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parfaitblogs · 26 days ago

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hard times ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid doesn’t follow through one time, and you really hate that he has a psychology degree.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: daddy issues. shoutout to the girls with inconsistent fathers this ones for you. established relationship. readers mentioned wearing makeup, a dress and heels. rational bf!spencer reid fuck i would hate a profiler bf. word count: 1.8k a/n: not a trauma dump fic not a vent fic do not read into this fic at all don't even start to speculate on my life and where these emotions came from they're all fake made up not real make pretend. no photos no aesthetics just me, a tumblr account, and a dream for this baddie.

In all your months of dating Spencer Reid, he had never forgotten anything. Not a date, not a work event. Or, at least, he's never forgotten to call. Even when you had been so busy one week you could barely spare him more than a ten minute phone call a day, he remembered what was going on in your life enough to be there for you.

A false blanket of security draped over your relationship, is what it is now.

A blanket he seemingly had no trouble ripping off you a random Friday evening, throwing it in a fire and watching it — and your trust in him — burn into dust.

Perhaps a tad dramatic for what was happening, but you were always one for theatrics when it came to your emotions. Usually, he welcomed it. He was (abashedly) similar, after all.

Not that he was even here to welcome it.

You'd looked pretty. You'd felt pretty. Past tense, for your shoes were strewn somewhere across the floor after throwing them in frustration, and your makeup was ruined after unwelcome tears had streamed down your face an hour ago. You had been ready for a dinner date you and Spencer had scheduled in only three days ago — penciled in, for you never knew what his work schedule was going to end up being.

You're not sure how long you sat in that one spot on the couch, mind going through every single possible scenario that could've happened between the text he sent you that morning saying he was excited to go out tonight, and the lack of his appearance this evening.

The logical conclusion is that he got too busy, and he forgot. But Spencer Reid's whole thing is that he doesn't forget. Oftentimes he considers it a curse. You never really agreed with him. Until now, it seemed.

The less than logical, emotionally driven conclusion, is that he actively chose to stay at work to avoid coming home because he didn't want to see you. Or he didn't actually want to go to dinner, and he didn't know how to tell you. Or his team offered to go out and he'd rather hang out with them instead of you.

Really, the reasons are endless, and any rational conclusion was lost on you. Mind swallowing you whole as you continued to stare off into space, visibly shaking and head beginning to pound from the crying.

A glance at the clock told you it was near midnight by the time you heard the door handle rattle and twist open, tired, puffy eyes blinking to adjust to the light filtering in from the apartment hallway.

"Hey. Why're you out here? It's late. I thought you'd already be in bed," Spencer rambles absentmindedly, voice so disconnected from you it only made the ache in your chest worse. As he flicks the light on and assesses the state of the apartment, he asks, "What're your shoes doing on the floor?"

You blink a few times. Was he pretending to be dumb on purpose?

You stand on cramped legs, stretching them for the first time since you'd sat unknowingly on the couch nearly six hours ago, dress bunching around your waist. You didn't bother to fix it.

Like a switch, he clicks, his bag sliding off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a thud, realisation settling into his features.

"Our date. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, angel."

"Yeah. I'm sure," you croak, voice hoarse as you pick up your shoes pathetically in front of him, the heels clacking together as you walk towards your bedroom door.

He calls your name, and after you make no effort to return to him, you hear his feet against the wooden flooring, carrying himself to you.

You're in the ensuite, beginning to take makeup off you probably should've removed four hours ago. It was stupid hope you held on to, anyways.

"You're upset. I know. It was awful of me to forget our date," he stands in the doorway, staring at you through the mirror. Even indirectly, you can't make eye contact with him.

"You forgot," you repeat back to him, almost dumbfounded. "You forgot?"

"Forgot isn't... the best word," his fingers dig into his eyes for a split second, and you watch him think. "I got caught up at work. We had a case, then we didn't have a case, then we did, so we started looking into it, and time just... escaped. From all of us."

"Time just escaped."

Your parroting wasn't doing much to further the conversation, and you watch as Spencer averts his gaze to the floor to take a deep breath, before his eyes land back on you again.

"It isn't the best reason, I know. But it's the truth," he says.

"Uh-huh," you mumble, discarding your cotton pads stained with your makeup into the trash.

"Can you stop being evasive?" he catches your wrist before you can return to the sink. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" you ask, almost earnestly. "It's okay that you forgot, Spencer. I won't take it personally at all, and things between us are just dandy!"

"I want to know what you're actually feeling," he replies, voice flat with his irritation, before he forces himself to soften it. "I can't reassure you if all I know is that you're angry."

"Hurt. Forgotten. Disregarded. Disliked. Irritated we're doing this in our fucking bathroom."

At that, he leads you into the bedroom, turning the ensuite light off. "Forgotten and disregarded are synonyms, so I'm assuming that's what you feel the most."

"You're the psyche expert," you mumble, bitterly.

"I'm not trying to be your psyche expert," he quips, and your heart sinks. "Why're you feeling forgotten?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded, for a beat. "Because my boyfriend quite literally forgot about me?"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"—No, you're right. You just forgot about the date that you literally fucking texted me about this morning!" you snap, voice rising in a way that makes you cringe. Yet, you can't stop it. "You! Spencer Reid! Forgot!"

"Don't yell at me, please," he takes a step towards you; you take a step back.

"Why did you forget? Did you choose to? Are you pretending that you forgot about it all to save your ass?"

"No," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't. I told you what happened. You're choosing not to believe me."

"How am I meant to believe that? It's a shit excuse—"

"—It's the truth—"

"—God, you can lie, Spencer! Men lie!"

He goes silent, as do you. You become trapped in an uncomfortably intense staring contest with him, as you watch his brain slowly tick over and decipher what you were saying, and come up with a response. Yours, however, splits open with your own self hatred. Disdain for what you had just said to him.

"Okay," he exhales, very slowly. "I'm going to tell you what I think, and you can tell me how right I am."

"You're going to profile me?"

He pauses. "I'm sure it'll come off that way. I'm not trying to," when you don't protest again, he continues. "I think you're less upset about the fact that I didn't come home for a date, and more about the fact that I didn't message you about it. I've not shown up for dates before. I've always contacted you prior to let you know. And I've promised I would always contact you if something came up that interfered with our plans. Ultimately, I said I would do something, and I didn't follow through. That is on me, and I'm sorry. What isn't on me, is how you're reacting. Which is childish, honey. You're acting like a petulant child, and I don't mean that as an insult, because I'm almost certain I know why."

Your silence is his cue to continue, but he pauses to collect his thoughts. Your lower lip is beginning to wobble, and he feels awful.

"You know how our childhoods affect us," he says, and the second what he's about to say to you clicks in your brain, your teeth clamp over your lip, and your eyes drop to the ground. "Reactions from parents to things we do, things others do, things they do, all builds up in our subconscious. Having a parent who didn't show up for you time and time again, built up in your subconscious. So yes, you're reacting to me not following through with something childishly. I will not take that back. But that reaction is not your fault. It's in response to a trigger, and the person in control of that emotional response is not adult you. It's the little girl who got let down by her father. I won't ever hold that against you."

Your sniffle breaks the deafening silence that follows his tangent. You allow him to envelop you into a hug, at which you break down into a fit of sobs akin to the ones from earlier.

"I hate you," you stutter out in between sobs, voice muffled by his chest.

"You can't say that while hugging me," he counters. It was true, as your hands had wrapped around his waist just seconds ago.

"I hate you," you repeat, punctuating your words with a poke to his back.

"I love you," he replies, instead. His fingers thread through your hair as he cradles your head with his other hand. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you about being busy."

You swallow the lodged sob in your throat with a hiccup. "I'm sorry I acted like a petulant child. And I'm sorry that my dad sucks."

"I'm sorry your dad sucks too," you feel him kiss the top of your head. "Have you eaten?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head, and he pulls back, hands slipping down to your cheeks, catching the tears.

"Do you want to eat?"

"The restaurant we were going to is closed," you mumble.

"Maybe. But the Thai place isn't."

"I'm pretty sure it is," you counter, and his eyebrows furrow. "It's past midnight now."

His face falls, he waits a beat, before his hand drops to your own, and he's tugging you towards the door of the bedroom. "Okay. Fine. Well, the Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed."

"I asked for pasta last night and you said the kitchen was closed."

"You asked at three in the morning," he deadpans, as you make yourself comfortable on one of the stools.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed," you mock his voice from earlier.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen rules are made by Spencer Reid."

"The rules should be lenient of Spencer Reid's girlfriend."

"Do you want pasta or not?"

"Yes," you quickly say with a firm nod. "Sorry."

He spends the first hour of that Saturday making you pasta; and making up the missed date.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader hurt/comfort

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theonottsbxtch · 3 months ago

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I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

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biteyoubiteme · 2 months ago

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cat got your tongue?

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: you and yeonjun are both models.

warnings: 🔞!!! spit kink if you squint, no protection, creampie, dom!yeonjun, manhandling, bondage (uses his tie on readers wrists), fingering, oral (f!rec),mentions of cum eating prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.7k me when I lie and say these will all be 1-2k

an: I do not think this is my best work I think I just struggle with dom!member and I apologize lol this wasnt really requested but was taken as such ily @apeachty this was sent before the event post but on the same day so im adding it to the tag anyways lol this is not proof read forgive me sweet angels ill fall on my sword for you.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

You would have to spend over a month traveling together. Over a month of back and forth, car rides, flights, hotel rooms, runways, and photo shoots all while trying to deny dating rumors. The contract was easy enough, but the money earned was less impressive than the exposer. To be the face of a company for an entire season, tied to one of the biggest names in modeling history, not only the fashion house but the model himself who set trends and made people famous for one little interaction. It was a brand deal people dreamed of.

The pen cleared the signature box faster than you ever thought you could sign your name. But then the nerves set in. It wasn't over doing your job, modeling, although hard, was now second nature. You worked well with almost every photographer you came across, following instructions without a fret, even when it came to runway you knew your walk was one companies begged to have on their sets.

But it was him that left you questioning your abilities. He had been the only clause in the contract that made you second guess yourself. Yeonjun was well known not only in the modeling community itself but globally. His face was splashed across countless brands, ads, and billboards. You couldn't go a day without seeing him at least once on your timeline. Even at the grocery store, in line at the checkout, he looked back at you with his perfect pouty lips from the front of a magazine you could only dream of being on the cover of as often as he was.

“You were specifically asked for,” your agent reminded you after you brought up the status difference. It wasn't as if you were not known, companies wanted you well enough that you wouldn't need the check from this single one month booking. It was the caliber at which he was held. “They want you and I wouldn't be the one to turn them away when this much press will be on you. Imagine the number of people calling to get one shoot in with you, he brings eyes,”

It wasn't until your first photoshoot that you realized that he would be more of a pain in your ass than an inspiration. He was never mean, you would have to give him that. But it was his overwhelming kindness mixed with the teasing tone he always used on you that somehow pushed your buttons just right. It didn't help that the first time that you walked into the studio you were so shy, little smiles shared with your hands folded in front of you trying to wring out your anxiety. Yeonjun wasn't even on set yet, having shown up a few minutes later with his arms full of coffee, passing them out to each staff member, knowing them all by name. “It's nice to meet you finally. I didn't know what you would like but this is what I picked out for the little mouse,”

“Little mouse?” it was the first thing you said to him, your head tilted just enough for him to take in the question and know the slip up of a nickname was going to stick especially when you couldn't get through the photoshoot without an apology. Shoulders stiff with his eyes on you, your nerves making you angry instead of anxious and it all had to do with the little grin set at the edge of yeonjun mouth. “I'll just step out,” and you hated how improved your film was from his absence, your heart calming down its rapt beading.

Of course you got over it eventually, or at least the stiffness. You couldn't afford to be stiff when standing next to yeonjun who was naturally relaxed about everything. He would slink to his spot on set, lay his lazy gaze in your direction, and get all of his shots in the minimal amount of frames as if he was born to be in front of the camera. It was annoying.

The two of you would be set up next to each other in hair and makeup, your bottom lip is finely brushed with the end of a glosses wand when he would lean on the back of your chair. His hands were always just hovering over your shoulders, never quite touching but enough to feel the heat from his palms, his head leaning next to yours looking back at you in the mirror, “You guys did such a good job, don't we just look like the perfect pair?” he would quirk an eyebrow at you, the two of you staring each other down while the staff agreed, but he was always waiting for your answer, “don't we little mouse?”

“If you think so,” your response always made him chuckle as if you didn't see the way the media was talking about your contract together, as if you didn't feel the chemistry between the two of you. People were still talking about your first runway together, the closing of the show for one of the best collections put on display that week.

The lead up was so chaotic, with dressing rooms stacked full of models and assistants, the floor a mess of people undressing and trying to make their quick changes as fast as they could before their names were called. Even yeonjun could feel the pressure in the room, the two of you in your designated corner stripping down back to back.

The crowded space made everyone bump into each other. For the smallest second you were caught by the sight of him taking his shirt off, pulling it at the back of his collar showing the way his jeans hung so low on his hips that his happy trail was on display. You had turned, taking off your shirt, shoulder knocked by someone coming to do your hair, it made you stumble back into yeonjun, his hand right at the small of your back holding you upright as you fumbled with the zipper on your pants. “Careful,” he muttered, your heart in your ears as you kicked your shoes away from your space.

The two of you were used to seeing each other in different versions of undress after all the photoshoots shared together. Comfortable enough now to be somewhat friends after all the car rides, the few interviews, and hours spent on a set together. It's what you accounted for as your key element to having such a good walk together on the runway. Every step matched, the energy vibrating off the two of you as if you had been a duo your whole life instead of just having been paired together less than a month ago.

Even at the afterparty people swarmed you two, asking about your relationship as if they could sense the livewire of that conversation hanging around your heads. It was the first time you had ever seen him flustered enough to stutter over an answer. “I um- you never know,”

The paparazzi loved the two of you, the crowd outside any event was packed full of them, their cameras following you around the city. The two of you always shared a car to your hotels, yeonjuns hand warm in yours leading you through the flash of every blinding light while you tried to shield your eyes. He would pull you in front of him when you finally reached the waiting car door, hand on your back gilding you in before climbing in after.

Even shutting the door behind the two of you only muffled the sounds of their questions to a faint murmur. It isn't until the car pulls away from the venue that yeonjun speaks up.

“You did well tonight, you looked…”

“Good, I hope,”

“You always look good, better than good, i was trying to come up with a different adjective,” it wasn't the first time he's complimented you, but it never stopped you from logging it away to giggle over it in private. “Sometimes I don't know what to say to you,”

You chuckle, “I never took you as shy,”

Strands of his hair hang in his eyes, head tilted just enough to catch what little light makes it in from the tinted windows, “no, not shy, just cautious,”

“What, afraid you'll break me? Hurt my feelings? Or maybe my ego will get too big,”

He lets out a soft breathy laugh, the sound taking up the space in the backseat. You loved the way his chuckles went down your spine, like a caress of his fingers on the skin you wished he touched. “You’d let me get close enough to break you?”

“I don't think you could,” it's a light jab and yet it sets everything off kelter. The car ride charged with an energy you couldn't get back into its box. Now opened, the two of you looked back at each other as if you hadn't felt this pot simmering over.

His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he shrugged, “Okay,” he loved that you wanted to play this game with him, as if you hadn't always been slowly picking away at the short wall between you two. It was inevitable that you would end up pressed up against the mirrored walls in the elevator up to your hotel floor.

He wasn't even going to do anything, he was going to let you go to your room while he mulled over your conversation, picturing exactly what he wanted to do to you. But then you leaned back against those mirrors, your body reflected around him as the doors slid closed behind him. Your eyes traced the line of him, lashes hooded just enough for you to look through, like a siren on the rocks, beckoning him closer. You didn't stop him when he cupped your jaw, thumb running over your bottom lip, nose dipping to yours. Even when he gave you enough time to pull away, lips ghosting over yours when he asked, “You'll be good for me, won't you?”

Your answer is hummed right into his mouth when he kisses you, devouring you, pushing you into the corner giving you nowhere to go. His body is hot against yours, cageing you in as he kisses down your jaw, sloppy wet spots cooling in the air as he nips at your neck. “God, imagine them having to cover up all the marks I leave on you during tomorrow's shoot,” his hand is heavy on your hip, dragging down you cup your cunt over your jeans, “Everyone is going to know I fucking ruined this pussy for anyone but me,”

Your whimper is eaten by the sound of the doors opening behind him, your tight grip on his shirt not loosening when he drags you out after him. He pushes you to his bed when you get past the threshold of his door. His slow walk to the nightstand to flick on the light gives you enough time to think about exactly what's happening.

He loosens his tie, veiny hands curled around the fabric as he nods his chin in your direction, “Take your clothes off,” it was only a few hours ago when he saw you topless, and yet your fingers shake when you reach for your hem. “Don't be shy now little mouse, always all talk and no play,”

The heat on your cheeks spreads to your ears at the nickname. Yeonjun takes to matching your state of undress by tossing his tie next to you before unbuttoning his shirt, the outline of him in his pants is mouthwatering. He watches the way you try to speak, hands twisting in the duvet not realizing he's come up so close to you before he's hooked his hand on your chin, tilting your head up before slipping his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. He swirls the digit around, grinning at how willing you are to follow his command even without words, “one day ill fuck this pretty mouth, but for now, I need you on your hands and knees for me,” he shoves your face away, putting his slick finger in his mouth to taste you.

Turning around and having him at your back is both chilling and exhilarating, not knowing when he's going to touch you until his hands are sliding up your back, unhooking your bra, and letting it fall off of you. He lets his hand press between your shoulder blades, pushing down hard enough for your arms to give way beneath you, the side of your face pressed into the sheets. “Every photoshoot I kept thinking about what it would be like to finally get you into my bed, I kept thinking about how I would finally fuck you, how exactly I could use your body,”

His hands slide down your arms, tugging them behind you until you whimper, the silky material of his tie sliding along your fingers as he wraps up your wrists to keep you in place. “And every time I just came right back to thinking about putting you just like this, fucking you dumb; using you like my perfect little toy,”

With one hand holding your tied wrists his other slips down to tease you over your soaked panties, fingers following the lines of your cunt like he was made to map you out by touch. You can't even form words and he hasn't done anything, your pathetic little whimpers pushing him further and further. “So quiet now, I wonder if it's because someone's scared I'll break her?”

“Please,” it's so soft you don't think he's even heard you, but he's aching for every little sound.

“Please what? What do you want me to do?” he pushes your panties aside, grinning at how wet you've gotten over so little. Your hips push back into his hand, his fingers slipping into you just enough to prep you for the stretch of taking him.

“Fuck me, break me, anything-” he's so quick to press his cock into you that you're gasping losing all thoughts. His fingers had done little to let you grasp the sheer size of him, even all your slick couldn't help that pleasure mixed with pain as his tip kissed your cervix.

He doesn't even hold off from moving, not once he's finally felt your warm gummy walls sucking him, so perfect he doesn't know how he will ever stop from coming back to you. He keeps one hand on your hip, fingers digging into your flesh, the other wrapped around the slack of his tie, tugging your arms and using them as leverage to keep his harsh pace as he fucks into your greedy cunt.

You feel so full, so completely stuffed that you're a mess of incoherent moans mixing with the slapping sounds of your connecting bodies. Yeonjun is mesmerized by the way your ass ripples with each slap of his hips; mesmerized by the way his cock is disappearing in and out of you. “So fucking perfect,” he's grunting, “I'm going to fill up and then eat my little mouse out until she screams, kiss your pussy better after taking me so well, does that sound good?”

“Yes, god yes!” Your voice is muffled by the way you are pressed into the mattress, arms slightly numb as he pummels himself into you, thrusts getting sloppier with the build up of his orgasm. He tells himself that he will pull out but then he's cumming, body shuddering as you clench around him, his rumbling moans following the steady pulse of his leaking cock.

When he pulls out of you he watches the way the dribbling cream coats your puffy lips. Untying your hands he lets you roll onto your back, slotting himself between your legs and attaching his mouth to your swollen clit. Your fingers still gaining feeling fall to his hair, pulling on the strands and he brings your orgasm back to the surface. The obscene sounds coming from his fingers trying to match his previous pace makes him chuckle, the feeling of his laugh vibrating against your clit. It takes little work for you to tumble into your orgasm when he curls his fingers just right, your body following every command he lays down.

His hand is covered in your combined cum when he's done with you, the stickiness capturing both of your attention before he shoves them into your waiting mouth.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

#cams!1kevent #txt x reader #txt smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #txt yeonjun #yeonjun #kpop smut #soobin #beomgyu #taehyun #huening kai

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winterzsurprise · 4 months ago

Text

Change My Mind [4]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 7.1k

nothing much to say this time but this is not beta read, my friend who was supposed to read it is unfortunately unavailable, idk if the argument makes sense in the end cause I personally run from confrontations so idk how to write good arguments so yeah.

ANYWAYS, Happy reading!!

<<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>>

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud

___________

In all of your years working for Bangtan, as one of their staff and the youngest stylist, you've been included in every life events and celebrations there is. Birthdays, first wins, comebacks, everything there is even something as important as family dinners. You've never skipped or forgot a single member's birthday, period.

But as Guwon stands before you, a plane ticket to Jeju in hand with the departure scheduled tomorrow and returning just a day short before the tour, you find yourself at a crossroad. It’s Jungkook's birthday tomorrow and Jimin has planned a small party tonight at their dorms before the formal celebration at the company the next day.

While you've been trying to rectify the awkward air between you and the maknae since his confession by starting conversations, the maknae only replied to you with silence before promptly vanishing in two seconds flat.

But despite the strain in your relationship, you could never think of not attending his birthday. You'd never thought to be petty enough to return his energy. His present was already wrapped in a pretty bow under your bed for a week now for Christ's sake!

“I-I can't… It's one of their birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His smile falls. “Can't you just give your gift today? Surely they can party for one night without you.”

It was a genuine question, logical and true but for some reason, his tone raised concerns within you. You swear to the highest heavens you could hear a bit of irritation hidden beneath dejection.

You winced. “I can't, I'm really sorry… I-I can pay you back what you've spent for the trip. I'm really sorry, I just never missed any of their birthdays. I swear I'll make it up to you next time!”

Guwon's shine dulled the further you went on and your heart twinged with guilt. In another universe where some humans gained animalistic features, he'd have dog ears pressed to his skull, staring at you with wide and glistening eyes.

You waved off the image immediately, disturbed.

“It's also my fault for not asking for your schedule. The tour is next week and then you'd be away from me for months so I kind of… panicked. I'm sorry.”

He should've known better than not to do research on your bosses , a voice at the back of your head scoffed and you waved the thought away as you put a hand over his.

“I should've notified you as well. Tell me if those are refundable or not, I'll pay you back.”

He waves you off. “Cute but I've been raised well to know not to ask a lady to pay for my mistake, so don't worry that pretty head of yours about not being able to go.”

The date continued and thankfully, no dead air remained and conversation eased out of the both of you. Guwon sorted out his reservations early on, he'd stopped eating every once in a while to pick up his phone to either receive a call or respond to an email.

With how often he answered the chimes of his phone and how long it took for him to finally put it down, you figured he must've prepared a lot for the week and it made you feel more guilty every time he did it.

Today, he brought you both to an indoor park he rented for an hour for a picnic. It was on the outskirts of Seoul and he also cooked most of the food placed between you both, his mother however, was responsible for the side dishes.

Speaking of mothers, yours called earlier to congratulate you on whatever it was she was adamant on keeping secret but you already knew what it was and you were glad Jungkook’s mother gave birth on such a perfect day almost 21 years ago.

Guwon was planning to propose to you during the trip.

It left a bitter taste in your tongue. Sure you had expected to be married to him at some point but you barely knew the man outside of his colorful stories, and knew none of his actual behavior in his home. You haven't even visited his house yet for a vibe check so why is he rushing too fast?

Despite the guilt in your heart, relief is more palpable knowing you'd have more time to figure out if you truly want Guwon in your life.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you took a glance at it.

[17:29] Jinnie: I'll pick you up at your apartment by 6. [17:29] Jinnie: please be prepared😊

Seeing the t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ friendly smile attached at the end of his message, you're suddenly reminded of the present. You hadn't told any of them of your date today, something that had drawn out longer than you thought it would. You frowned, fingers drumming on the side of your phone as you pondered on what to reply.

You had promised to help with the food yet here you are, out of town and on a picnic date inside a garden observatory.

“Who is it?” Guwon asks, seeing the frown on your face. Your mind immediately picks up the odd tone he has.

“Their oldest, Jin. We're supposed to cook together before the rest comes home.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought the birthday was tomorrow?”

“Oh, we're planning a small party before it, just his closest friends.”

Guwon nodded, eyes distant and thoughtful as he took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “What time are you expected?”

“Their eldest said he'll pick me up at six.”

He looked at his watch and frowned deeper. “It's already 5:30. Maybe I can drive you to their dorm instead?”

You immediately shook your head. Remembering the promise you had with Jin and Jungkook. The maknae had recently begun to look at your direction again yesterday after Hoseok had talked to him, inviting Guwon would ruin the smallest progress you’ve had.

Not to mention, you can't reveal their dorm location even if he is to be your husband. Company rules and you've signed an NDA.

“Company rules, can't reveal their location.”

“If we're going to be a couple soon, I'm going to need to know more about these guys you're hanging around. I don't trust them.” He says as he turns to the picnic basket to take another sandwich out, unable to see the twitch in your eye.

“Well, you have to learn how to, they’re my bosses and my best friends.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. I mean,” He scoffed. “Did you notice how they look at me whenever I’m around? That rapper—Yun–Yoonmi stared at me like I’m an insect he stepped on.”

Anger boils deep within your soul and you’re sure it's visibly contorting your face at this point but the man didn’t notice it and continued chewing on his food.

“Besides, their location is pretty well known already, no? Just a couple searches away, why be so secretive about it?”

You refrain yourself from frowning and it takes all of the energy within you to not react as wildly as you would’ve. It was amazing how the illusion of something good could shatter with only a few words and you set down the sandwich in your hand.

There's something terribly humbling upon realization that the man you're talking to is indeed, a man.

Noticing the shift in the air, he set down his cup of coffee with a slight raise to his brows.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It's true though, I just think it's pointless to try to hide it when some people already know, so what's the use of trying to hide their dorm?”

Where's Jimin and Taehyung at times like this?

You dreaded the conversation you're about to bring up to your mother once she calls, and could hear her scolding you for having such high standards. Guwon being indifferent to the possibility of being stalked, and your boys’ privacy being breached immediately raise red glaring flags over his head.

A lawyer himself who shrugged at the threat of crimes, the joke just writes itself.

“Don't look at me like that, I'm just… trying to understand why you didn't want me to interact with them after our second date. It makes a man overthink, know?”

Whatever thread you were holding onto, a sliver of hope that you might've misheard or misunderstood him, decayed within you and you picked up your phone to stuff into your bag.

You had hoped, wished, that after your deep talk on the night Seokjin had scolded your ass to the nines he'd understand your dynamic better with the boys or at least try. You could already hear Yoongi's drawl out ‘I told you so’ as you packed up, even imagine him bringing up Namjoon’s statistical analysis and how I should've listened to it.

“If you're implying what I think you are implying then I don't think we should meet each other anymore.”

Tossing the food back into the basket carelessly, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stand, only for his hand to shoot out to grab your wrist in an iron grip.

“Wait, I-I'm sorry! I just got… jealous, that's all.”

Even with the apologetic look displayed clearly on his face and the fear swimming with them, nothing could bring back to life the trust you had on the man and you pushed his hand away.

“I can't stay with someone who can't understand why those boys are important to me, sorry Guwon but we're over. Don't you ever contact me again.”

“You can't possibly be breaking up with me because I said what I felt? Over them? Really?!”

You don't even recognize the man sitting opposite you.

He knew, he saw how close you are with them and even sat through the stories you told him during your dates. Guwon knew you cherished every single boy in the group yet he disregarded it all because of jealousy? If that isn't a warning, then you might be blind.

“It's like I never even knew you at all.”

He scoffed. “Same with you. Can't believe I actually believed your words telling me you were friends but I saw how those boys treated you!”

Sure your relationship with your bosses is unusual but it was built from hardship and loneliness from being taken away from home and surrendering their time for a glimpse of fame in a field where they're at a huge disadvantage. It was special in ways not many could fathom because in their head, what reason would there be for a man to befriend a girl other than having the intention to fuck them?

It was the mindset of the old and “ wise” and it had infuriated you to the nines.

For him to reveal himself as one of those old cogs when he expressed himself as a gentleman and be convinced by his act of kindness, even the word disappointing could express how greatly upset you are.

“Bet you've slept with all of them at least once, hell, I don't even know why your mother bothered when you're already busy whoring yourself for seven men.”

Anger flooded your veins, it was hot and rampaging under your skin. Before your mind could even register your actions, your hand had already moved, making contact with his cheek in one swift motion. The slap echoed like a clap of thunder in the silence of the observatory.

Even after seeing the angry red mark beginning to mar his skin, your anger remained.

“Goodbye Guwon, I hope we never see each other again.”

Walking away was easier said than done.

You got picked up by Guwon earlier and since you've run far enough from the indoor garden, away from your supposed ticket back home, you're now waiting for an uber at a small library sequestered between towering and loudly designed buildings. You had half a mind to ask your friends that lived nearby for a ride but decided against it.

They might be busy with their own family.

Unlike you.

As you sit there waiting for your ride to come, your mind takes you to your mother and her genuine glee at the thought of you getting married. Ever since your second date, she had been sending you photographs of weddings for inspirations, links to event places and tailors, and flower shops where you could have your bouquet arranged. She was beyond ecstatic, if she heard what had happened, she would be devastated.

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, the volume catching the attention of the bookkeeper who was quick to shush you.

As you waited longer with only the deafening silence of the library to accompany you, doubt began to form at the back of your head.

Was breaking up with Guwon really the right choice?

An angry, louder voice screamed at you for doubling down on your decision. You knew your boys longer than you knew him, if the trip had gone through, Guwon would've proposed to you despite the short time you've known each other. Something you didn't want. Not to mention, he would've gone through the idea while contemplating on your loyalty.

So yes, it was the right decision!

But you were to be married .

Your mother was so happy to have finally matched you with a guy you attended three dates with. The thought made your heart clench, she was excited to see you on the altar and has most likely spread it around your town with pride. She was about to have three married children.

Gods, you don't want to imagine the conversation later on, she'd be distraught.

Your phone buzzed and you dreaded looking at the screen to see your mother's name. Luckily, it was Jin instead.

[18:01] Jinnie: where are you? [18:01] Jinnie: knocked on your door but the neighbor said you were out. [18:02] Jinnie: you're late😒 [18:02] Jinnie: I'm going to have them deduct your pay this month for making me wait [18:03] You: I'm sorry your highness for disappointing you, please forgive this servant of yours🤧 [18:03] You: was on a date [18:03] You: not that it matters anymore, I broke up with Guwon [18:04] You: does it even count? I mean, we weren't official, he didn't ask me to be his girlfriend yet.

You paused, face souring as you realized what you've just typed.

Guwon hadn't asked for your hand officially even after three dates, he had the chance on your second date during the stroll but he didn't. Despite this, he went and asked your parents for their blessings when he hadn't even asked you first.

[18:04] You: wow I just remembered that [18:04] You: then he had the audacity to propose to me!

There's a pause in between his usually instant replies and you had an inkling he's already spreading the gossip around the group somehow.

[18:08] Jinnie: wow there's a LOT to unpack there [18:08] Jinnie: but worry not [18:08] Jinnie: I'll have Jimin get us the strongest drink there is for later [18:09] Jinnie: we'll drink that sorrow away and you're going to tell me what the hell you meant by proposing while not being official [18:10] You: I don't think I should tell you that… [18:10] You: considering… ya know [18:11] You: also don't you guys have an early schedule tomorrow?🤨 [18:12] Jinnie: bold of u to assume I don't want hear how massive of a failure he is [18:12] Jinnie: nothing better than hearing your enemy’s downfall😌 [18:13] Jinnie: also what do you mean ‘you guys’??? [18:13] Jinnie: you're literally our make-up artist!

You scoffed at the message but before you could type up a reply, the notification from your uber app popped out to inform you about your driver now waiting outside the library and you walked out.

[18:23] You: and just because I'm your make-up artist, doesn't mean I should let you all get away with this [18:23] You: and I won't even drink much :pp [18:24] Jinnie : if I ever see you stumbling around the house, you owe me 100000 [18:25] You: WOW [18:25] You: AREN'T YOU RICH ALREADY???? [18:25] Jinnie: money is money😌 [18:26] Jinnie: just get ur ass over here already before I add more zeros to the bet

The smell of Jin’s cooking, both spicy and something savory, welcomed you first before the sound of sizzles did. At the sound of the door closing, Jin appears round the corner with an apron hung from his neck and a tong stained with red bean paste in the other.

Despite the disappointed look he's going for, reminiscent of a mother who caught her daughter coming home past curfew, the relief you feel upon seeing his handsome face after earlier was palpable and the knots in your stomach loosened.

“I should have your pay deducted for showing up late.”

You winced. “Sorry boss, can I appeal for a heartbreak discount on that?”

“Only if you give me a hug and cry on my shoulder.”

He opened his arms wide, plush lips widening into a smile when you approached to wrap your arms around his torso. The fabric of his sweatshirt was soft and the scent of new laundry overtook his usual scent of freshly baked cakes and gentle vanilla perfume, it almost made you boneless in his hold. Moreso when he started stroking your head while the other ran up and down your back with his palm, fingers still wrapped around the tongs.

He didn't pull away despite the awkward position with him bending down and practically melting against your smaller form. In your years of being friends, you could never recall Seokjin being the first to pull away from a hug and once more, you're grateful for that.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll do it while cooking, we might burn whatever you're cooking if I told you all about it here.”

He shook his head, his rubbing motions on your back turning into gentle pats. “We can just order it online if it does, I even bet that they'll still eat it even if it was. Hoba was relentless today.”

His nails raked through your scalp and you resisted the urge to shiver.

“He was being an ass towards you guys. Then when I defended you all, he accused me of sleeping around.”

His first instinct was to curse the man down to his ancestors who bred with each other until he was born, but stopped himself when he realized what he's about to say and cleared his throat.

If his arms coiled tighter around you, you only leaned into him further.

“Normally I would say "I told you so" but I know Yoongi has it covered later. So I'll just say—"

"Don't you dare. Jin don’t you dare finish that sentence."

"I knew it."

He let out a cry when your hand slapped his arm but it quickly dissolved into a fit of squeaky laughter and he pushed your head back under his chin before you could even continue hitting him. Hand continuing their petting as you let out an annoyed groan.

“My mom was so excited! God. I hate that bastard for disappointing me and her. She was sending me links to wedding planners and dressmakers because apparently he was supposed to take me to Jeju tomorrow and propose.”

He stills in your arms, the hand in your hair stopping its motion as his breath hitched in his chest. It took him a moment before he recollected himself and continued to pat your head, pressing a kiss on top of your crown.

“I'm sure auntie will understand, I know that she would've wanted you to find a good man like she and your sister did.”

A voice at the back of your head told you he was referring to himself but you threw the thought away as soon as it went.

“Personally, I would've taken the ticket and ditch him.” He laughed and you hit his arm with a barely concealed grin. “All I'm saying is that free things should be used and if it's gifted then better! You get to decide how to use it so refund it!”

“I don't think it's that easy.”

“Just say Kim Seokjin of BTS asked for a refund and they'll immediately accept it.”

Pulling away, you playfully rolled your eyes at him, earning you one last laugh as you walked to the kitchen where the sizzles of the food being fried on the pan had long been muted. Jin followed you with an onslaught of words spilling from his lips, justifying and detailing how he would've done in your place as you placed your bag down on the island counter before reaching for the spare apron.

Hearing his rants filling the silence made it easier to relax, made forgetting how upset you were at Guwon a walk in the park.

It was familiar and his voice, despite his fiery indignation, was oddly comforting.

Soon enough, your conversation halts and you both position yourself over the counter, following his orders mindlessly; which is mostly dicing the vegetables and the slabs of meat he marinated last night in soy sauce and spices.

You found the repetitive motions of chopping soothing and silently thanked the man now hovering over the saucepan, gently stirring the seaweed soup.

As if sensing your eyes boring holes on the back of his head, his ears reddened and he looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze.

“W-what is it? Wh-why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just admiring how huge your shoulders are and how reliable you are.”

You recalled how dearly he cared for his group despite the exhaustion from practicing singing and dancing the whole day. Despite being the youngest in his family, Jin took on the mantle of the oldest brother in the group easily and selflessly provided for his members alongside Yoongi and Namjoon. If it were anybody, you were sure the boys would've been sick or had long given up, especially when the company was about to file bankruptcy in their earlier years.

From the bone shattering dances, exhausting practices and routines stretching from dawn till dusk, you were thankful Seokjin was there to catch the others when they fall.

It was a hard task nobody would've assumed since selfishness is a built-in trait of a human yet Seokjin proved you wrong when he stayed up every night despite the muscle cramps and exhaustion weighing his bones to cook for his members, taking the role of the eldest like it was a second nature despite being the youngest in his family.

He barked out a half-hearted laugh as his red ears brightened from the compliment. “I already know that of course!”

“Thank you for everything, Jin.”

His face crumpled when he laughed bashfully, the bright hue in his ears crawling to dusk his cheeks as well. It didn't take long before he recovered and like clockwork, in reaction to being flustered by compliments, he got defensive and raised the saucer threateningly at you.

“Ya! If you're planning to compliment me, at least be original! I'm done hearing about how wide my shoulders are from ARMY and how reliant I am from the others! We've been together for years, do better and be original with your compliments!”

It was a joke, obviously.

But staring at the older man childishly brandishing his cooking utensil like a bludgeoning weapon, you couldn't help but ponder about what truly pulled you into him only to realize that you've never truly dove deeper than surface level details. It was disappointing to find out how shallow you've been when expressing your appreciation for the man.

Like he said, you've always pointed out how reliable he is but never have you pointed out the small things such as the warm food he claimed have been extras and the hot soups sectioned off for you on cold days.

He was the first to approach you on the first day despite being the member who mostly kept to himself, asking you if you wanted to celebrate their Rookie of the Year win with them instead of the rowdy staff behind you.

The first one to build a bridge leading to this deep companionship you had with the rest of the members, have you really never thanked him for that?

“You're so caring and humble despite your background and where you are right now. If it was anybody else, they would've left the boys to fend for themselves once they were able to yet you didn't stop cooking for them, for us. I don't think I have ever met a man so down to earth and as loving as you are,” You paused. “Well, except Jimin but if you want something more original I'd say I love your hands even when you think they're weird because they—”

You didn't even realize Jin crossed the distance between you both until his hands clasped around your lips, silencing you completely.

Unlike earlier with only his ears blushing, his cheeks now glowed red, the flushed skin spreading down to his neck, continuing past the collar of his dark blue pajamas. When your eyes meet, you find his glistening with unshed tears no doubt touched by your hastily put together declaration of your appreciation for him.

When it was clear you wouldn't continue your rant, his arms fell to your shoulders and pulled you into a tight embrace.

His violent heartbeats thudding against his chest was the first thing you've heard before you registered the stuttered exhales and his gentle saccharine scent filling your senses, clouding your brain completely. For a moment, it was just you and him in the kitchen, hugging a little longer than friends should be.

But then again, since when have you guys ever drawn the line on how platonic touches should last?

“God… You gotta stop doing that.”

“I'm just following what you told me like a good dongsaeng and I think I did exceedingly well on it. Does that guarantee a deduction on my pay deduction?”

There's an odd, invisible weight that lifted off of you, something you didn't even realize you were carrying. But there's also a tinge of guilt pinching the edges of your heart.

Jin was the first to approach you, and the first to confess four years ago. He was all shy looks and sweet smiles, his sweet words accompanied by a bouquet of flowers that must've cost him more than he could've gotten from being an idol of a new group.

When Jin loves, he gives his all and doesn't think twice to give half of himself as well. In a way, he and Yoongi were alike, just with different approaches.

He was open and unapologetic while Yoongi was subtle and often silent.

His laugh twinkled in your ears but it dwindled later on, as if he remembered something towards the end of his mirth. “You're driving me crazy, how am I supposed to move on when you're this lovely?”

Hearing him confirm your suspicion about his crush—is it even called that at this point?—relieved you from an unknown anxiety most likely sparked by Jungkook's words a few nights ago. Why are you even relieved hearing him still liking you when all you've done is hurt him?

“You're such an idiot, you know that?”

“Love makes you do the stupidest thing but I don't think I've ever regretted ever falling for you.”

He pulls away, a gentler, softer smile now tugging his lips up.

“God, you made me sappy! My god, my soup!”

Even without the warmth of his embrace, you could feel it radiate in the small space of the kitchen. You continued your work as Jin fuzzed about the seaweed soup behind you, bathing in the domesticity of it all.

Your phone vibrates loudly in your bag on the island counter. Wiping your hand on your apron, you opened it to see Jimin’s messages.

[18:56] Mimi: seokjin hyung told me to buy the strongest alcohol [18:57] Mimi: any idea why he’s being weird? [18:57] You: I’ll tell jin that you called him weird [18:57] You: but yes [18:57] You: I’ll tell you all later why [18:58] Mimi: 🤨 [18:58] Mimi: not if I get you drunk in the first ten minutes [18:58] You: I’d like to see you try, pretty boy

Your phone vibrated again. Namjoon had texted you, seeing the preview you rolled your eyes.

[18:59] Joonie: Seokjin hyung didn’t say but I already figured it out [18:59] Joonie: You'd hear enough from Yoongi hyung later but [18:58] Joonie: I told you so [18:58] You: I hope you trip and fall on shit🥰 [18:59] Joonie: Love you too, noona😁 [18:59] You: blocked🚫

“I'm not seeing enough chopping, young lady. Get back to your station!” Jin jokingly scolds. With a laugh, you return to your spot.

By the time some of the boys arrived—except Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, no doubt pre-gaming somewhere—it was already ten and some of the dishes were plated, ready to be eaten in the dining room. If it wasn't for both your and Jin's advanced thinking to ready the bowl of rice and their plates beforehand, they would have starved to death as Yoongi dramatically puts it before blaming Hoseok for draining them out the whole day.

The man in question just laughed in response before shrugging and rebuking their ‘accusations’, saying it wasn't even that hard. To this, Yoongi grumbled under his breath and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, the maknaes entered, cheeks all flushed except for Jimin who was holding up a bag full of canned alcohol as if it was game from an all-day hunt.

You thanked Jimin silently for drinking the birthday boy tipsy enough to make the dinner energetic instead of the awkwardness you thought it'd be due to what happened a few days ago. There's fleeting eyes you've caught in between jokes he made, either pouring with adoration or longing, you tried to not to pay it much mind.

But of course, the alcohol pouring could only go for so long before you're all lounging in the living room to talk about anything that comes to mind. It was half an hour short from the clock tickling to twelve, signifying Jungkook's actual birthday.

The conversation started off tame with Taehyung questioning the animals who sleep standing to something more elaborate with Yoongi asking everyone's opinion about some decrypt conspiracy theory surrounding the rich of the west. It was all fun and games when Taehyung, lost in his own mind running with the most random thought, sluggishly pointed at you and asked:

“Wh-why aren't you checking your phone? G-Guwon hyung haven't been texting you yet?”

Many heads turned to you who was practically boneless in between a tipsy Hoseok and a still sober Yoongi. You didn't even need to look to know the look of concern Jin was throwing your way.

But everything was hazy, your head throbbing from the alcohol. The words slipped past your lips before you could think about it.

“We parted ways… He accused me of sleeping around when I said I didn't want to go on a trip with him tomorrow ‘cause I didn't want to skip Jungkookie's birthday.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder and Yoongi nodded, face indifferent as usual. Despite the reaction of the boys on both sides, not everyone in the circle held the same opinion it seems.

“You didn't have to decline it, noona. You-you’ve been with us for years, missing one wouldn't hurt me much.”

Jungkook's voice was softer as if he had sobered up from the revelation and you waved him away.

“What are you saying? I couldn't leave when we weren't alright.” You glimpsed at Jin before continuing. “Besides, he was planning to propose and I'm glad he couldn't anymore.”

In your drunken mind, the information didn't carry much weight but the pin drop silence following your words did, you guessed that it must've been. However, it didn't last long when Taehyung jumped up to his feet and punched the air as if Korea just scored the final score in FIFA.

The boys look at him with wide eyes, shocked by his reaction. Jimin recovers and tries to tug him down but a drunk Taehyung is determined, with a will stronger than a monk's resilience and patience, no one could stop him from doing what he wanted.

And that was bumping his glass on your forehead, a little harder than it should've been if he was sober and you reel back, a hand over your forehead.

“Noona! you're free again! Do you know what that means?!”

“Ok that's enough for you tonight. Let's get you to bed.” Jimin says, chuckling awkwardly as he stands behind his best friend, wrapping his arms around his waist before dragging him away.

“Why? Can't I just congratulate noona from recognizing something was off instead of ignoring it like most do? Noona,” He turned to you, bottom lip jutted out. “It's not bad that I'm celebrating right?”

Seokjin’s laugh was nervous when he rose to usher the man away as well. “Alright, lets all calm down so we don't accidentally say something while drunk.”

“Fuck yeah! I-I don’t even know why I even believed his lies, he’s a lawyer for fucks sake!”

“Not that it ever stopped you before. I still don't understand why you couldn't have married one of us instead.” Jungkook cuts in, suddenly irritated.

Somehow, the tension in the room grew tenfold and everyone sits up, alert and ready to interfere if their youngest decides to let the alcohol take control of him. Your brain clears once it registered the annoyance in his voice, heart dropping to the soles of your feet.

“Jungkook—”

“I just think it's a bullshit excuse and you know it. You told that to Jin-hyung four years ago and have repeated it ever since. We’re all adults now, we can handle a little rejection and who’s to say we can’t date when we’re the only idol running the company. You say it's because you don’t want to choose but aren’t you just instilling false hope in us?”

He stood as he grew more agitated but Jin pushed him down, eyes stern as he stared down at their youngest. Seeing the conflict brew between them, the growing guilt built by years of spending time with them reawakened.

It tied your stomach in a knot and felt like a building had dropped onto your heart.

As if sensing your emotions, Yoongi’s hand found your shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“You’re not thinking straight so stop it,” Jin excuses as he turns to you with an apologetic smile. “He’s just drunk, he doesn’t—”

“I know what I’m saying and I think you’re being too biased here hyung!”

“Jungkook…” Hoseok calls from next to you, voice low, a warning.

“You too! She’s also your friend, why aren’t you pointing out how she’s just playing with us? Why are you only calling me out?”

“Because you’re being a stupid drunk right now, Jungkook. Stand down .” Yoongi ordered, voice firm and warning. His arms are crossed as he stared their youngest down but the maknae wasn’t intimidated by it, if anything, the fire in the older man’s eyes only fueled the anger boiling within him.

In years you’ve watched over them, never once has Yoongi scolded their youngest past Run BTS contents, leaving the reprimanding to their oldest and leader. For him to call him out and seeing them grow agitated by each other’s presence, dread loomed over you with your nightmares threatening to come true.

This isn’t how tonight’s party was supposed to go.

“Isn’t there anyone who’d agree with me at how absurd all of this is?!” His head snapped at Namjoon who’s watching with a careful eye. “Hyung, surely you can also see it!”

Throughout the exchange, Namjoon had sat back and watched the interaction from the sidelines instead of interfering on the first hint of a fight breaking out. Even when the situation becomes a little aggressive, he stays silent but you don’t doubt that he’d be the first to stand if the disagreement becomes volatile and inching towards physical.

That's what he always has done, observed and let the high rise of emotions eventually tides down to a calm on their own. He's a leader, he's supposed to be fair and to do so, he must first understand both sides before taking action. He also trusts his own team to temper their own ire after years of being together.

But now that he's forced to join the argument, he sighed and stood. Seokjin stepped away as he approached their youngest with both hands placed on his shoulders to sit him back down.

Obediently, Jungkook follows.

“While I do see where you’re coming from, I think it's a bit unfair that you’re blaming her for being scared.�� Jungkook opens his mouth but a firm shake of Namjoon’s head shuts him up. “Don’t start again. There’s a power imbalance here kid. If her choosing someone could cause a problem, we’d get off scot free but not her. In the eyes of the company, she’s disposable—”

“But she’s not.”

“She is. In their eyes at least. By having her around causing problems for us, she’s nothing but a thorn in their side that they should remove. If she had dated one of us and eventually broke up, it would cause an awkwardness and riff between guys especially if it ended on a bad note and BigHit won't stand for it. You know how important this job is for her, right?”

They stared at each other for a long while, both unrelenting in silence. You all waited with bated breath, Namjoon was the only one who could diffuse the situation and if he fails, then who else could possibly calm the maknae down?

Turning to the clock, you bit your lip at the time.

It was nearing Jungkook's actual birthday, three minutes short before both hands ticked to twelve.

Which meant it would have to start during the denouement of an argument. The thought planting discomfort in your stomach. Such a happy celebration shouldn't be welcomed like this.

In the midst of raised voices and pointing fingers, Taehyung has completely sobered up from where he sat between Jimin’s thighs, staring beady eyed at the situation in his friend’s arms. Sensing your gaze, he turned to you with a sheepish, apologetic smile when Jungkook's heavy sigh broke through the silence.

His head fell to his chest as Namjoon removed his hands from his shoulders yet his eyes remained on their youngest’s hunched form.

“You get what we're trying to say now, do you?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Anything you want to say, gguk?” Namjoon was talking to him like he was a kindergarten teacher and you both were kids who fought on the sandbox for the shovel, warm and understanding but the disappointment in his tone is clear as day.

Jungkook doesn't reply but he shoots up to his feet, surprising Hoseok next to you, with eyes still trained on the floor.

When he did look up to meet your gaze, it was brief and cut off by a deep bow. You reached your hands out, trying to stop him from doing so but Yoongi took one of your hands and pinned them down between his and your thighs.

Jungkook never had to bow for you and it felt wrong seeing him bent down to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry noona, I—” He trails off.

In his speechlessness in a room full of people who—while understanding where he comes from—stood behind you, he clams up and then in a flash, he’s gone, bolting from the living room and skipping up the stairs. The sound of his heavy footfalls echoing like the clock ticking down to his birthday.

The argument has been dissolved, yet it left a bitter taste on your tongue, it made you feel queasy having everyone back you up without reprimanding you as well. It was true, what Jungkook said.

Weren't you practically leading them on by not choosing anyone? No matter how unintentional it must be, if he thinks that way then maybe everyone else in the group does, just silently.

You turned to the clock again. A minute closer to the next day.

Frustration made you want to pull your hair out but the long, lithe fingers that have entangled with yours in the middle of it all, forbade you from doing so. As if he could hear the internal debate between logic and emotions, Yoongi gave you a comforting squeeze.

But it didn't feel right, you shouldn't be sitting on your ass while Jungkook blamed himself for expressing his own opinion, sure it was a bit aggressive but you understood his frustration.

“Jungkook!” You called out, rising to your feet to follow him when Yoongi tightened his hold on your wrist and shook his head.

“He needs time to process, leave him be.”

Yet despite this, you shrugged his hold off and followed the youngest’s heavy footfalls upstairs and presumably into his room. You caught onto him in the hallway, with the door to his room opened and half of his body already inside.

“Jungkook, let us talk.”

“I-I don't want to see you right now, noona please.”

The desperation to correct the wrongs gives you a short burst of energy and you catch his wrist.

“Jungkook please, I—”

You heard the joyful chime of the clock downstairs before you heard the sweet jingles of bells.

Then you felt it.

Electric jolts shoot up from your connected hands, waking every cell and your mind awake and you almost keel over from the wave of relieving warmth washing over your body. There’s now a low hum accompanying the bells chiming in the background, the soft harmony between them sending shivers down your spine.

You've thought of first meetings like those scenes in Hollywood movies where a kaleidoscope of colors explodes behind your eyelids, like fireworks celebrating the precious moment where the protagonists finally meet and fireworks shoot up to the sky. They talked of a brief moment of reprieve from reality, the world slowing down and feeling the most calmed you've ever been with your soulmate in hand.

Like your soul finally recognizing its pair and suddenly, everyone became a blur in the background.

Yet when you stared back at Jungkook's mirrored astonishment, your stomach bottomed out.

Because no way in hell, after all this time, you're soulmates.

636 notes · View notes

delusional-day-dreamer · 6 months ago

Text

Last Friday Night - n.m

‣ nika muhl x reader!

‣ paige version of this fic

‣ wc: 1953; sorry this is so short and lowkey not that good?

‣‣ synopsis: you and nika have kept your relationship on the dl for a while now, but what happens when your inebriated selves slip up on kk’s live? pretend the ncaa's lift on cannabis for athletes happens before the start of the 23-24 season! (so sorry for the inactivity but I just got back from camp and am ready to feed y'all)

‣‣‣ a/n: so i actually thought of this fic idea when i tried a weed pen for the first time (it's legal in ca) and i passed out with half my clothes on, no fan, forgot to brush my teeth and take my makeup off, and accidentally left a small heater on in my room that ran for four hours and turned my room into a furnace before my mom came in and turned it off and woke me up to yell at me 😊!

8:42 am

To say that you and Nika were in trouble by the events of last night was a little bit of an understatement. Both of your phones were blowing up by your respective coaches, teammates, close friends, and all of your social media accounts.

As you scrolled through your tiktok, text messages, instagram tags, and just about everything else on your phone while laying next to Nika's sleeping figure in her bed, it only reaffirmed one thing in your head.

You and Nika majorly fucked up.

12:07 am; where it all went wrong

With your volleyball season and Nika's basketball season being in their respective peaks during this time of year, you had barely gotten a chance to spend time with your girlfriend alone. The two of you were either travelling for away games, at practice, in class, hanging out with your friends or teammates, or busy studying. Needless to say, you missed Nika. A lot.

Which, combined with the weed pen you were hitting periodically, loosened your inhibitions to a whole new level inside of Ted's fairly crowded bar.

It wasn't jam-packed, but there was a decent crowd of older college students for a Friday night in October, especially since Halloween was soon to be approaching in two weeks.

Normally, you and Nika weren’t big on PDA, at most you would hold hands or give small pecks around the team, considering the fact that the two of you kept your relationship very much on the down low, not so much a secret as very private. You never denied any allegations but basically never posted together on your own, unless the two of you ended up in the background of someone else’s pictures.

Social media had a lot of speculation, edits, rumors, etc, surrounding the two of you, as you had no connection to the team as a volleyball player yet still hung out with them regularly. But either way, you and Nika always just minded your own business and kept everything very hush hush. Except for tonight.

Nika was sort of sober, she had done two shots with some of the other girls while you mostly just smoked a few times, not wanting to get super high, but just enough to let the tingly sense of giggly euphoria wash over you.

Yet one thing you failed to consider when choosing weed over alcohol for tonight was the fact that it made you incredibly horny. That, combined with the fact that you and Nika hadn’t spent any time together in the last three weeks, let alone have sex, were the leading factors of tonight.

The rest of the basketball team was spread throughout the bar, some were at a table not far from the two of you, messing around on KK's live, while others were dancing, drinking, or mingling with their other friends.

Which left you and Nika alone, squished together in the corner of the bar top. You were leaning with your back against the wall, standing in between Nika's spread legs from her position facing you atop the stool. Her hands were holding onto your bare thighs, occasionally removing her left to take a small sip of her drink before dutifully returning to your legs.

"I'm just saying Niks, we could definitely sneak out without anyone noticing, everyone's too busy doing their own thing," you attempted to convince your stubborn girlfriend, sweetening the notion by rubbing your hands up and down her jean-clad thighs.

As D1 athletes, it was obvious that the two of you had toned and muscular bodies, but one of Nika's features you found most attractive were her muscular thighs she built from her time in the gym and on the court, especially the way they would wrap around your head while eating her out.

"We'll leave soon bebo don't worry. Besides," Nika leaned into your ear, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I already promised I would make up the last three weeks to you tonight yeah? What's another hour ljubavi?"

You bit your bottom lip as Nika pulled back, thudding your head on the wall behind you as your eyes trailed over the small smirk Nika held, now using her fingers to draw small circles on your thigh.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy like this Nika," you reached your right hand over to the bar top, desperate to take another hit of your pen to ease the influx of horny thoughts running through your mind.

Before you could bring the vape up to your mouth, Nika grabbed your waist and pulled you into her, and despite her sitting position, you still only had a good two inches over her.

"You're not gonna share bebo?" Her teasing eyes gleamed up at you as she licked her lips in anticipation.

You immediately knew what she meant by that, the two of you doing it all the time whenever you're smoking or vaping together (y'all have seen the watermelon pic of her and let's be frl, they're college students, it's NORMAL).

You smirked at her suggestion, leaning into her before taking a deep inhale of the weed, allowing as much of the smoke to enter your lungs as possible before using your left hand to grab Nika's jaw, pressing your open lips against hers to shotgun the smoke into her mouth.

You didn't even wait to finish exhaling all of the smoke and taking another breath before enveloping Nika's lips into yours hungrily, eagerily gripping her waist with the hand still holding the vape.

You kissed her passionately, deepening the kiss as you slipped your tongue into her mouth, the mixture of the rum and coke she was drinking earlier and the earthy taste of weed making your head spin.

You continued to make out for a few minutes, gently pulling away while tugging her bottom lip with your teeth, gazing down at her closed eyes and blissful expression.

"You finally ready to go home Niks?" You teased, licking your swollen lips at her finally needy expression.

"We're getting the fuck out of here, right now," she rushed out, flagging down the bartender to pay off her tab and the second she got her credit card in hand, interlocked her fingers with yours to drag you out of the bar.

Completely unbeknownst to the two of you, KK and her live had been at the table diagonal to you the whole time, and while her body covered the two of you behind her while sitting, the only shield you had quickly disappeared when she stood up, leaning over the table to steal some of Ice's food when it had been set down, completely exposing you to her two thousand viewers, who were no doubt screen-recording.

The camera clearly caught your lips against Nika's blowing smoke into her mouth before leaning in to kiss her, and despite the two of you being on screen for less than a minute, it was enough to cause an internet commotion.

KK's eyes scanned over the comments as she sat back down, blocking your frames as she shoved a few fries in her mouth. Her eyes widened at the sudden influx of comments about you and Nika, leaning in to figure out what was going on.

"I, what? There's no way y'all," she whispered to the table of Paige, Ice, Carol, and Jana. Paige leaned in from KK's right side, trying to figure out what had happened.

Covering the camera slightly, KK, and everyone else, turned around to witness you and Nika's little makeout session ending and the flirty whispers exchanged.

"Unfortunately tonight's live is gonna have to end here girly pops, and if you think you saw something, no you didn't!" KK exclaimed as she quickly turned off the live, the table erupting with laughter at the situation. The whole team had placed bets on how long it would take you and Nika to fumble, and half of them had just lost a hundred dollars at your shennagains.

The walk back to Nika's apartment was brief, filled with flirty touches and short pecks to tide the two of you over until you finally entered home, Nika immediately pushing you up against the front door, moving her lips down your neck and around your collarbones with gentle grazes of her teeth and soothing licks.

"Niks please, stop teasing," you breathed out, grasping Nika's hair tightly from her scalp with your hand, pulling her face up to yours to gaze down at her with a pleading expression.

"Aw, my poor bebo," she cooed, mocking your horny desperation for her, but thankfully Nika wasn't that cruel.

She led you over to her bedroom, slamming her bedroom door behind her as she pulled your shirt over your head, unfastening the bra clipped behind your back all while reconnecting your lips as she laid you down onto the bed.

You moaned into her mouth as her long fingers bunched your skirt up by your waist, rubbing gentle circles on your clit through your panties.

Before you even had the chance to ask for more, she slid the fabric to the side, running her fingers through your slick before inserting two of her fingers, curling them up into you as you let go of her lips to throw your head back, moaning loudly at her ministrations.

"Oh my god Nika, right there baby, fuck," your leg wrapped around her waist tightly as you clenched around her fingers, bucking your hips up to match her movements. Your hands making their way around her neck and back, pressing her body firmly up against yours.

Normally you wouldn't be so close to finishing within a few minutes, but the weed from earlier created a delirious fog that clouded your brain and with the way Nika's fingers were both pressing into your g-spot and rubbing your clit, your orgasm was quickly approaching.

"Fuck I'm so close Niks, please just need a little more," you whimpered into her ear, moving your lips down to nip at the sweet spot under her ear.

Her other hand responded quickly to your begs, twisting and tugging firmly at your nipple as she mindlessly muttered every dirty thought that crossed her mind, knowing how deeply her praises affected you.

"Doing so good for me bebo, always such a good girl. You gonna be my good girl and come for me? Just let go for me ljubavi."

Her words were the final thing to push you over the edge, the tight coil in your stomach snapping as you immediately arched your back into Nika, an endless string of moans and curses falling from your mouth as you let your orgasm wash over you fully.

"God Nika, I don't think I can even feel my legs right now," you giggled in her embrace as she slowly eased her fingers out of you, sucking the remnants of your orgasm off them before wrapping them around your waist, laying you over her as she laid onto her back.

"Hm, fucked you that good huh?" She smirked, using her clean(ish) hand to brush the slightly sweaty strands of hair that had fallen in front of your flushed face.

"I don't know why you're getting so cocky Mühl, haven't even had my turn with you yet," you teased, running your fingers over her stomach, tugging at the remaining fabric on her body.

"Thought you just said you can't even feel your legs bebo?"

"Good thing I don't need them to fuck you then yeah? Don't you think my fingers and mouth will be enough for you Niks," you retorted, shuffling your body down the mattress so you could finally have your way with Nika.

9:13 am

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steddieas-shegoes · 8 days ago

Text

a birthday halfway forgot

for @corrodedcoffinfest pop-up event 'birthday boy' using the prompt 'birthday' and 'age 30'

rated e, minors dni | 3132 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, band manager steve, established relationship, fucking on a motorcycle is ill-advised but they do it anyway, hand jobs, anal sex, domestic fluff

🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️

He’s looking at the calendar in shock. He didn’t know. He didn’t realize.

It’s January 26th.

It’s Eddie’s 30th birthday. It’s Gareth’s 27th birthday.

Somehow, he lost track of dates in all of the chaos of planning the next tour and being so focused on the April through September parts of the calendar.

“Shit.”

He immediately calls Jeff because he’s sure the next most mature human being in their codependent group of misfits hasn’t forgotten. There’s no way Jeff forgot.

“Shit,” he says when Steve asks.

He forgot.

“Okay. It’s not the end of the world! It’s still early.”

Steve looks at the clock. It is early, but they don’t have time to plan something.

“Make a reservation at that Italian place they both like. The one with the fried meatballs. I’ll get cake. It’ll be fine,” Steve is good in crisis. He’s proven time and time again how quickly he can fix problems on tour. He can do it for this, too. “They won’t know we forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Eddie asks from behind Steve.

“The appointment we made for everyone to see the doctor before tour!” Steve says, way too loud to be considered normal.

Luckily, Eddie is used to Steve being a little manic during the planning stages of tour and doesn’t question his volume or strained smile.

“Is that Gare? He was supposed to call me when he got up,” Eddie steps closer. “It’s almost noon; There’s no way he’s still asleep.”

“It’s Jeff.”

“Jeffery!” Eddie grabs the phone from Steve’s hand and waves his free hand around. “Haven’t you taken my husband away from me enough lately?”

Steve rolls his eyes. It’s not his fault they choose to handle most things themselves instead of outsourcing all the tour management to the label. It’s better if Steve and Jeff take care of things.

They talk for a few minutes and Steve decides he needs to pull out the phone book to find a bakery. It’s gonna be a hell of a challenge to find someone capable of personalizing a cake within a few hours, but if anyone can, it’s Steve.

Eddie ends up driving to Gareth’s instead of waiting for his call, which makes Steve’s life a lot easier. He finds a bakery— only had to call six before someone was willing— and tries not to worry too much about how much he’s paying just for a cake. They have money. They can afford an expensive cake.

Eddie and Gareth deserve it.

Steve cannot believe he forgot.

||||||||||||

“You forgot,” Eddie laughs.

The restaurant is empty except for the guys and a handful of staff ready to wait on their every want and need. There’s a balloon on the centerpiece of the table and one gift sitting next to it.

Steve groans.

“Jeff forgot, too.”

Eddie kisses his temple and walks over to the gift. Steve knows it’s Gareth’s gift. Eddie’s can’t be wrapped.

“Hey!” Jeff exclaims, but Eddie waves him off.

“We didn’t forget your birthdays, we just forgot what day it was entirely,” Steve continues. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says and really means it. Eddie doesn’t get upset about this stuff, Steve knows that. “Gareth and I had a bet.”

“That’s what you had to go over to talk to him about?” Steve looks over at Gareth, who is flirting with the waitress while everyone else sits at the table. “How much did you bet?”

“He bet that you guys forgot and wouldn’t remember until we told you. $200.”

“And you?”

Eddie laughs. “I bet that you’d remember in time to pull off a surprise but just barely. $500.”

“Wow. Does he even have that kinda money laying around?” Steve jokes. He does. They all do. They have more money than they need. Their money has money. Literally. It’s accruing interest in accounts.

“You know exactly how much money I have,” Gareth says as he lays an arm around Steve’s shoulders and smacks a kiss on his cheek. “You balanced my checkbook last week and I swear I’ve only spent a few grand since.”

Steve knows he’s joking, but his heart stutters in his chest anyway. Just because they have it doesn’t mean they should be frivolous with it. He knows they all know that, but Gareth is still quick to sign a check for pleasure sometimes.

“Happy birthday, Gare,” Steve says as he leans his head on top of Gareth’s. “Sorry we forgot a little.”

“Eh, it was only a little. We’re celebrating now. Plus, I’m only turning 27. Grandpa over here should start drafting his retirement announcement.”

“I would, but I haven’t developed arthritis yet,” Eddie says as he grabs one of the fried meatballs from the plate near the end of the table. “At the rate you crack your knuckles, you’ll be celebrating your 28th in a care facility.”

“Alright, enough. Let’s order drinks and stop making the staff nervous,” Steve starts to gather everyone to the table, take the lead the way he usually does. It’s natural, and easy, and fun. He likes being the beacon of responsibility for this group. It’s different from his role with the kids in Hawkins— less life or death most of the time— but still a glorified babysitter position. “Behave like the adults you claim to be.”

“Wayne Munson just came out of your mouth,” Eddie says as he sits. “Not sure I like it.”

Steve ignores the bait. He’ll never get them all to be decent guests at this restaurant if he keeps going back and forth with Eddie.

They spend so much time together already, but it’s never difficult to be around each other. They really are codependent at this point; Where one goes, at least one more will follow and he’ll bring beer and sarcasm.

Gareth opens his present, eyes shining when he sees that everyone chipped in to get him the record player he loved when they went to an old record shop in Chicago. It was considered antique and the owner of the shop wasn’t even interested in selling it to him, but Steve is a convincing guy, and the rest of the guys pulled out their own checkbooks to make it happen.

They grabbed a few records for him, too, but he’s already talking about the list he has and where they can find them. Everyone listens because it’s his birthday, only throwing in jibes occasionally instead of constantly. It’s his birthday so they’re taking it easy.

“I guess my gift is these fried meatballs,” Eddie finally says. He doesn’t sound disappointed; That’s how much he loves the fried meatballs.

“Your gift is at home,” Steve pats his knee, dismissive.

Eddie wiggles his brows. “From everyone or just you?”

“Part of it is from everyone,” Steve allows.

“I’m ready to go!” Eddie claps his hands. “Thanks for coming, happy birthday to my birthday twin, blah blah blah.”

Frankie rolls his eyes and reaches for one of the meatballs on Eddie’s plate.

“Just remember the part that came from all of us is not the part you’re so excited about,” he says with his mouth full.

“Love you all, but I definitely have no interest in fucking any of you. See ya!” He waves as he gets up and leaves.

Everyone looks at Steve. He pats Gareth on the shoulder and smiles at everyone else.

“See you guys tomorrow. Not early, though. Unless you wanna see something you’ll never forget,” Steve winks.

Everyone groans but they wave and say goodbye with smiles on their faces.

Eddie’s sitting in the passenger seat when Steve gets to the car. He’s a passenger princess through and through and Steve loves him for it.

“Step on it, baby!”

Steve steps on it, but maintains the speed limit because the last thing they need is a ticket.

||||||

He doesn’t park in the garage because he can’t.

Eddie’s immediately suspicious.

“It’s supposed to rain early in the morning. Don’t you wanna pull the car in?” He asks.

“Can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t.”

“Oh my god.”

Steve smirks. Eddie unbuckles his seatbelt and practically falls out of the car as he bangs on the garage door.

“Open it!” He yells at Steve, who has the button in the car, but thinks this is way more entertaining than doing what Eddie asks. He could always unlock the door and get inside that way, but he knows Eddie realizes what his present is now.

They went all out for his 30th. Even the kids got involved. Wayne picked it out. This has been their best kept secret for months.

The fact that Steve forgot today was the day is crazy in hindsight. He’s had this date circled as delivery day for nearly a month.

Steve finally pushes the button to open the door and Eddie barely waits for it to be lifted above his waist before he’s ducking inside. He screams. High-pitched, girlish in nature, entertaining as hell. Steve almost wishes he could’ve thought to bring the camcorder with him to record this special moment.

“Steve!” Eddie exclaims when he’s done squealing. “A Harley?!”

Steve casually walks into the garage and wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist, kissing his temple.

“Wayne said this is really close to the one you liked when you two went on that trip together,” Steve explains. “We can always paint it if the color isn’t right.”

“It’s perfect. Don’t touch it. It’s perfect,” he babbles, leaving Steve’s arm to sit on the seat, bouncing once as if to test how squishy the seat is.

It’s squishy. Steve checked.

“The helmet even has bats painted on it!” Eddie reaches for the helmet hanging from the handle. “And my name! Stevie!”

“And the helmet is required. Even if you’re just going to Gareth’s house or to the store. No helmet, no motorcycle,” Steve places his hands on his hips. He means business and Eddie knows it better than anyone that safety comes before fun, always.

“I know, I know. I can’t believe this,” Eddie says, still in awe. “I didn’t think you’d ever cave. Who convinced you?”

See, Eddie’s wanted his own bike for at least four years now, ever since he and Wayne went on a bike tour of the Appalachian Mountains. Steve wasn’t necessarily against it, he just knew they didn’t have much time at home to enjoy it, and he did worry that Eddie wouldn’t prioritize safety over fun if he got carried away.

He hates that Frankie of all people managed to convince him by saying there’s nothing hotter than fucking on a Harley.

He’s hoping Frankie’s right.

Instead of answering the question, Steve presses the button that closes the garage door and walks over to the bike.

“You ready for part two?”

“I don’t even know how this can get any better, but sure,” Eddie looks up at him with wide eyes.

Steve pulls off his shirt, kicks off his shoes, and strips off his pants and underwear. He shivers, but not because he’s cold. Winter looks a lot different in California than it did in Hawkins, that’s for sure.

“Oh my god. I must be dreaming,” Eddie grins as he leans back, making room for Steve to straddle his thighs on the bike.

It’s a sturdy bike, so he’s not too worried about it falling over while they do this, but a small voice in his head is still telling him to make small movements. He’s not letting Eddie fuck him on this thing until they test it like this.

Steve’s half-hard at the thought of Eddie holding him up on this thing, letting him bounce on his cock. Maybe he’s fantasized about Eddie being a mechanic fixing his car and Steve’s only way to pay for the labor is to ride him until they’re both sweaty and messy, oil stains leaving fingerprints on Steve’s skin.

That’s not what’s happening now, and won’t actually happen ever, but this is close enough.

“Been thinking about you touching me all day,” Steve admits. It’s true, but he’s playing it up a little, fluttering his eyelashes a little. “I wanna take a ride, too.”

“I’ve gotta be the luckiest man in the world,” Eddie groans as he wraps his hand around Steve’s length, squeezing the head of his cock and jerking his hand a few times to bring him to full hardness. “I’ve had this exact dream.”

“How’d the dream go?” Steve gasps as Eddie touches him the right way over and over. He’s good at this, always has been. He finds the right pace and pressure, and he just keeps going, listening for any sign that Steve’s not feeling perfect.

“I got to make you come and then lay you down on the seat and lick you clean,” Eddie ends on a moan. “Please let me do that, baby. I’ll do anything.”

Steve nods, would never stop Eddie from doing that. This sounds like a dream he’s had, too.

His hands hold onto Eddie’s shoulders as he tilts his hips up to push into Eddie’s grasp. He’s close, so close already. He doesn’t think they’ll ever stop being embarrassingly quick when they get their hands on each other.

It’s a gift to know someone so well that you feel like teenagers every time you touch each other.

“C’mon,” Eddie nips at Steve’s neck, breath hot against his skin. “Make a mess, baby.”

Steve’s always been good at following directions. He moans as he comes, paints his own stomach and Eddie’s hand, opens his eyes to see cum dripping onto the seat under him. He’s sure Eddie doesn’t mind.

He feels shaky, unstable, but only because the bike rocks under them as Eddie pulls his own shirt off and stands, moving Steve so he’s laying back. It’s far from comfortable, but it’s hot as hell.

Eddie licks the cum off Steve’s stomach and dick, takes his time while Steve sucks on his fingers. They’re both still worked up too much to stop, and now that Steve’s slowly coming down, he realizes he wants Eddie to fuck him. Now.

“Get your pants off,” Steve demands.

“Say please,” Eddie teases before sucking a bruise into Steve’s hip.

“Please,” Steve begs, because it’s Eddie’s birthday and he’s gonna do whatever Eddie wants. Eddie likes when he begs a little, even though they both know there’s no need for it. “Fuck me.”

“You look so good like this,” Eddie says as he shoves his pants off. “Not even sure I need to drive this thing if I can have you like this all the time.”

“No more band? Touring? Just fucking me on your motorcycle?” Steve’s laugh turns into a groan when Eddie’s finger circles his hole. “Not sure we can back out of this tour now.”

“You and I both know I’ll find plenty of places to fuck you on tour,” Eddie smiles down at him. “Comfy or do you need to move?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m okay for now. Just want you inside me.”

Eddie opens him up efficiently, doesn’t rub against his prostate until he’s got three fingers inside him.

Trying to stay still is proving to be difficult, and Steve’s pretty sure their pushing the limits of the kickstand.

“C’mon, I’m good. I’m ready,” Steve says. “Fuck me, Eddie, c’mon.”

Fucking on a motorcycle is not easy to do, but they’ve actually fucked in more difficult positions before.

One time, Steve fucked Eddie over an amp backstage. It wasn’t wide enough for either of them to properly sit on, but they managed. They had bruises and some strange red marks for a day or two, but it was worth it.

Another time, the hotel they were staying in had a balcony. Kind of. It was barely more than a small extension of the room with an iron bar around it, but they put that iron bar to the test. It passed, they were sore.

They have to be slow, slower than they normally would be. Steve doesn’t wanna have to bring it in for scuff marks to be buffed out if it falls over on day one.

If he were less flexible, maybe a little older, he’d have to call it. His legs are tight around Eddie’s waist and he’s using more of his ab muscles than he’s used in years to maintain his own stability.

Eddie blankets himself over Steve, barely moving in and out of him. The friction of Steve’s leaking cock against his stomach is probably enough to get him there.

Eddie brushes Steve’s bangs off his face, kisses his forehead, and moans when Steve clenches around his cock.

“I love you so much,” Eddie whispers. “You’re the best gift.”

Steve kisses him, mouth open, tongue licking over his teeth. It’s wet and messy, and it’s perfect. The phone’s ringing inside the house, but they’re too close to care about trying to answer. They’ll leave a message.

They both come together, whimpering into each others’ mouths as Eddie’s hips stutter and Steve’s legs fall.

Eddie kisses the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his neck. He pulls out slowly, and they both wince at the loss of being filled and being surrounded.

“Let’s get cleaned up. I wanna take this for a ride,” Eddie helps Steve off the bike. “You got a helmet?”

Steve nods. “I assumed you’d want me to come with you at least once.”

“I’ve had dreams, Stevie.”

They both laugh and the phone starts ringing again. Eddie sighs and rushes to get inside.

“Hello?” Steve follows, closing the door behind him. His legs feel numb, almost enough to make him stumble. “Gare, you knew what my gift was and you’re still calling?”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Of course I love it. No, you can’t come over for a ride tonight. No, you can’t drive it. No!” Steve is giggling as he kisses Eddie’s shoulder on his way past him to their room. “I don’t care if it’s your birthday, too. It’s my gift.”

Steve drops his clothes in the basket and goes into the bathroom to start the shower. He has no doubt that they’ll get messy again before the night’s over, but they should try to look decent if they’re taking the Harley out for a spin.

He hears Eddie telling Gareth not to call back until tomorrow as he steps into the hot water.

Gareth will worm his way into driving it by the end of the week, Steve’s sure of it. Eddie’s got a soft spot for him that can be seen from space. That’s why there’s a helmet for Gareth sitting in a box in the living room.

Steve thought of everything.

“Does cum stain leather?” Eddie asks as he steps into the shower.

Steve’s brows furrow.

Maybe he didn’t think of everything.

#stranger things #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fest #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #jeff stranger things #gareth stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things

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chlix · 1 month ago

Text

baby, it's cold outside (no seriously it's crazy out there)

bf! chan x gn! reader: your car breaks down in a snowstorm and you have to walk home. chan is there to comfort you and warm you back up

pairing: chan x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 4.1k

warnings/tags: snowstorms, car trouble, sickness, a long series of unfortunate events that leave the reader miserable for most of the fic

a/n: this is a request from @caticorn61 who wanted chan being apologetic for not answering his phone after reader's car broke down. this is perhaps more than what u asked for 😅 but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

You are on a historic run of bad days.

You've never considered yourself to be particularly unlucky, but this past week has had you rethinking that orientation. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. On Monday your alarm didn't go off, making you late for work. Even worse, there was a meeting you'd forgotten about, so you had to slide awkwardly into the back of the room and pretend you didn't feel everyone's annoyed gazes. Tuesday was grocery shopping day, but you found out they discontinued your favorite brand of chips, and raised the price of an alternative, so you were forced to go home chip-less. Then, when you tried to take the groceries out of the car, one of the bags split open and sent your eggs, cheese, and blueberries crashing to the ground, buried in slush and snow. A total waste. Wednesday you woke up to find your heating had shut off in the night, and you were now shaking fit to break apart. Although maintenance promptly fixed your radiator, you developed an itch in your throat that only grew throughout the day and had developed into a full-blown cough by the next morning.

Which is where you are now on a subzero Thursday morning, ill and irritated and crawling your way towards the end of the week.

Your boyfriend, Chan, talks to you on the phone in soothing tones.

"I'm sorry your week has been so rough, baby," he says, and you can hear the dripping sympathy through the phone. "I know how it feels when little things pile up like that."

"I just don't know if I can take it anymore," you tell him. "It's like I've been cursed. I'm afraid if I walk outside a piano will fall on me and crush me."

You're half-joking when you say that, but Chan can hear that the other half is vaguely on hysterical.

"I don't think anyone is moving pianos in this weather," he says very reasonably. "Just stay away from luxury apartments if you're worried."

You set your bag down and put your face in your hands, taking slow, deep breaths. Your phone is on speaker, and you can hear Chan hum, trying to comfort you even though he's in his own dorm across the city.

"It'll all be okay, Y/n. And I'll see you this weekend, yeah? I'll come over Friday night and you'll have me all to yourself. Just stay strong."

You exhale, long and loud. "You promise?"

"I promise. Be strong for me, babygirl."

You blink the dampness out of your eyes and straighten up. "Okay. I can do that."

"And drink some tea. Your voice sounds kind of rough."

"Don't get me started again, please."

By the time you hang up, you don't feel understood, but you do feel seen. You fill up a thermos with tea, put on your coat, and mentally prepare yourself to leave the apartment.

It's only two more days, you remind yourself. The weekend will fix me. It'll break this curse that's been placed upon me. You force yourself to have a positive outlook. You will not have another bad day. You will be strong.

All day, you force yourself to react to every potentially meltdown-inducing incident with grace and poise. You realize you forgot your lunch and have to eat cheap candy from the vending machine for lunch? That's totally fine. Your boss adds another item to your to list, forcing you to stay later to finish everything and close up? You really don't mind. Your best friend texts you that she's been stalking her ex on Instagram again and you won't believe it but he already has a new girlfriend, y/n, can you fucking believe it, we've only been broken up for like two weeks and he's buying her fucking jewelry, and you respond what an asshole. he has a new gf and he didn't block his ex? while your eye twitches.

By the time you finish all your tasks and close up, your face hurts from holding a smile you don't feel. You're the last one out, so you make sure the building is locked and make your way across the empty parking lot to your car. The forecast predicted snow tonight, and already the ground is littered with white. The flakes are fat and sticky- they're already building up on the undisturbed portions of pavement. You have to quickly brush off your windows and mirrors before you can get into your car, slamming the door behind you.

You made it. You survived. It was a godawful Thursday but you conquered it.

"One more day," you whisper to yourself. "Just one more day."

You lock the door and put the key in the ignition. The dashboard lights up and the engine turns.....and turns....and turns.....

A rock forms in your stomach.

"No," you say. "No no no no no." You twist the key again, but the engine whirs and whirs and whirs...and does not turn over. Your car does not start.

It's not news to you that your car is a piece of shit. You and Chan discuss this almost every night- what to do about this fuckass car. You've been resistant to letting him help you pay for a new one, partially because that's a lot of money and partly because you're sentimentally attached to the old rustbucket. You inherited it from a family member as a birthday gift, and so despite it being less than reliable you're hesitant to seek solutions. It's your first car, after all. It's a part of you now.

In this moment, however, you want to throw all that sentimentally down the drain along with the keys to this absolutely useless fucking rustbucket of a vehicle.

Not to worry, you tell yourself. I'll just call Chan to come get me. We can deal with my car in the morning.

You take out your phone and call him. The call rings out.

You stare at your phone, confused. It's not like him to ignore your calls, especially not at this hour. It's pitch black with winter but it's still arguably early in the night. Chan is likely to still be awake, but it's unlikely he's doing any kind of official task. And it's so late that he would know to answer; you would never call him for something frivolous at this time of night. You call again.

No answer.

Your patience is running thin now. You consider calling your best friend, but she's out of town visiting family. Your other friend, Seohyeon, doesn't have a car, and her boyfriend's car is currently being repaired. The bus you sometimes take is about a fifteen minute walk down the street, but it'll have stopped running this far out by now, so you'd have to walk to a further bus stop and then go to the transportation terminal and connect, which would take over an hour. You could walk to the subway, you think, but you lost your subway card weeks ago and never got around to replacing it, and honestly it just seems like a whole ordeal you can't bring yourself to stomach right now. Chills go down your spine, and you can't tell if it's from the cold or from the increasing precarity of your situation.

You try the engine again. No dice.

You call Chan again. Voicemail again.

You lean your head on the steering wheel and take long, deep breaths. Outside your window, the wind is picking up, making the snow fall at a diagonal instead of straight down. It would be terrible to walk in, especially because the direction you need to go to get home would cause the snow to blow right in your face. Your throat is killing you, but your thermos of tea is long since empty. Maybe you should just go back into the work building and hunker down for the night. Maybe you should sit in the car and turn into an icicle. Your head is a foggy mess, thoughts twisting all around. You're getting hysterical again. You can feel yourself cracking to pieces.

Think, y/n. Who else can you call?

You're all out of people you know personally, but you could call an Uber. It's pricey and arguably unsafe, and you normally wouldn't, but these are extenuating circumstances. It solves the problem of being stranded, and again, you can deal with your car at a later point. And at least when Chan finally calls you back, you'll be safe at home, so he won't have to feel guilty about missing your calls three times.

You lean back in your seat and open the Uber app. Thankfully you still have it installed, and it still has all your info in it from the last time you called someone to take you home. Just as you're about to finish the transaction, your phone freezes. The screen flashes, then goes dark. You press the power button once, then again, frantically.

Your phone is dead.

Immediately, you scramble for your console, searching for a power cable to connect the phone to the car battery. Your cable is gone. You remember, horrified, that you took the cable out of your car because the one in your living room at home had started fraying. You meant to replace it but you never did. You're normally pretty good at leaving the house in the morning with it mostly charged.

But it's nighttime now, and your battery is dead. You have no charging cables, which means you can't call an Uber. You can't call anybody. And you can't even go to the subway now because your debit card is on your phone, so you can't refill your subway card.

A terrible despair fills you.

You have to walk home in a snowstorm.

As soon as the thought materializes, tears start to well in your eyes. This is too much for you to take, would be too much for you even if you'd had a perfectly good day today. This isn't fait. How can this be happening to you? Why is the universe punishing you like this? And when is it going to stop? Again you wish you could just sit in your car and turn into an icicle, let someone else defrost you in the morning. You think having a piano fall on your head would be better than this.

Eventually you manage to get yourself to calm down. Sitting in this car freezing isn't gonna do you any good. It'll only get colder by the hour. You need to walk to the far bus stop and catch another bus before they actually stop running, and you really are stranded instead of just doomed to walk forty minutes in a blizzard.

As if there's a difference, you think bitterly as you put your useless phone into your bag and bundle everything up. You put your gloves back on, and your hat. You step out of your car, slamming the door behind you, and zip up your jacket. Of course, you hadn't thought to wear a scarf today, so your face will just have to freeze. After only 30 seconds you feel your lips cracking.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay okay okay okay."

You set off in the direction of the bus.

-/-

The journey is long and cold. It's not so much the temperature as the fact that you never have the chance to get used to it because it just keeps getting holder as the night wears on. It takes a ridiculously long time to walk to the bus stop, because you're fighting headwind every step of the way. You want to close your eyes against the snow, but if you do that you'll veer off course or fall into the road or trip on an ice slick and die, so you brave the stinging and push forward. Then you wait at the bus stop so long that your already sore feet start to scream with pain. Your phone is dead, so there's no way for you to track the bus, but you conclude you must have just missed the previous one as it takes a full thirty minutes for it to come again. By the time the bus pulls up in front of you, your feet are almost buried, and when you take your seat, every part of you squelches and slides as the snow melts, drenching your clothes.

The bus is at least warm, and so is the transport center, but the second bus drops you off another twenty-five minute walk from your apartment and you're forced to walk- you guessed it!- uphill. Your calves are screaming from the exertion, and from cold, and from keeping your balance as you trudge through the piling snow. You have a death grip on your keys- if they were to fall out somewhere between work and home you would simply lie down on the ground and let the snow bury you. It would be more than you could take. But your keys stay in your tightly clenched fists, and soon your apartment building becomes visible through the dark and haze. You want to cry tears of relief but your tear ducts are frozen shut.

By the time you traipse up the steps of your apartment, you feel more popsicle than person. You are so cold. Your hands shake so much it takes you a few tries to get the keys from your pocket and stick them in the lock. You step inside, sagging as the heat blasts you in the face. All you want to do is collapse into bed and curl under your blankets where the world can't see you, to get a little bit of sleep before your torture begins anew tomorrow. The thought of going to work on Friday strikes a physical pain in you. You've barely survived today, and yet tomorrow looms terrible just out of reach.

You go to turn on the lights only to realize that the lights are already on. Your heart skips a beat. Did someone break into your apartment? Should you turn around and flee? But you don't have a car, and you certainly aren't walking back to the bus stop. You have nowhere to go.

A figure turns the corner and you flinch back, hands half-raised in some pathetic attempt to defend yourself-

It's Chan. He turns the corner and it's your boyfriend, standing on your tile floor in sweats and a big sweater, eyes bright and twinkling with how excited he is to see you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Chan says. "You're finally back. I saw you called earlier and got worried something was wrong."

You burst into tears. You're crying before you even know it, violent sobs that shake you and make water droplets roll off your soaked hair. Salt burns your frozen tear ducts, and snow is slipping down your collar, but all these small discomforts are overshadowed by the pure and all-consuming relief that your boyfriend is here in the flesh, asking after you and taking care of you, and you can finally stop fighting to keep it together. You can rest.

Chan makes a sound of alarm and rushes forward to grab you as you start to list.

"Baby? Hey, hey, what's wrong? Christ, you look terrible. Are you sick?" He tries to put his hand against your forehead but pulls it away just as fast. "You're cold as ice, y/n."

"I w-walked home," you try to explain. Your tongue is thick in your mouth, and it's hard to get enough air to speak through your sobs. "Car broke down, phone died, b-bus was late."

"Fuck, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry. That sounds terrible."

His validation of your misery just makes you cry harder. Chan pulls you into a fierce hug and you bury your face in his shoulder and absolutely lose it. All the stress of the last week crashes down on you at once, your misery overwhelming you. You grab at his clothes with gloved hands, and there's about four layers of clothes between you, and it's not enough, you want to be closer. But at the same time you can't make yourself pull away from Chan's embrace. He whispers soothing words in your ear, rocks you back and forth, presses closed mouth kisses to any part of you he can reach. He doesn't shush you, or try to calm you down. He just lets you have the emotional release he knows you sorely need.

When your cries start to slow, he gives you one final squeeze to catch your attention, and whispers, "We need to get you out of these clothes, hmm? Does that sound okay?"

You swallow the last of your sobs and nod morosely.

"Okay then. Let's take your jacket off. It's soaking wet by now."

You step back from Chan, still holding on to his arm as you stumble and sway. You're so tired. Standing up for even a second longer is too big of an ask.

"Just lean on me. It's okay, I won't let you fall."

Together, you unfasten and take off your heavy winter coat, letting it fall to the floor with the slush you dragged in. Chan is the one who crouches down to untie your shoes, and you lean on him for support as you remove one foot, then the other.

"Good job," he praises, pressing a kiss to your snow-soaked hair. "Let's get you warmed up now."

He leads you to the bathroom and starts the water running in the tub. You listlessly undress, leaning on the counter for support when you need it. While the tub is filling, Chan tries to leave, but you catch him by the shoulder on his way past you, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stay?"

"Of course I'll stay," he says. "I just want to get you a change of clothes."

You hesitantly let go of him, and he flashes you a reassuring smile before he slips out. You sit down on the toilet and wait patiently for his return, watching the water fill the tub slowly and feeling your thoughts move sluggishly in your brain.

The sound of the water stopping jolts you back to the present. Chan is back, in a regular t-shirt this time, leaning over the bathtub to make sure the water is the right temperature. Deeming it good enough, he turns back to you and stretches out a hand to you.

As soon as you sit down in the warm water, you feel about ten times better. The warmth unties some of the tension that coils your muscles, and it quells the shivering that had started up as you were sitting on the toilet waiting to be told what to do. Chan urges you to slide down so you're almost submerged, making sure almost all your body is enveloped in warmth, and starts dumping warm water over your head, soaking your hair and washing out the remnants of grime and slush. He's quiet as he does it, humming a low tune, and you close your eyes and let him do as he wants. When he's done, he taps your shoulder, and you sit up, mourning the loss of warmth as your back and chest are exposed to the bathroom air.

"Do you mind?" he asks. You shake his head, uncaring of what he's referring to. You'd let him do anything to you in this state. It turns out "anything" means washing your back, so you again sit still and let him do as he pleases. The pressure of his hands and the sound of his voice, still humming, gradually soothe your mind and body. You stop shivering and tune back into your surroundings.

He's subtly watching your face, so he sees when you come back to yourself and drops his neutral expression. "Back with me?"

You nod. The floaty feelings from being cold and hysterical are gone, but that just means the exhaustion of your day is hitting you full force. You hold out your hand for the washcloth so you can clean the rest of yourself, and he hands it over, but doesn't move to leave, which you appreciate. Now that you're calmer, you think you might be a little more embarrassed asking him to stay.

"I know you said this morning you were cursed, but I didn't think you meant literally," he tries to joke.

You let out a long breath. "I didn't think I meant literally either."

"Wanna talk about it?"

You shrug as you rub the washcloth along your legs, wincing when you remove your still-freezing toes from the water. "What can I say? It was a shit day at work with a shit ending."

"You said your car broke down."

You squeeze your eyes shut. You are not in the mood for this argument. "It just wouldn't start. I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Y/n..." He doesn't say anything more. He knows as well as you do that you'll get nowhere. It's enough to set you off though, now that your exhaustion is making you irritatble.

"It wouldn't have mattered either way if you'd picked up the phone when I called you," you snap. It's unfair and you know it, but before you can begin to feel remorse, Chan's face turns to one of guilt.

"I know, I'm sorry. I still had it silenced from work and didn't realize. When I saw that you called me I tried to call back but the calls didn't go through."

"My phone died. That's why I didn't call an Uber."

Chan shakes his head. "I would call this comical if it wasn't so clearly stressing you out."

"You can still call it comical. Just not within earshot."

"Surely you think better of me than that."

"I do," you say, completely serious. "Sorry. I'm not mad you didn't answer. It's just been a shitty day."

Chan squeezes your shoulder in understanding. "It's alright. I get it."

"I'm really grateful you're here," you say, and you're getting choked up again, emotions all out of whack. "I've never been so happy to see anyone."

"You called three times. Since I couldn't get a hold of you, I hoped you'd still come home and we could talk here."

"You're too good to me."

"I'm exactly as good as you deserve." He leans down to kiss you, long and loving and warm, and the last of the chill in your bones slides away.

-/-

The next morning, Chan calls you in sick before you even wake up. He has to leave for the morning, but comes back around noon with ingredients to make you soup and tea, and rouses you for lunch with all the care and gentleness in the world. He curls next to you in bed despite your protests that you'll get him sick, but then, it's not like you protest that hard. You're still feverish and needy, and maybe it's not the most ridiculous thing in the world to want to lie in your boyfriend's arms as you recover from what you're pretty sure is mild hypothermia mixed with the flu.

"We were gonna hang out this weekend," you say morosely. "Now I'm trapped in this bed and you're stuck taking care of me."

"Taking care of you is my favorite form of hanging out," he informs you, cleaning away the mug and bowl to bring back to the kitchen. "And hanging up the phone on your boss is my favorite passtime."

"You did not hang up on them," you gasp, hand over your mouth.

Chan shrugs, unbothered. "They seemed a little too annoyed about my request to not tow your car out of the parking lot. I made it very clear that it better be there when you get back on Monday or else."

"So selfless. You could've let them tow it and finally been victorious."

He turns from the kitchen and sits back down on the bed. "You like that car. I'm not going to keep insisting you get rid of it when it means so much to you. Even if I do blame it for the events of yesterday." You glare and he puts his hands up defensively. "If it's not my fault or your fault then I have to blame the car. Sorry not sorry."

"Blame the cursed spirit following me around," you say, sinking miserably into the blankets. "It possessed the engine of my car just to torment me."

"Even more reason to get rid of it."

You're feverish and tired, but the conversation makes you smile nonetheless. "Ask me again when my fever breaks if you still think I should keep it. Maybe it'll burn away the sentimental attachment."

"Don't get my hopes up."

You close your eyes as Chan kisses your forehead, and you slide easily into pleasant dreams.

#skz x reader #skz x you #skz fluff #skz hurt/comfort #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #bang chan hurt/comfort

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amirasainz · 5 months ago

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Hi literally get so excited when you update! Can you write one where charles x alexandra x reader where charles and alex are away for an event and forget that it's the reader birthday ans only remember when someone tells them birthday it and they try and make it up to her.

Hi loves. I hope you enjoy this little piece. Let me know what you think. Comments are always apreciated!I'm sorry,but the Sydney Sweeny picture was perfect, so I had to include it😉

Also, question (and please answer me that in the comments), does anyone read what I write before the story? Like the little message here? I'm just curious❤️

Enjoy reading and send me requests!!❤️

-XoXo

The Birthday disaster

You couldn’t believe it. They weren’t here. They didn’t call, text, or even send you a freaking letter. Your own boyfriend and girlfriend forgot your birthday. And not just any birthday, it was your 21 birthday. Instead of celebrating with Alex, Charles, and all of your friends in a vibrant club, you were sitting on the balcony of your apartment. Despite the cold wind hitting your bare skin mercilessly, thanks to the cute short dress you wore today, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk back inside.

Of course, your friends tried to get you to come out with them to celebrate your birthday properly. But it just hurt too much, and to be honest, your mind was too tired and sad for any kind of festivity.

When Charles and Alex first informed you about the event hosted by one of Alex’s friends, they eagerly asked you to join them. Unfortunately, your job didn’t allow you to tag along, which both of them understood. However, they promised you that they would return today at around 5 o’clock. To be honest, you thought they had something special planned for your birthday. But last night, at around 11 pm, you received a text from Alex, informing you that they would be staying longer in Venice, where the event was held.

At first, you thought this was some kind of joke. Maybe they wanted you to think that they weren’t able to celebrate with you, only to surprise you with a birthday party. But sadly, when you woke up this morning, nothing happened. Throughout the day, there was complete silence between you and them.

Your group of friends, who had been with you a few hours ago to at least celebrate your birthday a little bit, tried to convince you to go out and party with them. Before you could agree, you got a notification from Instagram. You were tagged quite often in a post showing Alex and Charles at the event. They looked so happy and carefree, making you feel even more numb.

Despite their best efforts, your friends left after half an hour, after you reassured them with phrases like “Yes, I will take care of myself,” “Yes, I will call you if I need anything,” and “No, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m completely fine.” They knew you were anything but fine; however, they also knew that you needed to be alone right now.

So here you are, sitting alone in the cold with your only companions being the vodka bottle you brought with you and the relentless wind hitting your skin. “Happy fucking 21st birthday to me, I guess,” you muttered to yourself, staring out at the sea.

“Oh my god, Lisa. You truly outdid yourself,” complimented Alex, her friend. And it was true. The event was filled with beautiful flowers and lights, giving the room a fairy-like appearance. The soft glow of the lights reflected off the petals, creating a magical ambiance that made everyone feel like they had stepped into an enchanted garden. Charles, who stood next to his girlfriend, only brought her closer to him and said, “Yeah, I have to agree. I’m 100% sure YN would have loved it.” “You are so right, love. I wish she was here with us,” agreed Alex, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Wait, I’m confused. So there is nothing wrong between you guys and YN?” asked Lisa, her brow furrowed in confusion. Alex and Charles shared a look with each other, both of them equally puzzled. “No, why would there be anything wrong with us?” Alex replied, her tone defensive. “Oh, I just thought you had a fight and this is the reason why you are here and not with YN today. But I must have been wrong…” Linda’s voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She shared a look with her partner Mary, both of them realizing the gravity of the situation.

“Wait, stop. Pause. Why would we be with YN tonight? You invited us to your event and we are here. I don’t get what’s going on right now,” said Alex, her frustration mounting. It felt like Mary and Lisa knew something she and Charles didn’t. Mary, who was now also becoming more annoyed with how the two of them acted before them, didn’t take any nonsense from Alex.

Without hesitation, she looked straight into Alex’s eyes and told her with an ice-cold voice, “Well, we weren’t expecting you to show up today because we thought that you would be busy celebrating YN’s 21 birthday today. But from the looks of it, it seems like you forgot your own girlfriend’s birthday. So don’t talk to us with that rude tone of yours. At least we remember each other’s birthdays.” With that, Mary took Lisa by the hand and left, leaving Alex and Charles standing there in stunned silence.

Alex and Charles were left behind, both staring at the space where the couple used to be a few seconds ago. Both of them felt a wave of guilt and shame wash over them. How could they forget their own girlfriend’s birthday? Turning on their phones, they saw the flood of messages they had received from not only their fans but also their friends, YN’s friends, and their families. Each message was a painful reminder of their oversight.

“We messed up so badly,” muttered Charles, looking at Alex with a pained expression. The woman could only nod, still speechless. Charles took her arm and gently but firmly led her out of the room. “We have to go to her. ASAP,” Alex told Charles, who was already a step ahead of her and had their jackets in hand. With that, the couple left the event, both feeling a deep sense of remorse. How could they forget their girl’s birthday?

As they hurried to their car, Alex’s mind raced with thoughts of how to make it up to YN. She knew it would take more than just an apology to mend the hurt they had caused. Charles, too, was lost in his thoughts, thinking of ways to show YN how much she meant to them. They both knew that they had a lot of making up to do, but they were determined to do whatever it took to make things right.

At around 1 am, the couple finally arrived home. The ride back had been silent, the air in the car feeling oppressively thick, making it hard to breathe. They parked their car in the garage and, without hesitation, jumped out of the vehicle, racing towards the elevator. The few minutes it took to reach their front door felt like an eternity, each second stretching painfully.

When they entered the apartment, everything was shrouded in darkness. A figure sat on the balcony, barely visible in the dim light. Charles immediately sat next to YN, while Alex kneeled in front of her. YN didn’t even look at them before taking a gulp from the nearly empty bottle of vodka. “Hey love, I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” whispered Charles, gently trying to take the bottle away from the now 21-year-old girl.

YN shook her head, her voice trembling as she reminded them, “No. NO, you do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do. Not after you forgot about me.” “Baby, we didn’t forget about you,” Alex tried, her eyes already filling with tears. YN only laughed, her own tears streaming down her face. “No, Alexandra. You do not get to tell me that after you forgot my birthday, and you certainly don’t get to cry.” “Ok, let’s all calm down,” Charles attempted again, his voice soothing but firm.

“No Charles! I don’t want to calm down. You both forgot about me. You two promised me that something like this would never happen to us. You promised me that you would always love me. You promised me that the age gap didn’t bother you when we started dating when I was 19. But look at us. You already broke one of your promises. How can I be sure that you won’t break another one?” With that, YN broke down in tears. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, her head held in her hands.

Charles and Alex immediately moved to comfort her. “YN, breath. We are so freaking sorry. I guarantee you, we didn’t mean for something like this to happen. We were all so busy with our jobs and social lives that we didn’t mean to forget something so important,” Charles began, his voice filled with regret.

Alex took YN’s head into her hands, gently wiping away her tears. “We love you more than anything in this world. You are our air and our heart. And we will apologize for the rest of our lives if we have to,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. YN only whispered, “I love you guys too.” Alex didn't hesitate before kissing her girlfriend. after a moment the they pulled apart.

Charles turned her face towards him, speaking softly, “And we didn’t lie when we told you the age gap didn’t bother us. And we certainly didn’t lie when we promised you that we would always love you, ok?” After YN nodded, Letting Charles also kiss her. This kiss was filled with as much love as Alex, just a bit more urgently but still gentle. After their kiss, the three of them cuddled close to each other, finding solace in their shared warmth.

It would take some time before everything was alright between the three of them again. But for now, sitting together and watching the city lights flicker in the distance was the perfect way to start healing.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x alexandra saint mleux x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female oc #-XoXo #xoxo babygirl 💋

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