenly hit with a wave of insecurity. It’s not often he’s put somewhere completely on his own like this, almost always has someone he can use as a lifeline if he needs to. Everyone here seems to have known eachother forever, and he feels like an intrusion on their camaraderie, worries that if he does manage up the courage to start a conversation with someone, they won’t understand him, or worse—he won’t understand them.

His social battery is just… it’s drained. It’s been a long couple days of mingling with strangers, of trying to impress everyone. He’s ready to just curl up somewhere with Chris and enjoy the limited time they do get to spend together—alone—this weekend.

Maybe then, with some more fucking time, he could sort out all his nonsensical thoughts. Make some sense of his own feelings.

At the reception, he’s seated at the family table with Bill, Cindy, and Reid. Chandler is there, too, but she and her girlfriend Lex seem about as interested in him as they are the dinner menu. They give him a passing greeting, an introduction, if you can call it that, but content to leave it at that.

They’re only a few feet away from the head table, where Chase, Hannah, and the bridal party are sat. So close, but when you’re as drained as he is, when you’ve been prim and perfectly proper for more hours than you can count, just want to be with the one person around who you don’t need to impress… Chris’ nameplate might as well be a quarter of the way around the world.

There isn’t some big announcement or introduction for the bridal party, they just filter in after the conclusion of pictures with the rest of the family. Chris is one of the last to filter in, and finds that the rest of the bridesmaids and the groomsmen are all settled in their seats. Chris doesn’t head for her seat. Instead, she makes a bee-line for her family table, for Charles, who is scrolling through his phone and nursing what she thinks is Chase’s signature drink.

She sneaks up on him, but he isn’t startled by her arms when they wrap over his shoulders. “Hi,” she greets, leaning over to kiss him. It doesn’t take her but a second to feel how tense he is—it’s in his shoulders, in his kiss, in the way he just keeps spinning the liquid around his glass instead of drinking it. Most of all, it’s in the way she doesn’t get even a hello back, just a focus smile and a kiss. Her brows furrow in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m just tired. It has been a busy couple of days.”

“I know,” she nods in agreement. “I was thinking, we should get super drunk tonight, skip brunch tomorrow, and then do nothing all day. What do you think?”

He laughs, and she feels the vibrations in her hands. “Deal,” he says, holding out his hand to shake on it right as the DJ comes over the microphone. Ladies and Gentleman, Chris’ eyes go wide, practically death-dropping into a squat so quickly she nearly loses her balance in her heels. Charles laughs, but she doesn’t miss his hand reaching out to steady her. If I can direct your attention to the barn door, let’s all give a warm welcome to the reason we’re all here tonight. I’m pleased to introduce for the very first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Elliott! Even from her squatted position, she still claps and cheers for Chase and Hannah.

As the clapping dies down, the instrumental of their first dance song transitions in. She shifts on her feet, from one heel to the other, and thinks about how graceful she would have to be to attempt to slip her shoes off in her current position. When she looks to Charles, she’s met with the clearest what-the-heck-are-you-doing look she’s ever been on the receiving end of, and a nod that all but picks her up and puts her in his lap itself. His arms slip around her waist lazily, like it’s where they’re supposed to belong, like a magnet pulling itself to the fridge.

As their first dance song starts, as Chase and Hannah sway around the dance floor as husband and wife, Charles places a soft kiss into her exposed shoulder. The warmth of his lips sends a chill up her spine. “Are you cold?” He whispers, and she shakes her head even though she’s been chilly since she put the dress on that morning—who the heck chooses one-shoulder bridesmaid dresses for their outdoor wedding in December? He runs his hands up and down her arms to warm her up with the friction. “You can have my jacket if you want.”

“I’m okay,” she says.

“Okay.” Another kiss, and then he rests his chin on her shoulder. “Let me know.”

After the first dance, Hannah and Chase give a short welcome speech, thanking everyone for coming to celebrate with them, for making their day so perfect. And then, it’s time to eat.

She offers to pull over a chair and eat with him, and then offers again silently after Bill makes a joke about how we won’t bite him. She doesn’t like to see him like this, so tired, so drained. “I’m good,” he says, “I promise.”

“Okay,” she says, but her return to the head table is hesitant, and she keeps an eye on him the entire meal.

– – –

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Chris, and for those of you who do, you probably knew this was coming,” Chris laughs nervously, microphone in sweaty hands. She can’t believe she has to follow Ryan’s speech. He had the whole crowd laughing until they couldn’t breathe. “I’m not one for public speaking, which I know you all find very funny considering my career choice, but when your best friend since the oh-so tender age of seven is getting married, you throw caution to the wind.”

She looks at Charles, but has to look away quickly. Just imagine me in my underwear, he’d told her before she got up here. She can’t do that. She can’t look at Hannah or Chase, either, though, or else she’ll burst into tears. So, she just looks at the piece of paper in her hand.

“So, let’s talk about Hannah. We’ve been through it all together, from the back of a Sunday school class at Grace Haven where two little girls made their first friend, to hiding from customers in the kitchen of the Pool Room listening to Mr. Gordon tell us about his ‘shine days. We weathered the storms of adolescence, rocked the awkward phase, and somehow managed to make it out on the other side with our sanity intact—well, mostly,” the room chuckles. Hannah laughs, and Chris thinks that maybe she can look at her—she can’t, can already feel the tears welling, the frog in the back of her throat.

“But,” she cracks, “It’s not about the trials we faced in high school, it’s about the triumph that is happening right now. Chase and Hannah, standing—sitting—here, about to embark on a new chapter of their lives.” Chris turns to the next page of her notes, hand shaky when she does it. “It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows getting here. Life threw us some curveballs, as it tends to do. But Hannah, she’s a force of nature. She faces challenges head-on, and with the strength of a thousand warriors.”

Chris’ eyes catch Reid, sitting on Bill’s lap next to Charles. He’s not paying any attention, but what four-year-old would? Instead, he’s swinging his legs back and forth, tapping Charles’ knee with the toe of his shoes everytime. Charles takes turns grabbing one of the attacking feet, his eyes unbreaking from her, before letting Reid wiggle it away, laughing softly at the interaction each time. “My best friend became a mom at nineteen, and there wasn’t much about it that was easy. But, like I always do, I watched her rise to the occasion, and I’ve never been prouder. I work with five-year-olds every day, and as similar as Reid is to Chase, he’s his mother’s son, and I would pay a million dollars to have twenty of him in my classroom. And Chase, you were there through all of it. When things got tough, you didn’t run; you stood by her. You became not just the guy she loved, but the rock she could lean on, the partner she deserved.”

Chris nods, continuing. “Some might say they don’t have the most conventional love story. But what is love if not a journey? One that involves bumps and twists and unexpected turns? Chase and Hannah, you’ve proven that love isn’t just for fairytales; it’s for the real, messy, complicated, and beautiful moments of life.”

Chris looks past Hannah, to Chase. It's just as hard to maintain eye contact with him. Harder, maybe, because he looks like he’s about to cry, too. Chris can count on one hand the amount of times she’s seen her brother cry. “Chase, my big brother,” she laughs through a tear.

“Fuck you, dude,” he says back, through an equally tearful laugh. Hannah’s hand runs in circles on his back.

“You are so lucky to have Hannah. Everyone in this room knows that she has this magical quality about her—this remarkable ability to make even the most unlovable people feel like the center of the universe. I’ve seen her do it time and time again, watched her sprinkle her own special kind of magic everywhere she goes.”

“Hannah,” she says, turning fully to face her best friend, abandoning the piece of paper she has memorized and replacing it with Hannah’s hand. “You are my confidante, my partner in crime, my source of strength, and my beacon of light. You are the kind of friend who not only stands by people in the good times, but also holds you up when life gets a little bit wobbly,” Chris feels a single tear fall down her cheek, and then another. She sniffles softly. “Thank you for helping me through the wobbles,” she squeaks. “You’ve been my sister as long as I’ve known you, Han, I’m just glad it’s finally official.”

Chris turns back to address the crowd, raising a glass of champagne to two of her favorite people. “To Hannah and Chase. May your love be modern enough to survive the times, but old-fashioned enough to last forever. Cheers to the messy, the beautiful, and the happily ever after you both so richly deserve.”

Hannah wastes no time enveloping Chris into a bear hug, rocking back and forth on their feet. The lace and tulle from Hannah’s dress scratch against Chris’ arms, but she doesn’t mind. She’s too busy trying not to cry onto the fabric while the rest of the tables clink their glasses to her speech. Chase is next with the hugs, a stupid one that’s stronger than Hannah’s.

“Dude,” he laughs, “you didn’t have to make me cry.”

Chris sniffles. “I love you.”

Chase pauses, squeezes her a little bit tighter. “I love you, too.”

Speeches are followed by the father-daughter and mother-son dances. Chris sneaks back over to the family table during the latter, makes her dad move over into Cindy’s seat so she can sit next to Charles. He has a fresh glass of the same drink from earlier, and is nursing it the same way he did the first one.

“You know,” she says, checking the state of her makeup with her phone’s camera. “You’re going to have to pick up the pace if we’re getting wasted tonight.”

He laughs, the side of his foot bumping against hers under the table. She leans her foot back on the heel of her shoe, toys with the hem of his slacks. “Is that right?” He spins the drink, talks into the bottom of the glass, but she’s not fooled. His ears are red at the simple action.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Let me show you,” and then takes the glass from his hand, downing what’s left without a scowl. It’s dark liquor. She loves the burn.

Chris is like… she reminds him of that battery rabbit. A constant source of energy. She’s practically bouncing off the walls, giddily introducing him to anyone they come across that he doesn’t already know. She’s just so personable, and the buzz she’s gotten from the champagne and the stolen sips of his drinks only make her more lively. She knows everyone here, he’s sure of it, but she could befriend a brick wall if it gave her five minutes.

It’s impossible for even the most sullen people not to feed off her energy—everyone is swallowed up by her laugh, every conversation brightened by her presence. She’s so fun to watch that he wonders if he’s dreamt her up, created a figment of his imagination in the shape of someone just so good. God, she’s good.

They survive the newlywed games and the anniversary dances, even make it all the way to the cake cutting before it becomes an Elliott family party—which, if you didn’t know, is synonymous with a drunken rager. As soon as Hannah swipes a finger full of frosting across Chase’s cheek, it’s game over.

Drinks flow as freely as laughter echoes, and the dance floor is nothing more than a playground for a bunch of drunken idiots. Chris and Hannah, seasoned dance partners, showcase their moves with infectious enthusiasm, dancing the blurry line between elegance and idiocy.

When the music slows, though, she’s always finding her way to him, heavy arms around his neck, his around her waist. If they know the song, they take turns butchering the vocals and giggling until the other person kisses them.

“So, how was my speech?” She asks soberly, swaying along to the tune of some slow song he’s never heard of.

“You made that speech your bitch, baby,” he slurs, even though he has a million and one questions about her speech.

He’d heard it. So many fucking times, he’d heard it, and not once had he heard the ending. He thought he heard the ending—he did hear the ending. It was just different. Shorter. Sweeter. Didn’t put a confused knot in his stomach. Thank you for helping me through my wobbles. A remarkable ability to make even the most unlovable people feel like the center of the universe. He doesn’t want to entertain them as connected, to live in a world where they’re connected.

“You think so?” She beams. He can’t ask when she smiles like that.

“Yeah,” his tongue feels dry in his mouth—cottony. He’s bothered, and he doesn’t understand why. “It was great, very personal.” He shouldn’t let it bother him. It’s a fucking speech at a wedding for people he barely knows. It shouldn’t bother him, it shouldn’t rot his insides, the concept that two sentences could be in any way related to one another. It shouldn’t bother him, really. It does, though. And he can’t stop himself when he’s half-drunk the way he could if he was sober. “Everything you talked about… it’s all you two, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Hannah’s done a lot for me, y’know. I’m sure we’re like you and Joris, just. I cry more than you.”

“Even the, uh…” he clears his throat. “Even the whole thing about, um…”

“Charles,” she laughs, brows furrowed in a way he thinks only he could perceive.

He sighs. “You know that you’re the kind of person who is easy to love, yes?”

She doesn’t look at him when she nods, or when she smiles, or when she kisses him. “I know,” she mumbles, and it’s the most unbelievable thing she’s ever said. The easiest lie he’s ever spotted, but it’s even clearer that she doesn’t want him to push on it, so he doesn’t. He’s smart enough to know when it’s time to just dance with his girlfriend.

– – –

They wake up the next morning disgustingly hungover. Like, stare at the white ceiling for twenty minutes talking about how hungover they are and praying they don’t throw up, hungover. Her ceiling is textured, and the pattern repeats every foot-or-so like it’s been stamped on. That’s how hungover he is.

He showers while she makes them prairie oysters, and despite how absolutely horrifying it looks, sounds, and sells, he manages to find enough trust in her to force it down with a grim scowl. Fuck, it’s disgusting. Horrifically so.

They take an uber out to the wedding venue to retrieve Chris’ car, and she gives directions back to the Dawsonville Pool Room with her eyes half closed, sunglasses over her eyes. Everytime he looks at her he thinks she’s turning green.

The owner recognizes her as soon as they’re walking through the door. Charles doesn’t understand a single fucking word the guy says. Chris orders “two Bully Burgers, but I swear to holy Heaven if you put slaw anywhere near my plate you’re gonna see the Devil, Mr. Gordon.”

He responds in something Charles could technically call English, and Chris shakes her head, a smile pulling on her lips. “I’m serious, he’ll back me up,” she says, thumb pointing to him. “He’s not from around here, you’re just another stranger.”

The greasiest, sloppiest, most mediocre burger he’s ever eaten is put in front of him five minutes later, and he feels like a new man after. Still absolutely strung out and exhausted, yes, but like his stomach is content to stay inside his body.

Later that afternoon, when they’re both half asleep on the couch, some stupid sitcom playing as background nose, he’s still thinking about her fucking speech from the night earlier. It’s still bugging him. “Baby?” he mumbles against the skin of her shoulder. He doesn’t even know if she’s awake to answer.

“Hmm?” She hums.

“We do not have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but. You are a very lovable person, I think.” He couldn’t give any specific examples of what makes him so sure of this fact, he honestly couldn’t. But isn’t that proof enough? That just her being is enough to answer the question.

“Babe,” she stretches against him, speaks through a yawn.

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, I just. I don’t know.”

“No, it’s okay. We can talk about it.” She adjusts, if just slightly, so that it’s easier for her to look at him while they speak. “When everyone has the same complaint, all your old friends and old boyfriends tell you that you’re too much or too little, you realize maybe you’re the crazy one.”

He doesn't like that reasoning. He thinks it’s a load of bullshit, actually. “Why do you think of yourself in this way?”

Chris laughs. “It’s fine, really.”

“It’s not,” he says, because he knows it’s a lie.

“It is, because I’ve come to terms with it. I accept it.”

He frowns, hates the way she seems so content with this. Like it’s something that is even kind of rational. It’s not, he knows. He pauses, can’t even come up with something to say to her level of absurdity. “I don’t think you should accept that.”

She turns away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, and laughs softly. “I’m sure you don’t.”

“You are not unlovable.” She’s not. She’s not. He knows she’s not. He knows, he knows, because of rain on a pine patio and leaves that change colors. He knows, because if she was unlovable, he wouldn’t love her. And he does, he does love her.

Wait.

“Well, we’ll see. Everyone always sees.”

No, hold on. Wait. His stomach is tangled, flip-flopping and fluttering like every butterfly this side of the Atlantic has suddenly taken up residence in his insides. You don’t love her, you idiot, he thinks. But he does. Fucking… His heart races. He hopes to God, pays to something he’s not sure he believes in that she can’t feel it against his chest. That he can get away with it. “See what?”

She shrugs. “If I knew, nobody would see it,” she laughs. He laughs along, too, but it’s so forced that it sounds like some pre-recorded bit. She’s so casual about all of this that he feels like he needs to pinch himself. It doesn’t make sense, he can’t wrap his mind around it. But Chris, she’s comfortable enough with her bull-fucking-shit ‘facts’ that she can pull her phone out and scroll through it while they wrap up the conversation. “And before you ask, ‘What if I don’t see anything?’ like everyone else but Hannah always asks, nothing happens.”

“Nothing happens?”

She opens her fucking email. He’s in love with her, and she’s opening her fucking email while telling him it’s not possible. “You win, I guess.”

“I win you?”

“I mean, I don’t like to consider myself something that can be won,” she says, and he rolls his eyes. His heart is beating so loud he thinks the neighbors can probably hear it. “But for lack of a better word… sure. You win me.”

He nods. There’s nothing more he can add to the conversation, not now. Not when he’s just ran face-first into a brick wall of I love you. Fuck. Fuck. He’s totally in love with her. What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

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