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struggling-with-drivers · 1 year ago

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Nothing's New - Charles Leclerc

⋗ pairing - Charles Leclerc x female!reader, (Carlos Sainz jr x ex-best friend!reader)

⋗ summary - You're tired of Carlos's treatment of you as his friend, and when you get into a fight, Charles is there to pick up the pieces

⋗ word count - 6.3k words, fluff, hurt/comfort

⋗ masterlist - this was fun to write, I hope y'all enjoy my f1 fic on here, feedback and reblogs are appreciated

It has been as obvious as the sun, right since you two met. You're utterly and truly in love with Carlos, your older brother's friend. Then after a winter that had your families vacationing to a skiing place, Carlos became your best friend. A string of unfortunate events – or fortunate in your mind – had led to you and Carlos sharing a cabin, just the two of you. If you were smitten with him before, this was the turning point where you realised your crush had bloomed to love.

And well, you weren't exactly subtle about it. Carlos knew, and would never admit to having a hand in at least getting your brother lodged in a different cabin. A bit of bribery had made him create the perfect opportunity to spend time with you alone.

This was the winter that Carlos turned from your brother's friend to your best friend. Although, in Carlos's eyes, you were still just a friend, sure a newly acquired good friend. But just a friend. Because he realised very quickly that you would do practically anything for him, hearts in your eyes as you walked to the shed in the freezing cold to get logs for the fire. All the while Carlos stayed nice and cosy inside. Sipping on the hot chocolate you had made.

It made him realise that keeping you at just an arm's length would be a good thing. He once texted you if you wanted to come by with an umbrella because he knew you were in the area. You weren't, and Carlos was aware you weren't even in the same city. Yet there you were after his meeting waiting for him with an umbrella, and he took you out to eat on his treat. Venting about his frustrations as you listened carefully and tried to give advice.

Advice that Carlos didn't care for, you never really knew what you were talking about, you knew nothing in his eyes.

Calling you sheltered and naïve behind your back, and you would ignore the comments when they inevitably came back to you. Ignoring the blossoming pain in your chest, as Carlos would claim, he never said those things.

You had to stand on the sidelines as he got girlfriend after girlfriend, pushing you aside whenever a new relationship rolled into his life. Only for him to ask you to help pick up the pieces once it all fell to the floor. Usually by his own volition. It all felt so humiliating, and yet, a few choice words and promises you thought he would actually make good on this time, and you would have forgiveness ready for him on a plate.

The tabloids claimed he had a loyalty issue, and that he couldn't keep it in his pants. And he would poke at you, begging you to defend him and his honour, because he swore it was just a matter of misunderstandings. How foolish you looked, defending the man you loved in front of thousands of eyes, hoping that maybe this time. He would finally realise you would be the right one for him. That you wouldn't leave, that you could treat him so good. If only he would let you.

Blissful ignorance kept you in the dark. While you considered Carlos your best friend, closest confidant, practically your everything. As your life had begun to revolve solely around his. Carlos on the other hand barely considered you a part of his life, when he didn't need something from you. As the years passed by, he needed you less and less, your usefulness was drying up in his eyes. He had no qualms about simply stringing you along for the few times you did prove to be of help.

He had never used you for your name, not until your brother stopped socialising with Carlos. Then it had seemed all bets were off the table. Your brother could barely take hearing Carlos's name without having a visceral reaction. He wasn't blind, he knew that Carlos was using his younger sister, but he also didn't care enough to interfere. You had stated to him so clearly that Carlos was your best friend, and what could your brother really do when you seemed to be swimming in your delusions? Your brother was forced to stand on the sidelines until you would start drowning, so he could finally pull you out, and go I told you so.

There was no saviour to pull you out of your predicament, only yourself.

Your dad has always liked to parade Carlos around when given the chance, to events he would make you talk Carlos into attending. The type of events where your dad bought his tickets into everything. Sure he had made it big once, but that was before you were born, and now his biggest investment was Carlos. You didn’t mind these events, it meant having Carlos all to yourself for a few moments after. It meant having him tell you that you’re pretty in your dress, even though he would say that no matter what you wore. Your last name was painted on his jacket as he was paraded around by your dad.

It was always the same, the same empty words filling your ears, that sweet and devilish smile that had made you fall for him all those years ago. It was unanswered text messages and poor excuses without any apologies. It was knowing his voicemail by heart, for that was most of the time you spent on the phone hearing his voice. That tiny snippet of a prerecorded message.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Your patience was starting to wear thin, as your heavy heart barely moved around Carlos. The flutters you had once felt, had all seemed to slowly be replaced with the hurt that was filling your body. The way he would repeatedly stand you up, disappoint you, lie to your face. You knew you were the fool, but having to face it before felt too terrifying. But now, it no longer felt as scary as it used to.

Not when he showed up at your door, asking for shelter because a girl was sleeping in his apartment, and his girlfriend didn't know about it, and he didn't want to be there when that went down.

"No." You found yourself sighing, the disappointment filling you, as he once again was only breaking his weeks of silence since his newest relationship started. All to ask you to cover for him.

"What do you mean no?" Carlos is perplexed, you never say no to him. "I promise I'll take you out to dinner later, and you can wear that-"

"No Carlos." You could feel a headache coming in, or maybe it showed up when Carlos knocked on your door, and you just hadn't noticed it till now.

"C'mon it's just a little thing, just go over there and say you were borrowing my place with your friend." Carlos leaned close into your face, a move that always seemed to make you feel weak, but now you just felt utterly uncomfortable. "Baby, Hermosa, you know I love you, come on, help me out here."

You pulled back, watching the man in front of you, he seemed kind of pathetic when he was propped up against your door like that. You knew if he kept going you would crack.

"No, I- Carlos no. You need to tell me, you need to say those words like you mean them. You need to convince me, that you aren't just repeating the same thing you've done 100 times over." You tell him, you actually tell him.

"Hermosa! You can't ask this of me, you're my best friend." Carlos is grasping at any strand that might help him.

"Your best friend?" You sigh, "Your best friend?! I was such a fool, I've never been your best friend. You've always been mine, but I've never been your best friend. You've always been my highest priority, and I know I can't change that. I'm not even sure if I want to change that. But I can't take it anymore Carlos. Go home. Go home, Carlos."

You knew you were about to cry, but fuck, you weren't going to do it in front of him. You weren't going to give him the luxury of calming you down, and then try to pass it off as an intimate moment later.

"Go home, Carlos." You repeat.

"But Hermosa, I am home." Carlos tried, and you knew your tears were falling. Even now, even in your own home, he was lying to you, telling you the words you wanted to hear.

But you will not fall for them. You promised yourself you wouldn't fall for them.

Carlos reached out to try to wipe your tears away. Instead, your hand smacked his gesture away.

"Go Carlos, go home."

"Hermo-..." He stopped himself. Collecting himself, he bore a look you could never forget, one of indifference. He looked at you like you truly didn't matter to him. "You get to explain to your dad what happened yourself."

And with those words, Carlos turned around. Sauntering out of your apartment, as though his longest friendship hadn't just been broken up, no he sauntered away as though someone had told him his favourite candy at the shop was sold out.

Carlos didn't even close your front door.

The door was still ajar by the time you realised he wasn’t coming back. Carlos left. Carlos wasn’t coming back. He had truly left you for good.

You closed the door slowly, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The weight on your shoulders seemed to lift, and you realised that you had been carrying the burden of unrequited love for far too long. A flash of envy took over, how unfair it felt to be left in the mess. Even as he had walked out your door. You would still have to be the one to make up for it all. Dread filled your stomach as you knew your dad would come to question you once the news reached his ears.

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In the following days, you spent your time throwing yourself the greatest pity party you could. A well-deserved one in your own mind, a constant checking of your phone, hoping, praying Carlos would reach out. You spent countless hours trying to convince yourself that he hadn’t looked at you like that, that he hadn’t looked at you like you truly didn’t matter to him.

The questions from your dad were the worst. It was official now. Carlos was not to be a part of your life anymore. His personal assistant had told your dad all about the falling out, well Carlos’s version of your falling out. A tale spun from the most vicious lies, the type of story you would have once defended. The type you had put your name on the line for, was now directed at you.

Humiliation bitterly coated your mouth, as your dad chided you for making Carlos feel suffocated.

Why you couldn’t have done what the great racer just wanted?

Why did you have to go and ruin his great investment?

Then came concerned glances from friends who knew how entangled you were with Carlos. You kept your composure, explaining that things between you two had changed and that you needed space. It felt horrible to watch as the people you thought cared for you, slowly seemed to chip away with each “I’m so sorry to hear.” The way these people would turn around and spread whatever they could, all for a grasp of recognition. Milking the situation for the last bit of fame they could get from you.

The whispers reached your brother's ears, and he offered a supportive shoulder, a mix of sympathy and "I told you so." You appreciated the comfort, even if it came with a hint of vindication. The irony in his offer shining bright, he sat across the world, and you both knew neither of you would make the trip to see the other. You weren’t close like that, in fact, you were barely close enough to exchange gifts for birthdays.

As if the world wasn’t caving in beneath you already, his teammate had texted you. Charles Leclerc himself had texted you. It made you feel mental.

Charles Leclerc: Hey... It’s Charles. I don’t know if you have my number saved. I hope this isn't too forward. I heard about what happened with Carlos, and I just wanted to check-in. If you're not comfortable talking, I completely understand.

The text from Charles surprised you, a glimmer of unexpected support in the aftermath of your break with Carlos. You hesitated before responding, unsure of the dynamics at play and Charles's true intentions. Why would he text you? Why did he think you would have deleted his number? You know, the only reason the two of you ever swapped numbers was because of a night out last year. You think you could count your meetings with the Monegasque on one hand.

Your fingers finally worked up the courage to reply.

You: Hi, I do have your number saved. Thank you for reaching out. Yeah… It has been a lot. But why are you texting me?

The three bobbles popped up as your mind started running through all types of scenarios. From him telling you that Carlos should have walked away from you sooner, to asking if you were sure you couldn’t forgive Carlos.

Charles Leclerc: I get it if you're sceptical. But I've seen how Carlos treated you, and I felt like someone should offer support. If you're not comfortable with me, I totally understand.

His honesty surprised you, softening your initial reservations. You decided it was worth it to test the waters a bit more.

You: I appreciate the offer. But why now? Why not when I was at the races with you and Carlos was... well, Carlos?

You hesitated before hitting send, wondering if your bluntness was too much. There was a pause before Charles replied, as if he was carefully choosing his words.

Charles Leclerc: I guess I've been questioning a lot of things lately. I overheard Carlos complaining about having to play nice with your dad, and it rubbed me the wrong way. It made me realise I should've reached out sooner.

You had left him on read for half a day after that message, it had felt like a slap in the face. Even in your misery, your last name seems to be so much more important than you. It had hurt, and then you had texted him in annoyance one last time before bed. You even promised yourself you didn’t want to spend more energy on race car drivers.

You: It’s been a mess.

A short, simple message. That neat brief text perfectly summed up all you needed to say. Except then, you had woken up to a reply from Charles.

Charles Leclerc: If you ever feel like talking, or even if you just need a distraction, I'm here. No pressure, seriously.

It's possible that you weren't done with race car drivers. Your resolve had never been the strongest, and you did have a long list of poor decisions. You tried to rationalise with yourself, what would adding one more to that last really do for you?

You had found yourself texting Charles a lot more than you had thought you would. It surprised you how eager he seemed to respond. There was no waiting for three days for a response. He rarely left you on read without acknowledging he had at least read your message. You couldn’t find any fault with the charming Monegasque, so it was self-evident when you accepted his proposal to get coffee together.

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The coffee meetup with Charles turned out to be ‌easygoing. Both of you approached the conversation with a degree of caution, but as minutes turned into hours, the conversation flowed naturally. It started with light banter, a shared laughter over amusing anecdotes, and gradually evolved into more personal topics. Then he finally breached the topic.

“What happened between you and Carlos?” Charles didn’t smile. Instead, he looked at you seriously, a drastic change from the man who had just told you he still gets lost at most race circuits.

It was as if the floodgates had opened, you spilt everything that had happened between you and Carlos. When your brother had brought Carlos to meet your dad for the first time. How you thought it was love at first sight upon seeing the Spaniard. To the skiing trip where you had lodged with Carlos alone for 2 entire weeks, and how you two had bonded and really connected. How he became your best friend after that. Then you admitted to having let Carlos string you along for years because every time he would leave you crumbs, feeding your delusions that one day you two would end up together. How it took years of disappointment and broken promises for you to finally muster up the courage to tell him to get out of your life.

“I’m so sorry-” You cut Charles off.

“I really don’t want to hear those words right now.” You had told him, a saddened smile on your lips. “Don’t apologise on behalf of someone who never will.”

Charles reached out across the table, putting his hand on top of yours. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. His silent display of support had been more than Carlos had ever shown you.

After that meeting, all the hesitation that had lingered in the corners of your minds seemed to seep away. Slowly but surely, Charles had become a constant in your life, in every sense of the word. He was there for you. He would send a good morning text, and you would send a picture of the sunrise. You would ask for recipe ideas, and he would send back the most horrid creations of his that he thought counted as good food.

He had snuck his way into seemingly every part of your life, bleeding into your daily routine, as though he had always been a part of it. Charles even made you start watching a show you had written off as not being for you, and yet he had been correct. You had been so absorbed you binged the first two seasons in a weekend.

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Then came the travels, Charles asked you if you had ever been to Monaco and seen the place for what it was beyond the track. You had experienced the waters from a yacht once, Carlos had rented one and insisted you went with him because he wanted his best friend to be there with him. What a lie it had turned out to be. He had used you as an excuse to tell the press the other people on the yacht were your mutual friends. And that no, he didn’t cheat on his girlfriend at the time. How could he? You had even backed up his statement. What a fool you used to be.

Flying to Monaco had been a pleasant experience, a first-class ticket your dad had paid for, under the pretence you would bring up his name to Charles.

Despite your constant texting with him, this was the first time since the coffee meet-up you had seen Charles, and suddenly 8 months seemed like such a long time. You shot him a quick text after you landed.

Charles🏎️: I’m waiting for you :)

His eyes were brighter than you remembered, in a way a camera could never truly capture. His white button-up sleeves had been rolled up, and a few buttons undone at the top. He looked the part of the rich Monegasque that he was.

“Hi…” you breathed.

“Hey…” he responded.

“You look…” You trailed off, not knowing what to say, what could you even say in a situation like this.

Then a smile spread across his face, and just when you thought he couldn’t get any more handsome, your heart skipped a beat. “Handsome? Dashing? Might I even suggest breathtaking?” His laugh was so pure, and you knew you were threading dangerous territory as you watched his arms flex. Charles was making easy work of getting your suitcase in the trunk of his Ferrari.

“Is that a Stradale?” You reached out for the handle.

“Wait!” Charles closed the trunk and rushed over, flashing you a smile as he opened the door for you. “And yes it is, I never took you for being a car person.”

You slipped into the supercar, smiling up at him. “Well, you pick up a few things when your friends are Ferrari drivers.”

His penthouse was stunning. You recognised the view from a few of the pictures he had sent you over the last months. The interior decoration oozed with Charles’ personality in a way you had never expected it to. You would admit, you forgot Charles was probably significantly richer than you took him for. So used to only seeing him in his tracksuit, or that casual black t-shirt he had worn for your coffee meet-up. The image that had burned itself into your mind. He made even a simple outfit look so… You didn’t want to continue that sentence.

Charles took you out to eat that evening, promising he would give you a personalised tour of the city the day after. And he did just that.

First, in broad daylight, he pointed out places he had been when he was growing up, places he liked to eat now, and then the small cafe. The one he had texted you about. Where he had made you promise not to tell his dietician that he shared an ice cream dessert with you.

Then, as the night had come creeping up on you two, he had taken you for a walk around the track, horrified to learn you had never accompanied Carlos on a track walk before. Even an unofficial one, like you two were doing now.

His hand brushed against yours as you walked around the track. Your mood was light, trying not to savour the few times Charles bumped his shoulder into yours. All in the attempt that you would look at him instead of the road markings. You wished he would just grab your hand, for you don’t think you would have let his go. You don’t think you could even let Charles go.

The thought soured your mood, and it seemed Charles picked up on it. Unaware of why, you had a frown on your face, and you regretted so badly not to have given him an excuse. The shoulder bumping and hands brushing against each other seemed to stop for the night, despite the way both of your voices carried chipper tones.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Your fingers lightly brushed over the black finish of his grand piano. It was beautiful. Far above any piano you had ever played before. You gracefully slipped onto the bench, flipping up the cover, as you marvelled at the keys. Unaware Charles had come to join you.

“Do you play?” A simple question, and yet you think Charles had more intrigue in that one question than Carlos had ever had during your entire friendship.

“I’m a trust fund baby, of course, I can play.” You told him your fingers danced across the bright white keys, your eyes fixed on the keys as the music filled the room. Charles took it as his queue to sit down beside you, his body pressed up against yours.

A sharp tone cut through the tranquil melody. Expecting Charles to chastise you for the simple mistake, instead, he laughed as you stopped playing. When you turned your head to look at him, you finally realised just how close the two of you were.

“You play a lot better than I expected a trust fund baby to.” His smile was truly blinding, you slowly retracted your hands to yourself, as Charles placed his fingers on the keys. “I’ve made a few pieces myself. Don’t judge me too hard.”

“I could never judge you.” The words had left your mouth before you had realised you said them.

Charles hummed in response, his shoulder lightly pressed against yours. You pressed right back up against him.

The first few notes came floating from the piano, his fingers mesmerising you as they danced across the keys. He was far more elegant than you could ever imagine yourself being. The melody made your body feel warm, he had captivated you completely. Wasn’t there anything this man could do? One of the greatest race car drivers of his generation, an exceptional pianist, and not to mention… You couldn’t deny it much longer, he was truly handsome.

As the music drew you further in, your head rested against his shoulder, and Charles said nothing. Instead, he kept playing and playing and playing, one piece flowing right into the next one. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed. Completely lost in the moment, lost in Charles. You didn’t realise when you had closed your eyes, all too absorbed in the comfort Charles seemed to radiate here at his piano.

“I can’t have you fall asleep on me now.” His voice gently brought you out of the trance. You wanted to dispute his words, but he had been right. If he had kept playing. You would probably have slept up against him, not that you would have minded.

You slowly opened your eyes, shifting your head slightly. His eyes were already looking at yours. Your breath hitched.

Had his eyes always been this green?

You barely noticed how he had moved his hands from the piano, not until one of them gently graced your chin. He looked so peaceful, so content, as though this was all that mattered to him. As though you were all that mattered to him.

“Can I?” He whispered.

“Please.” You replied.

Then your eyes shut closed, as you felt his soft lips on yours. The kiss was slow and passionate. Charles was the first to pull away, and your eyes fluttered open. Anxious thoughts were quick to enter your head, he was going to say it’s a mistake.

Instead, Charles simply threw a leg over the bench, so he could pull you closer. Both his hands were quick to find your face once more. A carefree smile on his lips, the ones you just kissed.

“Chérie…” he breathed, before pulling you into him once more. This time the kiss was more desperate, and you mirror his sudden change in attitude. You craved him. You needed him. You wanted Charles with every inch of your body, and you wanted him to know it too.

Waking up tangled in the Monegasque’s bedsheets, his arm lazily wrapped around your body, was nowhere in your vacation plans to his country, and yet it had been the best part.

Peaceful times rarely last as long as people want them to.

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Nearly a year of travelling back and forth to see Charles in Monaco, and him to you. Had made the two of you realise this was serious. It was blissful, and heaven. Your dad had even got to meet him, must against your better judgement, but Charles had managed himself fine and brushed off the need for your dad to sponsor him. He had stated a clear-cut need to not mix business with pleasure, and he planned to keep you around for as long as you would let him.

Time always seems to stand still when you’re waiting for something. And right now you wished it would pass faster. You were waiting for Charles to call, he had told you to wait by the phone. But that was 5 minutes ago, and you know he’s busy. But it never made you any less nervous when he was late to call.

Cariño🏎️ is calling…

A sigh of relief flooded your body. His voice greeted you with an apology before launching right into what he wanted to talk about.

“Chérie, come visit me next month. We can stay in Monza for a week, just the two of us.” Charles had pleaded with you.

“But what will people say?” You asked him, as though you weren’t already thinking of what to pack to see your boyfriend. Wanting to look your best when you were to cheer him on from the side.

“Let them talk.” Charles laughed, “I know you’re already starting to pack.”

“No, I am not!” You dropped the red dress you were holding in your hands.

“Sure, Chérie.” He seemed to know you better than yourself some days, and you had never thought you would ever feel this way. And yet here he was, showing you day after day, that he loved you like no other. “We’ll talk later okay? I love you.”

“Love you too, Cariño.” You told him, as the phone line went dead. A small laugh escaped as two flight tickets and a hotel booking immediately popped up in your mail. He was well aware you could not stand to say no to his charm, and he loved it.

As the car pulled up to the paddock, Charles clasped his hand around yours. You were wearing your best red dress. The one you knew gave Charles a hard time. You enjoyed his eyes on you, and Charles enjoyed having his eyes on you.

The Grand Prix was only a few hours away. You had opted to stay at the hotel for Friday and Saturday. You didn’t want to cause unnecessary press to be directed at Charles. Ferrari appeared to already have that in their bag, judging from the sudden car issue during qualifying, which resulted in Charles starting from P14 on the grid.

“It will be alright, Chérie.” Charles kissed the back of your hand. “I’ll be your knight in shiny red.”

You laughed. He always seemed to know how to make your worries disappear and float away. “You’re too cheesy, Cariño.”

“And yet you love me.”

“That I do.”

Then the car door went up, and Charles stepped out of the car, making a big show of helping you out of the car. Before offering his arm up for you to take. Your previous years of coming to the paddock had more than prepared you for the flashes of cameras and the screaming of fans. Charles took it all nonchalantly as well. Just another weekend, just another race. Expect the pictures would come to tell the story of a man so utterly in love, a far cry from his usual demeanour on the grid.

Charles had no qualms about showing you off to anyone who would look at him. A hand constantly rested on your lower back, and he enjoyed your closeness. A small hint of protectiveness in the air, and you suddenly wished he showed his side of himself more.

“Charles! And- oh hey, long time.” Max Verstappen was the first to approach the two of you. It slightly surprised you to have him remember you. You were never the big socialiser when you had been on the paddock before, but you suppose even after a few years certain faces stick around in others' memories.

Max didn’t have more to say about you and Charles, rather he had started talking about the breaking zone in turn 6. Although you were clearly checked out for most of it, Charles never let go of you during the entire interaction. His hand never strayed from your lower back. He enjoyed your closeness, and he was going to soak in every single moment of it he could get.

It wasn’t long before Charles got called away. Max took that as his queue to leave as well.

“I’ll see you right before the race, Chérie.” He stole a quick kiss from you right in front of everyone before being led away. You didn’t know until after that those pictures were quick to make the rounds on social media. Neither were you aware of the fact that Carlos had seen the entire ordeal. His blood was boiling at the sight.

Nearly two years of no contact, and the first time Carlos saw you, you were kissing his teammate. What a cruel joke. He didn’t even laugh.

You made use of your time without Charles to wander down the grid, saying hi to a few of the engineers in the McLaren garage. Even exchanging hellos with Lando, albeit it was a short-lived conversation. He, like every other driver, was busy. You took in the paddock's atmosphere, realising to yourself you had missed this place. Or maybe you were just finally enjoying it for all of its worth.

True to his promise, as Charles always was. Fully geared up in his tracksuit, and suddenly red had never been as pretty a colour.

“Well thank you for calling me pretty, Chérie, although I will say, you’re the pretty one here,” Charles said, putting his hands on your waist.

“I said that out loud.”

“For everyone to hear, and I am flattered.” Charles teased you before he stole a quick peck on your lips. You lightly punched his chest, and he faked a look of hurt.

“Good luck out there. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at him, stealing a kiss for yourself.

“Well, I have to, since I have such a pretty one waiting for me.”

“Charles!”

He laughed with you, before stealing one last kiss and hurrying over to his car. Reading up for the formation lap. The race itself was nothing special for the top 5, not that you would know. All too fixed on following the red car carrying your boyfriend. Who was fighting for his life to get anything useful out of starting P14.

However, Charles soon ran into issues as he and Carlos had become P6 and P7. Carlos was refusing to let Charles overtake him. Despite Charles having a much better pace. The fighting continued for multiple laps, as the ones behind them started to catch up. Charles finally got an opening that was good enough for him to pass Carlos properly, but Carlos would not let it slide that easily. Defending hard against Charles, but ends up clipping the tire of the other Ferrari, sending Carlos into under-steer right out of the corner. Carlos lost 3 positions and was all the way back in P9. With Charles in P6.

Charles overtakes twice more in the rest of the race. Landing him just out of the podium, and yet your pride for him is overflowing. Not hesitating to kiss him once Charles reaches you.

“It’s just 4th place, Chérie.” He would say, and you would correct him. “It’s still better than 15 others.” Kissing him every time he would display any dissatisfaction about his ending result.

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The media pen had gone easy on Charles in comparison to Carlos. While most had asked Charles about the small tire touching with his teammate, most were interested to hear if this 4th place could mean Ferrari was to get a podium soon. And then he answered some questions about you, confirming that he was no longer single and very much in a happy relationship.

Some mercy might have been shown to Charles, but the same couldn't be said for Carlos. The Spaniard was already enraged before stepping into the media pen. Then he was thrown for the wolves to be torn apart. Question upon question about how he could have gone against team orders and not let Charles pass. How Carlos endangered both of the Ferrari drivers with his reckless and downright unnecessary defending. But then there was a question about you to finally snip his thin thread of patience.

“How do you feel about seeing a familiar face on the paddock after the last 2 years?” The interviewer asked Carlos.

“It seems anybody and everyone is welcome these days.” Carlos laughed disdainfully. “Even gold diggers and fame chasers.” The headlines were writing themselves after that interview.

Formula 1 driver Carlos Sainz Jr. drags his sponsor's daughter in an interview.Carlos Sainz speaks out about his teammate dating his ex-friend.Sponsor pulls out of contract with Carlos Sainz Jr. after interview.

It seemed even your dad had his limits. A surprise to you. Instead of bothering to call you about it himself, he let you find out from an article your brother sent you. Your brother had asked if you knew anything, and you had been honest about being as blindsided as he was.

“What are you looking at, Chérie?” Charles kissed your shoulder as he leaned over the couch. You tilted your head back, as he leaned down to kiss your lips this time.

“Dad pulled out of his sponsorship with Carlos.” You told him.

“What?” Charles wandered around the couch, falling down beside you, he was quick to open his arms, and let you cuddle into him.

“I know!” You showed him the article. You handed over your phone to Charles, as you settled into your favourite spot in the whole world.

“Merde, he actually did.” Charles was in disbelief as much as you were. It was no secret your dad absolutely adored Carlos. Even after first, your brother fell out with him, and then you as well. Your dad had never strayed from putting Carlos on an absolute pedestal, his favourite child.

“Are you going to start walking around with my last name on your chest then, Cariño?” You snuggled closer into him, enjoying the warmth he was omitting. Your eyes closed in bliss, as Charles started carting his fingers through your hair.

“I would much rather you took my last name, Chérie.” Charles kissed the top of your head.

“Slow down there Romeo, my dad just broke up with Carlos, I don’t think he can take another earth-shattering situation within this year.” Your head resting against his chest, you were able to follow his heartbeat. You had always loved the sound of it, because his heart was truly beating for you. And Charles never let you doubt it for a second.

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, a tremendous shout out to @thisismeracing and @pucksandpower for suffering through my obsession with all of this, and helping me through editing. And lastly, thank you to @toiletwipes for always telling me to keep writing and getting me back into proper fic writing

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cheeseceli · 1 year ago

Text

First Relationships

pairing: skz ot8 x gn!Reader (individually)

genre: fluff

request: i rlly like ur writing style and i immediately thought of you when i was being delulu over first relationships, so i thought about requesting how skz would react when they discovered they're the first person u dated! im sorry if it's confusing haha <3

warnings: tooth roofing fluff, not proofread

a/n: thank you!! ngl i was delulu when writing this lmao. hope u like it <3

Bang Chan

So patient, it's crazy

Will never rush anything

Everything's at your pace

Hell, if you think it's too early for even holding hands, that's okay

He would always wait for you

And also, your comfort comes first

Always asks how you're feeling throughout whatever you're going through

Sorry but he 100% babies you as well

He finds you adorable

but tbh he'd do that anyways, the fact that it's your first relationship doesn't matter much in this case

Lee Know

Two scenarios

Will tease you relentlessly, no matter what you do

will be extra shy

but he'd also be so excited

it's like your little adventure and you two get to experience everything together

Technically it is but still

like, dates?

He is always so happy to take you to places

Anniversaries?

Even better

My man is just so happy to be there with you

Changbin

My man's honoured

He knows how perfect you are, and he knows you had a lot of options and opportunities before

So to think that you chose >him<

As I said, honoured

Besides spoiling you and treating you like royalty, he'd be really scared of messing up

But calm him down, say you love him and his confidence comes back at total strength

Would never even dare to rush you as well

His patience is also something that must be highlighted

Whatever it is, he will always wait for you to be ready

Hyunjin

The true romantic

He said once that he'd rather be someone's last love than the first one

So to think that he could be both your first and last love

He's so honoured

And giddy

But naturally he will be also really nervous at times

Forgive him if at times it seems he's the one that never had a relationship before

But it's true that it's his first time experiencing love so full like this

Han

There are two possibilities

He'll be pretty confident and maybe even kind of cocky

Will do the "I wonder who taught you how to kiss so well" knowing damn well it was him, sorry

He will be extremely shy

You would even think it's his first relationship

In most cases, he is both at the same time

His duality is insane

Truly scared of messing up

But he is as always, trying his best

Everytime you're nervous he can handle the situation while being calm and humorous

We love him

Felix

He's a bit excited

A bit too excited

You know that Aladdin's song "Whole New World"?

He'd use it to describe your relationship

And he is the cutest

He's just so happy to be there :(

Everytime your relationship takes a step forward and you trust him a bit more, he becomes the happiest man in the world

He's truly grateful to have your trust

Needless to say, he will also always prioritise your comfort

Just say the word and he will do (or not do) whatever you'd like

Your wish is his command

Seungmin

Tries to no make a big deal out of it (kinda fails)

He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable by any means

So overall, he'll act normally

but he'd go as slowly as he can, trying not to scare you off

Scared of words as well

He doesn't want you to feel forced to reply something like "ilyt"

But one thing that is really cute is how he'll always talk you through it

Everytime you are doing something that is considered your first, like first date, first kiss etc

He always asks you if you like it and if you wanna keep going on

the kindest fr

I.N.

Truly, I don't think there'd be much of a difference

He'd be more careful and delicate when the occasion asked for it

but overall that'd be it

Similar to Seungmin, he'd try to not make a big deal out of it

He'd never admit, but sometimes he'd try to prove that he could be the best boyfriend ever because he was scared

He's kinda of a perfeccionist

He'd hate himself if one day he breaks you

He'd hate himself even more if he managed to break your perception of relationships as well

So he really tries his best all the time

feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

dividers by @cafekitsune

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heartfeltcherie · 3 months ago

Note

Hi, I'm not sure if you requests are open but I'd like to ask for a Lucifer Morningstar x oblivious! fem! reader. He met her when he visited the hotel and was immediately intrigued when Charlie told him that she was a a fallen angel. Later on he decides to court her but she is oblivious to his advances. Fluff! Have a good day/night!

HIS FALLEN ANGEL ᡣ𐭩

❀ summary; lucifer falls in love with you, another fallen angel, and tries to court you.

❀ what to lookout for; lucifer being awkward and a dork, tiny bit of crying, a bit of pet names, a bit of romance, mentions of bruises and angelic blood, perhaps an ending that doesn't make sense (i tried).

❀ extra notes; i don't know how you figured it out anon but your request represents some of my oc's lore so i just knew i had to write this !

- heaven kicked you out because they did not like you whatsoever. hated you, even. you didn’t like the way they did things up there, their rules, and when you tried to do something about it, you ended up in hell.

- and when you found out about the hazbin hotel, you thought “why not?”

- when you tell charlie about your situation, she of course feels sorry for you and of course she does her very best to comfort you.

- but you fail to see her eyes light up when you mention that you’re a fallen angel… just like her dad.

- so when lucifer shows up to visit the hotel, she immediately introduces you both.

“dad, this is the newest member of our hotel! she was kicked out of heaven not too long ago… just like you”

you give a curtsy to the king of hell himself, having heard stories of him when you were in heaven. “it’s an honour to meet you, your highness” you give him a sympathetic smile.

lucifer chuckles lowly as he takes your hand in his, lifting it to give the back of it a gentle kiss. “the pleasure is all mine… does heaven know they lost one of their most beautiful angels?”

you can’t help but blush and speak a small “oh” as you chuckle shyly.

- you and lucifer begin to bond over being fallen angels. mainly venting about your experiences and how much you both hated sera and adam.

- at one point, you begin telling him how much you miss emily, as she was your only friend in heaven. lucifer listens with all his heart and soul as he wraps his tail around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

- you don’t realize how close you are until he’s wiping the tears that you didn’t know were shed.

“you’re too pretty to cry, angel…” his eyes widen as he realizes the term he used. “the pet name! not-not the other way around! even though you are an actual angel, but you’re also- i just ruined the moment… didn’t i?”

you chuckle at him being a dork, almost forgetting why you were sad. but you guess that’s what he meant to do. “not at all. you’re quite cute, actually…”

now it was his turn to get shy and blush.

- you and lucifer grow exceptionally close and charlie instantly notices, she can’t help but feel pure joy that her dad found someone.

- and when he comes back during the extermination and the hotel is in shambles, his first thought is finding you. of course his daughter too! but you’re also important to him… very important.

- when he sees that you’re bruised and have angelic blood all over you, his hatred for heaven grows even more.

“i’m so glad you’re okay, i-i was so worried about you” lucifer brings you into a hug and you gladly reciprocate.

“i’m glad you’re here, luci…” you take account of his angel wings that you’ve never seen before and how they’re on beautiful display. “i love your wings… they suit you”

“yeahhh, but i think you’d suit me better”

“wait what?”

“what?”

- he stays to help rebuild the hotel, and while doing so he’s pulling out all the tricks.

- he shows you what his angelic power can do as he somehow makes a bouquet of flowers with rubber ducks appear out of thin air.

“for you, dovey…”

“oh, luci… they’re beautiful” you take in the scent of what seems to be some lavender plants and daisies. “i’ll cherish them in my room forever”

- he shows you how he can fly through the air with ease.

“you promise not to drop me?”

“sweetheart, i wouldn’t dream of letting myself drop you. now, c’mon! i wanna show you the best way to view all of hell!”

and as he takes flight with you in his arms, you can’t help but to be in awe at the city lights and the different shades of red and black that make up all of hell.

“wow, luci… it’s beautiful up here”

lucifer chuckles lowly. “not nearly as beautiful as the demon in my arms…”

you squeal as you suddenly remember how high off the ground you are. “just keep your eyes focused, i don’t wanna crash into a bird or something!”

lucifer lets out a laugh, finding you absolutely hilarious. “my dear, there’s no birds in hell!”

- and even though you’re oblivious to lucifer’s attempts at courting you, he’s still happy being a lovesick fool with you.

❀ word count; 766

reblogs/hearts/comments and all that good stuff are appreciated !

audience; @crystalrayn @drxgonspine @alastorthirsty @speedycoffeedelight

#heartfeltcherie's performances ꫂ ၴႅၴ #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer imagine #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x you #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar fanfiction #lucifer morningstar hazbin hotel

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juvenillia · 11 months ago

Text

~ habits ~ König x fem!reader [fluff/secret santa]

a/n: @bunnyreaper did organise a secret santa, and I had the big honour to write for @piecesofcain and one of the options I could choose from was König, so ofc I had to! Christmas in Germany can be so freakin beautiful!!! Alright, I hope you like it angel. 🩶

[Also this will be like my slow come back to writing! Things are figured out, and I'm back at working on my stories. Stay tuned chums]

wordcount: 2.4k

》Master Post《

A repeating tapping of a heavy boot. A bobbing knee, which his huge sweaty hand tried to force into halt again. He was used to life-or-death situations. Calculating everything in the back of his head to make it out alive and achieve the desired outcome. Nervous was never a word you would think of when looking at the behemoth of a man König was. Maybe respected or even feared, but definitely not as anxious as he felt right now. He was deployed in Berlin for more than three months now. Working together with the KSK. Nothing he wasn’t used to. Nothing that would leave him sleepless. Still, he didn’t find much sleep for the last three days. Three days ago, was the day when you made the decision to fly over to Germany to visit him.

You had a phone call, rambling about your day when he nearly fell asleep because of the difference in time zones. He loved to stay awake listening to your voice anyway. It quickly became a habit for him. It felt like your voice was stuck in his life forever. Maybe it was simply because he believed his life just really started with the day he met you. Your voice was the needed comfort after a stressful day for him. A comfort that lulled him deeper into a slumber, imagining you would be by his side. Only your recent question brought him back to reality.

“Entschuldige. What were you saying?” [Excuse me] A yawn followed the thick German accent as he rubbed his forehead. His phone rested on his brawn chest.

“Silly.” You laughed while repositioning the laptop in front of you. The screen showed a website with different flight options. “I asked you, if you’d like me to come over for your days off.” It was a genuine question, eventually a bit shyer than the first time you asked him.

Suddenly, he was broad awake. Sitting up in his bed, the phone slid off his chest. He barely could catch it before it would’ve fallen to the floor. “Let me buy you the ticket.” All exhaustion in his voice was replaced with determination.

“Kö…”

“Not negotiable, Engel.” [angel] No sooner said than done, the plane tickets were bought.

A decision that led him to the Berlin airport, waiting for your arrival. A single rose resting on the seat next to him. Why was he so nervous when a good friend came over? Simple: Because you were already so much more to him. The two of you often spent the holidays together, when his job allowed it of course. Just two good friends sharing some quality time, but this time felt different. König had made up his mind some time ago. A night when he was sure not to see the rising sun again, and everything that clung to his mind was your smile. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of returning to you. He knew back then that he was screwed, too scared to risk the friendship you shared. He wanted to keep everything normal between both of you. Not sure how he’d manage, but he would try his best.

Just a few more minutes passed and then you walked along the corridor, wearing the mesmerizing smile he loved so much. Suitcase in one of your hands and the other already reaching out to him, while he pulled you in a tight hug. Bending down to embrace you fully, while you let go of your suitcase to do the same. He inhaled your scent as he buried his masked face into your hair. It was like all the anxiety had left his body. “Du hast mir echt gefehlt.”

“König.” You laughed while pulling away, searching for his crystal blue eyes. Eventually you found his habit of switching back to his mother tongue cute, even if you often had troubles understanding him.

“Sorry.” He squeezed your shoulders before redrawing his hand to massage his nape. “I’ve missed you… a lot." You could notice the smile, even when half of his face was covered by a black cotton mask he wore often when both of you were out. Before you could say something else, he held the flower up in front of you for you to take. No words, just a small gesture while he averted his eyes from yours.

“There was no need to.” You took the rose out of his hand, your fingers brushing amongst his for the blink of an eye. “Thank you.” Your tone became a bit shyer, while your cheeks were stained in a slight rose. Something he missed as the floor became so much more interesting. There was never a need to be honest, but he still managed to give you little things. Just little gifts to show how much he cared.

Without hesitation he took your suitcase and held out his arm for you to take. A polite gesture, something that became a habit whenever you two walked somewhere. He would lead you to wherever needed while you wrapped your hand around his beefy upper arm. He always needed to slow his steps to match your pace. This time he led you to his car. Holding the passenger door open for you to take your seat. Just then he stored your luggage in the trunk and took his own seat.

“Where are you taking me?” It took you some time before you asked him. Your eyes taking in the different views of Berlin’s streets. It was your first time being here, so literally everything seemed to catch your interest. König made sure to take a longer route to your place of destination. Driving past the Tempelhofer Feld which looked so out of place. Nothing but huge snowy fields in the middle of the city. Making sure to take an extra turn in the roundabout by the Siegessäule. Leading you all the way back to Alexanderplatz. The whole city was covered in adorable lights, little Christmas Trees and lanterns. But in his opinion none of their lights could compete with the shining in your eyes. He told you more or less stupid facts about the places you drove past till he parked the car in one of the underground garages near the huge shopping center called Alexa, which was completely flooded in decorations and humans running the last errands for the holidays.

A shopping center you tried to fight your way out. It was way too crowded, and made you feel kind of anxious. Your hand clinging tight onto his upper arm while he led you through the mass of people. To his advantage he could overlook most of the customers around. He slid his arm around your shoulder to keep you closer to him. Granting you a feeling of safety. “Just a little while longer, mein Engel, just a little bit,” he said calmly, hoping his voice and touch could bring you the same comfort as you brought him all the time, while leading you out of the center and onto a bigger place. The space itself was covered in little wooden booths where you could buy many different kinds of food, drinks or little presents. It was one of the various Christmas markets which are dispersed all over the city.

Even if you could easily breath and most people granted you some space for yourself out here, you were still tugged into his side. Not daring to let go, until you stood in front of a huge field of ice. It was formed like a ring, and in the middle was a water fontaine - the Neptunbrunnen - decorated in some cozy lights. The air was filled with laughter and screams by children sliding over the icey floor. “Engel, you mentioned some time ago that you’d like to go ice skating.” He patted your head slightly, while adjusting the cotton cap you wore. “And how nobody would join..so I thought…”

Without waiting for him to finish and without hesitation you wrapped your arms around him. “Kö, I love you.”

He also wrapped his arms around you, while his heart felt heavy, still, you could feel the vibrations of his chest as some chuckles left his throat. He had heard those words millions of times. Something that was such a routine, while he knew how you meant it, he would love to hear it with different intentions. “Ich hab dich auch lieb.” [I love you too.(used for friends)]

Within the next twenty minutes you were on the ice, skates laced onto your feet while holding König’s hands to help stabilize himself. He may be an ace when it comes to rescuing hostages and invading enemy terrain, but standing on the thin metal beneath his huge feet, it was difficult for him. But you couldn’t help it and find it really adorable. Little children were faster on the ice than him. But you didn’t mind. Any minute you spent with him was just pure entertainment. After some time, when he finally grew more confident on the skates, he told you to take some rounds on your own. Just so you could fully enjoy it, while he made little steps to even fulfil one round on the rink.

The next thing you could remember was a bit blurry. The white floor stained red. You just assumed that he fell. As someone explained later to you, there were some careless kids, they didn’t take notice of the nearly two meter man lying on the cold floor. Unfortunately they literally ran over him, the skid running a deep wound through his jacket and into the flesh of his arm. You were freaking out, yelling at the kids while there were already two people helping him up and taking care of him, calling an ambulance. Better safe than sorry, they told him as he declined the offer. It really wasn’t a big deal for König, but for you.

The whole thing led to the two of you sitting in the emergency room, where a nurse took care of the injury. Just a few stitches and everything was fine. Well, not for you. As you walked into the hotel room he booked for you, you still kept ranting about those brats that hurt him. That hurt your König. He couldn’t do anything but laugh about your rambling. “You’re adorable like that.” The words slipped faster out of his mouth than he could’ve blinked. Sitting at the edge of your bed, mask long forgotten and staring once more at the floor. There weren't many things that would make the Austrian nervous, but knowing to say something inappropriate for the sake of your friendship indeed did make him nervous. Maybe even more as you didn’t answer the man now searching for your eyes. You stood in front of him, even in this position you barely were on eye level due to his height.

His eyes kept scanning your face, every twitching of your brows or blinking of your eyes. He observed it before he exhaled deeply. Took your hands in his to pull you a bit closer. You let him do so, still not saying anything. Too curious what was happening in his head.

“Ich liebe dich.” He looked directly in your eyes while keeping a stern face. Unsure of what he was doing.

You just nodded while turning your head away now. “Yeah… love you too.” It was the usual answer, something so casual for you to say. An old habit.

“Nein, mein Engel.” [No, my angel.] He shook his head and brushed his thumbs over your knuckles, before pulling them up to his mouth to place a slight kiss onto them. “Hab dich lieb and Ich liebe dich, those are two different things." His eyes held a bit of fear, but also so much adoration as his hands couldn’t let go of yours.

His words made something click inside your head. This wasn’t like the empty phrase he used so often. Not like the words you used to say. It wasn’t by habit. It was a confession, something you could have missed easily, if it wasn't for him to clarify it right here. Besides all the promises he made to himself, to keep it on the casual and friendly bases you had, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He wanted to be honest with you. He never wanted to lie to you. Those words often died on his tongue before, but not this time.

Your lips parted while one of his hands reached out to cup your cheek and your throat ran dry. “You mean it?” It was nearly pathetic asking for reassurance, but he got it. Pulling you once more closer to him, his nose touched yours now. Your noses brushing amongst each other as he slowly nodded. So you took the initiative and closed the last gap separating both of you. Placing your lips gently onto his while closing your eyes. His hands let go of yours, to take hold onto your waist while pulling you impossible closer. You nearly tripped over, but your hands found his shoulders to gain a bit of stability while the kiss grew deeper. Neither of you wanted to let go first, but the air escaping your lungs let you pull away sooner or later.

With a raising and falling chest you looked into each other's eyes and a smile tugged at his lips. “This becoming our new habit?” you teased him with the same genuine smile.

“Ich hoffe doch.” [I hope so] With those words he threw himself onto his back, pulling you immediately on top of him and wrapping his arms around your figure, listening to your little giggles in doing so.

“Kö, your wound!” You scolded him, but he didn't care, not when he finally could fall asleep the way he always wanted to. You tugged onto his chest, beefy arms keeping you close to him while you could listen to his heartbeat, which slowed more and more after the confession.

The whole situation led you to spending most of the days of this year’s holidays in the cozy hotel room, taking good care of the wound that would now become a scar. An addition to the ones he already had, but this one would always hold a special meaning to him. Reminding him on the day you became fully his.

#konig x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig x you #konig cod #konig call of duty #secret santa #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #kortac #könig fluff

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darlingofvalyria · 1 year ago

Text

An abandoned church made most of broken wood and whimpering winds becomes a momentary resting sanctuary for Uhtred and his men— Osferth finds himself with a crooked root in the shape of a hand, a gold ring, and a full, blue moon.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ COCK WORSHIP, ORGASM DENIAL ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,830 ] [ masterlist ] | Osferth x Ghost Bride!Reader

contains— smut, fluff, angsty-ish - corpse bride!au - this is not the N word okay, you're a ghostly being that becomes corporeal. it's monsterfucking, not that kind of filth - no use of y/n - mentions of christianity lol - dillusioned!reader (if you know the movie, you know) - mention of character death - nsfw: sort of dubcon, smidge coercion, cock worship, orgasm denial(?) - no betas.

a/n— ok, but i am actually very proud of this one!! i enjoyed writing this way too much, adding a bit of comedy aspect to it shdhs. i hope you enjoy it!! oh, also this is the vibe you want if you wanna listen. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

His pack rests behind him, the couple of bundled furs he uses for bedding has hardened into the cold ground, not at all aiding his sleep. Around him, his lord and the rest of the men had managed to fall into their dreams, almost as soon as they closed their eyes.

Even Finan, with a furrow in his brow and his arms crossed, has his head tilted awkwardly to one side that Osferth knows is going to be painful in the morning.

But sleep evades him, and though he scarcely believes in ghosts, resting in a church, no matter how abandoned, no matter that there's gaping, charred hole that has blown over the side of it, trickling the cold, winter winds and soft, wet snow— it feels odd.

It brings a restlessness and a comfort all the same, and with a few minutes more of staring at rotting wood and broken awning, Osferth sighs. Their small fire is dying, might as well get more dry sticks.

The church, though broken and ruined, offers warmth. Once he's out into the wintry night, the pale moonlight bright and full, glittering the wisps of fluffy snow as if you don't come out wet if you sink on it. It's cold. Much too cold to walk, to linger, but he continues. He winds to the other side, leisure in his pace, breathing in the cold whilst warming his hands with his mouth.

It's nice to find a rhythmic motion that empties his thoughts. It is nice to be out of Wessex, out of familiarity. Uhtred brought with him adventure and battle, honour and excitement. It quieted the wrought in his head... until night comes, and Osferth is left with the weight of all those he tries to bury.

He walks quite a bit, observing and carries a faint sadness for a few graves that are left. Some opened, unearthed by grave robbers, uncaring of the Christian faith. Wooden plaque holding no names, just crosses. He moves past, finding himself entering the forest before he could think through it until he comes across a clearing. It's surprisingly, perfectly circled, trees at the side adjusted like soldiers with a curled root at the centre.

Curious and kind of awed at nature, at the wonder of the existence this little tree root, curled and cold, he dips one knee as flutters his fingers over it. The thin spindles look like curled fingers, a hand reaching in a hooked angle.

When he pushes his hand forward, curling his fingers against the root, Osferth makes a surprised hum at how fitted, how perfectly it holds like a hand against his.

Osferth doesn't notice you, dancing between the shadows and moonlight. Hit by light and you fade with it, more air and light yourself than life and physical flesh. You had seen him and his men find the scarred church and setup camp. The four men had not been the first to find the abandoned place, nor had taken refuge.

And time is everlasting when you're dead. Meaningless when there is no end to days and nights.

But he is different, you muse, watching him unable to sleep and walk and walk until he reached the clearing and your cold, dead heart feels a tug.

Does he know you? Is that why he is so different?

You slink between trees, hiding behind a trunk as you watch him kneel where your body lies, curious and awed, watching as he holds your hand, curling his fingers around your own.

Your left hand flexes, a surprised giggle falling from your lips and disappearing with the wind as you feel his warmth. His hand as if he is holding your own. Human touch fades from memory in a span of time and it is a pleasant hold.

Look down, you try to say, excitement you've never felt before, thrums through your body. Look down and see the ring!

If he does, you know do not need to know who he is. You know who he will be.

Look down, look down, look down! Please! you are practically screaming, jumping in the shadows as his eyes, beautiful blue like your favourite butterfly, is entranced by the glint underneath the snow. You hold your hands to your chest. Oh, please! Please, Please look down!

You exhale, feeling life sweep back into your mouth. There. There you are, you say soundlessly as he picks it up. A gold band worn with age but gold it still is. He twists it around, and though others have tried to steal it, pocket it and sell it, you know he is different. His warmth is different. There is kindness in his eye that you like.

And God, is he pretty. You would not mind at all being his bride.

You're on one knee, now propose, you say, willing the vows of old and binding to reach his ears. He twists it and as if playfully entranced, he mutters the words that you echo back in the shadows.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows," Osferth murmurs, the words he's listened once as a young boy, hearing the priest anoint two lovers who had escaped to bond their love. "Your cup shall never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness."

He raises the ring and places it on your crooked, dried fourth finger— and you inhale air, wintry and cold and so, so alive for the first time in a very long time.

"And with this ring," he says.

"I ask you to be mine," you finish, startling Osferth as you glide toward him. Triumphant. He stumbles, falling on his bum as your arms widen around you in all your ghostly bride attire and glory. "My love! I have waited for you for such a long time. Good thing the ice and winters have been kind to my body and you still manage to find it!"

Though in truth, you had plowed against hard ground to at least unearth your left hand while most of your body had been abandoned. Your skull had cracked in three places, and there's a worm who made a permanent home in your dried liver. But your new husband does not need to know that.

He gapes at you, wide eyed and unblinking, and just as he starts you yell? Shriek— You stumble to him, falling on his lap as you press your hands against his mouth. When you don't pass through him, you let out an excited shriek.

"Oh, my apologies, I don't mean to scare you!" You pout, aged old sadness wisps beneath your eyes. "Please don't scream, my love. I have waited for you for so long. And you're so warm... and so real."

As shock permeates his face, frozen under the feel of you pressing against him— there is weight, he can feel you. You're not as warm as him, cold in fact, and he is able to see through you if his eyes adjust well enough. But you are there. He can see you and he can feel you. Your wide, unblinking eyes drinking him in, exuberant smile composed of pretty lips and a mesmerising happiness. Your hair cascades around a ruined, fluttering veil with dead flowers atop your head.

But by God, you are beautiful.

Your wedding dress— because you are a bride, are you not? Were a bride, Osferth's head is starting to ache from trying to look through and at you — are in tatters and holes, showing more of your skin than what your dress initially thought to show and he swallows. He can see a creamy thigh exposed through a slash. It doesn't help that you're bent over, resting between his legs, and he can see the top of your breasts.

On your end, your hands are just there, on his face, and you start exploring his pretty visage. His warmth is addicting, gliding your fingers through his nose and pretty cheekbones, tickling yourself on his lashes with the pads of your fingers and you giggle. The sound makes Osferth exhale shakily before you are cupping his sharp jaw and your fingers touch his lips, your own mouth turning into an 'O'.

Oh, they're soft and a little chapped, a little cold, but his exhale entrances you. His show of pure, breathing life is tantalising.

You lean in closer, nearly touching his lips with your own as you try to inhale his air. He smells of smoked meat and dried ale. Winter woods and burnt campfire. Your hands drift from his mouth to his neck, to his chest. His heart. There in your palms, you press tight. A quickened heartbeat nestles beneath and you exhale, smiling ruefully.

"My husband." Osferth's eyes widen at the pure adoration and lust in your gaze. "You are wonderful. My wait is worth it."

"Hold on, l-lady." He captures your hands in his, eyebrows furrowed. He swallows as he can feel you both corporeal and wispy. If shadows can be held, he thinks it would feel like this. "H-How am I your husband? Sorry, I've— I don't even know your name!"

What's more is that you're a ghost! But something in his head tells him not to speak aloud such a thing, for another, he isn't sure he hasn't fallen back in the encampment with the others. A bizarre dream of a very pretty, ghostly bride is for one an embarrassing topic to broach.

"Oh. That's right!" You giggle happily, offering your name and Osferth tests in his tongue. A pretty name for a pretty bride. "What's yours? Though, I'm afraid I prefer to call you husband, and would prefer to be called your wife. Or 'your love'."

At another helpless, tinkling laughter, Osferth blushes. Your eyes are distracted by the colour in his cheeks, so long ago contained your own but no more, that you take your hands from his and start petting the rosy tint again. He's so warm that you start nuzzling into him, your head burrowing into his neck.

"O-Osferth." He clears his throat to get your attention. "Osferth, lady."

"My wife."

"Sorry?"

You start to pout. "Call me 'my wife'."

Osferth starts to shake his head. "Lady, I really don't—"

"I am your wife now. See." You sit up, pointing back to your dead hand, gold ring glinting under the pale moon. "You've made your vows and given me the ring. We're married now." Your gaze darkens, your form shimmering and Osferth yelps as you had gotten ice cold. "You have made your vow, Osferth. Are you telling me you do not honour your vows? Are you a man without honour? Is there another... woman?"

Your hands on his face sharpened, like ice, digging through his skin as iff trying to embedded yourself into his skull. He cries out, taking your wrists.

"No, no! I— yes, I am your husband now. I am. There is also no other woman!"

You cock your head, still frowning. "Are you sure?"

"I'm wearing monk's robes, lad— wife," he says helplessly.

"But..." You cock your head to the side. "You don't seem too shock of a woman's body. You're very responsive to me, my love, I enjoy it quite so."

This time, he blushes deeply. "I— Goodness, okay. I've had practice... s'all."

"With... whores?"

He cringes, waiting for you to turn mad, pure ice cold and tear through his skin like you almost did, but you only hum when he nods.

"That is alright. That presents more of a challenge than an obstruction of our love."

"Challenge?" he asks as you gently push him on his back, straddling his hips. You slide your palms up and down his torso almost as if he is a campfire and you are warming your hands.

He swallows at your confident grin before you blow him a kiss and he exhales a laugh, his mind truly unconnected from his body because there is a ghostly woman on top of him, adoring him with flirtations, and he is stirring in his pants.

Truly, he must be deep asleep, in a more awkward position than Finan.

If I am, he thinks watching you with a blossoming attachment. Please, by God, don't wake me.

With a seductive intent, you slide down from his body, making sure you pay a special wiggle in his tenting manhood that he feels a lightning bolt from his cock to the ends of his nerves. He doesn't truly understand what you intend until you've unlaced him and paying special attention to his now, semi-erect appendage.

Osferth is red and sputtering, unable to find the strength to stop you.

You get your face impossibly close to his manhood, your unbridled attention makes his cock inflate until you test a teasing finger from beneath, circling his balls, up and up until you tease the slit and his hips jolt.

"G-God, Oh goodness," he spits, white knuckling his woolen coat. "Please do something. D-Don't just—shit." You test a tongue, laving the underside of his cock until pearly white essence beads from his slit and you lick it experimentally. It tastes salty, inexcusably human and alive, and you decide you like it, especially when you watch Osferth writhe, unable to decide what to do from such teasing little touches.

"Good thing for you husband, your wife made sure to serve a keen listen to gossiping wives behind the church after mass. Well before the raid burnt it all down." You got yourself comfortable between his thighs, loving how snugged you fit against his warmth here, as well as having a beautiful of view of your Osferth. "They spoke salaciously of what keeps their husbands to their beds."

You give him a wink as you enclose your hand on his cock, giving it a firm tug and he chokes. "To keep the whores away." You start slow and teasing, wanting to see what movements pleased him the most, what made him sigh and groan, jolt, hips chasing the feeling of your hand that started to warm and get wet, both from his excitement and the teasing licks you give.

When he started panting, you took your hand away. His head bobs back adorably at you, frowning. "W-Wife? Wha—" But you don't let him finish, sitting up on your hunches as you replace your hand with your mouth, feeling the stretch as he throws his head back again, neck arched. It doesn't hurt, momentarily uncomfortable as you test the feeling of it, the weight now so full in your mouth before you start moving up and down, eased by the slick and guided by his pretty sounds.

And Osferth has been on the brink of peak multiple times, but you kept stopping or slowing midway. At first, he surmised it must be your first time, unused to a man in your mouth but eager to give him pleasure, which he can't help but feel deep fondness for.

By the third peek he's been deprived off, and the little smirk playing on your lips, he realised the truth. But your mouth is a different story. It's hot and heady, just like a real mouth and his stomach is clenching, his pleasure tightening that he's got tears in his eyes, apologising as his hips chase his high in your throat but by the rumble that rocked his cock, it seems as if you were trying to tell him it was okay.

When you started massaging his stones, he was gone. White hot pleasure broke behind his eyelids that he grabbed your head, your veil and hair, dead flowers falling into light as he came, hips stuttering, before holding you down until the last drop of his spend is in your mouth.

He releases you with apologies, chest heaving with tears in his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, lady, I— inexcusable." He stared gently cleaning your face, unable to realise how much more solid you had become, how much more colour bled in your ghostly blue.

But as you sit back up, you're grinning, unmistakable pride in your gaze as he wipes the corner of your mouth tenderly. You take his fingers before he wipes it on his trousers, coated in him, and licks them clean, sucking hard with a little giggle.

"Good boy," you say. Osferth shudders, his cock already painfully stirring once more.

The Lord have mercy on him. Were there ghostly vixens? Did he marry the only ghostly vixen?

He can't say he's too mad about it.

"Hmm. So that's what it tastes like. I think I like it." You smile, rubbing his thigh. "I also think we are going to have a fruitful marriage, sweet Osferth. What we only need now is one thing..."

He blinks at you. "Hm?"

"Death, my love." You blink back at him owlishly, snapping the dagger strapped to his side. "How can we stay together when one of us breathes?"

Christ, I already have an idea for part two...

#osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth fanfic #kinktober 2023 #osferth smut #osferth fluff #tlk fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk smut #tlk fluff #︶꒦꒷♡ elle tries kinks ♡꒷꒦︶#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#the last kingdom #tlk #osferth scenario #ewan mitchell characters

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i05wook · 1 year ago

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rest well - park gunwook

Pairing: bf! Gunwook x fem! reader

Genre: comfort, fluff

Wc: 587

Warnings: female reader, periods, mentions of nausea, crying

Summary: When Gunwook’s partner is suffering on their period with the worst cramps ever, Gunwook is determined to do whatever he can to help them through shark week.

Author’s notes: I 100% believe that 1) Gunwook would give the best hugs ever, the man's just a giant teddy bear in my head 2) I feel like he’s the type of person to always be warm, particularly his hands. I’m writing this cause i’m literally in so much pain right now on my period. I had to be somewhat self indulgent for once in a while.

It was early on a Sunday morning, and there you were, unable to move from the position

you were in; burrowed deep into your duvet, your arm wrapped tightly over your stomach, trying to provide some relief from the agonising pain of your period cramps. However, no matter which way you laid in bed, the cramps continued to rush over you, bringing waves of nausea and eliciting tears to envelop your eyelashes.

You were in so much pain that every time you tried to stand up from your bed, you were hit with another surge of nausea. The tides of nausea meant that it was near impossible for you to get out of bed, never mind making it to the kitchen in order to fill your hot water bottle up. All you could do to distract yourself from the pain was sleep, cuddled up with your little black and white tabby kitten, Oreo. She laid over your stomach, almost acting like your hot water bottle, and this was enough to help lull you into a light sleep.

It was unknown exactly how long you had been asleep for, lying in the same position. However, when you heard the sound of your front door closing, shortly followed by the slow creak of your bedroom opening, you poked your head over the duvet. From behind your door, your adorable boyfriend slowly peered his head out, praying that you would remain undisturbed if you were sleeping. As soon as he saw you, his adorable gummy smile snuck up on his face, growing even larger when you reached both arms in his direction

He wandered over to where you laid in your bed, and sat down in the bed next to you. As soon as he was sat, he looked over at you, and instantly you buried your face into his abdomen. “Hey darling, are you doing okay today?” Gunwook asked while caressing your hair. You don’t know what or why it happened, but the next thing you know, you're crying into his stomach.

“Hey darling, don’t cry my love, “ he said leaning down to kiss the back of your head, all while stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe your crying. He knew that you often got overly emotional while on your period, so he was well versed in calming you in these situations.

Once your crying calmed pretty soon after it started, Gunwook stood up from the bed, so that he could lie down properly next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist, and applying just the right amount of pressure on your tummy. The boy was consistently warm like a heat pad, but he also always gave the best hugs, in particular, back hugs. Gunwook’s back hugs were some of the best things in the world. The warmth provided by his body almost instantly soothed any form of back pain you had been suffering from, and the pressure of his arm across your stomach helped enormously in lessening the horrendous cramps you had been enduring all day.

Gunwook’s presence behind you helped calm you into a much needed rest whilst he played with your hair and whispered countless affirmations in your ear. The last thing you managed to hear before you fell deep into your slumber caused your heart to flutter.

“My darling, I’m so proud of how strong you are as a woman dealing with this suffering. If only I could take it all away, I would be honoured to. Rest well my sweet girl.”

status: open

@bambisgirl @enhacolor @acaiasahi @duolingofanaccount @slytherinshua @redm4ri @enluv @jaelaxies

©bobariki 2023

#kflixnet #k-labels #zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #zerobaseone x reader #reader x zerobaseone #park gunwook #park gunwook x reader #reader x park gunwook #zb1 x reader #reader x zb1 #zb1 #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #zerobaseone fics #zerobaseone scenarios #gunwook fluff #zb1 gunwook #gunwook comfort

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blueberrypancakesworld · 8 days ago

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You were never a monster

Ramón Salazar x wife!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, emotions, fluff, kisses, blood, injury, no use of y/n

Summary : Leon had spared him, left a monster behind and now he, the despicable creature has to face the love and especially the feelings of his wife. In front of her, a creature that barely resembled the man she had married. Was it even possible to love something like that?

info : Thank you dear @lovesick-on-the-loose for the request it was a pleasure to write the scenario, Ramòn in his monster flower or chymere as the case may be is simply interesting. Have fun reading :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A lord, he was a lord a Kastelann, the eighth and momenta last exalted of the Salazar bloodline. His family was honourable and old and established in Spain, feared by those who hated them and actually loved by the people.

People a simple being who, with the birth of Ramón and his traits, turned away from the family, their saviours. If they didn't want and accept him, they would feel all his wrath and so would the lord.

Even if his power was not as glorious as that of his predecessors, even if he lacked beauty and grace, he had one thing above all… his lord.

The holy Lord Saddler, the might he gave him as powerful as it was deadly and a figure that hardly helped his appearance.

In the time he was immersed in the cult, his insides plagued by pain and the burden of his family on his shoulders, he at least had hope for a time of betterment in his probably short life. ,,Another good morning my darling" he was woken by her voice, his wife didn't have to get up early for that but she insisted on looking after him.

A sacrifice of love and compassion, a mix that did not hurt Ramón, but rather honoured him more than anything else. It was her love that made him hope that one day hope would be brought to his family.

From the make-up session together that ended with a chaste kiss on the back of the hand, the hours spent together in the library and the garden where some flowers he had planted for her grew when he had seen her hoping in a book, always coming back to the type of plant.

She was the one who put herself between him and Sadler, knowing that the more her beloved Ramón stayed away from her, ,,Your sorrow truly touches me, your kindness is a gift…but you can't do anything about what's coming" he had told her when he came back late at night to a missed dinner and she stayed alone again and dined alone.

Even if his apologies were sincere, when she heard his cries and rants through his door, the rage inside him, the curse of his family haunting him, he didn't let her share in that pain.

She loved Ramón, she had seen his noble side, the side of a nobleman, not the monster he had allowed himself to become for as long as he could remember.

She suspected that Saddler wanted something from Ramón again, she herself had only seen this ‘holy man’ once but he was creepy, had hardly anything human about him and if she was honest he didn't even seem really alive. ,,A ride in the countryside would do us good, darling," she had tried to approach Ramón, taking his cool hand in hers and curtsying.

It was a rejection like the next and the next, he didn't want her, didn't want her company and even if she didn't know he was afraid, she knew when the echo of gunshots could be heard in the village that it wasn't something but someone coming towards her.

It didn't even take three days before Ramón seemed to get more nervous, only dealing with his ‘bodyguards’ that she tried to avoid, the cold reddish eyes and the claws she had only seen once was enough to send a shiver down her spine, ,,You stay in your chamber until I collect you…I love you" he brought her into her chamber, his hand gripping hers tightly and running it over the gold ring on her wrestler.

,,Ramón’ came from her after he had kissed her and she heard the door close, the key turn and his footsteps move away. He had chosen his fate and saved her life.

Her fear increased with each successive shot, she banged on the door and none of the servants answered the bell, she was a prisoner in her own home this bounty hunter or soldier whatever he was had come to the castle had seen him from her window only briefly looking around.

However, she was stuck in her room…until the moment the castle suddenly went silent.

No gunshot, no scream and no voices seemed to be wandering around the castle and she was startled when her door opened as if by magic.

Carefully looking out she found no one, no one seemed to be here and she feared the answer to the question of where her husband was, lifting her dress slightly she walked faster through the castle searching the places where Ramòn usually was but with each time she pulled open the door and looked where he was her heart beat more and more with fear.

The whole castle seemed to be empty and as she was about to go to the stables to saddle her horse and ride out she paused, a place she had never been and had only been once before.

Hastily rushing back to the castle, she took the steps of the staircase two at a time, almost tripping and tearing her dress if she hadn't held on, ,,Ramòn! Darling, I'm on my way!" she shouted into the dark vaulted cellar complex and grabbed one of the torches and held it in front of her, trying to roughly remember the passage that led to the cliffs that were almost the end of an island.

Her footsteps in the corridors echoed the sound of hissing and hissing, a painful wail that made her hope it wasn't too late, she didn't want to lose him.

Stepping out of the corridor she threw away the torch and saw that part of the bridge had already been torn down, stones were kicking up dust, shell casings lay on the floor and she saw the corrosive acid running down the walls.

,,Ramòn?" she asked quietly, afraid that the mercenary was still here but he wasn't and she breathed a sigh of relief when he seemed to have moved on and she was alone with her husband, wherever he might be. He had not answered her repeated questions, but the sounds suggested that he must still be alive.

Walking onwards through the ruins of the only beautiful passage, she saw this creature lying on a cracked stone field in front of her, but above all she saw with horror that this something lying there was her beloved.

Screaming his name, she hurried towards the creature and saw the fleshy, steaming petals, which she couldn't seem to describe in any other way, trying to cover Ramòn, ,,Darling…you-you're alive" she said, almost whispering as her hand lay on one of the leaves, cold and slimy, she could feel the life underneath.

But he pulled back, trying to get away from her but his huge body wouldn't allow it, ,,Don't…don't…look at me,’" she finally heard his voice consumed, hoarse as if someone had shot him so many times in the body that the blood was in his throat.

The tentacles with which he was probably defending himself lay between them both and she could no longer look into his yellow eyes, ,,A monster…I don't need any help" he continued to mumble but couldn't manage to heave his massive body out of the way.

Carefully she raised her trembling hand, feeling fear mixed with grief as she carefully pushed the tentacles out of the way, ,,Ramòn you are not a monster" she began and even though his form looked horrible, the slime and acid could most likely kill her.

He was obviously badly injured, she could see the blood on the floor, the fight they had had was not only brutal but also protracted. ,,Besides, don't hide yourself and your pain from me, I can see your suffering," she warned and reached through the outside and grasped his hand, ice-cold, she was afraid he would be dead if she hadn't felt the wince and the sigh.

Ramòn, though hardly his former self, slowly put down his tentacles and opened his petals, ,,You…you don't see me as a monster?" he dared to ask, holding her hand and crawling towards her almost hopefully, golden eyes full of pain and devotion looking at her.

She shook her head, feeling the tears blur her vision as she moved closer and his other hand also reached out to her, ,,You are my Ramòn, my husband…my graceful Castelan," she assured him and gave him a single careful kiss on the forehead. The lady took her time with her beloved.

Hours passed until Ramòn had changed back to some extent, came out of his shell and she dressed him in a velvet curtain to replace his lost clothes.

The walk back to the main castle seemed to take hours but in all that time he held her hand, leaning on her and most importantly she heard the ,,Thank you my love" which she returned and hugged him tighter to let him know he was not alone.

He would never be alone, he had never been a monster, he was her husband, her beloved and above all a person who may not have been perfect but someone who could love and that was all that mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ramontism , @goldenponcho , @xgrisleyx , @ghostssi

#re4 remake #ramon salazar #ramon salazar x reader #re4 ramon #male x female #reader is female

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embodyingchaos · 1 year ago

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Hiiiii can I request something fluff with abner krill like maybe dating headcanons ( Ik it’s pretty basic but I’m a sucker for them 😭) honestly anything that’s fluffy and cute lol

❥ hi there, darling! MY BABY ABNER KRILL AAAAAA ofc i can write dating hcs for THE polka-dot man! i hope you enjoy them! (I'M SORRY THAT THEY'RE SORTA LONG)

dating polka-dot man a.k.a abner krill headcanons warnings: mentions of abuse, panic attacks, ptsd, a bit suggestive at the end HEHEH

OKAY OKAY SO, i would say that abner would definitely not be the one to ask you out first, and if he did, he would be a stuttering mess like “w-would y-you maybe think about.. going on a date?” and you’d be like oh yeah totally, with who? and then he’ll be like “with me” AND HE’D WHISPER IT REALLY SOFTLY AND YOU’D BE LIKE “OH- OH MY GOD YES” HEEHEH

and then every where you guys go for your dates, he would overthink every little thing, like did he pick the right place? did he order the right meal? do you like this kind of thing or should he have asked you where you wanna go and you’ll answer the same thing every time “anywhere is good enough as long as it’s with you” AND HE’D BE BEET RED LIKE BLUSHING CRAZY

abner would definitely be tense for the first few dates before slowly loosening up and relaxing, but even that will take a while

dating abner might be tiring at times, he constantly questions why you’re with someone like him, he’ll constantly be worried that you’ll leave him, but all in all, you’re willing to reassure him with words of affirmation

abner definitely calls you babe, or baby, or just by your name, he doesn’t strike me as a nick name type

though, if you call him any nickname like darling, sweetheart, my love, HE WILL MELT, BE IT IN YOUR ARMS OR ONTO THE FLOOR, HE’LL GET FLUSTERED AND HIDE HIS FACE IN ANY WAY AAAAAA

abner is definitely a little spoon, he feels safe and comfortable in your arms, and every time he’s having a panic attack or ptsd hits, the best way to calm him is to embrace him

he would get nightmares in the middle of the night about his mother abusing him all over again but it would be okay because you're there to hold him tight and tell him that she can't hurt him anymore

he would do the same for you if you had a nightmare or a troubling past, he wouldn't know what to say, but i'd feel like he'd memorise the things you say to him and then repeat them back to you, because he learned from the best ofc

i’d think he gets a little bit jealous, but he trusts you, but yk when insecurity hits, everything just gets a little foggy, he doesn’t want to tell you because he doesn’t want to be a nuisance but you can tell, you’d always kiss his cheek when you know he’s feeling a tad bit insecure and that brightens him up real quick

abner will protect you in any way he can, even if he knows he isn’t that physically strong to win in a fight, he’ll defend you and your honour any time

though usually it’s you who protects him by standing up to people who call him names or are rude to him, he has to calm you down and pull you away so you’d stop cussing at them

i am not including when he’s put in belle reve bc in my headcanons, he doesn’t get sent to prison for murdering his abusive and insane mother bc she definitely had it coming

I WOULD LIKE TO HEADCANON THAT THERE WAS THIS ONE TIME YOU TRIED ON HIS POLKA-DOT MAN SUIT BECAUSE YOU WERE CURIOUS HOW IT WOULD LOOK ON YOU, and he walks in on you and he’s like :0 jaw-dropped, eyes wide open, and you’re like “oh you’re back! i wanted to see how your suit looked on me! i think i look pretty cooOOL-!” yeah, uh, you’re way too attractive for your own good, good luck for the night

#polka dot man #suicide squad 2 #abner krill #abner krill x reader #abner krill headcanons #abner krill oneshot #abner krill imagines #gender neutral #polka dot man x reader #polka dot man headcanons #suicide squad 2 headcanons #reader insert #dating headcanons #abner krill masterlist #polka dot man masterlist #david dastmalchian #david dastmalchian x reader #david dastmalchian masterlist

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jackactuallywrites · 9 months ago

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Spirits and Ghosts

Warning: I’m putting this at the top because this fic is pretty dark! Alcoholism, referenced suicide, Soap is dead, Ghost is completely broken, mildly dubious consent cause you’re both drunk shagging

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Everyone is devastated after Soap’s death, most of all Ghost. He knows you know he’s coping with alcohol, and comes to talk to you, he doesn’t know that you’re drinking too

Notes: I just love a bit of hurt/comfort after all the mushy fluff

Word Count: 3,270

ao3 link

Special thanks: @xxven ily

There was a palpable heaviness hanging over the base with the knowledge that one of your own was gone. You’d never had the pleasure of truly befriending Soap, yet you still felt his absence, a hole in the worn fabric that made up the base. His jokes, his laughter, that obnoxious Scottish accent that echoed down the halls, something you’d found irritating then, but now you would have given anything to hear it one last time.

None amongst you felt that loss more keenly than Ghost.

You were intel, so it was in your job description to keep watch, not only on whoever the government had designated as the enemy but on your own, digging into your comrade's personal lives and finding out every last little secret that could possibly be used against them. Skeletons in the closet didn’t even come close to describing the graveyard in Ghost’s past. Supposedly, he was numb to the trauma, empty of every human emotion after everything he’d been through, but you’d been watching him. There had been something motivating that man, some ironclad little spark at the centre of his being, yet it had died with Soap.

Never once before had his moniker been so accurate. The man truly was haunting the base, a ghoulish spectre wandering the halls at night, his eyes dead and cold, his body animated by something unknown. At least, that was until you took it upon yourself to break into Ghost’s room.

Alcohol.

That was what was motivating the man to keep going, a growing pile of spirits underneath his bed. It was the perfect crime; nobody would ever get close enough to the man to be able to smell his breath; even if they did, he wore a mask, the alcohol-tinted air smothered by a layer of fabric and resin. You knew that Price and Gaz kept an eye on the man, but how close could they truly get to him? Even by military standards, Ghost was closed off. So, you came in. Covert amongst the covert, supposedly for the ‘good of the task force’, though yet again you were questioning it. What good would come of reporting Ghost? You’d read his psych evals; the man was not one for therapy, and understandably so, meaning he would be discharged honourably if he was lucky, but you knew how that story ended. At the end of a rope.

The laptop in your office mocked you with its bright glow, lighting up your dismal notes of alcoholism and trauma, but you couldn’t bring yourself to transfer the notes into his official documents just yet. A man’s life was on the line, and this was not something you took lightly. What you needed was your routine.

It was simple enough; you’d get yourself a nice cold lemonade and then put in enough vodka to drown a small animal, though never enough to completely rid you of your conscience and allow yourself to be engulfed by everything you forced down. Considering you were planning on writing up Ghost for a drinking problem, it felt hypocritical, but everything you did was. Spying on your own soldiers to keep them safe. The lines were already blurred, no matter how straight you tried to make them.

Your room was a perfect prison for you, your laptop safely stored in the securely locked server rooms, only accessible by a sober you the next day. For now, it was just you and your notes, the ones that would be responsible for condemning a man. The words felt heavy on your heart as you flicked through your notepad, your mind already swimming with alcohol as you reread what you’d written of Ghost, of his pain, his guilt, his trauma. He was a good man, from what you could tell, but there was no room for empathy. You had to do what was best for the task force.

When you heard the knock at the door, you felt your soul leave your body. You switched up your drinking room every time, never using the same one twice, always having your office as where you would be found after hours. Of course, you weren’t stupid enough to believe that you yourself weren’t watched, but you knew how and where they’d monitor you, and you’d gone out of your way to avoid it. Or so you’d thought. Could you have messed up? No, you’d done everything perfectly. This was just some horrible coincidence.

Another knock at the door, firmer though still quiet, was enough to rid you of that thought. Someone was out there, someone who knew you were in that room. Your sidearm was never far from your hand, and you kept it in hand as you approached the door, hoping that your dishevelled appearance would be put down to being roused from an early night’s sleep rather than from an empty bottle. Professional. Courteous. That’s all you had to be for the next minute. You could do that.

You might have been able to if it wasn’t Ghost on the other side of the door—Ghost, whose fate lay in your hands, fragile and delicate like a baby bird. He made no attempt at upholding any sort of professional courtesy himself as he pushed past you into the small room you’d taken as sleeping quarters that night.

“I know.” His tired voice brokered no disagreement, but you still made an effort. “Know what?” He sunk onto your bed, precariously close to your stash of alcohol, resting his forearms on his thighs, his eyes firmly on you, “I know you know everything.” You remained quiet, as was always best in this situation, allowing Ghost to reveal how much he knew. “Don’t.” He knew, of course, he knew, he’d been briefed on those exact tactics. You looked back at him, trying to be resolute though your head was swimming, “I’m just doing my job, Lieutenant. As you do yours.” He scoffed, but you pressed on, “It’s for the good of the team, Riley. You know that.” “There is no team without Soap.” He was a man in pain, in distress, yet he was too close. You couldn’t have him in here, not where your secrets unravelled. “Go sleep it off, Lieutenant.”

For a moment, it seemed like you’d escaped closer scrutiny by the skin of your teeth, but Ghost’s eyes had shifted to the small gap in between the bed and the end table, where you’d stashed the bottle, having given up on the charade of diluting it with lemonade quite some time ago. His eyes slowly returned to you, and you felt him examine you, not just your physical appearance but your posture, the slight haziness in your eyes you’d tried to play off as exhaustion.

“Are you drunk?”

There was no doubting the absolute incredulity in his voice, and you knew you’d been caught. Honesty, that was your best policy now, mixed in with a heavy dose of untruths. “I’m off duty.” “I know your schedule.” “Unscheduled leave.” He pushed up from the bed and crossed the room to you, trapping you between him and the door, glowering down at you. “Liar.” A different tactic was needed now, and you tried to look earnest, “The death of Soap-“ He didn’t let you finish, placing his hand over your mouth to silence you, his glove soft against your skin, “Don’t you fucking dare.” You could feel how precarious your situation was now. Ghost would never hurt you; you knew that much from his files, but he might report you. You could take him down, but you’d be sentencing yourself to go down with him.

After a moment, Ghost removed his hand from your mouth, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down at you, allowing you the freedom to explain yourself as though there was anything non-incriminating you could say. You hesitated momentarily before deciding there was no other way out of this. “I’m drunk.” He narrowed his eyes at you, “I could report you.” He looked you over, no doubt weighing his options, so you reminded him, “So could I.“

For a moment, the silence seemed to stretch out into eternity between you, both considering the mutually assured destruction you could unleash. Ghost was the first to deflate, sinking back onto your bed and reaching over to grab the bottle of vodka. He held it up to you in a mock toast, his voice dark, “Here’s to the best and the brightest of the forces.” You relaxed a little, taking the bottle from him. “There’s another bottle in the drawer.” He didn’t need telling twice, pulling the drawer open and taking out the second bottle, unscrewing it as he pulled off his mask and balaclava. You’d read about his face, but seeing it was something else. He was handsome, even with the crooked nose, the untidy greying stubble and the heavy purple bags under each eye. You held out your bottle to his, “Here’s to mutually assured destruction.” His voice was soft as he clinked his bottle against yours, but you could still hear the name on his lips. “To Soap.”

Nothing compared to the blissful feeling of alcohol carrying you away from your worries. Your entire body felt light, slightly tingly, as if there was a slight lag between your mind and your limbs. It was a delightful feeling, the feel of the carpet underneath your fingers, and you stretched out your hands, exploring the new textures that brushed against your skin, stroking along the fabric and noting the bump of the stitches.

“That’s my leg you’re stroking.”

Ghost’s voice was soft, and you laughed, moving your hand away from his leg, “Sorry, sorry.” You cracked open an eye to see him leaning his back against the bedframe with his eyes still closed, a slight smile on his lips, “I don’t mind. S’nice.” The lines between professional and person were already beyond blurry and had been since the very first sip of alcohol, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You returned your hand to his thigh, exploring the waterproofed fabric and how your fingers slid over it smoothly, feeling the ridges of the pockets and then the coarse material of his belt. He shifted, laying his arm on the bed frame behind you, his forearm draping over your shoulder, and you allowed yourself to lean into his chest, enjoying the close contact.

It was obvious to you where things were going; no matter how slowly they were progressing, the end result would undeniably be the same. You shifted away from him, using every last ounce of your self-control to put some distance between you, placing your hands in your lap. “Ghost. We can’t- I can’t. It would be wrong of me.” He reached out for your face, his gloved fingers soft against your cheek as he gently turned you toward him, “I just want to feel good again.” You could see the earnestness in his face but also the pain and exhaustion in his eyes, the undeniable sorrow that lingered. At the end of a day like this, feeling good was all you wanted, too.

Ghost seemed to feel your resistance fading away, his hand shifting from your cheek down, his fingers stroking over your jaw and then around to the back of your neck. His grip was gentle but quietly insistent as he pulled you toward him, your boundaries slipping as you gave in, letting your hands reach out to grab his jumper and pull him closer to you, his lips crashing against yours, firm and desperate, his fingers sliding up into your hair, holding you tightly against him.

A single kiss was all it took to destroy the facade of professionalism entirely.

Ghost wasted no time, breaking the kiss to take his jumper off, revealing the plain green T-shirt underneath, and you eagerly hooked your fingers underneath the hem to take it off for him. He raised his arms to allow you to strip him, waiting for you to take his t-shirt off before he started on yours, easily pulling it off of you and then gently pushing you back onto the carpet, using his knee to nudge your legs apart and then wrapping them around his waist as he leaned down to kiss you again, using his arm to brace himself so he didn’t crush you underneath him.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, but he felt too good against you, one hand tangling in your hair, his lips moving down your neck, sucking and biting at your skin, the other hand pulling your hips against him as he ground into you. The alcohol heightened the pleasure in your skin, and you let out a soft sigh, allowing yourself to become lost in the sensation. Even the slightest sign of pleasure from you spurred Ghost on, and he leant back from you, leaving you panting on the floor as his hands darted down to your trousers, swiftly unbuckling your belt and button and then yanking the zipper down, tugging your trousers off and tossing them to the side.

As he began undoing his own belt, you took a moment to appreciate how attractive the man was, the way the muscles in his arms bulged as he fumbled with the buckle, the black tattoos that wrapped around his forearm, the hungry look in his pale eyes as he took in the sight of your body, the dark blond hair that trailed down his stomach. He undid his trousers, pushing his boxers down, his cock finally springing free. You could feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, how desperate he was for you, and you bit your lip in anticipation, feeling the butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Ghost didn’t bother to take his trousers completely off, already leaning down to tug your pants off, sliding them over your legs and throwing them aside. He gripped your thigh as he positioned himself, grinding himself into you to coat as much of himself as he could in your wetness before he slowly pushed into you, the pressure at your entrance building before he slowly began to sink into you, a throaty growl emanating from his throat as he buried himself inside you. You knew you should have been more careful; you should have thought of protection, but all you cared about was how he felt against you, his hand moving to your thigh to hold you in place as he thrust into you, angling your hips so he rubbed up against that perfect spot inside you.

Without warning, he shifted back to pull you on top of him, positioning you in his lap, placing his hand on your hip and grinding you against him. His other hand reached up to cup your face, forcing you to look up into his eyes, his own wide and desperate. He rubbed his thumb over your cheek, his other hand grabbing your ass as he rocked you against him, his voice throaty as he rested his forehead against yours, “You feel so fucking good.” His hand moved from your ass and grabbed your hand, pushing it down between your bodies, his voice desperate and pleading, “Come on, baby, make yourself feel good for me.” You weren’t one to deny yourself pleasure, so you did as ordered, pushing your hand between your bodies and beginning to rub circles around your clit, feeling that familiar pressure build in your core, shifting your hips against him to angle him more perfectly, and he rubbed his thumb over your cheek, “Just like that, sweetheart, come on.” He let you control the rhythm as you rocked against him, resting his hand on the small of your back, his voice strained, “Come on, darlin’, come for me.”

Your body couldn’t hold on for longer, your rhythm starting to stutter as you pushed down on him hard, trying to get him as deep as possible as you finished, your nails digging into his shoulders as he held you closely against him, whispering soft words of encouragement into your ear, “Just like that, sweetheart, just like that.” You let your head fall forward onto his chest as you rode out the last sparks of pleasure, and he wrapped his arm around your back, holding you against him, stroking your hair with his other hand.

Ghost was still underneath you, seemingly content to just have your pleasure, but you weren’t finished just yet. You shifted on top of him so you were straddling his lap, gently placing your hands in the centre of his chest and pushing him insistently. He looked at you questioningly, but he allowed you to lay him flat on his back, his hands sliding down your back and to your waist, allowing you to take control. You could feel the hesitance in his touch, and you began to rock your hips back and forth, feeling how his hands began to tighten on your waist, his head falling back onto the carpet, and his jaw clenching as he thrust up into you. You found your rhythm quickly enough, balancing on your knees as you rode him, feeling that familiar tightness inside you as he hit you just right, everything still sensitive from your first climax, your voice a breathy whisper as you slid up and down, “Fuck, Ghost.”

“Simon, it’s Simon.” His voice was tight, as were his fingers on your waist, beginning to pull you down onto him more forcefully, “Say my name.” You couldn’t help but reach back down to rub yourself again, feeling everything tingle and tense, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to keep the rhythm just right, “Fucking hell, Simon.”

The simple utterance of his name seemed to bewitch him, and he let out a deep groan, gripping onto your hipbones as he began slamming up into you, yanking you down to meet him every time, almost lifting you off his cock entirely before he buried it back inside you. You could see the frantic desperation in his movements and feel the tightness in his legs as his body began to tense up, but he slowed, panting out in short, heavy breaths, “I’m close, darlin’, I should probably-“ Both alcohol and arousal were clouding your better senses, and you dug your nails into his chest as you ground yourself against him, right on the verge of finishing yourself, the nail in the coffin of any intelligence, “Come in me, Simon.”

Ghost needed little encouragement, completely lost in the sensation of you finishing around him again, and he thrust forcefully inside you before sitting up and pushing you down to the floor once again, pulling your legs tightly around his hips as he fucked you hard, pounding into you fiercely, the carpet harsh against your back as he thrust deep into you one final time, growling out a throaty, “Fuck,” as he finished.

Not anything about your decisions had been smart, from fucking Ghost to letting him finish inside you, but you just couldn’t summon the energy to care anymore. He felt too good, and you’d needed it; you’d needed an excuse to break free of the constraints. He collapsed to your side as he pulled out, yet brought you with him into a tight hug, burying his head in your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your hair as his heart slowed. Nothing was said, but nothing needed to be said, and you simply enjoyed the closeness, resting your head against his chest, the dark thoughts in your head blissfully silenced.

#jack writes #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod fic #simon ghost x reader

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 8 months ago

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Can you do a scenario of Bakugou aftermath of the manga war right now, cause sense he had so much character development I think he have changed majorly big. And was wondering a bakugou x reader, aftermath after battle. I hope your up to date with the manga rn cause it’s super sad :(

But Mabye a scene of reader x bakugou, he wakes up in hospital and sees her waiting next to him in a chair waiting for him to wake up. And when he does he’s glad to see her alive and asking so many questions ☹️ maybe even a lil romantic vibe at the end ??!??😌

That would be so sweet thank you’!!

this is such a cute request ! i've been thinkin of writing a post war fic lately so thank you for the ask ! i tried to honour your request as best i could, hope you'll like it ! <3

BNHA MANGA SPOILERS !!, fem reader, injuries n blood n stuff, reader cries easily sorry im projecting, katsuki n reader have been together for a while (since before the first internship arc !)(..does this technically qualify as childhood friends to…anyways !), worried reader, worried katsu so its a lil angsty but it's pure fluff no worries !, kissing, katsuki is touchy and cannot pass up skin contact, katsuki is a biter cus i say he is so biting, best jeanist is here!! (and maybe kinda ooc cus idk him like that😭🫶🏾), afo is mentioned and called a ballsack lmfao i hate him, everyone is fine and dandy and healthy(?) cus im a major optimist, lemme know if i missed sum else<3!

it's been three weeks since katsuki's been asleep.

you'd woken up a week and a few days after the war had ended. you don't remember much besides fighting for your life, that of your friends and of the people of japan. you were greeted with the worried, relieved and snotty faces of your classmates. denki and kirishima had basically tackle hugged you and were immediately strictly reprimanded by iida and momo. your limbs hurt like hell but you could ignore it and focus on squeezing your friends for now.

except not everyone was here. you immediately realised katsuki was one of them.

you were horrified to find out from your friends, who were sure this would be your reaction and were refraining from telling you, that katsuki had once again suffered major injuries and had been asleep for a good week now.

your classmates had tried to reassure you, "bakugou's always doin' the impossible, he'll probably be awake and he'll go back to cussin' up a storm before we know it." sero said, trying his best to comfort you. you send him a smile that doesn't fully reach your eyes, but you still appreciate him nonetheless.

since that day you'd gone to visit him everyday. sometimes you'd just stare at his pretty lashes fluttering, wondering when he'd wake up. other times you'd talk to him about your day. it was boring, since you were still healing and still stuck in the hospital, but it was something.

your classmates came to visit too. kirishima comes to visit the most but you assume he’s just here to check up on you and make sure you’re okay. he stays for around an hour, sneaks you some actually edible food then always leaves you with a “don’t push yourself too much, okay !”

you go to visit your other classmates, like izuku who had also taken a major beating, but was just as stubborn as your katsuki when it came to durability. you’re amazed to see how quickly he goes back to his old self, anxiously waving his arms around and telling you he’s completely okay, before promptly wincing and yelping out an “ouch !” when he moves his arm the wrong way. you jokingly warn him not to push himself too much too quickly or you’d mess him up even more than he already was every time you leave.

“i’ll try !” he chuckles, giving you a thumbs up.

you’d also met best jeanist recently, who had come to visit your boyfriend one day while you were also there. he told you that katsuki had talked about you once and that, in best jeanist’s words he seemed to be very enamored with you. you couldn’t help the way you shyly looked down at the ground, letting out a flustered chuckle and you thought you heard best jeanist laugh underneath his long, long turtleneck.

you’re currently sitting by katsuki’s bedside for the fourth monday in a row, smiling to yourself as you watch him sleep. you wonder if he’s dreaming about anything. despite the fact you looked it up and people can’t exactly dream while they’re in a coma, but you like to think he’s just asleep and having a very nice dream. the thought makes you happy, but it also makes a knot grow in your throat.

“i do hope you're having nice dreams, but i also hope you wake up soon." you whisper lovingly, brushing some hair out of his face. you run your finger along his nose bridge and cheek, usually he wouldn't be able to take soft touches like this for more than 10 seconds before getting embarrassed and pushing your hands away, trying to distract you from his beet red cheeks. you let out a watery giggle at the memory.

your throat starts feeling a little dry and as much as you don't want to leave katsuki, you figured you wouldn't miss much if you were only gone for a few minutes. you press a quick kiss to his forehead and before you get up to leave the room you look back at him once more time. only to see something strange, his eyelashes flutter more than usual, then his eyebrows furrow,

and then his eyes open.

he blinks groggily once, then twice. he tries to reach up and rub at his eye but the bandage on his arm won't allow him to and he winces. he realizes someone is in his room after a second, slowly looking up as if in slow motion. but then his movements fast forward when he realizes it's you in his room.

his eyes widen and he practically jumps up. hastily sitting up and leaning against the railing of his bed towards you

"yn—fuck !" but he seems to have underestimated how serious his injuries were in the moment. he doubles over and hisses in pain. the noise kickstarts you and immediatly you're in motion. you rush over to him, softly but urgently grabbing his shoulders you softly push him back against his pillows, he groans as you do. "don't sit up so quickly !" you fret "just lay down—"

he grabs your arm with his somewhat okay one tightly as soon as you make contact, "are you—fuck—are you okay ?" he asks breathlessly, his eyes urgently search around on your face and he frowns slightly as he scans over your light scratches. " fuck, i passed out before i could get to check up on you.." his eyebrows furrow even harder, mad at himself for not being able to watch over you.

he lifts his not so injured hand up just slightly and you lower your head so he can place it against your cheek. he rubs over it slowly "yer not hurt, are ya ? i mean—fuck, you are, but—"

"katsu.." you smile, already shushing him.

"nothing broken ?" he starts up again, prodding at every body part he can reach. you giggle lightly. "yer all bandaged up. swear i'll find the bastards who did this shit to you."

"i already dealt with them, so you don't need to worry about that." you chuckle. he copies you, his movements slow down the slightest bit and he chuckes slightly and you've missed that sound so much your heart squeezes.

“yeah, course you did..” he sighs, eyes shining brighter than usual and you suspect he’s tearing up a little when he swiftly looks away from you to wipe at his face, you don’t comment on it cus you could feel tears welling up in your eyes as well.

he tsks at the mostly okay, but still injured, arm against his face before pulling it back glaring at it, “this shit’s a real pain.” he mutters angrily, sucking his teeth.

you spring into action again, like a toy starting up when you wind it “don’t move it so much, you messed it up really badly during the fight !” you both notice how you flinch back when you instinctively go to grab his hand, then reach forward once more and barely grab his hand to guide it towards his lap, and then his body towards the pillows behind him again. katsuki’s eyebrows furrow at your ghost like touch.

he doesn’t say a word as you ramble and simply stares at you. you’d noticed he hadn’t even put up a fight when you’d pushed him back down onto his bed, but you were more worried about his well being rather than his behavior. but now you start to get a little bit worried at his lack of reaction, you place your hand on his chest softly, afraid to hurt him "wait just a sec, i'll go get a nur—"

"no." you let out a surprised sound when he grabs your hand. he stares straight into your eyes, and the bright red shine in them is such a huge contrast to them being closed for so long it almost knocks the wind out of you.

he vehemently shakes his head "i don't need none of that."

"katsuki, you need—"

"no i don't." he says stubbornly, you don't know if you're happy or not that he seems to be just as stubborn as before everything happened. it's a relief, sure, but it's starting to annoy you a bit. you want to fire back but he cuts you off "i don't need a nurse. need you." he mutters into your hand he had brung up to his lips to speak his last sentence against.

it’s only a light press of his lips against your skin but it sends chills down your spine. he does it again, red eyes fixed onto you to bring his point across. you suck in a harsh breath, then sigh in defeat.

"okay.." you sigh. "but we still have to get a nurse later." he grunts into your hand in begrudged agreement, "later." he mutters.

once he's gotten his feel of you, he slowly lifts his head up to look at you. he shuffles around in bed until he's sitting up a little straighter, waving you off when you sit up to help when he winces slightly.

he reaches for you and tugs at your arm lightly, as if he wanted you to sit closer to him. you happily oblige, scooting a little closer until you're leaning infront of him. he grumbles, obviously unhappy about something.

"come over here." he whines petutalanty.

you giggle at his childish demand "katsuki, no. you're very hurt and i don't wanna make you feel worse if i accidently push at something too hard. we can cuddle all you want when you get checked up." you explain. he’s obviously unhappy about that, rolling his eyes accompanied by a huff.

just like he usually would. you feel your eyes burn but your chest feels lighter and lighter the more you realize he’s here. your holding his hand and he’s holding it back, you’re looking at him and he at you.

it’s your katsuki.

“that’s bullshit, m’perfectly fine.” he scoffs.

you give him a once over, raising a brow for good measure “right.” you laugh when he scoffs again, but he can’t hide the smirk growing on his face at the sound.

it’s your katsuki, alright.

it’s quiet while you’re just indulging in each other’s company, the worry in your stomach gnawing at you every day he wouldn’t open his eyes these past few weeks finally washing away as you look at him lovingly when he closes his eyes and sighs against your skin.

“stop starin’.” he complains against your hand he still had in a tight grip, cheeks turning red. it seems like he doesn’t want to let go of it any time soon and doesn’t have any plans to as he bring it up to his mouth to bite you. you struggle and squeezes at his nose with a grin.

“hey, is it so bad to wanna look at my boyfriend that he’d been sleeping every day up until now ?” you make it sound like a joke, but your smile falters slightly and katsuki realizes. his eyes widen slightly.

"how..how long was i out for ?" his voice is still clouded with sleep even now. you plop back down onto your chair, dragged closer to him now “about three weeks.” you mutter, sad smile on your face and eyes downcast.

neither of you say anything for a moment and you’re quickly reminded of the quiet you’d gotten used to when he was still asleep. you don't like it and you want to fill the silence but you don't know what to say. katsuki doesn't respond and keeps looking at your expression, blinking slowly, like he does when he's trying to discern how you feel. he's annoyingly perceptive and you feel yourself get flustered by his gaze.

"now who's the one staring.." you mutter shyly, eyes drifting towards the floor to close him off of your mind with those all seeing eyes of his. you can tell he's seen through you, but it's worth a try anyway.

he reaches and tugs at your chair leg for you to scoot closer somehow. once, then twice harder when you don't make any move to listen to him. he grunts and you worry he'll hurt himself like he always end up doing when he’s not being careful, so you lean your face closer to him. you'd stare at him at all day like this if you could but your eyes won't look in his properly before they're shooting back towards the floor, katsuki huffs a breath of laughter onto your cheek.

"m'not allowed to look at my girlfriend after bein' passed the fuck out for three weeks ?" he smirks his eyes are soft even when he gruffs a mean laugh when he reaches up to pinch your nose back and you grumble at him, softly patting at his hand to shoo him away with a smile you try to hold back. he pokes at your cheek, you go to shoo and scold him but he surprises you by softly placing his hand against your cheek.

“was worried about you, you know.”

your eyes widen and your mouth drops open slightly at his sincerity. your heart warms and you can't stop the tears blurring your vision anymore. you clamp your mouth shut so as not to sob, but your bottom lip wobbles and katsuki huffs again.

"was thinkin 'bout you the whole time. hate that creepy ballsack head,” he grumbles bitterly “kept me from seein' my girl." he smiles when you let out a watery snort. you grab ahold of the hand on your face, running your thumb across the rough skin.

"i heard you really did a number on him."

"course i did. fuckin' decimated the fucker." he boasts and you laugh loudly. "made him cry like a baby. literally." he adds, you raise a brow in question but he simply shakes his again, as if telling you not to worry about it.

you don't question it and simply sigh against his hand happily, it feels nice to feel him again. "the others are gonna be happy to see you up. kiri's been coming to visit you every day. and i've forbidden izuku from getting out of bed, but he asks about you all the time."

katsuki scoffs, thumb slowling down in its movements "damn deku.. he better not think he's hot shit cus he woke up before me." you snort loudly at that, shaking your head at his childish antics.

"good he's not runnin' around. he'd probably end up breaking more of his bones by himself."

"that's what i said !" you giggle, and katsuki snorts. you missed hearing him. you missed him so much, you reach a hand up and wipe at your still wet eyes, katsuki grabs at that hand to wipe at your tears for you.

"was worried about you too, katsu." you sniffle "when i heard you got yourself hurt bad again i just—i got really scared.”

your boyfriend's eyebrows furrow sorrowfully and he wishes his body wasn't so weak so he could wrap you up in his arm and feel you close, never let you go. but his hand against your wet cheek will have to do for now.

but katsuki is a creature of habit, so he speaks "come over here." he whispers.

you lean in a small distance at first, not really sure of what he wanted you to do. katsuki grunts but when you get close enough he reaches for the back of your head and pulls you in, pressing his lips to yours.

and it's everything. soft yet his grip on you is firm, slow yet urgent when you grab the front of his hospital clothes and he huffs against you when he shoves his tongue into your mouth with a soft groan. eyebrows furrowing in focus to handle his breathing because he doesn't want to pull away.

not yet.

you're first to pull away but he doesn't let you go far, immediately swooping in for another kiss, this one just as- if not more urgent-than the first. you softly run your hands through his soft locks and try to memorize the feeling like you hadn't been touching it everyday for the past three weeks. it feels different now.

not yet.

finally, you pull away even after katsuki chases your lips with a pout. you giggle and tug at his hair and he huffs at you, and leans forward to bite at the tip of your nose.

"katsuki !" you squeal flying back to wipe at your nose.

“don’t katsuki me” he chuckles, cheeks dusted pink. from the lack of oxygen just a moment ago or from embarrassment you don’t know, “ ‘ts your own fault, dumbass.”

you scrunch your nose and stick your tongue out at him and he snickers again. you’d missed that sound. you’d missed his laugh, and his stupid nicknames and his voice, the way he says your name and his eyes and his smile.

“i missed you.” you breathe, smiling at him with what you know can only be called heart eyes. katsuki blinks at you, turning red to the tips of his ears. he looks away but reaches for your hand, you give it to him and he presses his lips to the back of your hand.

“missed you too. really did.” he mutters.

this is the most embarrassed you’ve seen him and the sincerest at the same time, you commit the image to memory as your stomach flutters and your heart beats for him. and his for you. you can feel it in the way his hand steadily gets warmer, the way he closes his eyes and breathes you. in the way he kisses each of your fingertips and finishes it off with a bite to each to make you laugh.

you both know a lot of things still need to happen but they can wait for now. for now, his heart is here, beating with yours. your katsuki is awake and back where he’s supposed to be.

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madame-fear · 2 years ago

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Hi! Can you please do #23 with Lucerys Velaryon where he thinks you’re betrothed to someone else but really you’ve somehow managed to get engaged with him but he doesn’t know yet and you’re just teasing him? Additionally can this please be an AU where Lucerys Velaryon survives and didn’t get eaten by Vhagar 😭😭 My heart could not take it 😭

— the betrothal ceremony

a/n : YES OFC, I LOVE THIS REQUEST SM😭😭 might be longer than usual because i loved this so much that i might have gotten carried away !! hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it, sweetling ♡ and sorry for the bad title lol

summary : request word count : 2.7k

characters included : lucerys, rhaenyra, some random highborn Lord (whomever you want lol) and reader/you.

genre : fluff. prompt/scenario(s) : — 23. “and who are you to tell me who i can and can't be with?” “i'm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children.”

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The news regarding your betrothal had been discussed early in the morning by the Small Council, and they had been delivered to you by the Queen herself, Rhaenyra. She had known you since you were born; your House being particularly close to the Targaryens, and being one of the most important Houses who showed support to the current Queen being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

Being so close to her and her children, she knew about the mutual crushing Lucerys and you had on each other since childhood, and up to this day. It was pretty obvious to everyone, except for the two of you, apparently – even if she tried to constantly reassure you that he liked you back, and more than you thought.

For him, you were like his personal safe space that he desired to forever be with. Since early childhood, you always sticked by his side, no matter the situation: defending him from his uncles, comforting him when he came back to the Castle after the Battle of Storm's End, having nearly died eaten by Vhagar... and of course, you were the one who gave him a shoulder to cry on when he was terrified of thinking about never seeing your precious face again after that moment. Also, you always defended his name and honour whenever you heard someone mentioning the classic gossiping of him being a bastard. Remembering all those moments where you defended him, it made him fall even harder for you, if that was any more possible – and his mother knew about how you felt for each other, always finding situations in which she could pair the two of you together.

Now that you were of proper age, she proposed to betroth both of you together, which couldn't make you any more happier once she informed you about it, and you could only hope he was joyful about said news, just like you were.

“Sweetling,” she spoke loudly enough so you could hear her, as you were walking around the large halls of the Castle. Snapping out of your trance of thoughts, you turned around, offering the platinum-haired Queen a warm smile, “your Grace,” you greeted, playfully curtsying to her as she made her ways towards you. “I just finished a meeting in the Small Council,” she began, making you tilt your head waiting for her to continue. “Considering Luke and you are already of proper age to be wed, we've decided to betroth the two of you together.” a smile began growing broader, and some chuckles as well at the sight of your eyes widening, and your mouth becoming a toothy-grin. “Oh– wait, really?” your voice quivered with excitement, the rising of your curves on the corner of your lips was so grand that your cheeks slightly hurt, your face becoming flustered.

“Yes, my dear.” Rhaenyra assured you, feeling genuinely contented with your reaction. “We've arranged the betrothal dinner to be for tonight. But,” she continued, “I thought it would be fun if all the guests invited to the dinner knew about your betrothal with Luke, except him. Make him think you're betrothed to someone else, but in the end, you can surprise him with the news yourself.” it was quite a particular way to celebrate a betrothal, but you couldn't object against it, as you thought it would be fun to tease him a bit before revealing your engagement together. You tittered with excitement, still showing your tooth a bit, and nodded in agreement. “O-Of course! I think that is actually quite a peculiar way of revealing my betrothal to him, and I love the idea.” there were so many emotions overwhelming you: excitement, nervousness, anxiety, and overall, joy.

Without a second thought, you threw yourself st her with arms wide open, and embraced her into a tight, loving hug. “I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for this moment, my Queen.” you quietly spoke, as she immediatly returned the hug, softly caressing your back in a tender way. “You shouldn't thank me, sweet girl.” she replied, and you gently broke apart the embracing. “Just enjoy the moment, and wear your best dress and jewellery.” flashing you a teasing wink, her lips once again were shaped into a broad smile – already eager for the betrothal dinner that was yet to come. In response to her comment, you giggled with a hint of nervousness, and content in your tone, the fluster on your cheeks rising to your ears.

“I will, your Grace. I promise not to disappoint.”

🐉💍🐉💍🐉💍🐉💍🐉💍🐉💍🐉💍

The night was quick to fall, as the early beginning of dusk was beginning to show itself – the hooting of owls and crickets chirping disturbing the usual quietness around the Castle.

Minutes before the betrothal dinner, and during, you couldn't help but occasionally fidget with the jewellery Rhaenyra had suggested for you to wear, mostly with the vivid crimson-coloured ruby on your necklace. There were quite a few houses invited, most of them were all very important houses whom wholeheartedly supported Rhaenyra as a Queen; members of your House were obviously there as well, all of them proudly congratulating you for your engagement with the young Princeling, and Lord of the Tides. Every Lord and Lady attending the flamboyant ceremony they had prepared for your betrothal were obviously aware whom you were getting wed to, except, someone in particular... which was your betrothed, Lucerys.

Everything went according the rapid plan both Rhaenyra and you had prepared as she informed you about your betrothal. And how come he wasn't even aware that he was attending the ceremony of his own betrothal? Perhaps, it was simply because his emotions and feelings were taking the best of him upon hearing the news of you being betrothed – with clenched jaw, and eyes never leaving your face as you laughed and joked with some Lords. The moment felt slow and dreadful, and there was a mix of burning rage, jealousy, and angst in him. The dark crimson and shining golden colours in both your dress and jewellery highlighted your features, and it didn't help the fact that you so graciously smiled and laughed... he was truly in another world as he scanned every single motion, and expression of yours. You were surely going to be the death of him.

Lucerys didn't even know who your betrothed was. Of course, he had previously asked his mother, but she simply passed it as "a betrothal between Lady (y/n) and a highborn Lord who is close to House Targaryen". His mother's reply didn't satisfy him, but in a certain way, he preferred not to know – and he didn't want to know only to stop thinking about the present moment, as he, from a dimly lit corner, watched you dance and laugh with some Lord, whom he assumed it might be your betrothed, but he wasn't fully sure about it yet. His hands were tightly crossed against his chest, and his jaw was so badly clenched, to the point he knew that the following day he'd feel it sore. A deep, frustrated huff escaped him – he couldn't take it any longer, he needed to be with you, and be the one making you smile and giggle.

As he was leaning against a corner, he properly stood and uncrossed his arms, making his way towards you, and the other dancing Lord. The upset expression on his face was notorious, even if he did the best of his efforts to put on a happy, joyful face– but he couldn't, because he was seething with many smothering emotions.

“My Lord.” his voice, as calm as he tried to sound, it came sounding rather stern. The giggling and smiles between you and the other highborn Lord stopped, as your attentions focused now on Lucerys; the Lord giving him a single nod, and warmly greeting him. “May I take Lady (y/n)'s hand?” his expression softened upon seeing your enchanting face, whose cheeks were rosy tainted, and his voice ended sounding slightly more polite. The Lord, without a single objection, carefully released his grip on your hand, and allowed Luke to take it. “Congratulations on your betrothal, my Lady. It's quite a lovely ceremony.” the Lord spoke, offering you a kind smile before leaving, and making his way towards other Ladies and Lords.

“Thank you, my Lord!” you replied, half-shouting from all the loud noise of people speaking, and gentle music playing in the background as said Lord left. Your attention rapidly turned to Lucerys as he pulled you closer to his body. His eyes couldn't leave your face, and the way it was so beautifully lightened with the chandeliers hanging from the roof, whom were warm-coloured from the flames of the candles.

“Congratulations on the betrothal, my Lady. I am certain you must be thrilled with it.” the tone of sarcasm and anger was heard through his voice, and you were quick in understanding his mood, having known – and liked – him for such a long time. A warm grin appeared on your lips, as he gently twirled you around. It was hard for you to contain a chuckle, seeing how oblivious he was at his own betrothal ceremony. “Thank you, my Prince. I am indeed very grateful and joyful with my betrothed.” you replied, as your hanging earring swiftly dangled along your movements. His grip on your hand involuntarily tightened, as well as the way his jaw clenched. “Kostagon nyke gīmigon qilōni iksos se beri mēre? (May I know, who's the lucky one?)” his hand lost it's grip on yours, and went up to gently – but firmly – grabbing your arm, pulling you to him, as he whispered to you in High Valyrian. What he just said, was something you understood very well, and clearly.

“I'm surprised you haven't been told yet, my Prince?” at this point, it was hard for you to contain a broad smile, trying to keep up with the teasing game. “I have not, unfortunately.” it was a hard balance between a soft, yet stern voice tone, growing irritated at the idea of you being now taken. “But whomever he is, I don't think he is fit enough for you, my Lady.” you raised your eyebrows at him, slightly tilting your head to your side – your earrings lowly jingling from the motion. “Oh? How come?” you inquired, “Se skorkydoso kostagon ao vestragon bona, lo ao gaomagon daor gīmigon qilōni ziry iksos? (and how would you know, if you're not even aware of who he is?)” having being taught some things about High Valyrian was useful to you, especially, when teasing Luke. A slight frustrated, and forced smirk grew on his face.

“Because there is no man in this world that can be worthy of such beautiful young Lady... not deserving of all the love you give.” the gentle, slow dancing movements stopped as he now stood in front of you: one hand holding your arm, and the other one tilting your chin so you would look deep into his fiercy hazel eyes, whom always stared at you with undying devotion. The background noise of chittering and laughing people, as well as the soft music being played, all faded away – feeling the two of you the only ones in the room.

“And who are you to tell me who I can, and can't be with?” you teased, a smirk rising upside on the corner of your soft lips. A few moments of shy silence grew in between the two of you. His emotions softened upon seeing the way you looked into him, which, unbeknownst to him: you were melting under the sensation of his fingertips carefully holding your chin. Luke gulped with an increasing feeling of anxiety growing on his chest, preparing himself for the following statement:

“I'm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children.” the words strangely escaped smoothly from his lips, unlike the idea of him stumbling upon his words he mainly had. At the sudden confession, your eyes grew slightly wider, and partly opened your lips to speak. “It doesn't matter whom my mother betrothed you with.” he continued, before you said anything. “I should be the one deserving of your love, having been enamoured of you since I've first laid my eyes on you, and no one could possibly replace my feelings for yo–” his now nervous rambling was interrupted by both your hands flying to cup his face lovingly, and needily pressing your lips against his rosy, plushy ones.

It took him a few moments to process the situation, as his eyes widened upon the sudden feeling of your lips against his own – but slowly, and joyfully, he gave into the kiss; his lips soon moving in sync with yours, as the hand that was holding your cheek now went to the back of your head, pushing you closer to him, absolutely over the clouds at the so desired feeling of kissing you. Unknowingly for the two of you, Rhaenyra watched the scene as she sat on a wooden chair on the dinner table, and proudly smiled to herself.

The kiss felt like an eternity, even if it was a straight minute until you had to pull apart for air, but still being inches from each others lips; heavily breathing and gasping. A goofy, toothy smile grew on him as he fluttered his eyes open to admire you, but quite rapidly, a feeling of guilt overcame him.

“I always loved you, (y/n), but what about your betroth–” you once again shushed him, but instead, by placing your index finger on his lips. “I've always loved you too, but you're so incredibly oblivious, dear Husband.” a confused expression – as well as a growing, crimson blush – was smeared all over his face, his eyebrows furrowing. “Your mother has betrothed me to you. We both made a plan to not tell you she betrothed us, until now.” gods, he felt so incredibly stupid for having been blinded by his own jealousy and ire that he did not realise his mother had betrothed you together. Previous flashing memories of some Ladies and Lords occasionally congratulating him for the betrothal came to his mind, and he suddenly fell into realisation as the finger you had placed on his lip slowly descended to fully place your hand on his chest.

“Mother betrothed us?” as he spoke, a huge smile grew on his lips at the thought of it; hazel eyes vividly shining with love and pure joy. You couldn't help but tenderly chuckle at his reaction, as your other hand softly caressed his cheek with your thumb. “Gods, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for this moment. I can't believe I'll finally be able to call you my Lady Wife.” his hands lowered to your waist, and bought you closer to him, and placed a quick, rapturous kiss on your lips once again. “I promise you, I'll make you the happiest Lady in all of Westeros.” he mumbled, placing a last kiss on your forehead – all those kisses were obvious indicators that he had been expecting this moment his entire life, and now he couldn't be any more satisfied to have you.

“Come,” he said, as his hands left your waist. “Allow me to show off my beautiful future wife.” now, he offered you his arm for you to loop yours in his, causing you to widely smile, accompanied by a glint of redness across your face. “Of course, my dear husband.” you shyly retorted, ringing your arm in his, as he walked you towards a crowded place full of Lords and Ladies, gladly showing off the beauty he's got betrothed to as he flashed a glance to his mother, and muttering a quiet 'Thank You'.

A quiet, dreamy sigh escaped his lips as he could already imagine his future with you. An overwhelming feeling of being enamoured mixed with gratitude and satisfaction overtook his heart, as a broad and rapturous smile were shaped on his lips. Now, more than ever, he was keen in soon staring a beautiful family with you: one he was willing to love and cherish to no end, and of course, to eternally protect.

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♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @marvelfics134 @beeebo234

#lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x you #lucerys targaryen x reader #lucerys strong x reader #lucerys velaryon imagine #lucerys velaryon headcanons #prince lucerys x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon headcanons #house of the dragon x you

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vi-trying-to-survive · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, I know you have finals right now (wishing you the best on those, I know you’ve got this!!) but I just thought I would make a request before I forgot about it lol. Obviously, it’s a Stephen Strange x female reader fic because I love him <3 Maybe one where it’s almost Christmas time but that’s not necessarily important I just love the winter lol. But the main part of the story is that they are playing Mario Kart extremely early in the morning (aka they still have their pajamas on, which is the best way to play Mario Kart) and both of them are competitive but in a friendly and loving way?? And some super cute and fluffy ending that I’ll let you decide because I can’t think of one and I trust you entirely :) anyways, hope all is well and that you do well on your exams!!!

Stephen Strange x f!Reader

Summary: Stephen and Y/N keeping up with Christmas traditions (basically what it says in the request :) )

Warnings: None, just fluff :))))))

A/N: Hope you guys like it !! I'm sorry I've basically been MIA also though, but I'm trying to write more now :')))) Also if you have any ideas or think I could improve my writing in anyway do let me know :)

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(Y/N) groaned as the sunshine streamed through the windows, caressing her face, willing her to wake up, as she tried to fight it, stuffing her face into the fluffy pillows, but eventually failing and flipping over, granted there was not much effort to it. Blinking her eyes, she rubbed slightly with the base of her palm, trying to get rid of the sleep that had formed as they focused on the room that surrounded her, the blurred edges becoming sharper and more visible. She yawned deeply, stretching her arms out a little, before leaning back into the mattress, soft and springy, sinking into the warm embrace of the man that held her comfortably, somehow still in deep sleep, inhaling the familiar scent of pine wood and spice that always stuck to him. Feeling him stir a little at her movements, she was quick to lace her fingers in his dark locks, gently brushing through any tangles, slowly lulling back to sleep. Turning her body to face his she couldn't help but admire him, so at peace when he slept, the lines along his face relaxed and almost non-existent, lips parted ever so slightly, as his chest rose up and down calmly. She found herself smiling affectionately at the sight of him, knowing that it had always been hard for the man to relax, first neurosurgery then the mystic arts and now a protector of the multiverse, he never seemed to be able to give himself a break, at least until her was asleep, it was like seeing an entirely new side of Stephen so relaxed and nonchalant. She wished that he would give himself that more often, for his own sake, but he never listened, always putting the world before himself, honourable but relatively self-destructive, so she figured the least she could do was let him sleep in for another hour or so, and it wasn't like they had any pressing matters to attend to.

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"Honey, hurry up already or I'm going to start it without you", she called tauntingly, waving the multi-coloured controllers in the air, not needing to turn around to imagine the exasperated look on his face.

"Oh my- Would you stop I am getting food for you and me", he frowned, tapping his foot impatiently, almost spilling the milk over the edge of the bowl. He was usually against cereal, claiming that it's not a food for an adult, but there were exceptions. Capping the carton swiftly, he balanced the two matching bowls and mugs unsystematically in his arms, nearly letting everything fall over in his hurry to reach her.

She could only grin in delight as she started counting backwards, "Three, two-", knowing how much it annoyed him, which was only confirmed by groan as he got closer to her spot on the couch.

"Okay, stop", he huffed out, freeing his arms as he placed the food on the coffee table, plopping down and grabbing his controller out of her hold, "I'm here".

"Just in time", she teased, waggling her finger at him in a disappointed manner, before shovelling a spoon-full of the probably unhealthy sugary cereal into her mouth, savouring the tooth-rotting taste and adjusting her grip around the controller.

He rolled his eyes, running a hand through his dark locks as he leaned back onto the plush velvet pillows that were splayed along the seat, "Yeah, yeah, just start the game and then we'll see who's talking".

"If you say so ?", she sang out, confidently hitting start, unable to help the way her smile grew wider as the familiar music rang out, almost bursting in excitement.

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He bit his lip hard, unable to feel it as his heart raced with adrenaline, whispering under his breath, "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon", his fingers flying along the controls, gaze fixated on the bright colours on the screen, before it all went blank and revealed the scoreboard. He fell face-flat onto the fluffy pillow, partly hoping to suffocate himself so he wouldn't be able to feel the embarrassment that he did now. How was it that he Stephen Strange, neurosurgeon and master of the mystic arts, was unable to ever beat his fiancé at Mario Cart.

"Ahahahaha, YES", jumping up and down on the couch cushions, she caused him to shake around with her, as she waved her arms in air, performing a terrible victory dance, exclaiming, "I am triumphant once again". On another day, he probably would've made fun of her for it but at the time he was wallowing in too much self pity for that.

He sat up, swiping a palm across his face contorted in confusion, "I never understand, you always win at the last second".

"It's called being the queen of Mario Cart", she smirked, giving him an affectionate poke on the arm, to which she got no response but a pout from the sorcerer, which was pretty uncharacteristic from the man who always needed the last word.

She shook her head, chuckling as she moved closer to him bumping her shoulder against his and letting her head drop onto his shoulder, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, "Awwwww, are you upset". She placed a soft kiss on his skin, the heat radiating off him warming up her lips, hoping to get an answer, and yet he still kept to his pact of silence.

"You are such a big baby", she huffed crossing her arms, slinking down onto the side of the armrest, glaring at him.

A sudden thought came to her mind and she grinned maliciously at him, which he took no notice of, "If you won't talk to me I guess I just have to use extreme measures", before raising her fingers to his sides, tickling aggressively, breaking his stoic manner as he burst into laughter. She moved closer to him, to get a better angle at tickling, causing tears to brim at his eyes and her to giggle along with him.

"Okay, fine you win, just stop", he managed to admit defeatedly even with his hard laughter, raising his arms in the air, like waving a white flag at her, pulling her into his lap, still smiling, "I love you". He rested his hands gently on her waist, fiddling with the hem of her sweater, humming softly as her fingers twirled around the strands of hair on the back of his neck, watching her lovingly , before pressing her closer to him, joining their lips for a sweet kiss.

Pulling away, she nestled herself comfortably in his hold, enjoying his warmth, whispering "I love you too", as she pecked his cheek affectionately.

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greypetrel · 2 years ago

Photo

The Herald’s Rest

My favourite ship dynamic is “They’re two idiots, your honour”. Also how does that cape work, HOW. Just to show I’m not in solavellan hell.

Also hey I rediscovered writing appearently, go figure.

***

Frump.

Something collided against his back, just between the shoulderblades, bumping just heavily to be felt. It was a nice and sunny day over Skyhold, fluffy clouds travelling the sky above white snowpeaks, the air crispy and cool. He had been told that he needed fresh air, for his health and bla bla bla, so he had taken the latest report and decided to keep reading while slowly walking on the battlement. He was taking some fresh air, they never mentioned he couldn’t work in the meanwhile.

He stopped at the bump, feeling the mysterious weight still and unmoving, tried to turn his head to see exactly who was it, but all he could glimpse, hidden almost completely behind the thick fur of his collar, was a glimpse of golden hair. And he could hear some indistinct grumbling in a voice he knew.

“Inquisitor?” He asked.

“Not if you have something work-related to tell me, I’m taking a break.” She replied, voice muffled.

“I didn’t see you coming, I’m sorry you bumped into me.”

No reply, he could feel her weight shifting closely, cloak moving when she did and fur raising up to the back of his neck. He had seen her casually touching people she was in good terms with, patting the shoulders of mages and soldiers she sparred with, shaking hands, rubbing arms in comfort. Hugging her close friends and sitting close. It was clear it was platonic and good-natured, and seeing how the only one that she shied away form touching and hugging was Vivienne -and her relationship with the Grand Enchanter was notoriously polite and civil but strained… Cullen just assumed that the Inquisitor never touched or hugged him because she didn’t like him. Hence, she must have been distracted, and he must have been in the way, right?

“Inquisitor? Are you gonna stay there?”

“… Do I bother you?” She asked, somewhat shily against his back.

“No! I just- Ah, aren’t you uncomfortable?”

“It’s fluffy. It’s been a shitty morning, and I need… Uh, I need some fluff.”

He knew it was not, it was somehow coarse and rough, and it matched his mood and it helped in not showing he had lost weight. He liked it, but fluffy it was not. He didn’t reply, tho: he just shifted his weight to stand more comfortably and kept on reading his report. Knowing he had Lavellan currently leaning in his collar was distracting, tho.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Aisling asked again after a couple of minutes.

“Not at all.” He replied. He wondered if he could be bold. Could he? “Please, stay.” He could. “Ah, that is – if it pleases you.” Not so much.

“Thank you.” She stretched out a hand, slowly, and patted his arm twice, underlying her words.

They moved awkwardly and clumsily and Cullen thanked he chose a part of the battlements that wasn’t so crowded, so they could lean against one of the merlons and get a little comfier still, and he dared not say anything, fearing to scare the elf away. He tried to stay on the reports, but his mind kept on running in the moment and in Aisling back there, and the silence grew not the best way to spend a moment alone with her.

She must have thought the same thing, tho, because they started speaking and they did it together, covering each other voice. She started to laugh, he followed her suit, and the silence was not so heavy anymore.

“Thank you… Cullen.” She probed, still shily. His heart beated a little faster at her using his name.

“Don’t mention it. This old thing is not fluffy, but I’m glad I could help.”

He wanted to add she could have the damned old thing whenever she asked and he would have said yes, because she was kind and gentle and brave and he had this stupid crush on her since she marched to a fucking Archdemon as if it was any regular Tuesday. But he knew he was in no position to act upon it, so he said half the things he wanted and raised a hand to rub his neck.

She took some moments to reply, and when she did, he felt her stepping and pressing a little closer, saw her arms showing up from both sides of his ribcage. Time seemed to be slower than usual while he watched her encircling his bust and squeezing in a brief hug, pressing against his back slightly. He realised time hadn’t slowed down, he was just catching his breath.

“It is my favourite kind of fluffy.”

She mumbled, he could barely hear her in all that fur. But he heard her, and he placed a hand on hers and didn’t know what to say. Time started again when she quickly stopped the hug, retrieved her arms and emerged from the fur. He turned around to see her making her way back to the stairs. He bid her goodbye and wished her good luck with the afternoon, and his heart skipped another bit when she turned to face him and smiled and bye him in turn. And she was blushing, and she was cute, and for just a moment there was nothing else but Aisling Lavellan smiling shily at him, just at him, and he felt light again.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da fanarts #cullavellan #cullen rutherford #dragon age oc #inquisitor lavellan #lavellan #da: i #traditional art #marker #doodle #fanarts

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atozfic · 4 years ago

Text

blushing red.

pairing. choi san x fem!reader.

synopsis. how did choi san go from wanting to protect you like a big brother to wanting to ruin you with his own two hands? ( part of the rainbow riots anthology series. )

warnings. college au, barista!san, brother!wooyoung, frenemies to lovers, angst, fluff, ossessiveness, pining, shit attempts at humour, too much cursing, san is a whipped idiot, reader is kinda a bitch, jongho is a fuckboy, wooyoung’s just trying to be a chef, okay?, mentions of alcohol induced vomiting, food, toxic traits and commitment issues, smut: dom!san, switch!reader, clit play, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), one (1) spank, riding, protected sex, penetrative sex, kinda fluffy sex??, very brief aftercare, idk if there’s anything else.

word count. 11k

hyde’s input. if this flops, honestly don’t think i’d care because i had so much fun writing this. it was mostly self-indulgent. it’s not the best but i’m happy to finally be posting it, since it’s the first part of a larger series of oneshots involving the ateez members. feedback would be appreciated but also, i really don’t care if you don’t like this. i love it and my opinion is golden, so. /j

He’s seeing red.

And it wasn’t because of the countless red dresses that were scattered throughout the room, nor the messily done ties strangled around sweaty necks; the red cups filled with bitter liquids, nor the crimson flushed cheeks of guests.

It was a red themed evening, to which San could only think of how horribly cliché it was, and how perfectly suiting to the girl the party was being thrown in honour of, the human embodiment of what it meant to be red; to be passionate and courageous; angry and powerful. The very same girl he was watching swallow the tongue of some rosy cheeked, red haired punk.

As the drink in his hand parted his lips, a wave of intoxication slipping down his throat, San couldn’t help but think about how the boy was clearly all bark and no bite. He knew him- well, of him, at the very least,- this so called Choi Jongho. A notorious flirt; a ladies man; the kind of boy who you punch for even looking your little sister’s way. San was too prideful, he’d been told this by exes and friends alike, and it’s that very same pride that had him laughing aloud at the way the Jongho kid couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands; at how his eyes were wide open; at how he was using far too much tongue for it to be comfortable.

Maybe, San wondered, it was the perfect excuse to storm over there, tear Jongho and his wagging tongue away. After all, he couldn’t just stand back and watch you be choked to death by the kid’s kissing inabilities!

He opts for tearing the lid off of another beer instead of the head off of Jongho.

There’s a chance it was already past one too many drinks for him that night but San had never been good at controlling himself, of denying himself something he wanted. So he welcomed in the drink and finally looked elsewhere in the room.

The decorations told him this wasn’t the surprise party it was meant to be, because he knew your older brother well enough. Hell, there’s a high chance he knew more about the eldest Jung sibling than he did about himself. Wooyoung barely knew how to tie his own shoe laces, never mind the perfect ribbon, and he was more into getting baked than learning how to bake a cake. If San tried hard enough, he could perfectly picture you in the kitchen, an apron loosely tied around one of your usually effortlessly pretty outfits- one of those tightfitting sweaters you loved so much tucked into a loose fitting skirt, or a pretty little summer dress, or a stupidly oversized graphic tee you bought from the men’s department covering a pair of laughably short shorts; all enough to drive the blood straight out of San’s brain and down to his other head-, your hair a complete mess with the slightest bit of flour dusting your flushed cheeks as you squint to read at your phone, too stubborn to wear your glasses and too lazy to put in your contact lenses.

Yes, you’d definitely played a hand in setting up your own surprise birthday party and it suddenly had San wishing he was enjoying himself more. But, you see, enjoyment is a hard thing to feel when the girl you only recently accepted your complicated feelings for was swapping pints of saliva with some other guy across the room. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to you once the whole night, not even a moment to wish you a happy birthday.

It wasn’t like San should have cared that much. You hadn’t even invited him, his reason for being there the very same one he had any time he came round your house: Wooyoung. The boy had more-or-less told him he was attending, whether he liked it or not, because “I’ll be damned if I’m stuck chaperoning this party by myself.”

San often thought Wooyoung forgot there was only really one year between you two. But, you were his little sister and it only seemed right he thought of you as the smiling idiot who would run over to him in tears every time you tripped over your untied laces and scraped your knee. The dimpled boy couldn’t stop himself from wondering when he’d stopped thinking of you that way.

Where he once had thoughts of protecting you from the corruption men and their intentions brought along, he now fantasized about being the man to corrupt you. If only Wooyoung were really capable of reading his mind the way he claimed he could, San’s medical bills would be sky-high.

“I don’t remember seeing you on the guest list, Choi.” The words were a little slurred, like their owner wasn’t quite aware of the fact they were speaking, but it was enough to make San jump where he stood, head turning away from staring off at some deflating balloon.

There you were, a sight for sore eyes. The lipstick you’d once been wearing had been diminished to no more than a tint of playful redness on your lips, the rest of it likely now painted across Jongho's tongue. Your hair was tied back in a neat bun and, though it was displaying your pretty little neck and your doe eyes, San thinks of how much prettier it was when it was an unkept mess, like all those mornings after sleeping over in Wooyoung’s room and coming down for breakfast just to find you and your bedhead angrily trying to scoop up the last few bits of your cereal.

“Guest list?” he scoffed, his frustrations coming out in the form of disinterest. “Do you think you’re the fucking queen of England or something?”

“Trust me, you’d be long ago thrown in a bottomless pit by now if I were the queen of anything.” Your reply was weak and that’s enough to satisfy him, because he knew you were irked. San knew you believed he was one of the most annoying things to grace earth and he revelled in it. Any boy with a set of lips and some smooth words could make you swoon, but no other could get you hot and bothered like Choi San. “Where’s your boyfriend? Ditched you to go socialize with someone besides you for once?”

“Wooyoung’s cleaning up your friend’s vomit from off of your parents’ carpet.” The horrified look that crossed your face was enough to coax a chuckle out of San.

The Jungs had never been overly strict parents during your childhood, never holding either of their children back from pursuing a hobby or from enjoying their youth, but there was always one rule they maintained: no party guests allowed past the ground floor of the house. And, even if Wooyoung and you were grown up, with your brother dearest no longer living at home and you spending most your weeknights in your cramped dorm room, the rule still stood firmly.

“Oh my god-” It was the first thing you choked out after a few minutes of silently spiralling in your own panicked thoughts. “They just got a new carpet. And it’s the whitest fabric i’ve ever seen. They’re going to kill us!”

“Us?” San scoffed out, liking the sound of it a little too much and in such a different context to the way you meant it. “Oh, no, this is on you. I’m not going down with you,” Though he’d have gladly gone down on you. “you’re big and ugly enough to face the consequences for your own mistakes.”

Despite saying that, his feet still seemed to carry him out of the room and trailing behind your fast walking figure. If he weren’t so busy trying to keep up with you, maybe San would have taken note of how, in a sea of red, you still managed to stand out, your ruby jumpsuit somehow just a little brighter, a little more intriguing, a little more alluring than any other piece of fabric in the house. Maybe San would have realised it wasn’t so much your outfit as it was just you in general who stood out.

But, alas, he’d now caught up to you on the stairs and he noticed the glassy shine in your eyes and the sudden look of complete sobriety on your features. Both in pace with each other, you reached the entry to your parents bedroom and stumbled upon the scene of the crime.

Kneeling on the carpeted floor, Wooyoung was scrubbing at a fresh stain, the scent of bleach and fabric cleaner not nearly enough to mask the scent of the drying vomit. There was no sight of the perpetrator, likely sent away long ago by Wooyoung, alongside whatever stranger she’d been in the middle of trying to seduce. It’s honestly a blessing she threw up. Better that than a pair of strangers fucking in the Jung’s marital bed.

“Are you both gonna just stare or are you gonna start helping me?” Wooyoung was pissed and you knew this just as much as San did. But he wasn’t going to show it yet, not until the mess was cleaned up and a plan was made. Then, and only then, would he begin quizzing you on how you managed to remember the stupidest details of your decorations yet you forgot to lock the door to the upstairs area.

San stepped in first, grabbing a load of tissues and kneeling down next to his friend, beginning to scrub at the dark spots. You soon followed suit and joined the pair. The three of you worked in silence, all hoping that if you tried hard enough, the evidence of the sin would disappear from right in front of your eyes.

The echoes of music from the party going on downstairs suddenly felt like a taunt to San, mocking all of you. Because, ideally, that was where you should all be. Down there getting senselessly drunk and bumping elbows with people who’s faces you knew yet didn’t care much for. Instead, you were thinking of ways to avoid your parents impending disappointment. Surely acquiring a new identity couldn’t be that hard, right?

San was the first one to notice a repeated sniffle in the room. At first, he tried convincing himself you were just coming down with a cold. But, the more the sound repeated itself in a perfect pattern, the sooner he noticed your tear streaked face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Hands had now abandoned damp towelettes, reaching up to wipe at hot tears. He willed himself to ignore the burn of your soft skin against his rougher hands. San looked to Wooyoung for help because, fuck, he may have known you since you were both in elementary school but his comfort was still no replacement for your brother’s. Woo was so busy trying not to blow his fuse that he couldn’t even think to stop scrubbing at the white fabric for a moment, so San took it upon himself. “Go back down to the party, okay?

“N-no, I can’t just leave this mess-”

“Y/N.” San spoke softly, his eyes trying to stare into your own, his hands gripping your shaking shoulders gently, as if letting you go would cause you to fall apart but holding you too tight would snap you in half. “You’re going to go and enjoy the rest of your birthday, do you understand? Woo and I will deal with this.”

The moment was much nicer than your usual exchanges as of recently, and for a moment San felt like he still was protective over you like when you were all younger. You were staring at him with this look of nostalgia, like you were trying to remember the times you’d ran to San crying over your scrapped knees, when you couldn’t find your big brother. How he’d treat your little wound the same way his mother treated his: a band aid, a kiss and a lollipop. Even Wooyoung had noticed the exchange, his hands froze and his eyes focused in on the way you two were staring at each other like you were the only people in the room. So, of course, San had to go ahead and ruin it.

“Your snot and tears are just gonna give us more stains to clean anyway.”

As San wiped at the table, he questioned how exactly people managed to make such a sticky mess of things in the few hours the café was open. It had become a never ending saga, each time he was stuck with the responsibility of locking up and closing for the day, he ended up spending far more time than acceptable cleaning the surfaces thanks to customers and their inability to clean up their own spillages.

It’s not like it costs them anything to use a napkin. But, then again, maybe San was just in a sour mood over how Wooyoung was too busy trying to convince his culinary professor to give him a better grade, by feeding him some chocolate gateau and sucking his dick.

A month or so had passed since the birthday party, and San hadn’t heard much of you. There was the odd mention of your name through the walls of the apartment he shared with Wooyoung, when you’d call your brother in the early hours of the morning and beg him to come pick you up from some frat house.

Though, there were two recent things about you that San knew for sure.

To begin with, you'd for some reason began to date the Jongho kid. A fact which Wooyoung confided to San made him uncomfortable one night on their sofa, between beers and cold noodles. San could only feign confusion when Wooyoung ranted about how much he distrusted the kid and his intentions with you, no matter how much he’d wished he could shout out his agreement in that moment. The second thing he knew was that you had still not thanked him.

San was struggling to pinpoint which fact made him more frustrated.

The radio played softly in the background of his labour and San couldn’t contain himself when a familiar song came on, swaying his hips in time with the beat, swigging the rag in his hand, mumbling the lyrics to himself as he became lost in the liberating feeling of being alone. No one to watch or question him. It made him work quicker, even if San didn’t notice this. He quickly finished up with the surfaces and was on to sweeping the floors, just like how the radio station moved on to the next song.

Any business open in the surrounding area must have been startled by the sudden scream of terror that came from the café as San, with the brush mid-dipped in his arms, came face to face with a puffy, tear stained girl.

Letting the brush fall from his arms, San tried to laugh off the embarrassment of being caught in his own little world. The radio still played in the background, but it fell on deaf ears the second he noticed the redness of your eyes.

“Sorry,” you mumbled out, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder as your eyes appeared to dart around the room, searching for someone. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just, uh... wondering if Wooyoung is here?”

Taking a daring step forward, San took note of the sundress you were adorned in, the red flowers painted on to a white background so fitting to the way he’d began to see you as something innocent with splashes of sin within you. “Nah, the fucker ran off two hours ago with the excuse of having after-hour classes.”

The scoff you let out was filled with defeat and your shoulders slumped a little, undoing that picture perfect image you tried to pull off most days, leaving you with nothing but your real emotions stained across your features and the sting of unfallen tears returning to your eyes. “Typical, he’s always busy when I need him most.” You mostly aimed the words to yourself but it doesn’t mean San was going to just ignore them.

The time he’d spent cleaning the counter became meaningless, San having set his sights on cheering you up with the one way he remembered always working when you two were younger. The radio quickly became drowned out by the whistle of the kettle boiling. His eyes found their way back to you. You’d sat yourself down in one of the booths, head in your hands whilst you appeared to be mumbling away to yourself. What San wouldn’t have given to be inside your head, figure out just what he needed to do to keep you away from any harm the world tried to inflict upon you.

Turning his back to you, San grabbed two mugs, the memory of hearing you complain to Wooyoung about how paper cups aggravated you fresh in his mind. He worked by muscle memory, not needing to think over the right amount of each ingredient to pour in. His shoulders relaxed upon glancing back at you for the third time, noticing you’d pulled your hands away from your face and were instead staring out the window. The water, finally having boiled, was poured into each mug alongside some milk and a sprinkle of salt to enhance the flavours.

With four long strides, San reached the booth you had claimed for yourself, sliding the mug into your line of view. His heart nearly melted like the marshmallows in the beverage when he saw the hint of smile take over your features. He felt accomplished, like he’d reached the goal he’d set out to achieve. It gave him the confidence boost he needed to slide in across from you.

“I can’t remember the last time I had hot chocolate.” You confessed, after taking your first sip of the drink, nose scrunching up as the sweet heat burnt your tongue.

“That’s sad.” He wished, for a moment, he’d said something else. But the sound of your snorted laughter, different to the laughs laced in politeness you gave to other people, had his chest further swelling in pride.

“You and Wooyoung hang out too much, you’re starting to sound like him.” In all honesty, it wasn’t the first time he’d been told that very same thing. But it stung coming from you. He didn’t want to be just another version of your brother, not in your eyes.

But San’s desire to comfort you took precedence over any of his complicated feelings, so if playing the role of your brother was what the job required, he was willing to cut off some inches from his own height and dye his hair the same root-killing blonde as Woo.

“Speaking of that troll,” Another point in favour of San: you laughed again. “wanna tell me what you needed him for? Full offence, you burst in here with the face of a toddler who’d had it’s toys snatched.”

San caught the sugar packet you’d thrown at him with ease. “Why are you such an asshole?” The words were more of a whine leaving you, followed by a groan. “I know you think that you owe it to Wooyoung or whatever to treat me like your own little sister but you don’t. I just... wanted Wooyoung because I wanted his comfort and, i don’t know, maybe a goddamn hug from him would have been nice. But it’s whatever, the moment’s passed.”

He decided against replying, feeling nothing he said would matter much. You were clearly still upset, there was no need for him to try dig further into something you didn’t want to talk about. So he kept quiet and never spoke once, until he noticed you’d finished your hot chocolate.

“Get up.” He ordered after beginning to slide out of his seat, grabbing the two dishes. It would have taken him a few minutes at best to wash them, dry them, put them away but you were his priority. Whoever had the opening shift could deal with them.

You’d done as he asked, standing up and readjusting your bag. Unbeknownst to San, your eyes followed him around the room, for once, as he done the last few checks of everything being in it’s place and everything locked up where it was supposed to be. The blonde peaking out from under his dark hair was something you were sure he didn’t have at your birthday.

You’d began to notice little changes in him in the recent months. His face had gotten a little sharper, his arms a little buffer, his smile a little more charming. In all the years you’d known him, you’d never cared much about what he looked like or how he acted. He was always just there, the boy who your brother hung out with. Now he was becoming an enigma, like a puzzle you’d solved once before but now something was off about it. A couple pieces had been changed and you couldn’t figure out when it had happened.

Had he really changed or was it something in you, giving you a whole new outlook on his features?

“Are you coming or what?” San snapped you right back into reality, the lights now turned off in the café and the cold wind from outside floating in through where he stood holding the door open. Flustered, you rushed past him out the door and San enjoyed the lingering scent of your shampoo. But the sight of you already beginning to walk away had him quickly trying to lock the door, nearly cursing when the key got stuck for a second before finally rushing after you. “Uh uh, you’re not going to wallow in self pity back in your dorm. C’mon, let’s go.”

“This could be considered kidnapping, you know.” Your words were contradicted by the way you willingly let him take a hold of your wrist, dragging you in the direction of his car. “Can I at least know where you’re planning on dumping my body after you murder me?”

Shooting a wink over his shoulder, San chuckled. “You’ll see.”

“Would you stop staring at me like that? It's fucking creepy, dude.”

Similar to the sugar packet, San caught the fry you threw at him with ease. He shot a smile your way after popping the potato treat into his mouth and you wondered if his dimples had always been deep enough to swim in. “I'm trying to figure out if you're really that much of an idiot or just naïve.”

“For someone who offered to help, you're not doing a good job.”

The car journey had been interesting, to say the least. With the radio cranked up at a volume too high to drive safely with, San was a man on a mission. A mission to put on the performance of a lifetime. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his head bopped to the beat, his lungs forced him to sing along to every song. At first, you'd simply sat in the passenger seat, trying your best to not let him see how you were stealing glances at him. But then you were pulled under by his waves, his energy intoxicating your own. The smile he gave you as he pulled up to a red light, his attention completely on you, was enough to make any embarrassment slip away and it became the green light to let loose, joining him in his one man show.

He'd pulled over at a familiar place, the Neo-Cade. Somewhere you could recall celebrating many birthdays, where the boy- no, the man sat in the drivers seat next to yours had once taken a punch to the face whilst foolishly trying to stand up to a group of older boys teasing you and your friends.

It had taken five days to get the blood out of his school uniform.

Memories aside, San had taken the incentive once again to grab onto your wrist and, a little more willingly this time, you let him. Despite how you both walked shoulder to shoulder, his hand remained holding you, as if you'd somehow drift away from him in the sea of families filling up the neon-lit arcade. After a few botched attempts at beating him in skee-ball, and a successful attempt at outracing him in one of those driving games- to which you'd laughed in his face over the fact he was the one with the driving license out of you both-, San convinced you to grab a bite to eat in the small dining area. It was a hotspot for preteens on their first date, parents attempting to avoid their screaming children and, now, you two, who were somewhere between strangers and life-long friends.

“Watch it. I’m your ride home, princess.” He would have been lying if he said he didn’t find some thrill in the way your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed at the sudden pet-name. What excited him more was the fact it wasn’t the first time he’d called you that but it was certainly the first time you’d given him that reaction. “Listen, when you tell me you got stood up by a guy who’s a known womanizer, you can’t expect me to not judge you a little bit. I thought Wooyoung had done a better job at teaching you how to stay away from assholes.”

“Considering who his best friend is, Wooyoung isn’t exactly leading by example.” You mumbled before biting into your burger, irritated that he actually had a point more than anything else. “Ugh. Look, I know it’s my own fault but I just got caught up. In my defence, Jongho really did seem interested in me. The dude literally pursued me for two months! But the second I agree to a date, he’s suddenly changed his mind? Guess the chase was the only thing he wanted.”

“You’re not the first girl he’s led on, it’s what people like him do best.” San’s eyes seemed more apologetic this time, as if he didn’t think you were a complete idiot. Maybe a little naïve, yes, and stupidly blind to the fact someone was sat right in front of you who would chase you to hell and back. Blaming you for falling for someone’s charms wasn’t something he could do, though. “You know what we need to do?”

If only San knew how your nerves tingled with excitement at the word we. “Enlighten me, Bok Choi.”

It was his turn to throw a fry at you, which you failed to catch and hurried to pick up from the floor, a few parents glaring at you both, likely questioning what a pair of college kids were doing throwing food at one another. “Didn’t you promise your mum you’d stop calling me that in Junior year?”

“I guess things have changed since then.” Neither of you had the guts to admit you weren’t referring to the awful nickname.

“Anyway, we need to get you to that whack-a-mole machine and have you picture Jongho’s face on them. You’ll get the high score in no time,” The conversation came to a pause as a crash rang out through the area, the image of the young waitress that had served you both profusely apologising to a larger gentleman covered in pizza sauce becoming the centre of attention for most, if not all, people sat at a table. “which would win us a free milkshake to split.”

“Why would we be splitting it? I’m the one who put in the effort.”

“And I’m the one who put in the money. It’s a collaborative job, not just a feature.” There were so many things he’d had to work himself up to do this evening: sitting across from you in the café, offering to comfort you, holding you by your wrist. But his next move didn’t even process itself properly before he was doing it, hand reaching over the table to swipe at the sauce painting the corner of your lip, his eyes locking on yours when he brought his dirtied thumb up to his mouth.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of your neck, your mind sending you into a spiral of thoughts of San in compromising positions, cleaning more than just a little sauce off of his fingers. It’s embarrassing how much he’d affected you, and completely against your nature to let him know. “You’re gross, you know?”

You never ended up winning that high score, nor the free milkshake that came with it. Neither of you cared. You were too lost in reliving your childhoods, hands cramped from the amount of intense labour they’d endured by the time closing hours arrived.

The drive back to your dorms was more mellow. The music acted only as background noise to your exchange of drunken Wooyoung tales. San had nearly swerved out of his lane when you told him about the time you’d woken up to find Wooyoung, drenched in the stench of cheap alcohol, flirting with his reflection in the mirror.

It was bittersweet to step out of his car. Even if you were beginning to feel a little tired, you weren’t exactly ready for the night to end. And neither was San. Maybe that’s why he offered to walk you to the entry of your building, and why you so eagerly accepted. The disappointment when he doesn’t take a hold of your wrist is something you could address some other time.

“Well done, Choi, I actually feel better” And you really meant it, both of you having come to a stop outside the entryway, bashful smiles on each of your faces.

“Had to prove to you I’m just as good at the job as Wooyoung is.” The words felt wrong in his own mouth and, this time, he didn’t miss out on the way disappointed look on your features. When you suddenly leapt forward, arms crashing around him, it felt too good to be true. The memory of you in the café, ranting on about your reasons for being there and wanting a hug from Wooyoung, gave him the courage to wrap his own arms around you.

“Thank you.” You spoke so softly into his chest he nearly thought he’d imagined it, if it hadn’t been for the way he felt you say it. His reply was non-verbal, a tightening of his arms to pull you even closer, no fear of the fact you’d very easily be able to hear his heart beating for you. “For tonight, and for taking the fall for the vomit in my parents room. I don’t know what you done to make them think you can do no wrong but they were far more worried at the thought that you’d possibly drank too much, than their stained carpet.” Finally, the thank you he’d been waiting for had been gifted to him.

It ignited a fire in him, awakened the sleeping dragon filled with desire in his heart. There’s no way you didn’t notice the beating of his heart, hitting so hard against his chest it could almost escape right into your embrace. But San wasn’t nervous. In fact, he was feeling more confident than he had in years around you, pulling back just enough for you to notice and gaze up at him. The only real thing that crossed his mind was how beautiful you looked, eyes filled with wonder and joy, smile etched with happiness; a happiness he’d brought you; and how, if he were to be struck down dead in that moment, San would die a happy man.

“San.” You breathed out his name, the sound becoming tangled and lost between you both.

Your eyes remained wide open unlike his own as he brought his forehead to rest against yours, exhaling out the last pieces of his resistance. “Tell me to let go of you, Y/N. Tell me to let go and I’ll wish you good night. I’ll drive home and I’ll never bother you again as anything other than your brother’s friend.”

The first kiss was experimental, your own eyes fluttering shut as you planted a peck against his jelly pink lips, unsure of if it was to shut him up or to just kiss him. It was enough to have his own eyes snap open, staring at you in disbelief. His lips stung, kissed by your poison and now needing the antidote. A couple of seconds felt like years, he had to regain his composure and kiss you. The second, third and fourth kiss were similar to the first, teasing pecks exchanged until San’s hand wound it’s way up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking over your bottom lip before he finally gave in to the carnal need, head tilting at the perfect angle and lips smashing against your own.

Your knees weakened under the weight of his kiss, head buzzing as he nipped at your lip, practically begging you to let his tongue in. The satisfied groan that left him as the kiss deepened had your mind spinning, wanting to do anything in your will power to illicit more noises from him. You’d kissed plenty of people in your life and they were all beginning to pale in comparison to him.

“Could you guys, like, move?”

You both shot apart in an instant, ashamedly staring at the girl who rolled her eyes and pushed her way through the doors, books in hand and an earphone occupying one ear. The electricity between you had gone out, the spark dead and leaving you both to bask in its wake. That same silence from the café returned and, standing no more than two steps away from you, San felt the distance between you both more than ever. He was fighting to apologise, claim it was the heat of the moment and he hadn’t been thinking straight. But he couldn’t lie to you like that. It’s all he’d been thinking about all night, many nights before too.

“Well, uhm, thanks again. Okay, bye.” You’d raced away from him, running from the tension and all the things you wanted to confess, leaving San to wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted, if you were allowed to bring him up to your dorm.

There were times where even San questioned his decisions. Like now, waking up to a pounding in his head and the distinct memory of having thrown up in the back of his poor friend’s car. He mentally noted to send the guy some sort of apology gift, having turned what was meant to be their first night out together in months into his own personal pity party, leaving his tall friend- and his even taller friend- to have to clean up after San like he cleaned up after his two year old son.

The realization of how long he’d slept- the time on his phone reading that it was ten o’clock at night- had him falsely promise he’d never touch another drop of alcohol. In a zombified state, he pulled his aching body out of bed, groaning as he stumbled over his trousers from the night before. For a moment he thought he’d gone mad, a sudden laughter track ringing in the distance as if they were mocking him. The thought dawning on him that it was just Wooyoung watching something in the living room was definitely a relief.

Three stumbles, two rinses of his teeth and one sold out concert in his shower later, San stared into the mirror of his bathroom and saw something that resembled a human. Tying the string of his grey sweatpants and shrugging off the idea of a t-shirt, he made his way out into the living area, expecting to find his roommate spread across the couch only to be let down at the sign of emptiness. The television played on but Wooyoung was nowhere in sight.

A Jung-like scream pierced the air, causing San to jump back and let out his own, much quieter, scream.

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?! This is literally my apartment, what are you doing here?” San shot back at you in an instant. If his head weren’t ringing and he wasn’t so confused, he’d be thinking about how nice it was to see you, after two weeks of wondering if the arcade, and everything that came with and after it, had just been some lucid dream of his. That hurt less than the thought of you regretting the kiss.

“I was helping my brother organise our parents anniversary party,” you paused, eyes slowly moving down his body. The air felt colder upon remembering he was stood half naked in front of you. “but then he got a call from some girl and ran out, promising he’d be back in an hour tops. That was almost two hours ago.”

“Oh.” If there were an award for lamest thing said, San would be a strong contender. He crossed his arms over his chest, in an attempt to cover at least something, but it just drew more attention to the fact he was shirtless.

“Don’t worry, I was about to leave. I’ll be out your hair in a minute, I just need to grab something from Woo’s room.” The words enter one ear and leave through the other, not really translating properly in San’s brain until you’ve already pushed past him.

The panic settled in quickly from there, the overwhelming knowledge that he wasn’t ready to let you walk away this time hitting him like a train. You quickly emerged into his line of view once more, purse in hand, and the only thing he could think to do was to step in your way. When you attempted to move around him, his hand found it’s way to your wrist and all movement stopped between you both. It was silent, until another laughter track rang out. And then San was angry.

At you, at himself, at the fact you were both too cowardly to stop this cat and mouse game.

“So you’re just going to keep avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you!” Your reply was too quick, that guilty look dancing on your face. You sometimes forgot how well he knew you, how he’d seen that look on you before as you tried to convince your parents you hadn’t been the one to clog the toilet with “snacks for the toilet monster”.

“I called you a few days after. And again two days after that. You just magically missed both?” It was risky to ask. You were both students, with schedules and assignments through the roof, but San liked to believe he meant a little more to you than just an accident or a coincidence. Your silence told him everything he needed to know, hand letting go of you at last and stepping out your way. “Go then. Let’s just be strangers from here onward, since I can’t seem to win. If I’m your friend, you ignore me. If I’m your enemy, you hate me. If I try to be...” he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “then you ghost me. So, we’ll just not know each other from now on.”

“I can’t do this to my brother.” He hated you for remaining so unbothered, face emotionless as you stared him in the eyes while his own was fighting back a frown. It made him feel vulnerable and pathetic. “I’m selfish but not enough to risk the friendship that means more to him than most things.”

Your worries made sense, which only made his hatred worse.

“So you admit there is a this?” His pointer finger darted between you both.

“Yes? No... I don’t know, San!” Your resolve began to slip a little, exposing your feelings beneath the stoic mask. “You called Jongho a player but it feels like I’m being played by you. Nothing I feel for or about you should ever move past just this, friends. We both know that, yet you’re continuing to torture us. You’re the one who decided to play the knight in shinning armour, swooping in to help a damsel in distress! You’re the one who drove us to that arcade, who drove me home! You’re the one who kissed me!”

“You kissed me, Y/N.”

“Shut up!”

In any other circumstance, he would have laughed at your pathetic whine. He’d have thought about the many other ways he could get you let out the same noise, and then he’d wallow in the guilt of remembering Wooyoung was right next to him while he’d sat thinking of you committing sins with his naked body. “Make me.”

He didn’t expect you to actually do anything. It was an empty threat, a dare to do what you’d already made clear couldn’t happen between you two. One can only imagine the surprise on his face when your lips landed on his.

It was different to the last time, in front of your building. While that one had been all nervous breaths and smiles of relief and the euphoria of not being rejected, this one was filled with anger and desperation and your cold hands on San’s warm skin. When his hands drifted down your spine all the way to your thighs, it was instinct that drove you into wrapping your legs around him, lips glued separating only for a moment as you stared down at him from the new position.

You both could have stopped, should’ve stopped. But San was too far gone to think rationally, to think about all the things he should and shouldn’t do. Again, he’d never been good at denying himself from indulging in what he wanted. And he wanted you, a fact which he stated against your mouth.

“I want you too.” It was all the go ahead he needed, lips trailing over your jaw and making their way down to your neck. When his lips latched onto a certain spot, sucking gently between kitten licks, a moan escaped you and he swore he almost dropped you in shock.

A couple seconds later, and the desire to make you moan as many times as possible, San found the will power to pull his lips off of you and concentrate on getting you both to the closest seating area. He dropped himself down onto the couch and adjusted you on his lap, the tent in his sweatpants becoming more obvious by the minute. The giggle you let out had his intentions pausing, his lips shooting up to kiss the tip of your nose and his dimples appeared alongside the smile he shot at you.

You rolled your hips against him, barely dragging your clothed self over his hardened member, and San shot back into action, face buried in your neck and a hand on your hip, guiding you over his thigh while his other wandered under the hem of your t-shirt, dragging the fabric up and off with your help. Like every other inch of you, San found the sight of your breasts beautiful, held perfectly in the red lace that was straining against your hardening nipples. When the fabric slipped off, your own hands having reached back to unclasp it, San nearly told you to leave it on, loving the way the delicate fabric decorated your body. It took one proper look at you naked from the waist up, grinding against his thigh with your lips parted for him to realise he much preferred you with no bra. He nestled his face between your breasts, eyes shut as he inhaled and centred himself in the moment.

He hated how he wasn't the first to trace your skin. How his were not the first lips to latch themselves on to your neck. How he wouldn't be the first man who'd attempted to put his feelings of love for you into actions of lust. And it was so fucking wrong, so toxic of him to think like that. Because you were so much more than the people you'd been with, so much more than the lips you'd kissed. But as his lips latched on to your taut nipple and his hand inched further up your flimsy skirt, San couldn't seem to find the part of him that gave a shit about what was wrong or right.

There was only you, you, you. You with your sweet smiles and your pretty outfits, with your witty words and your beautiful puzzle of a brain. And your damp panties.

“San.” He thought of how he might just explode at the way his name sounded on your abused lips, not even above a whisper but it sent his mind down a spiral of ways he could get you to say it again, maybe louder than last time. His hand finally pushed your underwear to the side and touched you. And, fuck, you were practically pulsating with want. San fought every urge in his body to just fuck you like this: in the middle of his living room, your legs straddling his own, panties pushed aside and your skirt fluttering upwards each time he bounced you on his cock. But no, there was no way he'd risk putting you both in that position of being caught by your own brother and his best friend. Besides, San wanted to drink you in, savour you, take things as slow as you both could handle because it could easily be the first of many times for you both, or it could be a one time mistake that would drive you away from him forever. Though the idea of living without you sounded painful, so did the idea of going back to before this moment, to not knowing where he stood in your life and you in his.

“Shit,” He groaned out, his middle finger slipping in to you. The way your walls squeezed against his digit was enough to knock the wind out of his lungs. He couldn’t wait to stuff you full to the brim, whether you were under him or above him. He just wanted to be sheathed balls deep in you. “say my name again.”

“Make me.” You spat his earlier words back at him, a daring look in your eyes. It was enough to encourage him to slip in a second digit, slowly beginning to fuck you on his fingers.

“If you insist, princess.” He laughed as your walls clamped down on him. “I knew you got turned on by me calling you that. Cute.”

“Don’t call me cute,” Your sentence broke off in a moan, San’s thumb ghosting over your clit as his fingers worked you up. “when you’re fucking me with your hand, loser.”

“Then don’t call me loser.”

You’d began to grind down on his hand, hips meeting each pump of his fingers and lips whining at each stroke of him thumb on your clit. San was about ready to cum untouched in his pants just from watching you. You clamped down on his fingers a few moments after he’d introduced a third one into you, your orgasm washing over you without a single warning and soaking your panties, along with San’s hand, beyond repair.

Whilst you worked at calming your breathing down, San brought the hand coated in your slick up to his mouth. The sweetness of you on his tongue had his eyes rolling back, a satisfied noise escaping his chest. “Taste even better than I thought, pretty girl.”

“You thought about that? Pervert.” You leaned down, lips pressing against his own gently and he was sent back to the night outside your dorms, the soft hesitancy in both your actions bringing his heartbeat to a halt.

“Don’t act like you’ve not thought about my dick, I saw the way you checked me out earlier.”

Your hand trailed down his torso teasingly, stopping at the hem of his sweatpants as you stared into his eyes, lip caught between your teeth. “And if I have thought about it, then what? You gonna let me see it?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He’d already moved to the edge of the couch, hands reaching to grip you properly and securely against him before he stood up again, sight set on getting you both to his bedroom.

“Deal.”

The many fantasies of seeing you splayed out on his bed, staring at him with your cheeks flushed as his teeth pulled your panties down were nothing compared to the reality of it. His hands pulled them off the rest of the way, lips delving down to pepper kisses along your thighs. Your scent was so strong, so close, he could almost taste you on his tongue. Which he did, muscle darting out to lick up your slit.

“Are you going to keep teasing us both or are you gonna get your stupid cock out and fuck me?” He chuckled against you, nose bumping against your clit and sending a jolt up your spine.

“So impatient and dirty-mouthed. Maybe you need to be taught a lesson in patience.” He tutted, lips back on your thighs.

“San, I swear to god, I’ll leave and find someone else to get me off!”

“Alright, alright, calm down.” Though he laughed, there was a spark of jealousy and a rush of worry. There was no way in hell he’d have let you go find someone to take his place. He rose from between your legs, tumbling off the bed and practically ripping the drawer next to his bed open, grabbing one of the silver foiled packets. Turning too quickly, his foot collided with the corner of the unit and his leg shot up in pain, curses leaving him all the while he shuffled back over to the bed.

“Did you just stub your baby toe?” You laughed from where you lay, breasts bouncing with the sounds you emitted.

“Oh, shut up and go back to begging me to fuck you.” He settled himself on top of you, eyes rolling as he nestled himself in your neck. You smelled like cherries, and cotton candy dreams, and sweat born from desire. His cock brushed against your folds, your wetness lubricating him as San exhaled. “Tell me you want me.”

His need for your approval had the heat pooling in your abdomen worsening, a rush of pleasure shooting through your veins at San’s begging to be wanted. And not just by anyone, but by you. Hooking a leg over his naked hip, you hadn’t even noticed when he’d discarded the last of his clothing but you’re glad he had. Everything about him was a work of art, his golden skin scattered with moles all over, smooth to touch and warmth radiating off of him. You almost lost yourself in the moment, till you heard him repeat his pleads, needing to hear your consent before he opened the condom and got to work.

“I do.” You weren’t expecting the whisper that left you, lips planting themselves on his cheek. “Want you so bad, San.”

“Me too,” He was entranced, a smile worth a thousand words creeping onto his lips as he pulled back from your neck. The ripping of the foil packet rang out and you watched him roll the rubber over his member, pumping himself a couple times to relieve some of his tension, head thrown back and neck exposed as he struggled to keep his cool. “wanted you for so long, Y/N.”

“You have me.”

The burn of the initial stretch became meaningless when San apologised through kissing you over and over, nestling his cock deeper each time till it was hard to tell where he ended and you began. Your pleasured moans spurred him on, hips colliding against your own increasingly faster.

“How’re you so tight?” Was the first sentence he managed to verbalise, groans and whimpers otherwise playing through the whole room. “Did that Jongho kid not fuck you properly?”

He dodged the pillow thrown his way, arm scooping beneath you to roll you over and into his lap, sitting you on his member while his mouth went straight for your breasts, your hands tangling in his hair for some leverage. “Nice to know you’re also annoying in bed.”

“You love it.” He mumbled, tongue swiping over a nipple and a hand reaching between you both, fingers pressing on your clit only for him to giggle at the way your eyes shut and you squeezed around his cock.

“Not as much as you’ll love this.” Your hands pressed on to his chest, gently shoving him back down onto the mattress and forcing him to peer up at you through hooded eyes, hands gripping your thighs as you began to roll your hips, the tip of him brushing over your sweet spot over and over.

“Keep doing that and I’m gonna cum, princess.” He hissed, teeth clenched when you returned to bouncing yourself on his member, breasts bouncing along with you and a hand on his abdomen.

“Isn’t that the whole point of this, genius?” The slap against your thigh had you squealing and the hand beginning to control your movements had you seeing stars, pushing you down to perfectly meet each time San’s hips thrusted up from the bed.

When he reached utopia, a cry of your name bursting forward at the same time he fucked his cum into the condom, you came crashing down on to him, your own orgasm hitting you with such force your legs shook and your mind went blank, coming to only once you felt a dampness between your legs and saw San, having rid himself of the condom, cleaning your own mess up, lips plating a kiss against the side of your knee. He tossed the towel somewhere into the dark room, pulling the sheets back and pulling you under with him, head settling onto your chest and a relaxed sigh coming from him.

Time passed, you weren’t exactly sure how long exactly, and silence, comfortable and welcomed, settled in the air. The sound of his breathing and the warmth of his protective hold around you dragging you into unconsciousness, teetering on the edge of falling asleep. But San had to go and speak, thinking you were off in dreamland, and unknowingly ruin it all.

“I love you.”

San was glad he'd gotten the morning shift, seeing how the café was quickly filling with the usual afternoon rush hour, students and business people alike eager for a taste of caffeine during their break. His hands messily undone the tie of his apron, dumping it in to his bag before he slug it over his shoulder, waving at one of his co-workers. His feet carried him back out to the counter, where Wooyoung was smiling cheekily at a group of younger customers. He’d been extra energetic all day, the knowledge that he’d finally handed in his resignation letter and the prospect of his new position working in a real restaurant tinting the blonde haired boy’s world in rose coloured hues of red.

As for himself, life had been grey. Dull and boring, with flashes of red hot anger aimed at no one and everyone all at once. Waking up to an empty bed had been his routine for so many years, however, when he came to and found himself alone in his room that morning, no trace of you other than your scent on his sheets, it had shattered him. After the heartbreak came the hatred. Now, it had been three weeks and there’d been no sign of you.

San told himself it was better that way.

He held the door to the café open for a couple of local girls he recognised from the campus opposite from his own, flashing a polite smile as they skirted past him. The smile dropped from his face when he caught a bit of their conversation.

“...Jongho’s still going after her, from what I’ve heard. Apparently Sua spotted them getting handsy at the last Cix house party, though Y/N denied it when I asked about it.”

He’d gotten in his car with the intention of going home. He needed a warm shower and a drink. He needed a distraction, anything to not think of you pressed up against the stupid red haired boy who’d sent you running into San’s arms just to snatch you back. Perhaps you two deserved each other, a match made in hell. When he’d started heading towards your campus, he didn’t realise. Not until he spotted you, stood at the curb of the parking lot, in some sort of heated discussion with Choi Jongho.

San hated you for looking beautiful even in a pair of stained jeans and a worn-out hoodie.

“I really don’t need a ride, it’s fine. I’ll get the bus.” You seemed exhausted, your back turned to San and not noticing how he’d pulled up next to you both, making his way out of the car.

“I told you I was sorry, Y/N. Things came up, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging.” Jongho sounded anything but apologetic, and his burst lip and bruised knuckles done nothing to ease San’s discomfort. “Now will you please just let me take you home? Or anywhere else?”

San intervened at last, not liking the way Jongho had stepped closer to you. He cleared his throat, catching both of your attentions but he stared right past you, eyes on the now black haired male. “She’s got a ride already, don’t worry.”

If Jongho protested, San didn’t stick around long enough to hear it, grabbing onto your wrist. It wasn’t gentle like the other times, his nails digging crescents into your skin before you snatched it out his grasp, disbelief on your face at the fact he’d shown up out of nowhere and was playing the role of your saviour, yet again.

The drive back was awful, to say the most. There was no music, no stolen glances and no shared smiles. Only silence and the hum of his engine. Your eyes were glued on the outside world, past the window of the car, and his were on the road, chest slowly rising with each scarily calm breath he took. It felt like sitting next to a ticking timebomb, waiting to explode when the timer ran out. Nothing happened though, San simply pulling the vehicle to a halt outside your dorm building and waiting in silence for you to leave.

You almost wished he’d yell at you, tell you he hated you. You certainly preferred that over this. Your hands opened the car door, and the cold air from outside warmed you up more than the freezing atmosphere of the car.

“You know,” San whispered but you heard him, hand freezing on the door, your back turned to him and one foot out the car. “I didn’t think you’d actually pick to be strangers.”

What could you say to that? What could you possibly say to explain why you’d left, when you still didn’t know yourself? The anxious feeling had been too overwhelming in the pit of your stomach, forcing your fight or flight response. Clearly, you’d gone for the second option, sneaking out of the apartment in the early hours of the morning and breaking both your hearts in the process.

So you got out the car and done what you did best: walked away.

He always liked the way love songs sounded through the speakers of the radio.

There was a charm to it, the way the sound travelled through the air, kissing the atmosphere and warming even the coldest of hearts. It invited romance in with open arms, daring the universe to bring love into the listener’s life.

For the first time in his life, San groaned and shut the radio off, sick of all the songs about love.

“Yeah, yeah. We fucking get it, it started with a whisper...” He grumbled out in response to the song that had just started, sighing in the peace and quiet of the empty café. He’d just about finished cleaning up for the night, the only thing left to do being to check the register and lock it all up.

Two nights had passed since he’d dropped you home and now even his car was infected with the smell of cherries, dancing past his nostrils each time he inhaled. But the hatred had dissipated, leaving only pain in it’s path. He wasn’t angry at you for not wanting him the same way. That would be selfish of him. He was just hurting from the way you’d pierced his heart with your claws and ripped it out his chest, running off with it into the night.

He’d get over it, with time and a lot of rebounding. Maybe a little bit of praying to a deity he didn’t even really believe in. The most important factor was that it had all come crashing down before Wooyoung even knew something was happening.

San could at least keep one Jung by his side.

The bell above the door rang out as San finished counting the register, snapping it shut just in time to greet Wooyoung with a scowl. “Took you long enough, dude. Thought you said you’d have my car back by noon and it’s now-”

You stared back at him from the doorway.

San rubbed at his eyes, wondering if all those late nights were getting to him and causing hallucinations. You and your burgundy nails were still there when he removed his hands. “Wooyoung’s not here, sorry.”

“That’s okay.” You squirmed under the weight of his stare, swallowing the lump in your throat when he steps out from behind the counter. It was criminal, you thought, for someone to look so good in black jeans and a button up shirt. “I didn’t come here to see him.”

“Then why are you here, Y/N?” He bit back the temptation to ask if Jongho had once again stood you up, leaving you running in desperation for comfort. But it felt mean and he wasn’t sure he wanted to push you away. He didn’t exactly want to pull you closer either. Still, he found himself copying you when you took a step closer.

“I don’t know.” It was disappointingly simple. He wanted a reason behind your appearance, wanted you to give him the incentive to ask you to leave. Not just the café but his life in general. Because keeping him around just to string him along was becoming exhausting.

Sure, he was willing to chase you to hell and back. But where was he supposed to run to when you disappeared along the trail, nowhere in sight and a linger of your shampoo in the air?

There was a time, summers past now, when both your families had gone on holiday together, off to some pension house down by the sea. San remembered how he’d woken up and found you sat out on the front porch, staring up at the skies. It was the first time he’d ever looked at you. Not as Wooyoung’s little sister but as you, Y/N. He hadn’t understood at that time, why exactly his palms were sweating when he sat down next to you or why he wanted to sulk when you confessed to the crush you had on your brother’s other friend, Kang Yeosang. But when you let your hand take a hold of his own, both quietly staring up at the starry sky, he knew exactly why his heart felt all fuzzy. He’d been seventeen back then and anything seemed possible.

Now an adult, the fuzz in his heart was becoming daggers, piercing his fragile self. He wasn’t sure he could rely any longer on the hope that you’d someday want him back.

“Well, I was just closing.” He wanted you to leave, to stay, to do something other than stare across at him. You stayed silent and San felt he had to speak again, to stop himself from saying what he actually wanted to say. “Wooyoung’s on his way, if you want to wait for him.”

“I don’t want to wait for him.” You’d gotten closer and, one moment of weakness was all it would take for San to have his arms around you. “I just wanted a hug.”

The weakness fought against San’s resilience but he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t crossing the threshold, tired of being the one always having to cross the bridges you put up. He didn’t have to this time, luckily, because you reached forward and wrapped your arms around him, head falling against him and arms holding him to you. He let his instincts take over, enveloping you in his embrace, eyes closing to bask in the way your warmth rolled over him.

“I don’t want to be strangers, San.” He felt the hum of your voice, pulling back only when he felt you do the same. “I heard what you said... And I screwed up. I’m sorry. It just hit me all of a sudden and I didn’t know how to cope with it. I love you too, I’m sorry you had to wait to hear that.”

His silence was unnerving, each second that passed of him just staring down at you, no readable expression on his face, felt like an infinity. “You’re lucky you’re worth the chase, princess.” For the first time, he initiated the kiss between you both. There was no rush, no urgency to have one another pressed together, no desperation. It was the feeling of completion, at last, lips melting together and hands tangling around one another. When San pulled back, his lips were glistening red, inviting you to steal another kiss, so you did. “Wooyoung is going to kill me, isn’t he?”

You both jumped apart at a familiar voice ringing out from the doorway. “You have about exactly four seconds to run, Choi.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

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