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flwrstqr · 8 months ago

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CALL ME YOURS !! (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS: ever since you broke up with your ex, choi jiho, who cheated on you with another girl, you have always wanted to get revenge. when you meet jiho again at school, to prove you were over him and had met a better man, you told him you were meeting someone. you lied and told him you were meeting a random guy who you pointed at on your school's bulletin board for being the top student in the whole school. coincidentally, that guy was lee heeseung, known for his quiet and smart personality. then jiho demands to meet him in real life, hand-in-hand with you, which now you have a huge problem. first, you have to find heeseung, and next, you have to date him.

pairing: topstudent!heeseung x popularstudentfem!reader

genre: fake dating, s2l, romance, high school au, sunshine x cold

warning(s): reader + heeseung being in denial, your ex cheated, kissing, inspired by a k-drama (i forgot which one), two of them being awfully awkward at first, swearing, grammar errors, party, lots of love confusions, does say that winter is dating beomgyu, punching, fighting

word count: 7k

AN: guys im back with a long au, i never really write long aus, so this is slightly new to me. i did proofread it but not super thoroughly so if i made any mistakes, my bad for that .

taglist: @yenqa @mylstserenade @jlheon @naespas @jooniesbears-blog @erehkinnie30 @wonifullove @miumiuisme @shawnyle @dimplewonie @beomluvrr @jiaant11 @teddywonss

ALL YOU WANTED WAS REVENGE. Sweet revenge against your idiotic ex, Choi Jiho.You remember the moment you walked into the girls locker room to go deliver something to your PE coach, only to find the room “empty”. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you stumbled upon Jiho, locking lips with your “supposed” best friend, Kim Haeun, in the girl’s locker room Lip on lip, eyes closed, moving in sync. Heart shattered, tears streaming, you bolted, tripping over a basket of equipment and scraping your knees quickly catching attention of Jiho. His voice trailed after you, calling your name as you fled into the distance.

Losing both your best friend and your boyfriend cut deep. Being single was one thing, but being unable to find anyone who measured up to Jiho was another.

"YN, your standards for men are too high!" Karina remarked from the bleachers during PE.

You shrugged. "They've always been high." For the past 4 months, no one was your type compared to Jiho, the perfect boyfriend in your eyes: tall, handsome, a football player, rich, and occasionally nice.

"It's because of that disgusting asshole," Ningning scoffed.

"He isn't disgusting!" you retorted.

"YN, you need to get over him. This is just becoming toxic, plus you dumped him in front of the whole school ," Giselle chimed in. She was right. You vividly recalled the moment, twenty minutes before the bell, eyes swollen from crying all night but disguised behind makeup, replaying yesterday's scene you witnessed in your mind.

"YN!" Jiho's voice snapped you back to reality, his figure rushing towards you.

"Can we talk?" he asked, breathless.

"Talk about how you fucking cheated on me? Fine, I'll hear you out," you yelled, drawing everyone's attention.

"Can you keep it down, YN?" Jiho snapped.

"Sure I’ll quiet it down when I want to. Go to your girlfriend, Haeun. Why does she have to be my best friend, out of all people?" you glared.

"YN, let's talk inside," Jiho groaned, irritated.

"No, we're done. I never wanted you anyway, you asshole. Just fuck off," you spat, the words stinging even as they left your mouth The next thing you knew the scene spreaded like wildfire at school.

"Are you okay?" Minjeong asked as you sobbed at the lunch table.

"Listen, YN, Jiho wasn't worth it. You saw what you saw," Karina tried to console.

"I don't know... it's just over now," you murmured, head in your hands.

"Maybe it's a sign to find someone better," Ningning suggested.

"I don't know..." you whispered, feeling lost, unable to move on.

“I’m for sure there’s someone way better than him.” Giselle added (biggest lie you ever heard).

MONTHS PASSED AND YOU FOUND YOURSELF IN THE LIBRARY, lending a hand to the librarian in organizing books before school started. As you went about your duties, dropping off books and preparing to fetch more, the one and only, Jiho, stood by the school bulletin board waiting for you. It had been months since the breakup, and yet, the wound was still fresh, a constant reminder of the pain (really yn..)

"I wanted to say a word," Jiho awkwardly mumbled, eyeing you for a reaction, his hands in his pockets.

You reluctantly agreed, "Fine, make it quick. I'm busy."

"I broke up with Haeun," he stated, the words hanging in the air.

"What?" Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I ended things with Kim Haeun," he said more firmly. His words sank in, but confusion lingered. But why was he telling you this now? Then it hit you—he wanted you back. Yet, on a day when you missed him, you suddenly felt nothing. He had left you for another girl (well, technically, you dumped him), betrayed you, and now he came back because you were his second choice?

"Why are you telling me this?" You managed to maintain calm.

"I still like you, YN LN," he confessed, causing your eyes to widen. You bit your lip, before you could accept his confession like your 5 minute ago self would. Your heart didn’t thump like it did when you were around him. Your hands weren’t sweaty like they were when he looked at you before. Your mind wasn’t racing like it was when Jiho confessed to you for the first time, months ago. It was nothing like any of that–you just felt empty and cold.

"I'm seeing someone," you blurted out, realizing the lie you had just said. Crossing your fingers, you hoped he wouldn't ask about the identity of your "so-said boyfriend"

"Who?" he inquired, raising his eyebrow. Desperately searching for an excuse, your eyes landed on the bulletin board, displaying a list of top students and their ID photos.

Rushing over, you pointed at the first photo and name you saw, "That guy," you said, reading his name, "...Lee Heeseung! I'm dating him."

"Oh, really?" Jiho cast a skeptical glance between you and the photo, a smirk playing on his lips. "Then," he leaned in closer, "how about you introduce me to him, hand-in-hand, next week? I want to see if he's worthy of you." Panic rushed in you, and your throat went dry. You forced a smile and nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Sure," you replied.

"Great, see you next week," Jiho said, turning and walking away. You were officially doomed. Now, you have to find this Lee Heeseung and give him a deal.

YOU WANDERED DURING LUNCH, TRYING TO FIND HEESEUNG. You only heard about him because he got a perfect score on the hardest SAT exams, but you didn't really pay attention.

"Heeseung? Sorry, I don’t know who he is," a girl replied when you asked her about Heeseung.

"It's okay," you smiled politely and left, feeling frustrated.

"I'll never find him," you groaned to Karina, who was with you while you asked everyone about Heeseung.

"Why did you lie to Jiho then? I thought you weren’t over him. Last night, you were giggling at how cute Jiho is and how much you want him back," Karina asked, taking a bite of her apple.

"I don’t know. He was just using me. I knew it because he and Haeun broke up," you explained, letting out a soft sigh. "He saw me as a second option, and I got into this mess because I lied to him about having a boyfriend who's probably some ugly nerd."

"I told you he was using you the entire time! But you didn’t trust me!" Karina scolded you.

"Sorry, I was just blind back then," you mumbled.

Before your last attempt, you walked up to a boy and asked the same question you’d been asking everyone.

"Do you know Lee Heeseung by any chance?" you asked. The boy's eyes widened, and a big grin spread across his face.

"Yes, I do! For what reason?" the boy quickly replied. For the first time, someone knew who he was.

"Do you know where he is then?" you inquired, hoping he could help.

"I do. I’m close friends with him. Come, I’ll show you where he is," the boy replied as you followed him, waving to Karina goodbye.

As the two of you awkwardly made up the long staircase, you arrived at the rooftop of the school. When the boy opened the door, a lonely figure sat by the table, reading a book.

"Heeseung!" the boy called out, causing the figure, supposedly Heeseung, to turn around.

"What, Jungwon?" Heeseung raised his eyebrow, quickly glancing at you and then back at Jungwon.

"YN was looking for you," Jungwon quickly said, nudging you to speak. Heeseung obviously knew who you were, known for dating Jiho and your soft-delicate visuals.

You walked towards him awkwardly, “Uhm…can we talk privately?” Slightly glancing at Jungwon, signaling him to leave quietly. As Jungwon left quietly, you cleared your throat.

“So…” you started off a bit nervous, “I need some help?”

"What help?" Heeseung answered a bit coldly, “If it’s anything studying related, I’m not interested-”

"I need help dating," you blurted, realizing what you had just said.

"What?" Heeseung gave you a puzzled look, "Dating what?"

"I lied to Jiho. Okay, I don’t have interest in you or even Jiho. I lied to him saying that I’m meeting you," you spilled the news. Heeseung had an empty look on his face as you tried to read his expression.

“Why me?” Heeseung arched his eyebrow.

“You were the first name I saw,” you explained, “So can you fake date me? I need it, please,” you pleaded, hoping he would accept your request.

"No, I’m not interested," he turned around, quickly getting his book to start reading again. Your jaw dropped, no one had ever rejected you like that.

"What?" you spat, feeling terrible that you got rejected for the first time.

"I’m not interested in you or in dating. So, I strongly believe that I shouldn’t do it," he said, quickly focusing his attention on his book.

“I’ll do anything!” you begged, feeling desperate.

"Anything?" Heeseung quickly averted his attention to you, dropping his book slightly to make eye contact with you.

"Yes, anything. I’ll do anything," you replied, hoping he would accept it.

"Then introduce me to her," Heeseung answered. You looked confused.

"Who's her?" you raised your eyebrow.

Heeseung’s cheek slightly blushed, it was the first time you saw him so embarrassed. “Karina,” he mumbled under his breath. Suddenly it clicked—he was interested in Karina, your best friend.

You gave an eager look, “Deal! I’ll introduce you to her after all of the fake dating.” You pulled out your hand.

"Deal," Heeseung replied, shaking your hand.

A FEW DAYS LATER, YOU FIND YOURSELF in the convenience store, an unexpected place for someone like you—a popular girl to be at. Your outfit was simpler than usual, baggy gray sweats and a white tank top, with your hair thrown up in a messy high ponytail and an oversized jacket completing the look.

You scan the snack aisle, contemplating your choices, when the doorbell chimes, signaling a customer had entered. Your heart thumps as you recognize the last person you expected to encounter—Heeseung. He's dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, his messy hair somehow adding to his charm.

Your eyes lock momentarily before you both awkwardly shuffle towards each other. "What brings you here?" you ask, surprised to find him in a convenience store at 2 am.

"Why are you up so late?" he counters, swiftly turning the interrogation on you.

"I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?" you reply.

"Studying," he responds matter-of-factly, grabbing an energy drink before swiftly checking out and leaving. You hurry after him, catching up as he strides down the street.

"Studying late? That's a first," you mutter to yourself, gazing up at the night sky.

"I don’t want to flunk my classes, unlike you," he retorts, avoiding your gaze.

"I'm not that hopeless," you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, you are," he quips, taking a sip of his drink.

"Hey!" you playfully threaten, pulling back your arm as if to hit him. But then something unexpected happens—you catch sight of Heeseung's smile, genuine and endearing. You quickly shake off any wayward thoughts; after all, you're just his so-called “girlfriend”.

"Where do you live?" you inquire, trying to change the subject.

"Stalker much?" Heeseung teases.

"Shut up," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"I live in the house near the college," he answers, disposing of his empty can.

"Do you walk to school?" you ask, trying to prolong the conversation.

"Yeah," he replies.

"Then... do you want to walk together tomorrow?" you suggest, stopping in the quiet and empty streets.

"Walk together?" he repeats, surprised.

You nod and quickly add, "Yeah, you know, for you know..."

Heeseung considers for a moment before agreeing, "Sure."

"Great! I'll come by your place at 7 am since school starts at 7:30!" you smile, remembering to ask for his number. He inserts it into your phone, adding, "Don't blow up my phone."

"I'm not that obsessed with you," you retort.

"I think you are," he jokes.

"In your dreams," you shoot back.

YOU FOUND YOURSELF STANDING OUTSIDE Heeseung's door, feeling an awkward knot tighten in your stomach as you waited, fingers fidgeting nervously. After what seemed like hours, the door swung open to reveal a woman, likely Heeseung's mother.

"Hi, who are you?" she inquired, her eyes curious but welcoming.

"I'm YN LN," you replied, managing a warm smile despite your nerves. "A friend of Heeseung's."

"Heeseung's friend?" Her expression softened into a delighted grin. "I didn't realize Heeseung had such a pretty friend. I'm Heeseung's mother. Just call me Mrs. Lee."

"Mom..." Heeseung's voice interrupted, his presence suddenly beside you as he quickly shuffled to put on his shoes.

"Heeseung, she seems like a sweet and pretty girl," Mrs. Lee remarked before Heeseung darted, closing the door behind him before his mother could say anything else.

"Your mother seems really nice," you commented, attempting to ease the tension.

"Mhm," Heeseung mumbled, his attention already diverted to his book that he quickly pulled out from his backpack.

With a pointed look, you reached out your hand, silently urging him to remember.

Heeseung sighed, rolling his eyes in mild exasperation, but he relented, tucking the book away and clasping your hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through you, a feeling you couldn't quite grasp.

"So..." you began, eager to break the silence. "Where's your class?"

"Class 3-B," he replied shortly, his gaze fixed ahead as if unwilling to meet your eyes.

"Mine's right next door." you exclaimed, hoping to inject some enthusiasm into the conversation. "Perfect! Do you know what this means?"

"What?" Heeseung's response was clipped, his tone guarded.

"That I can come over to your class during lunch!" you declared with a wide grin, trying to lighten the mood.

"I eat on the rooftop, alone." he added, emphasizing the word alone.

"Ah, I forget you’re a loner," you teased gently.

"At least I'm productive with my free time," he retorted.

"Well, today we're together!" you suggested brightly and then with a smirk you whispered, "And I can introduce you to... Karina." The mention of your best friend's name made Heeseung blush slightly.

"Shut up," he groaned, moving to cover your mouth with his free hand just in case you would say anything else.

"Like I want to-" feeling a sudden hard squeeze in your hand "Ow..."

"Now shut up before I squeeze harder," Heeseung warned, though there was a hint of genuine threat in his tone.

"You're no fun," you muttered. Eventually, you arrived at the school, fingers still intertwined as you drew curious whispers from the hallway.

"YN and Heeseung, dating? No way..." you heard a girl whisper by the lockers, causing a flush of embarrassment to color your cheeks. When you reached Heeseung's classroom, you reluctantly released his hand, noticing the tension in his posture as he leaned against the doorframe.

"See you later?" you asked, "I'll be on the rooftop during break."

"Alright..." Heeseung's response was hesitant, but then came an unexpected word that caught you off guard. "...baby." The pet name hung in the air.

"R-right... anyway, bye..." you stammered, feeling a rush of different emotions. You'd been in relationships before, but you were never so flustered for such small things like that. Could it be... you weren't falling for him, right?

HEESEUNG SETTLED AT THE EMPTY TABLE on the rooftop, his gaze drifting across the school grounds. The rooftop held a special meaning for him, offering a quiet place to read, barely visited by others.

“Heeseung!” Your voice sliced through the silence, drawing his attention. He glanced up to see you approaching, two lunches in hand.

With a bright grin, you placed the meals in front of him. “I brought lunch!”

"Thanks," Heeseung replied , his tone cool as he examined the homemade kimbap. As you both sat down, awkwardness settled between you, by the avoidance of eye contact.

Summoning his courage, Heeseung brought a question that had lingered in his mind for months. "Why did you like Choi Jiho?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected, catching you off guard. You paused, hesitating with how to respond.Memories of Jiho flooded your mind. You had forgotten about him for the past 4 days due to Heeseung being on your mind 24/7.

You cleared your throat, summoning a bitter lie to your lips. "I... uh, he was nice, I guess."

"Did Jiho even like you back?" Heeseung's question cut through the air. That’s when you realized something. You remembered the way Jiho would never defend you in any moment or barely spend time with you. And the time when he did? He would always be on his phone. You realized how stupid you were as you thought the moments where he just wanted attention from the public by kissing you or flirting with you meant that he loved you.

"I... I don't know," you admitted. Deep down, you knew the painful reality—that Jiho had used you.

"Oh, okay..." Heeseung responded, sensing the weight of your words. "So, let's change the top—"

"I know he didn't like me," you interjected, your gaze drifting to the sky before meeting Heeseung's gaze. "I know he was the worst boyfriend I could ask for."

Confusion flickered across Heeseung's features at your sudden confession.

"I was blind. I regret it," you murmured, your gaze falling to your lap. "But it's in the past."

Heeseung regarded you with his usual stern and cold look. "Then why did you tell Jiho you were meeting someone else?"

"Because... I wanted to prove I was happier now," you muttered, grappling with your tumultuous emotions.

"Are you?" Heeseung's gaze bore into yours.

"I... I think I am," you replied

"You 'think'?" Heeseung pressed, his tone firm.

"I'm happier than before," you insisted, though the vagueness of your answer hung in the air.

"That's not specific," Heeseung challenged.

"I can't be specific," you confessed, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Because I don't know, at all."

"Are you sure?" Heeseung persisted.

"Heeseung, it's my feelings, yes I'm sure," you asserted.

"I'm just physically and mentally curious, so it allured me to—" Heeseung began, but you cut him off.

"Okay, I think that's enough. The bell's going to ring soon. Text me later!" With that, you rose abruptly, snatching your lunch bag and offering a quick wave before descending the stairs back to class.

HEESEUNG LAY ON HIS BED, staring up at the ceiling. He knew he should be studying, but your words about Jiho lingered in his mind. "I'm happier than before." Why was he even pondering such things? Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality by a faint buzz from his phone. Retrieving it, he found a message from you.

YN LN: heeseung!! all my friends rejected me to go to the mall TT, so wanna go together?? ><

Heeseung paused, a moment of surprise flashing across his features. You were asking him to go to the mall with you? It felt almost like you were asking him out. He composed himself and replied:

Heeseung: Sure. Send location and time, I’ll be there.

Putting down his phone, he realized the weight of his agreement. He had just agreed to go on a date with you. And now, he needed to get ready. Hastily, he rummaged through his closet, seeking out a suitable outfit. Opting for his lone stylish varsity jacket paired with jeans, he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tidy it up.

Rushing to the mall, he found you leaning against a store wall, your attention fixed on your phone. As he approached, a cupid seemed to strike him with an arrow as his cheeks flushed. The simplicity of your outfit and the gentle cascade of your hair rendered you utterly captivating.

You looked up, catching sight of Heeseung's slightly stunned expression, and greeted him with a warm smile, gesturing for him to join you.

"Hi," Heeseung muttered, still awestruck by your beauty.

"Hi!" you returned the greeting with equal warmth. "I just need to buy some makeup for my friends, or maybe myself, and possibly shop around! Anything you need?"

"Not necessarily," Heeseung replied, scanning the mall.

"Okay then, follow me," you said, seizing his arm and leading him to the nearest makeup store. Arriving at the lip product section, you perused the selection of lipsticks, lip glosses, and lip tints. Grabbing a random lip tint, you turned to Heeseung.

"Can I try it on you? I need to see if it looks good on a person," you suggested.

"What? When did I sign up for this?" Heeseung sighed.

"Please," you pleaded, giving him your best pout. "I can erase it right after."

"Fine."

With careful precision, you applied the tint to his lips. The warmth of his breath brushed against your cheeks and neck, sending a flurry of sensations through you. Your heart raced as you admired his perfectly shaped lips, now tinted with color. After smoothing out any unevenness, you stepped back to admire the look.

"Hmm... I think this works," you concluded, grabbing the new tint to go check out and pay for it.

YOU SAVORED THE SWEET TASTE OF vanilla ice cream as you took a bite, sitting side by side with Heeseung on the bench outside the convenient store where you first met. He listened attentively as you shared stories about your friends and family.

"And then Giselle told me—" Your sentence was cut short as Heeseung's fingers delicately wiped a smudge of ice cream from the corner of your lips.

"Mhm?" He hummed softly, encouraging you to continue. Your heart fluttered at his touch, beating rapidly in your chest.

"...y-yeah," you stammered, trying to regain your composure, your gaze drifting to the hues of the sunset painting the sky in shades of blue and orange.

"Are you done with your story?" Heeseung inquired, to which you nodded hastily. You weren't finished, but another word might turn you into a flustered mess.

After a brief silence, you suggested, "How about we go for a walk by the Han River?" Heeseung agreed with a nod, and soon you found yourselves strolling side by side along the riverbank, the gentle sound of water trickling in the background adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

Unexpectedly, Heeseung asked, "Are you going to the dance?" It was a question he wouldn't normally ask.

"The dance?" you raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his inquiry.

"Yeah, the school dance?" Heeseung clarified, his expression tinged with skepticism.

"Oh, well, yeah," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as you remembered his feelings for Karina. He didn't like you, so why did you allow yourself to hope for something more?

"Is Karina going?" Heeseung continued, and you struggled to find your voice, your throat suddenly dry.

"O-oh, uhm, I think she's going..." you managed to say, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a wave. Foolish fantasies had consumed you for the past five days, but now you bit your lip to stave off the embarrassment and tears threatening to surface.

"I think I'm tired. I'm gonna go home now. Bye, Heeseung," you forced a small smile before turning away, walking in the opposite direction. Heeseung watched you go, a confused expression clouding his features as you moved farther and farther away.

LEANING AGAINST THE WALL, you found yourself lost in thoughts of Heeseung, the person who was on your mind day in and day out. Why did it bother you so much if he had feelings for your best friend, Karina? Why did his presence hold such sway over you?

"YN?" Winter's voice broke through your trail of thoughts,snapping you back to reality.

"Oh, sorry, I was zoning out," you replied, trying to shake off the distraction.

"You've been distant all day. Is everything okay?" Ningning's concern was evident in her voice.

"Just tired, didn't get much sleep last night," you reassured them with a forced smile, hoping they wouldn't press further.

"Are you sure?" Giselle's skepticism lingered, her gaze searching yours.

"It's nothing, just life being complicated," you offered, trying to reassure their worries.

"If you need to talk, we're here for you," Karina chimed in, her comforting touch on your hands a familiar gesture she usually did. How you longed to confess and tell them about Heeseung and the jumble of emotions you felt and fought with, but the fear of ruining your relationships with both him and Karina kept you quiet.

At that moment, it came to you: you were in love with Heeseung. It had to be a mistake right? You could never like someone like Heeseung. The way your heart thumped when Heeseung did small actions like hold your hand or even wipe off anything from your mouth.

Yet, you couldn't shake the fear, the fear of history repeating itself with someone like Jiho, selfish and foolish. What was the point of falling for someone who didn't accept your feelings and liked someone else

HEESEUNG HAD REHEARSED EVERY WORD, every breath, for the moment he would finally summon the courage to ask you out for dinner. With trembling fingers, he reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. The weight of his nerves pressed down on him as he prepared to take the risk.

As the phone rang, his heart raced, the sound of your voice on the other end sending a jumble of emotions through him "Hello?" you answered, your voice like music and beauty to his ears.

"Hi..." Heeseung replied, his voice betraying his unease.

"Why did you call me?" you asked, curiosity tinged but yet your voice sounded heavy and drained. Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in your tone for the past days, wondering if he had somehow caused it. Had he done something wrong?

"I was just wondering if... uhm... you wanted to go get dinner tonight together?" Heeseung's voice faltered slightly, the weight of his question hanging in the air.

"Dinner tonight?" Your voice held a hint of confusion, but there was also a spark of interest. "When and where?" you inquired.

"At the Japanese place down the block, at 6?" Heeseung suggested, hoping you would agree.

"Sure, I'll see you at 6 then," you replied, your voice brightening slightly.

"Right, anyways, bye!" Heeseung quickly ended the call, a rush of happiness coursing through him. He had done it. He asked you out for dinner.

With a sense of pride, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, his phone resting on his chest as. a wide grin spread across his face. He replayed the conversation in his mind, excited for the evening of day.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, you couldn't contain your excitement. Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. had. Asked. you. out. to. dinner. You, YN LN. You couldn't help but squeal with delight into your pillow.

Eager to make a good impression, you jumped out of bed and rushed to your closet, rummaging through your clothes in search of the perfect outfit for the occasion.

HEESEUNG SAT NERVOUSLY, tapping the table as he waited for you to arrive. Within minutes, you rushed in and quickly spotted him.

"Hi!" you greeted with a smile, settling down at the table.

"Hi," he smiled back (inside you felt a flutter at how cute his smile was). You both looked at the menu and ordered as the waiter approached. After eating, you quietly walked outside, enjoying the cool evening air.

The dark, cloudless sky revealed a glimmering array of stars. You admired the view, unaware that Heeseung was watching you, captivated by your beauty.

"The stars are so pretty," you remarked in awe.

"Mhm," he replied, still focused on you. Suddenly, you felt his fingers gently tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Your face flushed as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

"I have a question, YN..." Heeseung began, and you turned to him, curious.

"Do you... want to go to the dance?" he asked. Your heart raced, your stomach churned, and your head spun. He had just asked you to the dance.

"T-the dance?" you stuttered.

"Yeah... I mean, just as... you know, for visual purposes," he tried to clarify.

"Right..." you nodded, agreeing. "I'll go with you." Heeseung's face lit up with a big grin as you accepted his invitation.

"That's great! I'll, um... see you at the dance then," Heeseung said with a small smile and a wave as you both went your separate ways, heading home with a light heart.

As you walked home, your mind buzzed with excitement. The thought of going to the dance with Heeseung made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but replay the moment he asked you, feeling a rush of happiness each time. It was like a dream come true, and you couldn't wait for the night of the dance to arrive.

WEEKS FLEW BY, each one filled with anticipation, excitement, and a series of dates. Finally, the much-anticipated day of the dance had arrived. It had been six weeks since you eagerly marked this date on your calendar. Reflecting on the past four months since you met Heeseung, you knew deep down that you were head over heels in love with him. The moment he asked you to the dance, those feelings intensified.

"Do you think this dress is pretty enough?" you asked, twirling in your knee-length black dress adorned with delicate lace details, a sweetheart neckline, and spaghetti straps. The dress hugged your figure perfectly.

"It's gorgeous," Ningning complimented, deftly assisting with your hair.

"It's perfect, just like you," Winter reassured, adjusting your dress with care.

"Easy for you to say, with Beomgyu as your date," you teased, prompting laughter from your friends.

"And you have Heeseung," Winter smiled, smoothing out the fabric of your dress.

"You two are so cute together," Giselle teased, earning a blush from you.

"I love you guys," you said, feeling grateful for their support as you shared a group hug.

"Even if I'm dating a man, you'll always be my number one," Winter jokes, lightening the mood as you head to Karina's car.

Upon arriving at the dance, the lively atmosphere was perfect. Laughter, music, and chatter filled the room as people talked, danced, and enjoyed themselves. Spotting Heeseung entering the room, you felt a rush of excitement.

He looked perfect in his suit, his hair perfectly styled. Rushing over to him, you greeted him with a beaming smile.

"Heeseung!" you exclaimed. Heeseung looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. I

"You look amazing, YN," Heeseung complimented, his smile genuine.

"Thanks, but you're the one who looks stunning," you replied, feeling your heart flutter as you took in his appearance. "Come on, let's grab some snacks and go have fun!"

The next two hours were filled with laughter, dancing, and cherished moments spent with Heeseung and your friends. However, it was until you excused yourself to the bathroom, to then meet Jiho.

"YN," Jiho's voice cut through the noise, sending a chill down your spine.

"What do you want, Jiho?" you asked, your tone laced with irritation.

"Are you here with your 'so-called' boyfriend, Heeseung?" Jiho taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes, and what's it to you?" you retorted, your patience wearing thin.

“Yeah there is.” his smirk widened, “Don’t act stupid, I knew everything.”

“God I hate you Jiho.” you spat, feeling your anger rise.

"Come on, YN. Admit you still love me, and everything will go back to normal," Jiho sneered.

“I don’t even like you anymore, Jiho.” you said firmly, trying to keep your composure.

"Oh, really? Maybe this will change your mind," Jiho said, leaning in closer. You felt his fingers slip into your waist, his grip firm and tight. You felt his face leaning closer to yours. You quickly stepped back and pushed him aside.

“Are you fucking crazy?” you yelled.

“YN, why are you so pissed? Not like you like anyone.” Jiho's eyes bore into yours, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I don’t want to fucking kiss you,” you glared, “Now fuck off please.”

“Why is it because of Heeseung? Your fake boyfriend? God, he probably doesn’t even like you YN. He only likes you because you're popular.” he laughed. Your heart sank at his cruel words. The words stung as you heard each word. Heeseung was just a stupid fake boyfriend you had. The two of you had never had a real relationship. A real love. Was Heeseung just playing with your feelings? Did Heeseung even love you like how much you loved him?

"I hate you, Jiho," you whispered before leaving the party alone, your heart felt heavy.

YOU SPENT HOURS lying in bed, staring out the rain-splattered window, your cheeks damp from the relentless stream of tears. Days had passed since the dance, and you hadn't mustered the strength to leave the confines of your home.

"YN, you've been here for hours," Karina's voice broke through the silence, her concern evident as she entered your room.

"Why didn't you text me?"

"Phone died," you muttered, burying your face deeper into the sheets.

"Tell me what's wrong," Karina urged gently, taking a seat beside you.

"I don't know," you confessed, your voice barely audible.

"Come on," Karina coaxed, her comforting presence offering a glimmer of solace.

"Okay, fine," you relented, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Jiho said some awful things to me at the dance. Now I'm a wreck, and I can't face Heeseung. I'm in love with him, and it's tearing me apart."

Karina's eyes widened at the torrent of emotions pouring out. "And you kept this from me all this time?"

"Karina, I didn't know what to do," you admitted, your voice choking with emotion. "I thought Heeseung felt the same way, but then Jiho made me doubt everything."

"How does Jiho know anything? He's not Heeseung," Karina retorted, frustration evident in her tone. "He's just trying to mess with your head."

"But what if he's right? What if Heeseung was just pretending all along?" you sighed, a heavy weight settling in your chest.

"YN," Karina's voice softened, her touch gentle as she sought to comfort you. "How do you know Heeseung doesn't like you? Have you talked to him?"

"I haven't," you admitted, uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

"Then how can you be so sure?" Karina questioned, her eyes searching yours. "Heeseung cares about you, YN. He was worried sick after the dance. He searched everywhere for you and even left the party early out of concern."

"Are you serious?" you asked, a glimmer of hope flickering in your eyes.

"Dead serious," Karina affirmed, her sincerity unwavering. "Talk to him, YN. You'll see."

"But what if I'm wrong?" you hesitated, your fear holding you back. "Just trust me on this," Karina reassured, squeezing your hand gently. "Talk to Heeseung. You'll thank me later." Karina offered you a reassuring smile before enveloping you in an embrace.

HEESEUNG WAS SERIOUSLY DEAD WORRIED about you. He thought you were possibly hit by some car or even worse kidnapped. His thoughts wandered as he tried to think of all the possibilities you were. You stopped even coming to school for weeks.

The memory of the dance replayed in his mind like a broken record, haunting him with unanswered questions. Your sudden disappearance after excusing yourself to the bathroom left him questionable and restless. Desperately, he asked your friends as your friends only left him shrugs and quietness making him uneasy of the situation.

When you finally returned after a week-long absence, Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in you. You awfully looked tired and you had eyebags. And the most important change, you were avoiding Heeseung. Was it something he had done to mess things up?

Heeseung sat at his usual spot on the rooftop, gazing out at the view, trying to get his thoughts out.

"Look who it is, Lee Heeseung," a voice pierced through the silence, pulling Heeseung from his reverie. Turning, he found Jiho leaning casually against the stairway exit, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Heeseung's girlfriend, huh?" Jiho taunted, his words hitting Heeseung like a sudden blow.

"What did you do to YN?" Heeseung's voice was edged with a mixture of anger and concern, his gaze sharp.

"Nothing much, just a little truth-telling," Jiho chuckled, his demeanor full of arrogance.

"What truth?" Heeseung's tone was laced with urgency, his fists clenched in frustration.

“Just a few things that need to be said. Like how you guys are just dating, nothing more than that.”

Heeseung's jaw tightened as the weight of Jiho's words settled in, his mind reeling with disbelief and anger.

"Do you even know why YN hates you?" Heeseung spat, his voice seething with contempt.

"Why don't you tell me?" Jiho's smirk widened.

"Cause you’re truly an awful person” Heeseung retorted, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh really?” Jiho teased, “I didn’t know.”

Jiho's mocking laughter only fueled Heeseung's rage, his frustration exploding into action as he delivered a swift punch to Jiho's jaw.

"You're really undeserving of her," Heeseung's words echoed in the empty space.

“You could punch me as many times, I don’t care.” Jiho smiled.

“I would but actually I don’t want to see your ugly face, so fuck off.” Heeseung stormed out of the rooftop leaving Jiho alone on the ground.

IT WAS 1 AM WHEN YOU FOUND YOURSELF at the convenience store, clad in your most comfortable clothes, not even caring if people saw you. The rush of cold air from the conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, scanning the assortment of snacks. The scent of sweet delights filled your senses, tempting you to buy more. You reached for a snack when the chime of the door signaled someone's arrival.

Looking up, you were met with the sight of Heeseung standing across the store, his gaze fixed on you. It felt like deja vu, reminiscent of the first time you laid eyes on him. Your throat went dry, memories of Jiho's words echoing in your mind: "He probably doesn’t even like you." Anxious, you bit your lip as Heeseung approached.

"Can we talk outside?" Heeseung's voice broke through the tension. With a quiet nod, you followed him out of the store.

"YN, what's going on?" Heeseung's concern was evident as he confronted you, hoping you would answer honestly.

"Heeseung, it's nothing," you lied

"It's not nothing," Heeseung persisted, his tone firm.

"Okay, fine, I'll tell you. I fell in love with you, but then Jiho made me doubt everything. I thought you probably didn’t even like me, maybe you liked Karina instead. What was the point of being with you if I'm only going to hurt myself?" The words spilled out in a rush, leaving you empty.. Heeseung froze at your confession, disbelief in his expression.

"You like me?" Heeseung's eyebrow arched in surprise.

"I know you don't like me—" Before you could finish, Heeseung silenced you with a soft kiss. His lips were soft and perfect.You felt his fingers sliding into your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Your lips were moving in sync, in the same passion, kissing each other back. You felt his fingers intertwined with yours, drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.

Pulling away, breathless, you attempted to speak, but Heeseung beat you to it. "I like you a lot, YN. I was in denial of my feelings for months, but I realized I was actually in love with you." You widen your eyes at his confession

"Heeseung, you're not lying, right?" suspicion tinged your words.

"Do you think I would ever lie to you?" Heeseung chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear, a gesture that he would always done

"No, but it all seems non-real," you confessed.

Heeseung's laughter, the sound you cherished the most, filled the air. "Then, will you be my real girlfriend, YN LN?"

"Of course, any day I'll choose you," you smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

MONTHS HAD PASSED and you found yourself in a state of bliss you never imagined possible. Seated on the rooftop with Heeseung, your fingers intertwined, you gazed out into the view before you, the cool breeze enveloping you in a sense of serenity.

"Look how far we've come," you remarked, a smile gracing your lips as you watched Heeseung absentmindedly draw small patterns on your palm.

"Yeah," Heeseung nodded, his touch gentle and comforting.

"I love you, Heeseung," you whispered softly, your words carrying the weight of your affection.

"I love you more," Heeseung replied in a tender whisper, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he leaned in to press a series of delicate kisses along its curve.

"Heeseung, that tickles!" you laughed, squirming slightly at the sensation.

"This is your punishment for getting a 60% on the exam," Heeseung teased, his tone playful yet teasing.

"Hey, I'm not some nerd like you!" you retorted, playfully poking his side.

"Nerd?" Heeseung chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"A cute nerd," you amended with a grin, your heart swelling with affection.

"And you're my cute princess," Heeseung declared, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips, his love for you shining brightly in his eyes. You truly were in love with Heeseung, and you weren’t going to deny it.

3K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 7 months ago

Text

Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,�� he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

2K notes · View notes

erensfeed · 19 days ago

Text

content: boyfriends who would flash their headlights before leaving through the driveway, as their way of saying they love you.

note: i really love the concept & idea of a bf so i wrote this.

ps. i still can’t believe that men aren’t real :c

It’d become your ritual by now, this endless loop of ‘I love you more’—something you both say especially when you know you’ll miss each other, even if it’s just for a few hours.

Today was no different.

You leaned against the doorway, still wrapped in the warmth of his last hug, and watched him shoot you that mischievous grin that always made your heart flutter as he walked backwards away from you.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said, his voice softer than his grin suggested as he took another few steps back.

Laughing, you said his name fondly. “We’re literally seeing each other again soon in like… five hours.”

“Yeah, but that's like…” he gently shook his head like you didn’t understand. “…forever.” he added, a small feigned frown forming on his face after.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but with a soft smile, you reminded him, “What matters is that at the end of the day, you’ll be back in my arms.”

And just like that, his expression softened, eyes warm as he took in those words.

“Fine… I love you.” he said as he was taking another step back, and by now, it’s instinctive — so with a sly smile, you fired it right back at him, no hesitation. “Mmm, I love you more.”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head once more as he started toward his car, already knowing where this was headed. “Okay, you know I’m not gonna let you win this one, right?”

“Oh, you just keep telling yourself that babe,” you teased lightly, a warm laugh slipping out.

"Only ‘cause it’s true,” his grin widened as he opened the car door. But before getting in, he lifted his hand to draw a quick heart over his chest, then pointed back at you as his way of saying—it’s all yours. And just to make sure you knew, he added, “That means I love you more."

He got you there, you couldn’t lie. Shaking your head, you decided to let him think he had the last word by nodding and even giving him a little wave as he climbed into the car. Once he settled in, you made a quick and small ‘buckle up’ gesture to remind him to, and he caught it right away. Through the windshield, you could see him mouth a ‘oh oops—yes, ma'am’ before that. And you noticed he never took his eyes off you as he clicked it in place, giving you a double thumbs-up with a boyish grin after.

Still smiling, you lifted your hand, making a little phone gesture by your ear—another silent reminder for him as you also mouthed a, ‘Call me when you get there, okay?’

He laughed, nodding exaggeratedly, as if he had no intention of forgetting as he started the engine. Already, you could feel that warm tug in your chest, the one that happens when you start missing him.

As he starts backing out onto the road, you couldn’t help it — you thought it softly, adding his name with those three words.

And then, as if he somehow heard you, his headlights flashed one—two—three—four times at you with a smile and a wave, just before he fully backed out from the driveway to the road. A quick, unmistakable, quiet message of:

‘I love you too.’

As you stood there waving back to him, your heart grew full when you processed it, a peaceful, quiet joy filling you as you watched him go.

The moment was so tender, because he was pretty much saying, ‘I’ll always find a way to say it back.’

And honestly, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

After his car had disappeared down the road, you headed back inside the house, settling onto the couch—that same small panging feeling of missing him coming back again. When suddenly, an impulse struck, and with a smirk, you whipped out your phone to quickly type out:

⊹ don’t think i’m letting you off that easily tho babe 🤑 i still love you the most 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Seeing your text at the next stoplight, he smiled to himself like a fool.

eren. gojo. rafayel. caleb. jean. + your favs !

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astralnymphh · 3 months ago

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jackson!ellie (yeah, again.) fluff. slightly suggestive at the end. just another branch of how i think ellie acts around her crush. no tension between her and joel. mdni. img from @/kittaeria on pinterest.

jackson!ellie loves dressing up, just for you. while it may stray far from what is depicted and adorned in a modern society, it still counts. having joel wash and iron her finest sunday flannels, shine her boots, trim her nails—it all counts. “wanna leave an impression, don't ya, kiddo?” the words left to simmer on his bathroom door echoed with her as she hesitantly pulled a few strands of hair, letting them frame her queasy yet stoked countenance. her smile would not settle.

envirornment influences impressions, too—but, you both agreed the tipsy bison was not private enough nor was the june summer befitting of a bonfire; who said a garage couldn't be painted into a rosy picture?

joel attempted to converge a pretty bouquet; he had done it twenty-something years ago for sarah on her birthday, but his gardens are slim of flora, and sometimes daisies suffice. they sure seem to as you bless her cheek with a kiss and proceed to give her a ribboned cluster of your own garden—brighter, sensorial, something you'd only ever see in dreams. better to leave the bouquets to you next date, yeah?

“aw, did your hair all different for me?” you caress the seams; draw fingers over the fine details, such as that little sprig of hair. ellie knows you prefer it this way, even if really, it remained nearly self-same. she halfs a scoff and a laugh to herself, “psh—well, it's not that much different.” being humble, eyeing her freshly clipped nails. a symbol of attentiveness in love. “thought it would get messed up anyways, so..” and she glances up at you for confirmation, with that stupid fucking smile. well, it would in fact get messed up as you push her on the bed, softly kissing her face into vermillion reds and unwinding under the thin sheets, reading dumb comics—or doing something that rids her of those nice clothes.

whatever makes her rasp, “mhh, can you stay for the night? can't stand sleepin' alone anymore.” with her pretty, rosy lips.

#⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras footnotes #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #jackson!ellie #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfiction #the last of us 2 #the last of us fanfiction #elliewilliams #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams headcanons

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msmk11 · 3 months ago

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Just Like All the Other Angry Boyfriends Before

James Potter x Hufflepuff!fem!reader

WC: 4.2k

CW: angst; hurt/comfort; fluff; idiots

Summary: Two idiots in love who don’t know how to handle their emotions properly- aka school dance drama

A/n: yall said you wanted this fic even tho I lowkey hate it, so here it is!

Shrill squeals echo through the stone corridor as you make your way to the Great Hall after class. You turn the corner to find a group of girls surrounding Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom. Alice is blushing profusely as you hear her declare, “yes I’ll go to the formal with you!”

Frank whoops excitedly and draws Alice into a warm embrace. There are more squeals from the girls, so high pitched you’re sure they’ve shattered your ear drums. As you pass the happy couple, you smile at them warmly and share your congratulations. On the inside, however, you grimace. You’re no antagonist to fun, really, but as the winter formal continues to approach closer and closer, and you are still without a date, you find yourself beginning to reject the idea of any formal at all. It’s not that you have a lack of options either- plenty of people have asked you- but rather, you’ve been holding off in hopes that a certain special someone will.

Begrudgingly, you accept that if you put things off much longer, you will be dateless. And while you’re not necessarily opposed to going alone, you’d rather not when nearly all your friends have dates. Lily has Mary, Marlene has Dorcas, Alice has Frank, and Remus has Sirius.

That leaves you and James.

Although you’re a Hufflepuff, you throw your stuff down onto the Gryffindor table and plop into a seat next to Lily. You huff dejectedly and rest your head on her shoulder, “Why does everyone have to be all happy and in love? It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid honey, you’re just bitter because P-“

You slap your hand over her mouth and glare at her, “SHH there’s people around.”

“Right, sorry,” she replies, prying your hand off her mouth.

“Also…” she pauses and sniffs your hand, “is that a new lotion? What scent is it?”

Before you can answer, you’re interrupted by Mary who sits down on the other side of Lily and kisses her on the cheek.

“Uh, babe, why are you sniffing her hand?”

“I’m not weird, I swear! She’s the one who shoved her hand in my face. I just wanted to know what lotion she was using.”

Mary gives the two of you questioning looks.

“Potter” Lily mouths.

Mary nods in understanding and smirks. She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as she shifts her attention to the raven-haired boy a few seats down.

“Still waiting for him to ask you?”

“Mhmmm.”

“You know, it is the 20th century, you could try asking him for a change.”

“Excellent idea, love! Oi, Potter, come here,” Lily shouts.

You glare at them in panic and mumble, “I hate you both.”

James looks up from his conversation with his friends and slides down the bench towards you.

“We have a very important question for you,” Lily says.

You glare at her once again, “I think Lily here is actually far over exaggerating the importance of the question. I’m sure whatever discussion you were having with Remus, Peter, and Sirius was much more urgent.”

James chuckles, “It’s the opposite actually. Remus and Sirius were arguing over what they are wearing to the formal. So really, you saved me.”

You let out the most pitiful laugh, cursing your luck.

“So… what is this very important question you wanted to ask me?”

You attempt to act nonchalant as you ask him if he has a date for the formal yet.

“Oh, the formal? Not yet, though I have a few options in mind. But if you’re implying you want to go together, I’m totally down.”

You’re pretty sure your heart skips a beat.

“I mean, I don’t want you to go alone while everyone else in the friend group has a date.”

This time, your heart drops.

“Oh, so you don’t mind doing me a favor and taking me to the formal?” You ask, an accusing tone to your voice.

“Right, that’s what friends are for,” he says, innocently.

Nail in the coffin.

“So, let me get this straight. You’ll only go with me because you feel sorry for me and because you don’t think I can get a date to the formal?” you ask angrily.

“No I-“ he begins defensively.

“Well you should know, Potter, that I do have a date to the formal, and I was only asking if you had one because I was worried you were going to be the one going alone.”

“Wait! You’re going with someone?!” He says, shocked.

“Don’t act so surprised. Just because I’m ‘one of the guys’ to you doesn’t mean I’m not desirable to other people,” you retort.

Then, you stand up and snatch your books off the table. As you storm away you hear him yell, “Wait, but who are you going with?”

Great question.

*****

Back in the Hufflepuff dorms, you sit in one of the common room chairs stewing over your recent interaction with James. While your initial reaction was anger, time has led way to more intense feelings of hurt. While he didn’t outwardly reject you, the sting of the friend zone was just as painful. You needed to move on, but with who?

The universe seems to answer your question in the form of Amos Diggory.

Amos Diggory- an arrogant, handsome, girlfriend-stealer, with an intense fear of commitment. He would be perfect.

No foreigner to flirting, you put on your most charming smile and call out, “Hey Diggory…”

He looks in your direction and you motion for him to come sit. He smiles at his friends and shoos them away. As Amos comes and sits down next to you you know that, if this goes according to plan, you will royally piss James off. The two rival in looks and on the quidditch field, and James cannot stand Amos.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says, looking you up and down.

“So, you, uh, have a date to the formal yet?”

“No, I prefer to go alone. So my options are open.”

You smirk teasingly, “What if I can convince you to change your mind?”

Amos smiles at you seductively, “I’m listening.”

“Well, you like to go to these things alone so you can entertain the attentions of many girls. But, if you go with one girl, me, you’ll get even more attention. What is going to happen when all of the girls at Hogwarts think that the Amos Diggory is off the market?”

“You have me intrigued,” he says, “And how are you not in Slytherin with that devious little mind of yours?”

“I prefer to keep it my little secret.”

Then, you lean closer to him, “Though I guess it’s our little secret now.”

Amos is falling perfectly into your trap, and you know that he already wants to kiss you. You pull away before he even gets the chance.

“Before I agree, what’s in this for you?” He asks.

“Revenge on James Potter…”

If your flirting hadn’t fully won him over, this does.

*****

In the evening, you make your way to the Gryffindor common room where you always do homework with your friends. Though James, Peter, and Sirius consistently show up late, you make sure to leave extra early to avoid conversation with James at all costs.

You forget, however, that James sometimes knows you better than you know yourself. So when you arrive, he is already there on the couch, waiting for you. Lily and Remus are spread out on the floor, Mary is sprawled across a red chair, and Dorcas is lying in Marlene’s lap reading her textbook while Marlene writes a paper. James shoots up from his seat as you walk in.

“Hey! Can we talk?” He asks anxiously.

Although they pretend to hide it, you know your friends are secretly listening. Still, you don’t care.

“No, James, we can’t. Although it may be uncharted territory, you and I are in what people call a fight. So just let me be.”

“But shouldn’t we talk?”

“No, James. I don’t want to talk. Not right now.”

The fight leaves his body and he retreats, “fine. I’ll just leave you be.”

He grabs his stuff and goes up to his dorm as you settle yourself in his place.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Remus asks softly.

“Maybe,” you say, “But I’m sick of always downplaying my feelings to protect his. It’s not fair to me.”

Lily grabs your hand, “you’re right, it’s not fair. And I’m sorry for pushing all of this on you, it wasn’t my place.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” Mary adds.

“Well, I’m not. This just encouraged me to get over my silly little crush and focus my attentions on someone who will actually take interest in me. There are plenty of people out there.”

“Hell yeah there are!” Marlene says encouragingly.

Dorcas smacks her arm, “Marlene! James is one of your best friends!”

“So is she! I love them both, but she’s right, she needs to do what’s best for her.”

“Just don’t push him away completely,” Dorcas tells you seriously.

“I won’t,” you sigh, “He‘s still so important to me. It just won’t be in the way that I hoped.”

Silence falls over the group.

“Who fucking died?”

Everyone jumps and turns to look in the direction of the voice. Behind you stands Sirius and Peter, both with perplexed looks on their faces.

“James, after she fucking tore him apart earlier,” Marlene replies, motioning to you.

Peter nods as he plops down by your feet, “Oh right! I heard about that.”

Sirius smacks you upside the head, “Yeah, what was that all about?”

“He basically called me a fucking unattractive loser. What else was I supposed to do?” You say, smacking him back.

“I think you’re over-exaggerating just a little bit,” Mary responds cautiously.

“I mean, I think he was just trying to be nice. Maybe it hurt because he essentially friendzoned you?” Lily adds.

“Wait, do you have a crush on James?” Sirius asks you.

“Sirius, have you really never noticed?” Remus responds disbelievingly.

Sirius only shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay, I get it, I get it. James is the perfect golden boy and I’m just another one of Potter’s stupid fangirls who follows him blindly and makes a fool of themselves.”

“Honey no,” Lily starts, “it’s not that it’s-“

“Can you not lecture me, please?” You interrupt, “Maybe I overreacted, but is it so wrong to be angry about being pitied. Especially by someone you really care about?”

“No, it’s not,” Peter tells you, “I get it.”

“Thank you,” you respond dejectedly.

It’s quiet for a moment and you’re stuck stewing in your own self-loathing.

Then, Lily speaks up again, “Uhm, I have one more question, and then I’ll drop the subject.”

You nod, encouraging her to continue.

“Who are you going to take to the formal? Because you told James you had a date, even though you didn’t.”

“Oh, yeah, uhmmm about that…” you say, laughing nervously.

“What rash thing did you do now?” Dorcas asks.

“I may or may not have asked Amos Diggory to be my date to the dance…. And he said yes.”

Marlene laughs loudly, “Oh shit!”

*****

To avoid conflict, you decide that it’s best for you to go to the formal with Amos and his friends rather than string him along with yours. Tension is already high between James and you, and you know Amos’ being there would only make things worse. You try to push it out of your mind, but you can’t help wondering who James is taking to the formal with him. You picture all the prettier, smarter, and better girls he could be going with, and your stomach begins to ache. You are also worried about what people will say in relation to you going with Amos.

Your thoughts start to spiral. Will people hate you? Will James hate you? Is your dress all wrong? Will you be the worst dressed there? The anxieties are endless and there seems to be no relief in sight.

Still, you push through and doll yourself up, masking your true feelings behind layers of hairspray, makeup, and itchy fabric. Your dress is light blue with a silvery sheer fabric over top, like fresh snow on a frozen lake. The top half is form-fitting with silvery straps, and the bottom spreads outward in a loose skirt. You twist back the front strands of your hair with silver clips and adorn your face with light makeup and shimmery eyeshadow. At promptly eight you drag yourself to the common room where Amos sits with his friends and their dates.

You put on a fake smile, “Amos, you look handsome.”

He looks you up and down, “I know. And you look hot.”

What a gentleman.

You say a polite thank you and avoid some of the stares you’re getting from the other girls. You can tell that some are jealous already, yet they maintain outward politeness, which you’re grateful for.

Amos, at least, extends his arm, which you grab, as you walk towards the Great Hall. Your walk is filled with polite conversation about simple things from quidditch, to class, and plans for the holidays. So far, it’s not as bad as you thought, though you wished you would have just gone dateless with your friends.

You cast these regrets aside, however, when you arrive at your destination. To no one’s surprise, the Hogwarts decorating committee has outdone themselves once again. The typical long, wooden tables are gone and in place is a magnificent white dance floor that seems to shimmer like the snow. Warm, golden globes of light hang from the sky and snowflakes fall from above, though never reaching the ground. The room is an explosion of silvers, whites, and blues, and you’re sure you’ve stepped into a winter wonderland.

“This is just-“ Amos begins.

“Wow” you finish, “Like a winter wonderland.”

“And you’re its queen,” he says.

You blush in spite of yourself.

“Compliments won’t get you a kiss so soon,” you tease, “It’s only eight.”

He bites his lip, “fine. But I can only restrain myself from a beautiful girl so long.”

You laugh lightly and swat him on the shoulder. Then, music begins to play.

Amos motions towards the dance floor, “shall we?”

*****

As James adjusts his tie in the mirror, he can’t help but think about what a pathetic loser he is. Although he’d had plenty of girls who he could have gone to the formal with, he continued to wait, assuming there would be someone better coming along. Who that person was, he wasn’t sure. But now, he was alone.

And then there was you. He doesn't know what happened. One second you two were fine, and then suddenly, you blew up. While he knows that he insulted you, he can’t understand why you are so angry. Sirius said not to overthink it, that girls are just complicated, but you are one of his best friends. He knows there is something else going on and it’s left a terrible pit in his stomach.

“Earth to James!”

“Huh?” He awakes from his trance and notices that Peter is waving his hand in front of his face.

“You ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah.”

They head downstairs and meet up with the rest of the group- Pete and his girl from Ravenclaw, Sirius and Remus, Marlene and Dorcas, Mary and Lily, and you-

Not present because he is an ass.

James wonders who you’re going with.

They all cheer loudly, “James, you look great!”

“Thanks, guys, but it’s you all that look great.”

“Hell yeah we do!” Sirius exclaims.

Everyone laughs and begins to file out the portrait hole down to the Great Hall. Despite being the only dateless friend, James’ spirits are lifted by their jokes and ramblings. When they reach the dance, everyone oohs and aahs over the shimmery decorations. Instantly, James cranes his neck, looking for you in the crowd as he walks with the group towards a table off to the left. As they all set their stuff down, the music begins to play and couples rush to the floor. His friends join them, excited to dance.

“James, you coming?” Sirius asks.

He shakes his head, “next song.”

Sirius shrugs and walks off with Remus. James continues to search the crowd, looking for you. He realizes he doesn’t know what you’re wearing- and he supposes he never asked. James wonders if best friends are supposed to do that sort of thing.

Probably.

It hits him, then. With everything that’s been going on lately- being head boy, quidditch captain, and taking ridiculously hard classes, he’d sort of ignored you. It’s no wonder you’re so angry with him.

James feels totally guilty until he sees you. It’s then, he realizes, that he has a reason to be angry too. There you are, after all his moping and worrying, with Amos fucking Diggory. James knows that he hasn’t been the best of friends lately, but Diggory? That was his rival! You were crossing a line.

But what really bothers him the most is the way you’re laughing at something Diggiry said. He is hardly funny, and has the personality of a piece of paper. And why are you leaning so close to him? He’s not even that attractive or charming.

As you swirl across the dance floor, he watches how your hands hold tightly to Diggory’s shoulders, like he’s your anchor. James also notices Diggory’s hands around your waist, far too close to your ass, and his blood boils. No way would he let his rival feel up his friend.

When the song ends, James begins to stalk towards you two, but is pushed backwards by Sirius and Remus.

“Not worth it mate,” Sirius warns.

“But Padfoot, this is unbelievable. She is unbelievable. How could she ever agree to go with him? She knows how much I hate him, and is just trying to get back at me.”

“Mate, it’s this type of thinking that pushed her into his arms,” Remus mumbles.

“What, what do you mean?”

“James, she asked him to the formal after you basically made her feel like shit. Whether she realized it or not, she turned to who she thought would hurt you the most. She wanted you to feel what she was feeling, even a little bit.”

“It’s not her best decision, but ignoring her wasn’t yours either,” Sirius adds.

James rubs his face tiredly, “God, I know.”

Sirius pats his back, “Just… take a few minutes and then come join us. Don’t let it ruin your night.”

“And while you’re sitting here, maybe reflect a little more on why you’re so upset,” Remus adds.

“Rem-” Sirius says with a warning tone.

He puts his hands up defensively, “I didn’t say anything. Let’s go.”

As they walk away James notices their slight bickering. He laughs at them in spite of himself. Secretly, he’s always been a little bit jealous of their relationship. Though they are far from perfect, they’re comfortable with each other in a way that he can only hope for. He thinks the fact that they were friends for five years before they dated helped. There’s this trust and friendship that is so necessary in order to support the love and passion that comes with romance.

As another song ends, James decides not to get up from his seat. He watches Amos and you some more. While his blood is still boiling, there is a twinge of something else.

“Maybe reflect a little more on why you’re upset.”

*****

Surprisingly, you’re having more fun with Amos than you thought you would. While you would never date him, you appreciate his company tonight. He’s been making you laugh all night, so you’re surprised when another song comes on and he suddenly gets serious.

“You know, gorgeous, I’m not one to waste my time on Potter, but he’s been glaring in our direction for the past fifteen minutes.”

“Just ignore him.”

“I would, but it’s kind of hard when he is burning holes into my head.”

You huff apologetically, “God, I’m so sorry. I hope it’s not ruining your night.”

“Eh, I’m used to Potter throwing temper tantrums when he doesn’t get what he wants. He’s clearly just mad he’s not dancing with the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“Pfft, yeah right. He’s just mad that I’m dancing with you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t give a shit.”

“Can I give you my honest opinion?”

You hum in agreement.

“As I’m sure you know, I have a reputation for girlfriend stealing.”

“Yes? And?” You say, confused.

“Well, with stealing girlfriends also comes a lot of angry boyfriends. And Potter over there, he looks exactly like all the angry boyfriends I’ve dealt with, who want to beat the shit out of me.”

“Which makes no sense, because he doesn’t act like a boyfriend whenever we’re together. It’s not fucking fair. He doesn’t want me, but it’s like he doesn’t want anyone else to have me either.”

“Listen to me. I may not know what the fuck is going on with you two, but it’s pretty clear to anyone that you guys both have feelings for each other. So, as your date, I think it's my duty to end ours early. We both achieved our goals- all the girls in the room want me, and Potter can’t take his eyes off of you.”

You release a shaky sigh, “Okay, fine.”

As the song ends he releases you and gives you a wink, “Well, for now, this is goodbye. Since I’m sure you’ll be Potter’s girlfriend by the end of the night, I imagine we are going to be mortal enemies from now on. Or until graduation at least.”

You chuckle a little as you straighten his tie one last time.

“Go get him,” he says.

You stand up on your tip toes and kiss him on the cheek, “Bye Diggory. Next time I speak to you, you better be settled down with a nice girl, at 9 ¾, with your rowdy kids for their first year of school.”

He laughs and you part ways for the night. Before you allow yourself to approach James, you walk outside to the courtyard nearby. You lean up against the railing and look out towards the stars. The cool breeze fills your lungs and is comfortable against your hot skin. It’s silent except for the soft notes of music drifting out from the Great Hall.

“So, you and Diggory huh?”

You jump at James’ voice and turn to him, “Yep, and you and the invisible girl. I thought you were Mr. Hotshot, with plenty of girls lined up as possible dates?”

“And I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be loyal.”

You scoff, “It wasn’t personal, James. Just a silly little date to a silly little formal.”

“Bullshit” he yells, “You were mad so you went and found a date that you knew I would hate!”

“God, you are so conceited! Not everything is about you. Maybe I just liked Amos’ company. He’s not all that bad, you know.”

“Oh, so now you’re defending him? Next thing I know there’ll be wedding bells.”

“Maybe there will be. He’s funny, attractive, and actually gives me the time of day!” you retort.

“Just so he can get you into his bed, fuck you, and then ignore you after,” James shouts back.

You stare at each other in silence for a moment.

“I mean, Merlin, is that really what you want? I know it's not my place to give my opinion about who you date or-”

“And that’s the whole problem,” you interrupt.

“What?”

“James, you're my best friend. I want your opinion about these things- even if I don’t always want to hear it. It at least shows you care about me. Lately, it’s like I don’t even exist.”

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. You deserve better. A better friend and…” he steps a little closer, “a better romantic interest?”

You let out a small laugh, “romantic interest?”

“What? If this night has shown me anything, I clearly don’t know what- or who- you’re looking for in romance. And that’s on me. But I want that to change from now on.”

You take a deep breath and step even closer to him. You look up into his hazel eyes, your faces so close your noses are almost touching.

“Well, in the name of change, I guess I have to confess, I do have a romantic interest… in you.”

“And as a part of my duties as your best friend, I believe it my responsibility to tell you that… you should go for it.”

Already so close together, you merely stand on your tip toes and lock lips with James. He kisses back and puts his hands around your waist. For a second, he pulls away.

You look up at him with questioning eyes.

His grip on your waist tightens, “I don’t ever want another man’s hands here ever again. It was driving me crazy tonight, the way Amos was touching you.”

You smirk at him, “Jealous are we?”

He grunts in affirmation and pulls you in again. The kiss lasts a few minutes with you up against the railing. At first it’s fast and passionate. But with time it becomes slower and more sweet. More loving.

Eventually, you slowly pull apart. You look at him softly and ask breathlessly, “So, do you have a date to the formal yet?”

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loveinhawkins · 1 year ago

Text

The problem is that a part of Steve knows the spider isn’t real.

But it’s the suggestion of it, right? Cobwebs in his hair, movement just out the corner of his eye; it’s all enough to convince him that there’s something crawling on his skin, to let out a panicked whisper to Nancy, there was a spider. It’s a black widow.

He tries to disregard it as a one-off. It’s an old creepy house. Just got him spooked for a bit, that’s all.

But then… diving into Lover’s Lake. Bats biting into his flesh. Overwhelming dizziness.

Nancy wrapping torn strips of clothing tight around—there’s something crawling, crawling underneath his skin, no, there isn’t, no, there—a bike ride through The Upside Down; one hacking cough, pushing through it, pushing through it—

Swallows it all down. Ignores the sweat, the tackiness around his bandage. Shh. Calm, calm.

Drives the RV. Doesn’t know how he’s even moving, is just grateful—grateful that his mind on autopilot seems to still function.

The War Zone. In and out. Parked. Sun in his eyes. Kids outside.

The feeling comes back. Something. Something under his skin. (In his blood, in all of him—)

“S’there something in my hair?” he asks Eddie, who’s mid-step out of the RV.

Eddie turns back with an air of amusement. “Nope,” he says. “Looks perfectly coiffed to me, man.”

“Can you—can you just check?”

Look closer, something’s wrong, something’s wrong.

“Uh, sure,” Eddie says, bemused. He sits next to Steve and tilts his head before lifting a hand uncertainly. “You want me to, uh?”

“Yeah, thanks. Just… there was a spider on me.”

It’s not what Steve wants to say at all, but there’s a sudden, terrifying disconnect between the thoughts in his head and what actually comes out of his mouth.

“Oh, you don’t like them, huh?”

Eddie’s not even teasing, just sounds understanding; he lifts up a few sections of hair carefully, taking his time. He’s so kind. Steve abruptly wants to cry.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Eddie continues. “I have the same thing with mice. The way they move. Creepy little feet.” He shudders dramatically.

Steve wants to laugh at that. Can’t.

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair a couple more times, gentle.

You don’t have to, Steve thinks. Make it hurt. Get it out. Did you find it? Please say you found it.

“Good news, you’re officially spider-free, Harrington.”

Eddie claps him on the shoulder, stands up.

Steve doesn’t move.

Eddie pauses again, halfway out the door. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Just need some air.”

He goes through the motions of prepping for the fight. Chats with Robin. She talks about a terrible, gnawing feeling, and he wants to scream yes, I know, I know, but he can’t tell her, why can’t he tell her?

Shh. Calm, calm.

Drives the RV. Forest Hills.

He brakes with no warning, sends bottles of alcohol rolling across the floor. He’s mad suddenly that they didn’t smash. He’s so—

Slip away.

Eddie’s trailer. Lets himself in.

Bathroom.

The wound on his stomach pulses. He doubles over the toilet. Throws up.

His skin is crawling.

There, in the back of his mind, a creeping coldness. A thought that is not his own.

I will kill them all. And I will make you watch.

Oh, God. Oh, God, he’s been so stupid.

Eddie finds him first.

He picks up one fallen bottle of alcohol before a gut feeling pulls him out of the RV—because Steve Harrington is a good driver, and he’d only brake like that if he had no choice.

“Steve?”

But Steve’s not waiting for them on the porch, he’s not even by the Gate.

Clattering; a strangled cry.

Eddie’s stomach lurches.

He runs towards the noise, opens the bathroom door and is instantly hit by the acrid smell of vomit.

“Steve! Jesus Christ.”

Steve’s pushed up against the cistern. There’s a damp patch all across his stomach, and his chest is heaving.

“Oh my God, Steve, what’s—”

Eddie reaches for him instinctively, and Steve flinches as if he’s been struck.

“No, don’t!”

“Jesus, you’re burning up,” Eddie whispers, drawing his hand back; Steve’s skin is feverishly hot, slick with sweat. He looks around frantically for a cloth, turns on the cold water. “Gotta get you cooled—”

Something slams into him; he’s pinned against the sink, Steve’s hand clamped around his throat.

“No,” Steve repeats. “Don’t.”

“Okay,” Eddie manages. He chokes on a swallow. “S-Steve, you’re—you’re—”

His hand flails, trying to pry Steve’s fingers off.

Steve’s grip loosens ever so slightly. His eyes are wide, bloodshot. Pleading.

“Eddie,” he says through gritted teeth. “You need to hurt me.”

With the last of his strength, Eddie gets his knee up and jabs—it’s barely anything, but it works enough to break Steve’s hold.

Eddie staggers; his back slams against the door. He’s shaking.

Steve stares at him. He’s gripping onto the sink so tightly that Eddie thinks it’s a miracle that it doesn’t crack.

And then there’s a horrible, guttural noise like Steve’s started to choke too, like he’s at war with himself.

Barely audible, he says, “Get… get Nancy.”

Eddie runs.

He nearly falls into Nancy as he opens the front door. He’s breathless, can’t think of what to say, save from—

“Wheeler, he needs you.”

It happens in an instant: Nancy’s brow pinches, and then she goes very pale, and she’s shouting for Robin and Dustin to stay in the RV, like she can turn on a dime, launched into an unknown crisis.

She pushes past Eddie, and he follows her, back into the bathroom.

The cold water is still running.

Steve’s got his hands in the sink. He looks at Nancy desperately.

“S-stop me.”

Another choking sound is ripped from Steve’s throat; Eddie realises that it’s actually a dry sob.

“Nance,” Steve says. It’s half her name, half a pained whine. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I—I know everything.”

And then he’s suddenly launching towards them—it’s only the fact that he’s so completely freaked out that makes Eddie move in time, saves him from getting strangled again.

He grabs Steve’s wet hands, pins them behind his back and tries to hold him still.

“Jesus! Wheeler, what the fuck is going—”

“Do you have anything that can knock him out?” Nancy says.

“What?”

“Drugs, Eddie!”

“Are you crazy? There’s no way—oh my God, what are you—”

Crack.

Nancy’s grabbed the cistern lid, brought it down upon Steve’s head. Eddie looks at Steve lying eerily still on the floor in abject horror.

There’s blood in his hair.

Eddie feels sick.

But Nancy just watches, as if to confirm that Steve’s not moving. She looks Eddie in the eye.

“Come on. That’s only gonna work for so long.”

Eddie just follows her out, too shocked to even attempt speaking.

It’s chaotic at the RV; Dustin sees them coming, leaps out of the door as Robin yells at him.

“Where’s Steve?”

“Get back inside.”

“Nancy, where the hell is he?”

“We can talk inside.”

“Bullshit, I’m—”

“Dustin, he’s Flayed,” Nancy says, her voice breaking, and all the fight goes out of Dustin at once.

“No, that’s—he can’t—”

Eddie finally finds his voice. “Can someone tell me what the fuck you’re talking about?”

Nancy doesn’t speak, not until they’re in the RV, the door locked behind her.

“I think it’s the—the bites—”

Robin swears, a hand over her mouth.

“Flayed?” Eddie persists.

“The Mind Flayer,” Dustin says numbly. “It’s what we—it’s a part of The Upside Down. It—it used Will to… to spy on…”

“And what, it’s—” Eddie swallows. “It’s inside him?”

“Like a virus. He’s part of the Hive Mind,” Nancy says.

Eddie’s knees feel weak.

“Fuck,” Dustin says. “He knows where we are, he’ll know—”

“It’s too late to change that,” Nancy says. “We just have to—at least someone needs to stay with him.”

“I will,” Robin says instantly, eyes blazing.

“Me too,” Dustin says.

Nancy glances at him, shakes her head—firm but apologetic. “You can join Erica.” And as Dustin opens his mouth, no doubt to argue, she adds, “I’m sorry, Dustin. It’s just—we might need to… to fight him.”

Dustin doesn’t reply, but looks so utterly devastated that Eddie wishes he’d insisted on diving first, that the bats had torn into him instead.

“Keep him warm,” Nancy tells Robin urgently. “And I don’t mean just—it’s got to be unbearable.”

Robin nods, ashen-faced.

Nancy catches Eddie’s eye. “The one thing that fucker can’t stand is heat.”

She paces up and down the RV, checking for stray bottles. Then she comes to a stop right in front of Robin.

“He—he might beg,” she whispers. “And it won’t—it’ll sound like him. Like he just wants the pain to stop.”

Robin’s eyes look glassy. “Nance, I don’t—don’t know if I can—”

“I’ll do it,” Eddie says.

He feels everyone’s eyes on him, but he just looks at Nancy, at the determined set to her jaw.

He doesn’t know when he made the decision, if he can even pinpoint a conscious moment of thought—but now that the words are out, he feels the vow he’s made, deep in his chest.

Nancy hands him a bottle and cloth.

A lighter.

She fixes Eddie with a piercing look. “It’s going to look like you’re killing him,” she says.

Eddie nods.

He turns, offers Robin his hand.

“C’mon, Buckley. Let’s get that bastard out of him.”

#another concept has ensnared me oops #i can only apologise for the cliffhanger #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve and nancy #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #steve x eddie #flayed steve harrington #body horror cw

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maxillness · 5 months ago

Text

Satisfy The Fans || LH44 x RB driver!Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, angst (?), (implied) age gap, fake dating, drunken confession, mutual pining, slow burn,

Wordcount: 3.1k

From the start of her f1 career, she had always had a close relationship with Lewis, so the small pecks on the forehead she got from him wasn’t abnormal, but when it got caught by a paparazzi, it turned the whole internet towards them

Paddock affair: Hamilton and young driver

That was the days headline. She sat scrolling on her phone when she heard the bickering from the garage

She had yet to read it herself, but the small talks from behind her got her curious

“What are you whispering about back there?” She turned her head behind her to see Max, Christian and a few mechanics standing in a small circle

They all froze when they heard her voice. None of them answered, but it was clear they had heard her, so they couldn’t exactly ignore her

Christian was the one to speak up after he cleared his throat “Are you… Dating Hamilton?” He asked, hesitation obvious in his eyes

“What?” She was confused by his question “No. What makes you think that?” She asked with knitted eyebrows

He looked back into his phone and read aloud from it “Paddock affair: Hamilton and young driver. During the Australian qualifying sessions, Lewis Hamilton and Y/N Y/L/N was seeing kissing” He locked his phone and looked back up at her

“Huh?” She was even more confused “Did you get that from twitter? I’ve never kissed Lewis in my entire life” She explained “It was a peck on my forehead. He does it all the time” She shrugged

“So you’re telling me they’re lying?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest

“Yes. Yes, I am” She chuckled, turning back to her phone “Don’t believe everything you reading on the internet, Christian. Especially if it’s on twitter”

After the race that Sunday, she came knocking on Lewis’ hotel door “You’ve read the rumours?” She pushed past him, not even bothering to greet him

“I have, yeah” He watched as she kicked off her shoes and threw her body onto the bed, messing up the sheets “Wine?”

“Do you have something stronger?” She asked, drawing out a chuckle from him

“Anything specific in mind?” He asked, watching her roll over on her stomach, her hair already a mess

“Anything above 25% and I’ll be happy” She sat up, leaning against the headboard as he found whatever alcohol he could

“We drink too much” She sighed as he came over with a bottle and two glasses

“Who cares?” He asked, sitting down on the bed with her

“Other than our livers, kidneys, and doctors, nobody” She said, watching her glass getting filled up with liquor

They sat for a few hours, drinking and talking, feeling the alcohol really start to kick in as they neared midnight

“What if we actually dated?” He asked, earning a pair of raised eyebrows from her “I’m not suggesting we date, I’m just saying, what do you think the internet would be like if we actually dated?”

“They wouldn’t get out of our faces, I think” She said, emptying her glass down her throat, too used to it to feel the burn

He just looked at her as she pouted from the empty glass “You want to, don’t you?” She asked, seeing the glint in his eye when she looked back at him

“We both know we don’t have feelings for each other, but it would be fun to see, Y’know?” He said, switching their glasses so she had his filled one and his were empty

“You know what? Let’s fake date, Lew” She took out her hand like they were making a deal

“Get that hand away” He slapped her hand away with a laugh on his lips

“Imagine all the fans were gonna satisfy” She said, another empty glass in her hands

For the next race, they had both informed their PR managers, but no one else, and they made sure to be seen as much as possible out in public together, as well as in the paddock

They arrived together at the paddock, talk in between practice sessions, and whenever it was possible to get some free time

Saturday after qualifying, they took a stroll down the city. They hadn’t realised the time, and they had stayed out until late

It was getting dark and cold in the streets, but it was too beautiful to go back to the hotel. They walked a few steps before Lewis stopped in his tracks

“What?” She turned around, looking up at him

“Let’s satisfy the fans, no?” She didn’t get to answer before he had pulled her body into his, holding her face with one hand as the other were on her waist, kissing her lips soft

She was too startled to kiss back, yet her hands were placed softly on his waist. He pulled back slightly, looking at her surprised expression

“There’s a paparazzi across the street. Wanna make it believable, right?” He smiled as he surprised state faded into a friendly smile

“Idiot” She slapped his chest softly before she were able to get out of his grip and started walking again

“You told us you weren’t dating” Max came bursting into her drivers room without knocking, making her yelp slightly

“Jeez, ever heard about knocking?” He just stood there silently “Anyway… What are you talking about?”

She watched as he took out his phone, typing at it. She took the phone from him when he handed it too her

She was met by the image of her and Lewis the day before, standing in each others arms kissing

“Oh, yeah. That was taken yesterday, Max” She explained, handing him his phone back “So what I told you was technically the truth”

“So you are dating?” He asked surprised

“Yes. Yes, we are” She said, standing up from the couch, walking past him to get out into the garage again

“Uh-uh. We aren’t done here” He said, following behind her like a lost puppy

“Since when did you start caring about my love life?” She sighed, walking over to her side

“Since it evolved the rival” He whispered, pulling her out to the said

“Look, Max, it’s not like I’m gonna bring it on to the track. People can have separate relationships on and off the track. Do you trust me to make this work?” He nodded but not without hesitation “Thank you”

Soon enough, all the drivers had heard about their ‘relationship’, as well as the team principals

“Y/N, how did your relationship with Lewis start?” She hadn’t thought about the interviews when they made their agreement

“Well, we’ve always had a close relationship as friends, and I guess that we slowly realised our feelings for each other the more time we spend with each other” She explained, coming up with a lie as quick as she could

“That’s actually quite sweet” The interviewer smiled “How are you handling all the hate?”

“We’re both handling it fine. I think people should get love who they love despite their age gap, as long as it’s a reasonable range, of course” She said, fiddling with her fingers

“Alright, thank you, Y/N” She walked away after a quick goodbye

“You okay?” Lewis had grabbed her attention before she had fully stomped off

“‘M fine” Her voice was telling the absolute opposite

“Come here” He pulled her body close into a hug, his lips meeting the top of her head, soothing her back down to earth

“Thank you, Lew” She pulled away and walked towards her crew who led her back to her drivers room

“Can we get back to the interview, Lewis?” The interviewer asked as his eyes still lingered on her body walking away

“Of course, sorry” He said, turning his head back to the person in front of him

“It’s quite alright. You two are very cute together” She said, making Lewis smile the slightest “Now, how did this begin- the relationship between you two?”

“We’ve always been close friends, and I guess the more we hung out and knew each other, our feeling for each other became more than friendly” The only thoughts in his head at the moment; what would it be like to actually date her?

Their act has been going on for half a year now, and it was going good, she still got startled when he kissed her after seeing a paparazzi and she didn’t. She would never get used to the feeling of his lips against hers

They were in her hotel room, sharing a bottle of whatever liquor they had, talking about everything and nothing

After about half an hour, he called it quits and said he had to go to sleep, so he went back to his own room a floor under her

As soon as he had closed the hotel door to her room, she took her phone out, typing up Max’ name

Can you come in here? I need your help with sm

Give me 2

About those two minutes went by before she heard the knock on her door “Thank god” She said relived as he stepped into the room

“What do you need help with?” He asked, sensing the worries in her body language

“Lewis” She watched as he knitted his eye brows together “I don’t know if he loves me” She had started to feel the changes a month after they started ‘dating’

He had become more caring, more sweet, more like a boyfriend than the friend she used to have

“What do you mean? Of course he does” He said, sitting down on the edge of the bed “I’ve seen the way he looks at you”

“Yeah, but that’s all an act. He doesn’t love me like I love him” Max became even more confused by her words

“All an act? What?” His face was pure confusion

“Me and Lewis never dated, not really anyways” She sighed, sitting down on the bed as well

“We fake dated to see what would happen” She said once she saw his expression

“Okay” He nodded slightly “So what makes you think he doesn’t have feelings for you?” He asked, wanting to help her

“The day we started ‘dating’, he said ‘we both know we don’t have feelings for each other’, and I get that, we’re good friends. I don’t think he ever would have feelings for me” She explained, feelings her throat almost close up

“I’m positive he doesn’t have feelings for me, Max” He sighed hearing her words

“Wait, so you’re telling me you two never dated?” George was as confused as Max had been just a minute ago

“Did any other words come out of my mouth?” Lewis asked, tone full of sarcasm

“Wow, getting sassy early” George said, raising his eyebrows at his teammate

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do. She obviously doesn’t have feeling for me” He slumped down on the couch, the air coming out in a huff

“You could just talk to her, tell her how it is” George shrugged, trying to help his teammate

“And risk loosing our friendship? No thank you. Rather live like this than without her” Lewis explained, thinking of all the bad things that could happen if he told her

She just wished she could tell him

He just wished he could tell her

Abu Dhabi rolled around, and she had going at it with the partying for a while before she had headed to bed

Around 1:30am, she heard a knock on the door that startled her awake. Now that she was awake, she could just answer the door

“Lewis?” Her eyes was still blurry from the fact she still wasn’t fully awake

“Can I come in?” His words were slurred, very obviously drunk

She sighed as she took in the state of him “Sure, baby” The pet names was something they had agreed on was okay, and they were used so much in public it had gotten into their private lives as well

She closed the door behind him as he took a few steps in. She barely got to turn around before he was spilling words at her

“I love you. I love you so, so much. I have loved you since we started dating, and I can’t keep it in anymore” He had taken her face into his hands

“Lewis-“ “Just let me love you” He had pulled her face into his kiss her softly. She put her hands on his chest, pushing him away

“You’re drunk, Lewis. You don’t know what you’re saying” She said, taking his hands away from her face, pulling them down to rest at his side

“What is it that they say? ‘Drunk words are sober thoughts’” He said, taking a step closer to her

“Lewis, you’re too drunk to be allowed to speak. Will you just go to bed?” She asked, letting him take that step forward

“Will you join me?” He asked, obvious hurt in his eyes

“Do you promise to sleep?” He nodded, not daring to speak “Then I will” She sighed, starting to guide him over to the bed

He got out of his jeans before she got him under the covers. She laid down beside his already dozing off body

He scooted closer to her, curling his body into her arms, sighing at the feeling of her warm body

As he woke up, she wasn’t in bed

“Morning” She said, handing him a glass of water and a two painkillers of some kind

He sat up right, taking the glass and pills “What would I do without you. I love you” He swallowed the pills before taking a sip of the water

“I know. You already said that today” She said, sitting back down on the bed

“What? When?” He was confused, remembering nothing of the sort

“Around 1:30 after you woke me up” She explained

“Oh my god. I am so sorry, really, I am” He looked away from her

“Lew, it’s fine-“ “No, it’s not. I’m really sor-“ He was silenced when she had forced his head towards her and had connected their lips

“I love you too, Lewis” She had pulled slightly back, seeing his pupils darken, taking the brown in them away

“You do?” He asked softly, almost like his words got stuck in his throat “Like, you *really* do?” A smile formed in the corner of his mouth as he put the glass onto the nightstand

She kissed him again, proving her point. He groaned into the kiss as it got more sloppy and heated

He had gotten her pinned down to the bed, lips going from her mouth and down her neck, leaving a few lovebites behind as he moved to the other side of her neck

“Lew, please” She whined, bucked her hips up into his, trying to get more friction

He scooted down the bed, his lips landing on the insides of her bare thighs. His fingers hooked into the waist band of her shorts, pulling them down

She whined as his lips made their way back to her inner thighs, leaving marks behind

“Please, Lewis. I need you so bad” Her breath stuttered as he pulled her panties down slowly, his fingers ghosting her skin

He wasted no time to draw his tongue through her wet folds the moment her panties were removed

“Fuck, Lew” She bucked her hips into his mouth, gripping the sheets beneath her harshly

She moaned loud when his tongue settled on her clit, putting pleasurable pressure on it

“Lewis, please” She arched her back off of the bed, her knuckles turning white from the grip in the sheets

Two of his fingers teased her entrance, making her whine as his tongue started flicking her clit, making her moan loud

He slowly started setting a pace with his fingers, curling them every now and then, hitting the spot inside her that made her body shake

“Lewis, please. Don’t stop- fuck, feels so good” Her words were slurred as she neared her orgasm, clenching rapidly around his fingers

“Fuck, Lew- ‘M gonna come, please” He sped up his fingers, curling them every time, sending her over the edge

She came with cry of his name, her whole body shaking, her chest rising and falling at a rapid speed

He kissed the insides of her thighs, soothing her out of her orgasm “Please, Lew… I need…” She still had trouble speaking from her orgasm

“I know. Don’t worry. I’m right here” He got off of the bed. He quickly removed his clothes and got back on the bed between her legs

She put her legs around his hips, pushing further against her as he started prepping small kisses to her neck and throat

He slowly entered her, drawing out moans from both of them. He stilled his hips, letting her adjust to him before he started moving

“Move, please” Her hands were all over the skin she could reach before settling at his back as he started moving

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby” He whimpered as her nails dug into his back, scraping along his skin

He angled her hips in a way that made him it hit that perfect spot inside her that made her moan loud

“Fuck, right there, Lew- fuck” He sped up, making sure to hit the same spot over and over again

“‘M so close- fuck, baby” The way she was rapidly clenching around him drew him closer to the edge

The next room over could probably hear their skin against skin sounds as well as their mixed moans

“Fuck, you clench so good ‘round me, love” He leaned down and prepped kisses above her breast

“Baby, please-“ She didn’t even know what she was pleading for, but she knew she could feel him getting close as well as he was twitching inside her

“Mhm, right behind you, baby” She took the cue and within a couple of thrusts, her body shook yet again with his name rolling off her tongue

And as promised, he was right behind her, stilling his hips as he came inside her with a moan

He slowed down his hips, circling her hipbone with his thumbs as she came down from her high

He pulled out of her, drawing a whine from both of them at the loss of contact between the two of them

They both sat in the bathtub, her back against his chest, his hands rubbing her thighs as she was slowly drifting away into a sleep

“Will you be my girlfriend?” They way his lips felt against her cheekbone woke her up

She turned her head to face him “Yes. Yes, I will” She smiled, pulling his face into a soft kiss

#smut #formula one #lewis hamilton x reader smut #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton

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killerpancakeburger · 7 months ago

Text

Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2) Soap's part 2. Soap's part 3.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

“Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him.

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified.

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily.

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it.

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst.

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks.

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.”

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…”

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that…

“Pretty please?”

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context.

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart.

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you can’t have.

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed.

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality.

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor.

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter.

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it.

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

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rosemaze-reveries · 7 months ago

Note

I would like to ask for a idv male hunters(of your choosing) reacting to a female reader where she suddenly goes "omg your tits are bigger than mine.."

maybe it was their first meeting, maybe she was bored when she got chaired, whatever the case I just thought it'd be funny.

SJKASKJA thank you for the laugh, i opened this ask like WHAT!!!! but i will indulge u anon... <3

⚠️ suggestive content (strip tease, clothed fondling & flirty banter).

⚠️ reader uses she/her.

🐦‍⬛📸🦎⚡🌪️🦌

🐦‍⬛ Nightmare doesn't immediately respond. He sends a sideways glance to you, who's bound and bored at a slow-ticking rocket chair. "I guess you'd be hard-pressed to find any bigger than those. Must be nice to brag about," you rattle on. If you're trying to seduce your way to freedom, you're failing miserably. Nightmare stalks over to your chair, his broad chest casting a shadow over you.

"Would you have that same attitude once you've been smothered beneath them? Keep mouthing off, and I might just test it."

...What? Was that supposed to be a threat? Anyway, it didn't achieve the desired effect. You blink up at him, not totally opposed to the idea.

📸 Joseph's gaze flicks to your chest. He blinks away a milisecond later, but not quickly enough to escape your notice. A cheeky grin appears on your face as if to say made you look. "I disagree," he tuts. "Remind me, which one of us is so inept with her brassieres that she needs me to unclasp them for her every night, and – despite loathing them so – dutifully puts them on again the next day, as if her poor, aching back demands it of her?" Knowing you can't say anything, he sends back a winning smile of his own.

🦎 Luchino readily cocks his attention to you. "Oh? Like what you see?" You just never noticed how visibly his chest protrudes, especially from a side view. But your comment attracts him closer to your chair, and he decides to give you a little show. Slowly, too slowly, he slips off his jacket, letting it crumple to the floor.

"Oh," escapes your lips once you realize what's going on. Next goes the first button of his shirt.

⚡ Alva sets down his pen when you drag your nails down his chest. What began as an innocuous shoulder massage quickly turned into marveling at the broadness of his pecs. He's sure you meant well, but that comment draws a sharp sigh out of him. "I'm glad to know I'm entertaining you..." he murmurs. That snaps you back to reality: you wanted to be serving him today. You kiss his shoulder blade as an apology, kneading his tense muscles until he lets out another hitched breath.

🌪️ Ithaqua takes your comment as an invitation to reach forward, cupping an icy hand over one of your breasts. It happens so fast you can barely register it. Then he decides: "They're not too bad." He has never been one for delicacy, but that was so blunt it startles you into a fit of giggles. Sometimes you forget he's inexperienced with this sort of thing.

🦌 Bane looks down at the pout you're sending him. This is the first time he's let you hug him, and you're just realizing how much you have to strain your neck to avoid being suffocated by his chest. "A bigger body just means a stronger shield. Nothing more to it than that," he says dryly. You roll your eyes. He's always so hardheaded.

"You're more like a pillow to me," you try. "I wish I had some of these."

He still doesn't give you the reaction you're fishing for. He silently clutches your waist and tips back onto his bed, so that you're properly laying on top of him -- like a pillow.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #alva lorenz x reader #ithaqua x reader #idv nightmare x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader #bane perez x reader #luchino diruse x reader

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writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 8 months ago

Text

Are you sure they like each other? (Alyssa Naeher x Reader)

Barely edited and I don't know if I happy with this, but I wanted to put something out. I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: Alyssa and reader are together, but very stoic and not affectionate in public. Think the team know they're together, apparently not. Start to question if they even like each other. Alyssa and reader turn into soft, love sick people when alone.

Warnings: Tiny bit suggestive, some swearing

Words: 3.3K

Alyssa had slipped out, taking our bags up to the room while I was surrounded by some of the team. I had offered to help, but she had insisted I stay to catch up, leaving before I could protest. Neither of us would be considered extroverts, though I was the one who liked to talk a bit more. Kristie pulled me into a tight hug before a few of the girls following suit, "How was your break Y/n?"

"It was pretty good. Alyssa and I just took it easy. Spent some time fixing up some of the stuff around the house I haven't had the time to do. Visited family, that sort of thing."

Confusion covered their faces, Kelley being the first one to speak up, "Wait. You spent the break with Alyssa?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. Alyssa and I had been together for almost 5 years, living together for 3. It wasn't something that had been hidden. Our relationship wasn't public knowledge, but friends and family knew we were together, or so I thought anyway. We weren't an affectionate couple in public or even with our friends, barely ever touching past an occasional hand on the back, a short hug after a game or if we were going to be apart. Occasionally, we would hold hands at home with family or I would lay with my head in her lap during movie night. I loved Alyssa more than words would describe, there was no doubt in my mind she felt the same. Public affection just made us both very uncomfortable.

"Why wouldn't I? We live together."

"Wait what? You and Alyssa live together?"

"You didn't know? We weren't hiding it. You know we're together right?"

Kelley looked as if I had grown a second head, "You and Alyssa are dating? No we didn't know that! What the hell Y/n?"

Alyssa's hand touched my lower back, letting me know she was there before dropping back to her side. "What's happening here? Why is there yelling?"

"Apparently they're just finding out we live together and have been together for the last almost 5 years."

"5 years?!? And you didn't tell us?"

Even Alyssa looked confused at this point, "What do you mean didn't tell you? It was never hidden. We assumed you knew."

Accusatory glares were sent our way while Alyssa and I just stood there confused. This was not how I expected my morning to go. "You've never kissed, held hands, cuddled or done anything remotely couple like. How were we supposed to know?"

"We've held hands a few times and I sleep against her on the bus sometimes. I get her coffee and breakfast every morning, Alyssa gets me flowers every week even at camp. Pretty sure we've mentioned our anniversary before. We say 'I love you' to each other all the time. Did none of you find that weird?"

"You're always sitting next to each other on the bus so no and we just figured you were close friends or something. I think there's been one time that you've gotten flowers from her in front of us."

"I've seen that a few times actually, but its always when she seems to have a bad day," Tierna spoke up.

Alyssa shrugged, "Well yeah, I get them every week, but if she's having a bad day then I'll get them on that day to cheer her up. Look, we just don't like PDA, we weren't hiding anything from you. We really thought you knew about us. And before you even ask, no we're not going to prove it. Now we're going to our room."

As soon as we entered our room, I flopped down on the bed, scooting over slightly when Alyssa lay down next to me. I pushed myself into her arms, leaving kisses on her jaw, her hand slipping under my shirt to draw random patterns. "You unpacked my stuff."

Alyssa held me closer, kissing my forehead. People held the impression that Alyssa disliked physical touch, which she did with most people. In reality, Alyssa loved cuddling with me, she loved holding my hand and kissing me. Just touching in general actually. When we first started dating, it was a welcome surprise. I expected some affection, but not as much as I received. There was definitely no complaints from me, I loved cuddling with my partners. "I always do, don't I?"

"You do and I appreciate it, but you don-"

She cut me off with a quick peck before speaking up not giving me the chance, "My love, how many times have you said I don't have to, yet I do it anyway?"

"Pretty much every camp," I mumbled against her neck, knowing what her response was going to be. It was always the same.

"Exactly. I do it because I love you and I want to make your day a little bit easier so how about you just accept it and let me do it."

It wasn't that I didn't like it, in fact I loved that she did it. I just always felt slightly bad when people did things for me. "Fine. I still can't believe they didn't know about us. I really thought they did."

"So did I. Maybe they just don't listen to us at all. It was all kind of entertaining though."

"It was, I can't believe they were so clueless. I have a feeling Emily is going to be annoying though. She had her mischief face on."

Alyssa's hand traveled further up my side as she rolled on top of me, "Unfortunately, I think you're right, but right now there are other things I would rather do than talk about Emily."

---

Just as I sat down for breakfast, Emily and Kelley slid onto the chairs in front of me. They just stared at me until I snapped, asking what they wanted. This was not what I needed early in the morning especially when I had only been awake for like half an hour. Alyssa was always down for breakfast after me, preferring to take her time to get ready and do her puzzles, while I just wanted coffee.

"So you and Alyssa are together right?"

"Uh yeah, why?"

"Just checking. How long have you been together?"

"Almost 5 years."

"How did you meet?"

I looked at between Emily and Kelley, trying to figure out why I was being interrogated once again, about my relationship. At this point, I was pretty sure the team believed we were lying or something. "You know this already."

"We forgot."

Alyssa approached, giving me a quick smile which I returned, "Perfect timing. I'm being interrogated about our relationship again."

"Why?"

I shrugged, pushing Alyssa's breakfast in front of her receiving a quite thank you. I didn't answer Kelley's question, instead deciding to eat breakfast before it got cold. "Are you two being forced to be together?"

Both of our heads shot up at that. It was such a ridiculous question. There would be no logical reason for us to be pretending to be together especially considering we weren't public knowledge. I bit back my laugh before answering, "What? What makes you think that? Why would that be a thing?"

Emily shrugged, "You just don't seem to like each other like that."

"Go away Kelley," Alyssa mumbled before going back to her breakfast. I ignored her again, getting up for Alyssa's coffee instead. When I returned, Kelley and Emily were still there, giving Alyssa a suspicious look. I handed Alyssa the cup before sitting down again.

"Thank you love."

Emily narrowed her eyes at us, "Suspicious."

Alyssa rolled her eyes while I flipped Emily off. This whole thing was starting to get old. "Go eat your breakfast."

Later that day, we were back in our room, enjoying the time we had before practice. Alyssa was reading, while I lay in the sun on the balcony. I started to want cuddles. I wouldn't say I was clingy because it was true. We could spend hours doing completely different things. Sometimes though, I just craved touching or being held by her. I gave her a few minutes before calling out to her, knowing she would come to me without hesitation.

Alyssa groaned, but got up, slipped off her shirt and sat down behind me with my head in her lap. We met in the middle, lips connecting briefly before I wiggled around to get into a better position. Alyssa eyebrows raised, amusement shining in her eyes, "Comfortable?"

I smirked, lacing my fingers with hers that rest on my stomach, "Very. Do you like me Lyssa? Is someone forcing you to date me?"

"Not even a little bit. Don't you know I'm only with you for your body?"

"That's what I thought. Maybe I should confess that I'm only with you for your abs."

She smirked at my response, "I had my suspicions. You're obsessed."

"Not my fault they're great abs."

Fingers ran through my hair as Alyssa leant down to kiss my forehead, "You know I love you right Y/n/n? I don't want you to ever doubt that because I don't show you affection in public."

"You know how I feel about PDA, I don't like it, I never have. I have never once doubted your love for me Alyssa and I hope you haven't doubted mine. I love you."

"Good. I have never doubted your love either."

---

Anger and worry coursed through me when I saw Alyssa go down. It was always my worst fear during games, but it didn't really happen during practice. I know we got competitive, there was no reason for it to happen during practice though. I ran up, kneeling beside her, hand grabbing hers, "Are you okay Lys?"

"This ones going to hurt," Alyssa winced, but quickly grabbed my arm when I turned to Rose who had taken her out. "Hey, it's not her fault, it was an accident. Go see if she's okay and be nice."

I took a breath to calm myself down before walking up to Rose. Rose started fidgeting nervously as I walked up to her, "Hey, are you okay Rose?"

"Y-yeah. S-sorry"

I hugged her, feeling her relax against me. Hugs weren't necessarily my favourite thing except when it was with Alyssa, but I knew Rose liked them and I didn't want her to feel bad. It wasn't actually her fault. "Rosie, it was an accident. Don't beat yourself up because of it, but maybe don't make a habit of taking out out keeper during practice, we kinda need her."

---

"You guys coming to dinner?"

"Uh yeah, just going to drop our stuff off."

Once we were in our room, Alyssa sat on the edge of the bed as I knelt behind her, arms wrapping around her shoulders loosely. She lent back against me with a sigh, kissing my hand. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Think my shoulder might bruise, but I'm okay hun. Don't worry so much."

I lift her shirt over her head, lips meeting the spot that was already starting to bruise then moving around to her neck, cheek and lips, "You know I can't help worrying about you, even if it's a bit ridiculous."

Alyssa turned around, pushing me back and hovering over me, "Well, I'm the same so I can't really say anything. I love you Y/n/n."

I looped my arm around the back of her neck, pulling her down so I could peck her lips, "I love you Lys, but you need to get off cause we need to go down for dinner."

She rolled off me with one final kiss before standing up, "Fine."

"Shirt."

---

My eyes fluttered open to the feeling of lips being pressed to every part of my face and neck. I giggled, arms wrapping around her neck to bring her lips to mine. You wouldn't guess it, but Alyssa always kissed me softly, as if I was something precious. It honestly drove me crazy.

Alyssa pulled away slowly, grin plastered across her face, "Happy anniversary love."

My grin matched her, as I pecked her lips, "Happy anniversary Lys. I love you."

We spent a little longer in bed than usual, lazy kisses and cuddles shared before reluctantly dragging our selves out of bed and into the shower. Unfortunately, we had training today so we couldn't give in to the clear desires we both had, instead rushing through the shower and downstairs before there was anymore temptation and we ended up late.

Alyssa and I were discussing dinner plans when we walked into the meal room. We never went out on our anniversary, always staying in and just being with each other in the comfort of our own home. This year was different because we were in a hotel, but we would make do. Just as we sat down, Kelley sat across from us, our conversation ending as we waited for her to say something. "Do you guys even like each other? I mean you guys just seem so indifferent around each other, sure you talk and even joke around sometimes, but it's no different then if you were talking to team mates, we've never heard you talk about anything remotely relationship like."

My arm rest on the back of Alyssa's chair, playing with the baby hairs at the base of her neck. That wasn't a usual occurrence, but it was our anniversary. I was feeling a mix of different, slightly overwhelming emotions from love to happiness, and nerves from the fact I was proposing tonight. I just wanted to be close to her right now and the usual leg against mine wasn't enough. Alyssa must have sensed it because her hand rest on my thigh under the table, squeezing gently as I spoke, "Of course we do. We were literally just talking about our plans tonight for our anniversary."

"That was talk about your anniversary? It sounded like you were talking about grocery shopping."

"We were, but in relation to our anniversary."

"So what are you going to do for your anniversary?"

"Chill out in our hotel room. We never do anything big."

"Yeah okay. That tracks with the appearance of your relationship."

Alyssa had gone back to our room after training while I had gone to the store to pick up a few snacks to sneak in and some flowers for her. She always got me flowers so I wanted to return the favour for once. We were planning on ordering in and watching movies before likely ending the night doing inappropriate cuddling. It was our favourite way to spend our anniversaries. Thankfully, we had an off day tomorrow so we could get away with it.

After placing the bag down on the table, I called out for Alyssa, getting a response from the bathroom almost instantly. My arms wrapped around Alyssa when she emerged from the bathroom, leaving a lingering kiss against her lips. Her eyes dropped down to the bouquet in my hand, a small smile appearing. "This isn't your actual gift, but you always get me flowers so I thought it was my turn. Your gift is running late."

"They're beautiful, thank you Y/n/n. You know you didn't have to get me anything."

"I know, but you also always get me something despite me saying the same thing, therefore shut up."

Alyssa laughed, pushing me away gently and taking the flowers, "You speak to me so romantically my love."

I pulled her back into me, peppering her face with kisses, "I love you."

"I love you. I ordered dinner already, it should be here soon. Also here," Alyssa handed out a small wrapped box. Inside was a gold chain with a small keepers glove attached. It was something I had mentioned wanting, a way to have her close when she wasn't there physically.

"You remembered. I love it Lys."

"Of course I did."

After a short make out session and dinner, we cuddled up in bed to watch a movie. Maybe 15 minutes had passed before I started getting restless. My focus dropped from the movie, instead playing with Alyssa's fingers. I never was the best at staying still. My mind soon drifted to the pool downstairs, it had been a while since I got to go and the urge was suddenly there.

When I shifted position once again, Alyssa chuckled and paused the movie, "I've lost you haven't I?"

I grinned up at her, kissing her softly. Alyssa always knew me so well. "Do you want to go swimming? It's late so no one will be around."

Alyssa knew I loved swimming so she agreed pretty easily, after some teasing of course. We made our way down to the pool, both wearing tank tops and shorts. No one was around so it didn't matter what we wore. I jumped straight in, swimming around a bit while Alyssa sat on the edge of the pool. After a few minutes, I swam up between Alyssa's legs resting my arms on them as I lent up connecting our lips in a lingering kiss.

"Come in."

"It's cold."

"Love, it's a heated pool."

"Okay fine, I just enjoy watching you swim around."

"But, if you come in then we can cuddle, kiss," My hand ran up the inside of her thigh, "Touch."

Alyssa instantly slid into the pool, arm wrapping around me and pulling me against her. "You're a tease."

My hands slipped under her tank top, nails scratching down her back and over her stomach, "It's only teasing if I leave it at that. Just wait until we get ba-"

A loud voice interrupted the moment, annoyance crossing Alyssa's face as she stepped back slightly, but didn't let me go. "Oh my god! They really are together."

I groaned, turning to glare at Emily and Kelley, "Fuck off and stop ruining our anniversary."

Once they were out of sight again, I pulled myself out of the pool, Alyssa rest on my legs as I had done earlier. "What are you doing?"

I pulled the towel that I had hidden the little black box in closer. Inside was a a plain gold band with a round cut diamond. Alyssa didn't often wear jewelry and she liked simple things so I knew she would love it. "I have something for you."

"You waited until we were at the pool to give it to me?"

"Well it wasn't the original plan, but I got nervous." My fingers laced with hers, Alyssa looking up at me curiously. "Never in my life did I think I would fall for someone as hard or fast as I did with you. From the boring, quiet days at home spent doing housework or errands to the movie nights and dinner dates, I love living life with you. I love the adventures we've had, I love working with you, fuck, I just love being with you Alyssa. I look forward to every new day because I get to do it with you. With you by my side, anything is possible. This is a shit speech, but I'm nervous and you love me anyway."

Alyssa chuckled, tears already forming in her eyes before I revealed the little box. "I love you Alyssa, I love you so much more than I thought possible. I want to live life with you forever. With that being said, Alyssa Naeher will you marry me?"

Arms wrapped around my waist tightly, lips connecting with mine, in a soft, emotional kiss, "Yes, yes I will marry you Y/n."

I slipped the ring on her finger, connecting our lips again. Alyssa pulled away too soon for my liking, reaching for her own towel, pulling out a black box similar to the one I had moments before. Alyssa opened it, revealing a plain rose gold band with three small gems set into it. I soon realised it was both our birth stones and one I wasn't quite sure of. "You beat me to it, but will you marry me Y/n?"

"I suppose I can't say no seeing as I just gave you a ring."

Alyssa laughed, sliding the ring onto my finger before kissing me again. "These are our birthstones, what's this one?"

"When we first started dating."

"I love it, I love you."

A crash from behind us instantly caught our attention. About half the team stood there, sheepish smiles in place and a phone pointed in our direction. Seeing as they were caught, everyone started talking over each other, congratulations being thrown our way. I rolled my eyes, turning back to Alyssa. "Let's get out of here before they surround us. We have celebrating to do."

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #alyssa naeher x reader #alyssa naeher imagine

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tune-on-in-folks · 1 month ago

Note

Alastor with some degradation, please 🙏

Day 17, two days late yet again lmao. Today's prompt was degradation, I hope this is okay! I wasn't exactly sure how to go about this prompt. Enjoy!

Also if you think a fic needs a tag/warning, let me know!

Tags/Warnings: P in V sex, deal mention, rough sex, sex as punishment, questionable consent, degradation, Alastor calls reader whore + slut, face-fucking, creampie, fingering Word Count: 2,245

If there was one thing you absolutely loved doing, it was antagonizing Alastor. He just made it so easy to call him out on things. You enjoyed the back and forths you both engaged in often. Tonight was no different, you were sitting at the bar nursing your choice of poison when Alastor entered.

He said your name softly, taking a seat next to you. “Still drinking, I see.”

You roll your eyes, hiding your smile behind your glass. “And you’re still joining me.”

“Hmm, I suppose I am.” He acknowledges, bringing a freshly poured whiskey to his lips.

You finish off your own drink, turning to face Alastor. “You know if you keep hanging around me people are going to start thinking I have you on a leash or something.”

Radio static picks up around him, his eye twitching. But your focus is on Husk who had just dropped the glass he had been cleaning.

“Husk, are you okay?” You ask, tone switching from playful to concerned immediately.

He chuckles, “Yeah, I’m good. Wet hands and all, glass slipped.”

You are about to offer to grab the dustpan when Nifty comes in, quickly sweeping the glass away.

“Thank you, Nif.” Husk says, following after the one-eyed sinner. “Let me help you with that.”

As they disappear, you take a deep breath and turn back to Alastor, finally noticing his silent glowering. You open your mouth to finish your thought when your phone dings with a text from Husk.

Word of advice Kid? Don’t imply you have the Boss on a leash.

You frown at the message, finally finishing your thought to Alastor. “As I was saying, hanging around me all the time isn’t good for your image.”

You meet his gaze again, your brows furrowing. “I crossed a line with that comment didn’t I?”

The Radio Demon sighs, pinching his brow. “What did Husker say?”

You raise an eyebrow, “What did Husk say, when?”

“Your message, it’s from him isn't it?” He points out.

Surprise fills you. “I…didn’t know you knew my notification sounds.” You say softly, you had one for everyone in the Hotel, save him for obvious reasons.

You reply to his question before he can press further, “He was just telling me not to antagonize you too much.”

“Oh? Is that all?” Alastor replies sharply, his ire clear. “What were his exact words?”

You could see it in his eyes, in the tension in his shoulders that he was contemplating turning this towards Husk, much to your annoyance. You loved Alastor but you refused to allow him to punish your friends for something you had said.

“Yes.” You reply with the same level of bite. “Those were his exact words. But I don’t need Husk telling me, to know that I crossed a line. So how about you focus on me? I was the one who implied I had you on a leash.”

The radio static around Alastor picks up again, his smile straining at the end. “My dear, I suggest you stop talking.” He warns, his voice dripping with seriousness.

But you continue, trying to keep Alastor’s anger focused on you. “Hmm. I haven’t finished my drink yet, so you’re locked in this conversation with me. Unfortunately.”

Your smile is sharp and dangerous. “I adore you, Al. But I draw the line at you hurting my friends, especially if it’s for something I said. So punish me, not Husk.”

His eyes narrow as he stands up, reaching for your hand. A moment later you were both traveling through shadow. When you materialize again you land on his bed. Slightly disoriented, not having expected to be moved by Alastor’s shadow powers, you groan.

“Gods, Al, what the fuck?” You complain as you sit up. “That leash comment really bothers you that much?”

He advances on you, his anger clear. “I told you to stop talking.”

“No.” You shoot back, “you ‘suggested’ it. Are you telling me now?”

He grabs your arm roughly, pulling you off the bed. You flinch, not expecting Alastor to be so forceful, regardless of his anger. You were realizing that you had never truly angered him before, typically you both just engaged in a playful back and forth. This was different. This was genuine anger and you were quickly regretting pushing the topic. He forces you down to your knees, your skin scraping against the hardwood floor of his room. His fingers tangle in your hair, yanking your head back to force you to look up at him. At the same time his other hand unzipped his slacks, pulling out his hardening cock.

“No.” He replies with cold certainty. “I’m making you.”

You open your mouth only for him to shove his cock into it roughly. He groans softly, his grip on the back of your head tightens. You brace yourself against his thighs, not pushing away but also not pulling him closer. You met his glare head-on.

“This is a much better use for your mouth. I can’t hear any more of your insolent remarks.” He punctuates his words with a small thrust.

You swallow around his length, your tongue slowly moving against the underside of him. You weren’t going to pass up an opportunity to pleasure him, regardless of his upset. Alastor groans, rolling his hips again.

“You don’t know when to stop, do you?” He growls, “Such a brat.”

His words send a thrill straight to your core as he presses his cock deeper into your mouth. He pulls out only to thrust in deeper, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

“Always taunting me, sassing me. And now here you are, on your knees for me, sucking me off like a little slut.”

You moan around his length, your eyes never leaving him. Was this punishment? Because it sure as Hell didn’t feel like it. Not that you would tell Alastor that, besides you couldn’t, not with his cock in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks around his length, sucking, and swirling your tongue around him as he slowly fucks your mouth.

“Is that what you are, my darling little doe? A slut?”

You nod, reaching to touch his cock only for him to slap your hand away.

“Ah-ah-ah, only good girls get to touch. And you have been nothing but a bad girl tonight.”

He pulls from your mouth, pumping his length a couple of times, keeping a glare on you.

“I want you to strip.” He demands.

“Alastor-” You begin, not sure what you wanted to say to him.

His eyes narrow and he takes a step towards you, “Do as I tell you to, pet. Or I will broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear.”

You swallow, standing and quickly pulling your shirt off your head. You kick off your shoes while unzipping your pants. You let them fall to your feet, stepping out of them and pulling off your socks. You pause for a moment, hesitating slightly.

“All of your clothes.” He growls, idly spreading his precum around his cock.

You nod, slipping off your panties and then your bra. You stand in front of him, completely naked.

You try again, “Alastor, look I’m really sorry for-”

He pushes you down onto his bed, forcing your legs apart. He swipes his fingers up your slit, gathering up your growing arousal. You gasp at the sensation, meeting his gaze.

“Look at that, so wet for me. Does it turn you on for me to take control? To put you in your place?” He sneers, rubbing your clit softly. “Does it arouse you to be punished by me?”

“Al…” You whisper, “I didn't meant to-”

He thrusts his fingers inside you, curling them up to press against your g-spot. “You don’t ever shut up do you? What do you hope to gain from your continued taunting?”

Small moans and whimpers escape you, joining the lewd squelching of your wet cunt as he fingers you.

“Oh yes, I do prefer you like this. A compliant, quiet, little whore.”

You moan softly, your walls fluttering around his fingers. He pulls his fingers from your cunt suddenly, shoving them into your mouth to prevent you from speaking yet again. The sudden taste of yourself on your tongue has you closing your mouth around his fingers, sucking softly. You lap at his fingers, cleaning him of your fluids as he pumps his cock slowly.

“If you ever speak of my reaction you shall find yourself being punished.”

He shifts forward, running his cock through your slick folds, swirling the head against your clit. He pulls his fingers from your mouth as he positions himself at your entrance. He presses into you slowly, moaning as your tight walls squeeze him.

Alastor captures your mouth with his, silencing you from speaking, yet again. “Keep your insolent mouth free of any words. If I hear you speak, I will ensure you cannot walk for a week straight.”

You frown, biting your lip at his command. You had several things you wanted to say, but you kept quiet for the time being.

He chuckles softly, thrusting all the way inside you, “There we go, so you’re not completely useless. Perhaps there’s hope for you after all, my dear.”

You whimper, reaching towards his arms to brace yourself. Alastor’s eyes flash with annoyance, grabbing your wrists, he pins your hands above your head.

“What did I say about touching?” He growls, thrusting deeper inside you.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sharpness of his thrusts. He picks up the pace, fucking you hard and fast.

After a moment you mouth, “Can I at least say our safeword?”

He watches your mouth for a moment, his ear twitching as you repeat the words over until understanding shows in his eyes.

“Yes, my dear.” He finally replies, his voice a tad bit softer, “You may use our safeword.”

You smile, glad to know that even while upset at you, he wouldn’t ever abuse your trust.

“This may be punishment, my dear, but I would never push you past what I know you can handle.” He reassures you.

You nod, mewling when he picks up his pace, fucking you harder and faster. Your breath catches in your throat, your back arching as you meet him thrust for thrust. Alastor dips down, burying his face against your neck as he takes you.

“Look at you, falling apart on my cock already.” He groans against your ear. “Such a good little whore for me.”

He releases your hands, bracing himself above you as his other hand slips between your bodies to rub tight circles against your clit.

“If you ever”- He thrust into you harder- “imply that I’m on a leash again. I will make sure your screams and moans are broadcast for all of Hell.”

You moan softly, your walls squeezing around his cock as he threatens you.

“Though I suppose you’d like that, wouldn’t you, my little doe? Such a dirty girl, wanting all of Hell to know who owns you.”

You whimper, feeling the pleasure in your gut coil tighter with every word and every sharp thrust. His hips stutter, his pace faltering for a moment at how tightly you pulse around him.

He nips your ear sharply, “Cum for me, my little whore. I want everyone in this forsaken Hotel to know who’s fucking you. Who owns you.”

His words send you over your edge, your back arching as your body tenses from the effort of your release.

“Alastor!” You moan loudly, breaking his rule in favor of screaming his name.

A few sharp thrusts later and Alastor slams his cock as deep inside you as it can reach. Hot ropes of cum splash against your cervix as he paints your walls white. He was breathing hard as he pulled from you and collapsed beside you.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that, my dear.” He scolds softly.

You smile, “Hey it was either be quiet or let the entire Hotel know it was you making me scream.”

He hums, “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” You smile softly, resting your head against his chest. “You did.”

Silence falls between the two of you for a moment before you glance up at Alastor, meeting his gaze.

“You know I don’t care if you’re in a deal with someone, right? I don’t know what the reason is, but I trust your judgement. I trust you.”

Alastor meets your gaze, his smile straining again. “My dear, please drop it.”

You sit up, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I will. I just need you to know that I won’t hold it over you, and I promise I won’t mention it to anyone. But…please tell me if I need to know something about it, okay? Unfortunately for you, I care about you.”

He cups your face, resting his forehead against yours, “Quite unfortunate for me, indeed. A shame I return the sentiment.”

He presses another kiss to your lips. “You don’t need to know anything right now, little doe. That’s for your safety. Now, go to sleep. You deserve some rest after taking me so well.”

You give him a soft smile, settling back down against his chest. You weren’t truly satisfied with his answer, but with how he reacted, you knew it was better to drop it. You just hoped that one day, he’d trust you enough with the truth.

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explicit-tae · 1 month ago

Text

Ungodly Hour (Jimin)

I think you deserve a treat.” @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @babycandy111 @investedreader

Word Count: 7.081

Warning: dirty talk, sexting, cursing, jimin being in denial, hatefucking, slight enemies to friends to lovers??, kissing, semi-public sex, masturbation (f), oral sex, finger sucking, unprotected sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, face-slapping,

Kinktober Masterlist

“So,” Jungkook begins, lightly tapping his foot against the floor. “you pay for Onlyfans...”

“Shut,” Jimin’s teeth grits. “the fuck up.”

Jungkook roars with laughter, his head pushed back to let it out. Like clockwork, Taehyung begins to laugh which causes Hoseok, too, as well.

Jimin’s ears are red, just as his neck, with embarrassment.

This wasn’t the norm - he wasn’t the butt of jokes. Jungkook was and always has been. He doesn’t know how to handle the embarrassment. He does understand that he hates you with every fiber of his being.

Maybe hate was a strong word. Jimin didn’t hate you - you were, however, a rival of his.

You and your constant smart remarks underneath his tweets.

You always go against him in debates while in classes with such a condescending tone that has his hands clenching.

The way you post suggestive pictures on your twitter pages that doesn’t show everything, but just enough to have his mind wandering for more.

The way you tempt him with the link to your Onlyfans pinned on your profile that even he - someone who loathes you - has to check and see just how much of a mess you were.

The way that you weren’t a mess in the slightest and all of the free pictures you show only forces him to subscribe to you to see more; not because he thought you were attractive - just because he was a naturally nosy individual.

“I hate her.” Jimin says what he’s thinking aloud. “Because of that bitch, now I’m Jungkook.”

“A simp?” Taehyung questions with a raise of his eyebrow.

“You’re going to start barking next?” ask Hoseok.

“Okay,” Jungkook raises his hands in confusion. “why are we reverting the bullying back to me?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’m doing no such thing.” he hisses. “Okay, fine. I may have subscribed. I was bored.”

Hoseok snorts.

“So bored that you became her top earner in the last few months?” Jungkook was having entirely too much fun with this. Finally, he wouldn’t be the one laughed at. Sure, Jimin and you weren’t dating and probably never would - but no longer was he the only “simp” in the friend group.

“She’s lying!” Jimin scoffs - even if you weren’t. There were certain videos that in order to be unlocked, he had to pay for them. And how could he not when you made them entirely too enticing for him, showing only a few seconds of clips that would draw him in.

“The screenshots she posted aren’t lies.” Jungkook purses his lips to hide the smirk.

Jimin is silent for a moment, his hands tapping rhythmically onto his thigh. He snatches his phone from the side of the couch to see if what Jungkook was saying is true - and low and behold it was.

“That fucking bitch.” Jimin swallows, not believing that his life was going downhill. Everyone would see him as some sort of simp freak like Jungkook, but worse!

“I think you’ve met your match, hyung.” Jungkook roars with laughter again.

“Why did you provoke her if she had all this dirt on you?” Hoseok shakes his head.

“I didn’t think she’d know it was me!” Jimin throws his phone to the side. “Shouldn’t things like that be confidential?!”

Maybe it was dumb - he had signed up with his actual account. However, he figured that you wouldn’t be able to see that. That only meant you could see everything he sent you - the gifts from your wishlist were probably the worse ones.

Jimin was feeling sick.

“It was confidential. Until you provoked her.”

Jimin licks his lips and rolls his eyes.

“You know this is normal, right? I mean…” Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “You’re attracted-”

Jimin scoffs loudly. “As if.”

“Jimin,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We’ve seen how much you spent on her. Literally.” he begins to chuckle. “And that’s okay.”

“Yeah, it is!” Jungkook nods his head encouragingly.

Jimin swallows. No, it wasn’t okay. If Jungkook was agreeing with him about something then that only meant that he was slowly becoming like the younger boy. Soon it’ll be Jimin obsessing over what you’re doing, and how much he wants to see you and-

Jimin gags.

Honestly fuck you and everything you stand for.

And even if that’s what Jimin stood by, even now as he lays in his bed staring up at the ceiling. His mind wanders to you, as disgusted as he was at the fact.

Jimin snatches his phone from his nightstand and he’s determined.

Fuck you for embarrassing him, truly. He was going to unsubscribe from you and then you wouldn’t have anything. It serves you right for attempting to humble him.

Jimin opens his phone with every attempt to unsubscribe from your Onlyfans and save him the embarrassment until a message pops onto his phone from a number he doesn’t recognize.

Curiosity gets the best of him and Jimin clicks the message. His eyes widen and it doesn’t take long for him to feel the erection through his pajama pants.

It was you. How you got his number, he’s unsure. Yet, you seem to have gotten closer to Jungkook’s girlfriend - someone else who irks his soul - and just maybe you’ve gotten it from her.

You had sent him a picture.

Of course, it wasn’t just any picture. It couldn’t be just any picture that would allow his cock to grow hard in seconds and his palms to grow sweaty.

It was a picture of you in the very same lingerie you had in your wishlist - the very same one he bought for you.

By now, Jimin knows your body. He’s become more than acquainted with the shape of your hips along with the plumpness of your breast; even the softness of your smooth skin. It’s pathetic, truly, and he’s grown ashamed of himself.

It’s a lilac color that he knew would look amazing against your skin - and it does. It’s a lacy fabric so he could just see how erect your nipples were and how it clung to the shape of your body.

Jimin is unaware how long he’s staring at the picture until you send him another message.

‘I think you deserve a treat.’

Jimin swallows thickly, finding that his throat is dry and he is in serious need of some water. He coats his lips with his tongue, his eyes trained onto the picture, contemplating if he should respond to you or not.

You were the reason for every irritation currently in his life - exposing him as some sort of horny loser that dotted on your every command. As if he was a sort of dog that humps your leg needily!

But…this picture.

Jimin would be lying if he said the picture of you didn’t cause his already sweaty palm to grip his cock entirely through his pajama pants, mind racing if he should allow you to consume him once more. He was on a mission to humble you the best way he knew how - by unsubscribing. But here you were, as if knowing his plans, sending him pictures that would surely cause him to become distracted.

Jimin is startled when his phone begins to sound loudly, your number on his caller id, as if taunting him even further. Jimin doesn’t answer it instantly, not wanting you to know just how stuck on his phone you had him.

“What do you want?”

Jimin can hear his heart pounding in his chest as he awaits your response. He attempts to sound annoyed with you and he ponders if you know that it’s all an act.

“Jimin…”

Jimin feels the hair on his arms stiffen and rise, as if a cold breeze just runs through his body entirely. The way you say his name, so sickly sweet and yet, a hint of something sinister underneath.

“Are you upset with me, Jimin?”

Jimin swallows, his hand squeezing his phone tighter in his hand. You rarely say his name to begin with so to hear it come directly from your sweet lips causes something to go through him. Maybe it’s because Jimin knows just how sweet your voice is - how lust-filled the moans you release through them.

But, Jimin understands that you cannot know just how much he is affected by you. He won’t allow you to have the upper hand. You won the battle, sure, by embarrassing him. However, the war was his to accomplish.

“I am.” Jimin grunts. “You’re a bitch.”

Jimin hears you laugh behind the phone and his heart jolts in excitement.

“We both knew that.” you say coolly. “Isn’t that what excites you?”

Jimin scoffs.

“Don’t act all high and mighty, Jimin.” you respond. “You watch me fuck myself faithfully. That has to excite you somehow.”

Jimin’s eyes widen a bit, mentally cursing himself for allowing you to gain the upper hand.

“Not anymore.”

“Ah, so you’re that upset, huh?”

You don’t seem bothered by Jimin stating that he’s going to unsubscribe to your godforsaken onlyfans and inside, he’s seething.

“So upset that you vowed to stop jerking off to me?”

Jimin scoffs. The nerve of you!

“You’re going to lie and say I didn’t give you the best nut of your life behind a screen?” you begin to laugh, a melodic tune that infuriates him to no end. “You’re embarrassed to know that Jungkook isn’t the only one simping.”

“Like I’d ever truly simp for you!” Jimin snaps, nearly barking right into the phone. “A whore like you should be thankful that I would even give you my money. I saw you as nothing but a charity case.”

You’re silent on the other end, eerily so. Jimin takes a few moments to collect himself, contemplating that maybe his ego got the best of him for a moment. He licks his lips, his mind pondering if he should…apologize. He wants to gag.

“You must live alone with all that hollering you’re doing over the phone.”

Your tone is as nonchalant as ever and deep down, Jimin is glad that he hadn’t taken it too far to truly upset you.

“And here I was calling you to make sure I didn’t bruise your ego too much.” you tsk. “Looks like I did.”

You begin to giggle again. Your attitude strikes a nerve through him that only you ever hit. The flashbacks running through his mind of all the times you and he went at it - debates, during class presentations, under tweets and even now. You got off on irritating him just the same as he got off from you.

“I wanted to make it up to you.”

Jimin furrows a brow at that statement.

“Make it up to me how? Beg me not to unsubscribe?”

Jimin hears you snicker from behind the phone. “No. You can unsubscribe right now.” you say, yet again with little care that it strikes yet another nerve through him. “But, we both know if you wanted to, you would have already.”

Jimin hates how right you are. He doesn’t want to stop the endless amount of pictures and videos you share, especially the exclusive ones that have to be bought. Money isn’t an issue for Jimin and he found that he’s spent an insane amount on you already - no wonder you’re such a bitch. How could you take him seriously if he wasn’t even taking himself seriously now.

Jimin groans.

“How are you planning on making it up to me?” Jimin questions. “Publicly apologizing to me and admitting you’re inferior to me-”

“By allowing you to fuck me raw.” you interrupt him entirely, causing Jimin to choke on his own speech. Once more, the phone tightens in his grasp and his breathing hitches. “Of course, you’ll need to share your STD results and I’ll share mine-”

“What the fuck are you getting at?” Jimin hisses, his heart pounding. Surely you were attempting to embarrass him by seeing how fast he’d react to your insane comments.

“Are you saying you don’t want to fuck me?” you hum. “After all the times you’ve watched my videos? Sent me gifts? Or was I just a charity case?”

Jimin takes a deep breath. Okay, sure. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that - but he was upset at the moment. He has never met anyone where he felt as though he’s met his match. Him, Park Jimin, felt like you, Y/L Y/N, matched his energy so perfectly that he doesn’t know how to handle it.

“You don’t have to do this because you feel like you have to.” Jimin murmurs, unclenching his phone slightly. It’s an act of kindness he’s supposed he can spare towards you.

“I know.”

For a moment, the both of you are silent. He waits in anticipation for you to speak further.

“I’ll text you my results and you do the same.”

Jimin feels it once more, the jump in his stomach. He never truly thought either of you would get to this point, nor does he understand how it even got here.

“You actually want to do this?”

“It was bound to happen.”

Jimin knits his brows at that. Was it?

Once Jimin joined your onlyfans and witnesses just how, dare he say, enticing you were, he was ashamed to say that he was captivated.

Possibly that was why he had to antagonize you during classes; an act you returned without an issue.

One too many times did Jimin and you go at it during classes, far too enthralled in debating one another, did his mind wander to something darker. Bending you over and forcing you to shut up like he wanted you to was one way.

Taking a deep breath, Jimin licks his lips. “Just for one night…” you begin, a tone that catches Jimin’s ear, causing it to twitch. “...I’ll do as you say.”

“What makes someone worthy of leading?”

Class is nearly over, yet Jimin and you never halted your debate. Overtime, it became practical that even the professor enjoyed listening in on.

“The true question is, why would someone want to lead anything?” you ask with a tilt of your head. You wore a skirt today, Jimin notes, and your legs are smooth and shiny beneath the classroom's bright lights. “I believe it is because they’re narcissistic.”

“Narcissistic?” Jimin scoffs with a roll of his eyes. He catches the way you begin to coat your lips with a shimmery gloss.

“Yes, Jimin. Is that a big word for you?” you blink his way.

A few snicker sounds throughout the class and Jimin could only give you a short grin. Later, he was going to have you shut the fuck up like he truly wanted you to.

“Money. Power. Respect.” you hold up your fingers as you list off your point. “It all leads down to greed and narcissism.”

“So…regular humans?” Jimin furrows a brow. “Please name me someone that doesn’t require anything you listed off.”

You lean back against your chair, arms crossed.

The past week, Jimin and you continued to talk over the phone. It wasn’t always sexual, and oftentimes it would be about school. The time clock was ticking down to the time you and him would be together - the weekend was what he suggested. Still, the show must go on; even if you were determined to fuck his brains out.

“Beyond popular belief, Jimin,” you begin, your eyes shining with mischief. You know what saying his name does to him and there was nothing a little teasing would harm. “there’s people out there that aren’t fueled by greed.”

“Maybe so.” Jimin shrugs. “Still, whoever the hell those people are possibly think they’re the best, right? They believe they’re the best type of people to do the job? Is that not narcissistic?”

“Those people could want it more than others do.” you respond with a shrug.

An alarm sounds - placed by the professor that indicates when classes are over.

Taehyung watches from his seat as Jimin and you continue to stare at one another, hard gazes that are full of lust that he wants to scoff. He believes that the both of you need to fuck it out - immediately.

You gather your things, being the first to take your eyes away.

Jimin watches the way your hips sways as you saunter away, your legs appearing longer than usual. Taehyung notices the dark look in his eyes - more than lust, yet not pure hatred.

“You, my good sir,” Taehyung slams a hand on his friend's shoulder. “want to fuck her so bad.” he says with a loud cackle. “The sexual tension is high as hell. You got the rest of us horny and-”

“Shut the fuck up, please.” Jimin snaps, shrugging off Taehyung’s hand. Usually he wasn’t this snappy with him of all people and truly, Taehyung doesn’t take it to offense. “I hate her.”

“Sure.” Taehyung smirks, his eyes following Jimin’s gaze right in time for you to turn your head to look their way; directly at Jimin. “I’m positive she hates you, too.”

“Fucking bitch.” Jimin murmurs, gathering his own belongings. He continues to murmur beneath his breath, storming out of the classroom and going the opposite way of Taehyung.

Jimin’s eyes catch you almost instantly in the sea of scattering students. Once more, almost as if you can sense his hard eyes on you, you turn your head to look at him. You flash him a low smirk that only begins to irritate him more.

You enjoyed irking him, Jimin’s sure. You don’t stop walking, turning down hallways that no one but Jimin steps into until you step into a classroom, closing the door right behind you.

You’re seated on a desk when Jimin slams the door open, uncaring that it slams against the wall.

You snicker. “Jimin.” you say, tilting your head. “You following me?”

Jimin steps inside, shoulders relaxing a bit. You scan his appearance for the first time. Simpler than he usually wears, only dark jeans with rips at the knees with a similar dark shirt. It resembles the way Jungkook would usually wear, you note.

“You’re a bitch.”

You aren’t taken aback by Jimin’s words. It causes you to laugh, highly amused by his statement.

“I know. That’s what you like about me, huh?” you bat your eyelashes as Jimin proceeds to close the door behind him. “You look so tense, Jimin, what’s-”

“You love embarrassing me.” Jimin interrupts, taking a long stride towards you. “It must make your pussy wet when you talk shit to me.”

You remain silent, yet your smile never falters.

“You told me, Y/N, that for one night,” Jimin is in front of you, your legs lightly swinging. “you were going to shut the fuck up.”

“For one night, I’ll do as you say.” you repeat your words from a few days prior. Your hand reaches out to touch Jimin’s chest. It’s broad, only slightly surprising you. “Is what I said.”

“And yet, you haven’t done anything.”

“You haven’t told me to do anything.” your responses come immediately after he speaks, just as quick witted as he is.

“Hm.” Jimin glances around the classroom. It doesn’t look like any professor inhabits this room. The lights are flickering slightly and the surrounding tables have slight dust on them. “Pick your poison.”

You lick your lips. Your hand remains on his chest, this time clenching onto his shirt.

“You’re the one that’s supposed to be in charge.” you murmur. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Jimin blinks towards you. You’re serious, he notes.

“I need to know what not to do.” Your hand unclenches his shirt to slightly trail down his chest towards his abs.

“I’ll let you know when we get there, yeah?” you say, eyes remaining on him almost innocently. If only he didn’t know just how lack of innocence you truly contained.

Jimin hums, tilting his head a bit.

It would be a lie to say Park Jimin wasn’t attractive - which is why you never did. However, you weren’t going to be a part of the women who adored him. He already had a large ego and enough sass.

Possibly this was one of the reasons why you decided to go against him in anything he did.

“Kiss me.”

Jimin’s lips are plump - you always thought so. Though now, you would have never thought he would demand you to do so. Kissing felt slightly more intimate than just a casual hookup, but you didn’t mind.

You scoot yourself closer to the edge of the desk towards Jimin, lifting your head a bit. Your trailing hand is quick to grasp the back of Jimin’s neck and force him down towards your waiting lips.

Dare Jimin says the kiss causes a spark, shooting electricity through his veins that causes him to groan against your lips. He deepens the kiss, your sweet lips coating his own with the shimmery gloss, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

You break the kiss to sink your teeth on Jimin’s bottom lip playfully. “You get a pass to do whatever you want to me and all you want to do is kiss?” you tease.

“I like you better when you’re quiet.” Jimin pecks your lips again. “But a bitch like you never knows when to shut up.” And yes, it was what Jimin liked about you.

“Degradation kink. Noted.” you nod your head, earning a soft chuckle from Jimin, a break of character. “I’ll be your bitch for tonight. Then…” it was your turn to press a kiss against his lips. “...it’ll be my turn.”

Jimin feels an excited jump in his stomach.

“My bitch?”Jimin isn’t sure why he likes the sound of that. Maybe because now he could do what he always wanted to you and you’d do as he said; finally. You wouldn’t go against him like you did during classes or embarrass him in front of others.

“Touch yourself.”

You’re taken aback by Jimin’s request. He proceeds to take a few steps back, sitting against a table with crossed arms.

“Get naked and touch yourself. Like you do on your onlyfans.”

Your body engulfs in warmth. You were by no means embarrassed by the fact that you had an onlyfans; most people who knew you knew that you did. If they were bothered by it, you didn’t care.

Yet, it was different recording yourself in the comfort of your own home and uploading it. You never really know how many people are watching you as you didn’t want to think about the amount of eyes; yet even now as Jimin was only one person, it’s a request you weren’t familiar with.

“Don’t act shy now, Y/N.” Jimin’s plump lips form into a smirk. He notices the look upon your face, shocked and confused. “I watched you fuck yourself all the time.”

It’s just the two of you here. There was no hiding - initially, Jimin thought him being subscribed to you would be confidential. Now realizing that it’s not, he finds it…hot. In a way.

You swallow the lump in your throat, biting back a snarky remark.

You were his bitch tonight, you tell yourself. It’s all a game that you initiated, you can’t back down now.

You lift your shirt over your head, Jimin’s dark eyes watching the way you discard it. Your breasts are guarded by the lacy, white bra you wore.

Next was your skirt. You drop yourself from the desk to remove the jean skirt from your frame, revealing the matching lacy panties. Jimin begins to think you planned this further ahead than he thought.

You kick off your shoes, furrowing a brow at Jimin.

“Touch yourself.” Jimin repeats, a jolt in his own pants at the half-naked sight of you. His mouth salivates at witnessing your body - that he’s seen thousands of times before behind his screen - right in front of him. “The old fashion way. You don’t have any of your toys, baby.”

The pet-name was new. You were only ever used to the insults he hurled at you (that you gladly returned) yet it would be false if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

“Can you help me?” you ask Jimin, batting your eyelashes. You just couldn’t help yourself in returning his playful manner. “Take off my bra…?”

“Come.”

Your skin is soft, Jimin thinks. His hand ghosts behind your back, longing to touch you just as much as you want him to. His fingers unclasp your bra prior to him trailing up your spine to your shoulders. He lightly pushes away the straps from them so you can allow it to fall to the ground.

“Thank you.” you murmur, your fingers digging into your panties as slowly, you begin to remove them, bending right in front of him as you do so.

Jimin swallows, his eyes fixed on you. His palms long to touch every inch of your body, but he remains stoic, understanding what you’re doing. It kills you to be the submissive one now, as you are a headstrong person.

“You’re very beautiful, Y/N.”

Jimin notices you stiffen again, the same shyness overwhelming you once more.

“Why are you continuing to act shy?” Jimin finally touches you, his hand reaches out to place itself onto your waist. “It’s just me.” he says, as if this is something you two did all the time. As if you and he hadn’t gone at each other's head since the beginning of the semester, seemingly hating one another.

You feel Jimin’s hand begin to lightly drag itself up your body.

“Is this not what you want?”

“I do.” you respond instantly, the familiar heat rushing throughout your body by how quick you answered.

“Then do as I say. You said so yourself, right? Tonight you’ll be my bitch.” Jimin chuckles lightly, because that only meant next time he would be in your position. “And I want to watch you touch yourself, okay?”

You bite the inside of your lips as Jimin’s right hand ghosts past your breast. Slowly, you turn around to face him.

“Okay.” you nod your head. It’s funny to think that Jimin is coaching you in a way. You, the same girl who does this behind a screen every other day.

You had to remind yourself just who the hell you were - Y/N. You never allowed Jimin to get to you before, why start now?

You seat yourself atop of the desk once more, fully naked like Jimin intended and your legs part slightly.

Jimin licks his lips. Having seen your pussy many times you’d think it wouldn’t cause him to react this way; mouth salivating and cock throbbing in his pants. Atlas, he was just a man, after all.

You were about to place your hand right onto your clit when Jimin stopped you.

“You don’t have any toys with you.” Jimin reminds you. “You sure you’re wet enough?”

You were, Jimin thinks, truly wet enough. He can see you from here, yet he has to revel in this moment that you weren’t going to fight him.

Jimin begins to step forward, your eyes watching him closely.

“Give me your hand.” Jimin murmurs, his voice suddenly deeper - the deepest you’ve ever heard.

You swallow, eyes slightly widening at the sound (and how it causes a tingle in your core). You do as you say, lifting your hand that Jimin takes. He places three fingers into his mouth, your index, middle and ring, and fully coats them with his tongue.

You haven’t had anyone do this before and you’re left shocked - and more than a little aroused. He takes them from his mouth and furrows a brow at you.

“Begin.” Jimin says, and nothing more.

Nor does the man step away from you. Jimin is just as close, now fully intended on watching you from where he stands.

Jimin was getting off on this. The slight nervousness in your body language, the bewildered look on your face and the warmth of your embarrassed skin; it’s a sight he never gets to see while bickering with you in classes. It’s a vulnerable sight, indeed, one he wishes he can see more often.

Licking your lips, you nod your head softly. Your eyes remain on his, reaching between your legs to do exactly what he told you to. You’re already wet thanks to Jimin, a thought you never would have assumed to be possible.

Your wet fingers twirl onto the sensitive clit, a soft moan passing your lips. Slightly, your back arches and draws you closer to Jimin, who still doesn’t step away as his eyes watch you.

You’re unable to hold Jimin’s intense gaze any longer and your eyes begin to flutter close.

Your free hand reaches upwards to grip your breast, hardened nipple brushed against your soft palm.

Jimin itches to touch you - feel your skin against the palm of his own hands. His mouth salivates hungrily to taste your skin; suckle onto your breast that bounces teasingly as you touch yourself. He wants to dive right between your legs and ravish on your pussy until you’re cumming against his tongue.

Jimin groans at the disgusting thoughts of you. It’s evident that the sexual desire was there before; for quite too long for his liking. Him watching your damn near daily didn’t help, either.

“Feels good?” Jimin murmurs, the same damn deep tone in his voice that arouses you further. “Speak when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes!” you whimper out, nodding your head rapidly. “Feels…so good.”

“You speak dirtier than that, baby.” Jimin chuckles, shaking his head. Without warning - his body speaks before his mind can - Jimin grasps your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Talk to me like you do during your videos.”

You were a whore when you were in the comfort of your room. You spoke to your “viewers” as if you were right there with them, giving them what they wanted. A dirty whore who was willing and waiting; all a fantasy of course. A fantasy that sells.

“I wish it was your fingers touching me.”

Jimin grunts, his fingers tightening around your jaw. Your eyes are as cloudy as his now.

“I think about you touching me…all the time…” you disclosed with struggle as Jimin makes no attempt to let you go. “Especially when we’re in class.”

Jimin quirks a brow. “Yeah?” he responds smugly.

“Y-Yeah…” your fingers go lower towards your clenching hole. “I-I think about you bending me over all the time. Right in front of everyone.”

Jimin is first to look away from you, cursing to himself at how slutty you were. He couldn’t allow you to take control of the situation, but damn was it hard. He wouldn’t consider himself a dominant person at all times. He had no problem with being teased - but that wasn’t what had to be done now.

“I think about you fucking me stupid.” you continue, your fingertips inching closer to your hole. “Fucking me until i’m begging you to stop. To take it easy on me.”

Fuck - Fuck - Fuck.

Jimin’s cock throbs.

“But I know you won’t…you never do.” you whimper, your fingers plunging inside of your wet entrance. “And deep down, we both know I don’t want you to. I’ll continue to be a little bitch to you because I know you’ll just fuck me into submission.”

Jimin releases your jaw only to slap you.

You’re caught off guard, sure, but you enjoyed the slap far too much.

“That’s why you fight me so much?” Jimin hisses. “A bitch like you can never just admit she wants to be fucked head-on?”

You lick your lips, remaining silent. You plunge your fingers deeper inside of you greedily, free hand now tugging on your hardened nipple.

“I should open the door and have everyone hear just how good I fuck you, huh?” Jimin growls, again slapping his hand against your face just to keep it there. The stinging feels good - especially at a time like this.

You whimper once more, nodding your head at the insane statement.

Jimin chuckles. “So fucked out that you’ll agree to anything.”

Jimin leans down to you to connect his lips, forcing your mouth open with his tongue. Kissing you isn’t something he’d ever thought he’d enjoy doing - he hated you. But, this was hot. You were hot and now more than anything, Jimin wanted every inch of you that you were willing to give.

“You can fuck me right now.” you say, breathing hitched when he releases your mouth. “And I’ll be submissive. I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

Your fingers weren’t enough. No, you needed Jimin’s cock in you. You needed to be fucked by him to release all the tension you and he held for years.

“You can cum wherever you want.” you whisper, breath tickling his skin. “On my ass…breast…face…” your teeth clamp down on Jimin’s bottom lip. “...or inside me.”

Jimin shakes his head. You were a deadly person.

“Feel it…” you insist. “...I’m wet just for you.

“You fucking bitch.” Jimin curses, his hands reaching down to do just that. You’re so wet that he has no choice but to hate you further - how could he not want to shove his tongue in your core? How is he expected to not fuck you in the room?

“...So wet now. You want my cock this bad?”

Jimin’s fingers twirls on your clit, the warm skin gushing juices onto him.

“You know I do.” you whine. You were genuinely begging now; this wasn’t an act anymore. “I thought you said you were going to make me your bitch tonight?”

“We have all night.” Jimin responds boldly, leaning away a bit to look at you.You were intended to come to his place - this was a silent invitation that you still could.

“Then fuck me now.” you say, head falling back a bit when Jimin’s fingers twirl onto your sensitive clit. “...f-fuck…then…you can fuck me again all night. Until you’re done with m…m-me.”

Jimin growls once more, swallowing thickly. This was too tempting. The chance to fuck you into submission the entire night is tempting - take years of anger he had with you out on one night sounded amazing.

“You bitch.” Jimin hisses, forcing his hands from your clit to tug at his jeans. He pulls them down, his bulge pulsing to be touched. “I’ll cum all over your skin tonight, huh? Show you just how much of a fucking whore you are for me.”

Licking your lips, you eye the bulge as he kicks his jeans lower around his knees. His dirty words are highly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting to be submissive for the man; just for one night, of course.

“I’ll cum inside you now,” Jimin groans, fingers digging into the bang of his boxers to push it down and allowing his cock to spring out. “and you’ll walk around with my cum in you all the way until tonight.”

You had to be at work later, you think, but right now it felt tempting. The way the mind works while under such desire and temptation is truly amazing.

“Okay.” you nod your head, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing and wishing it was Jimin’s cock.

Jimin’s cock was truly pretty, the tip flushed pink and angrily oozing pre-cum. You hate how it captivates you instantly, veins pulsing and it twitching for attention.

Fuck you hated him even more now and the feeling was mutual.

Jimin grasps the length of his cock and inches closer to you, slapping the tip against your clit. You yelp when he begins to softly stroke it between your folds.

“I hate you.” Jimin groans, clouded eyes focusing on how well your pussy is coating the tip. “You have such a pretty pussy…fuck I hate you.” he groans with a shake of his head. It’s even prettier in person

You want to respond with the same statement. It wasn’t fair that Jimin’s cock was so pretty along with an attractive face, but you don’t have time to speak as he’s entering you.

Jimin groans, closing his eyes for a moment. So wet and tights; walls so warm wrapping around him greatly. He hated you with every fiber in him. A bitch like you shouldn’t have a pussy like this.

Your nails dig into his dark shirt, forcing him closer - cock deepening inside of you. Your thighs quiver, mouth agape as you release a sharp moan from it. “...f-fuck…” you stutter.

Jimin connects your lips to his, releasing his cock just to plunge it right back inside of you. His left wraps itself around your waist while his right hand forces your thighs apart to keep you in place.

Jimin quickened his pace, tip scraping against your walls greedily, and you allowed it. He disconnects your lips to let out a hushed moan, forehead pressed against your own. He wants to be quiet, sure, but that meant he couldn’t fuck you the way he needed to and that wasn’t an option now.

“Shit…” Jimin grunts, nails digging into your thighs. “...fuck you feel so good. You’re such a bitch, Y/N, you don’t deserve to have a pussy this good.”

“Fuck you.” you hiss, clenching around his cock as he pounds it inside of you. It causes Jimin to gasp. You wrap both of your arms around his neck.

Jimin does, thrusts increasing as if to punish you. He lifts his head from touching your forehead to look right at your fucked out expression.

“Milking my cock like a whore. If this is what you wanted the entire time that’s all you had to say” Jimin grumbles, the room erupting in wet skin slapping against one another. He sure hopes no one comes down this hallway.

“You been wanting to fuck me, too.” you retort, head falling back to moan. He fucks you so deeply that your clit rubs against his pelvis each time - and each time did you whimper a little louder. “You’re the one fucking me like you love me.”

Jimin groans, now wrapping his right hand around your waist to keep you still as he continues to pound inside of you.

“I hate you.” Jimin spits, venom laced in his voice.

“I hate you, too.” you repeat, still pulling him closer while you continue to milk his cock. “I still want your cum in me.”

From the outside looking in - if people didn’t know you and Jimin were sworn enemies since the beginning of the school year - it did appear as if he felt some sort of compassion towards you. The way he refuses to let you go as he pounds inside of you, the way your arms wrap firmly around his neck. The little pecks of kisses here and there where you two would groan into one another’s mouth. The short breathy questions of “do you like it, baby?” Jimin would ask and the little, “yes, so much” you would respond with.

It truly didn’t appear like two enemies who hated the other’s soul would fuck so passionately. Yet, this sexual tension was years in the making. Jimin wouldn’t admit that he found you attractive prior to him subscribing to you just like you wouldn’t either.

“Play with yourself while I fuck you.” says Jimin, lips against yours. “Cum all over my cock like I know you’ve been desperate to do.”

“You never get tired of watching me play with myself.” you joke, but you didn’t protest the matter. You unhook your arms from Jimin’s neck and he allowed you to lay back a bit so you could.

“Isn’t that what I pay you monthly for?” Jimin retorts smugly, his eyes watching as you place your fingers back onto your already sensitive clit. “Those gifts you get aren’t cheap.”

You know, you think. The lingerie set is the finest quality you’ve ever received - you wouldn’t tell him that, however.

“I know…” you sigh out, fingers twirling rapidly onto your clit. “Thank you.”

Knitting his brows, Jimin scoffs. That’s the first time he’s heard you thank him.

Jimin decides to ignore you instead of telling you that he had more lingerie sets he thought would look nice on you. Then he’d sound like Jungkook - and he wasn’t a simp like him.

Your pussy was taking him far too well, Jimin grunts. There’s milky cream gushing onto his cock as he watches you, thrust turning sloppy. Your pussy clenches and unclenches around him while your thighs shake to be shut - something he wasn’t going to allow.

You’re cumming hard, your fluttering shut as your fingers lazily rub along onto your clit for added overstimulation. Your voice is a mere hushed whisper of “oh my god’s” and “fuck’s” that has Jimin going over the edge of how fucking whorish you look and sound; and the fact that it was him having you like this.

“Gonna cum in you…” Jimin groans, squeezing his eyes shut as he coats your womb entirely with his cum.

Your back hits the cold desk, chest heaving. Your body is entirely warm and the cool surface does nothing to lower your body temperature. You can feel the warm substance of his cum inside of you and you swallow.

Jimin’s head falls back as he attempts to catch his breath. He releases himself from you, assuring that you didn’t fall off the desk when he takes a step back

The high dies down and the two of you are quiet for the most part. Jimin pulls his pants back up and glances your way.

“Are you okay?” Jimin brings himself to say, slightly through gritted teeth. You haven’t moved from the desk yet.

“Yes.” you respond meekly.

Jimin scoffs. He picks up your discarded clothes from the ground and places them beside you. Jimin gives you a quick glance. “There’s…this cafe.” he grits once more, as if it was hurting him to speak with you. “That we can go to.”

“Good pussy got you asking me out on a date?” you ask, a teasing tone in your voice that has you giggling after you speak. You lift yourself into a seated position to look at the man.

“Fuck you.” Jimin hisses, a tint to his cheeks. “Good dick had you sprawled out on the desk.” he retorts. “It’s not a date, either.”

“Good, because,” you smile. “I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.” Jimin shrugs, a twitch upward of his own lips.

Kinktober Masterlist | Ungodly Hour Masterlist

#ungodly hour #jimin x reader #jimin smut #bangtanwritershq #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #btsmasterlist2022 #bts smut #btswritingcafe #bts college au #explicit-tae #trivia-yandere #kinktober 2024 #kinktober masterlist

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allmoshnobrain · 2 months ago

Text

After a bad date leaves you with a twisted ankle, your quiet but protective roommate steps in to help.

✦ on this fic: simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, fluff, mentions of alcohol and a twisted ankle

✦ a/n: alright so this may or may be not based on my weekend lol i do love the roommate dynamics so if you guys have any suggestions or ideas for this au feel free to send me an ask! hope you enjoy the read 🖤

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Tell me how much it hurts,” he says, lightly pressing his fingers against your swollen skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, glancing down at him as he kneels in front of the couch, his fingers brushing over your ankle. He’s not being rough, you’re just in pretty bad shape right now.

“It hurts,” you say, keeping it simple, and he scoffs softly at the obvious answer. “I think it’s kinda swollen.”

“You think?” your roommate lets go of your foot, standing up and raising an eyebrow at you. “Remind me again how this happened, sweetheart.”

You blush. It’s Sunday morning, sunny, with a soft breeze coming in through the living room window. A perfect day for a walk, to get some fresh air — except you’re stuck on the couch with a twisted ankle, thanks to last night’s drinking that got a bit out of hand.

“I was out drinking with a date,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up. “But I didn’t really eat much yesterday, so I guess I… overdid it. He was walking me home, and I tripped and twisted my ankle.”

“And what did he do?” Simon asks, sitting down next to you on the couch. You let out a soft noise as he gently grabs your legs, putting them on his lap. One hand rests on your knee, his thumb lazily drawing small circles on your skin.

“He wanted to call an ambulance, but I thought that was a bit much. So I just had him help me up, and we walked back. We weren’t far anyway.”

“You had to walk with a twisted ankle,” he said in that flat tone that made it obvious he was annoyed — not with you, but probably with your date. “Why didn’t he just carry you?”

“I don’t think he could… I’m too heavy,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“I can carry you just fine,” he grumbles. “What are you doing going out with guys who can’t even carry you?”

You don’t respond, just lean your head back against the couch and close your eyes. You can feel Simon’s hand still on your knee — his skin is rough but warm. He’d come home from whatever he’d been up to on Saturday night, only to find you passed out on the couch with a very obviously swollen and painful ankle.

Simon was a quiet, reserved roommate, and he wasn’t really around much, but that didn’t mean you two hadn’t built your own kind of intimacy over the last two years of living together. So, when he saw you were hurt, he took it upon himself to check things out. You’d told him it was just a twisted ankle and a moral hangover. Nothing too serious. But clearly, he didn’t think it was as "nothing" as you made it sound.

“I’m sure he’s never gonna want to see me again,” you mumble, eyes still closed. Simon’s thumb stops moving on your skin, a clear sign he heard you.

“Who?” he asks. You open your eyes to find him staring right at you, eyes serious and focused.

“My date.”

“Good,” Simon mutters. “He couldn’t even take care of you after you got hurt. Should’ve carried you upstairs, helped you clean up.”

“I can take care of myself just fine,” you say, a little defensive, which makes him chuckle.

“Yeah? Then why are you still stuck on this couch instead of upstairs getting a shower and some proper rest?” He smirks, and you just roll your eyes without answering.

“Where would you even be without me?” he sighs, standing up. You let out a small, surprised noise as he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, holding you close. You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle, the sudden move and how close he is making your heart race. “You’re lucky you’ve got me, princess.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, but you can’t help closing your eyes and letting out a small, relieved sigh.

Because yeah, you know you are.

#ada writes fanfiction #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader

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trippinsorrows · 3 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + fifteen

authors note: next chapter will be a lot heavier, because we see shit play out. italicized dialogue indicates that spanish is being spoken.

ya'll better not come for me after this one either, okay! 😭

just know the plot is plotting, ya'll

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, angst, roman being a dick to anyone other than his wife, and violence

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k

The newly opened doors of intimacy have awakened a previously dormant part of Solana.

Something she previously thought impossible to access, permanently damaged as a result of her trauma.

But, she was wrong.

So, so wrong.

Roman is everything she never allowed herself to dream about having, let alone actually hoped to have in real life.

Caring, considerate, gentle, patient.

Their first time together is something she’ll never forget and always cherish. But, it’s the times afterwards, sporadic over the past two days since the consummation, that have almost meant something more.

A testament to her comfort and trust in him.

Of her love for him.

Sitting in bed, in between his legs, leaning into his strong body with nothing but the thin 600 thread count sheets covering them, Solana sketches, no particular drawing in mind, just whatever is felt in that moment. And what’s felt is the image and scenery of the water, of the beauty that is Isla Mujeres. Her mom was right. There’s nothing like it.

“I think—I think I want to come back here sooner rather than later.” Solana finds herself partially wondering aloud but also wanting to pick her husband’s brain. “I know you probably won’t be able to come, and that’s okay. Maybe…maybe Bayley can come with me?” It’s both a suggestion and a question.

Roman makes a sound against her, his lips lingering along her temple, long fingers moving gently against the side of her breast under the sheets. “Whatever you want, I’ll make happen. Bayley will go with you.”

Solana chews on her bottom lip, shading a palm tree. “But, what if she has plans?”

“She will. Plans to go with you.”

A small smile falls on her face. “How do you know she’ll just agree with you?” Solana has an idea of what he’s going to say, and she’s correct.

“People do what I tell them to do, and if they don’t, they face the consequences. And no one wants that, so they just do it.”

She doesn’t doubt that one bit. Because no matter how sweet and caring he is to her, that’s where it stops. With her.

Because to anyone and everyone else, he’s Roman Reigns, ruthless, brutal leader of the Bloodline.

And she’s accepted that. Accepted that he has to juggle two different hats.

She’s just happy she gets the best of him.

“I Facetime’d Naomi today and got to see Dulce.” As much fun as she’s having, as healing as this trip has been for her, she misses her sweet puppy deeply. “Guess who’s taken to her?”

Roman chuckles, looking back with a bit of shock. “Jimmy?”

Solana nods, grinning as she remembers overhearing Jimmy ask about where ‘fluff fluff’ is. “Naomi says he’s even got her sleeping in the bed with them.”

“Well, she damn sure ain’t doing that with us.” His voice takes on an authoritative tone. Not that she’s in disagreement. Dulce is too small for that. Roman would literally smother her. “Our bed is occupied.” He ghosts his lips over the shell of her earlobe. “Gonna be real busy when we get back home….”

Solana tries instead to focus on the drawing at hand versus that familiar feeling pooling in her stomach.

Continuing with the topic in the hopes of settling that feeling, she shares, “I want to do something nice for Naomi and Bayley when we get back. They’ve—they’ve been so nice to me.”

It’s something she’s been thinking about ever since the beautiful birthday messages she’s received. Having never really had many friends, to be able to land such solid, loyal people like them is something she doesn’t take lightly. She doesn’t know quite yet how she wants to show her appreciation, but she’s determined to come up with something.

An idea crossing her mind, Solana suggests, “maybe they both can come stay here with me for a week?”

His mouth moves back to the side of her face. “Mmmhmm.”

“Like…..like a girls trip.” Solana has never experienced one of those and just the thought of having one with the two of them has pre-excitement already forming.

Roman sighs, clearly distracted by his lips exploring her face. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Turning her head to the side to look up at him, small smile on her face, Solana asks, “are you listening to me?”

Roman hums against her skin. “I’m always listening to you, Solana.” Her eyes flutter as his fingers shift and move under the generous swell of her breast. “Probably the only person that’s the case for…..” His mouth moves to her cheek. “But, it’s hard to focus with you naked like this…..”

The pencil in her hand naturally drops against the sketchbook, her head lolling backwards, lips pressing together. “Roman….”

This is such a new experience. She’s never desired to be touched or craved such intimacy until Roman. Even with her trauma, there’s a pull that seems to have been unleashed with the consummation of her marriage.

An urge that has her thighs pressing together, something Roman most definitely takes note of. Eyes darkening with lust and something else, he asks, voice almost hoarse, “are you sore?”

She is, but not nearly as sore as she was after their first time. And certainly not to the point where she wants to decline.

“No,” is the answer she settles on, Roman’s lips on hers in a matter of seconds. She shifts her body so she’s straddling him, the feeling of him hard and warm between her legs making her moan in his mouth. Roman easily switches positions so she’s on her back, him hovering over her.

He breaks the kiss, asking once more, “you sure?”

Solana licks her lips, forever thankful for his constant efforts to receive her consent. “Yes.”

His eyes burn with need. “Could be inside you like this all day….” He brings his hand to the back of her thigh, lifting her leg and opening her up more as he gradually descends into her slick warmth. “And definitely all night….”

Solana would be lying if she said she didn’t feel somewhat of the same way.

________

She wakes up with a growing familiar ache between her legs, soft sheets against her nude body, and her husband pressed against her, his arm draped over her, holding her close to him.

But, he’s not sleeping. She can feel his mouth hovering over her shoulder. Her smile grows a bit as she thinks about their last lovemaking session, so passionate and fulfilling. Another round of him giving her pleasure she didn’t think possible.

However, it’s when she glances at the clock and sees the time, her eyes widen a bit from the shock. “Roman, it’s almost 2 o’clock….”

He’s never been more uninterested. “And?” Lips traveling the length of her arm, he murmurs against her smooth skin. “You’d never leave this bed if it was up to me….”

His statement, half joking, half serious, makes her smile, but it also helps her realize she has to be a bit more outspoken about what she wants.

Holding the sheet against her chest, she rolls onto her back, informing, “I want to go out to the marketplace today.”

He scowls. “Around people?”

“Yes, people.” She giggles, moving her hand to his face, beard tickling her palm. “We only have two more days here. I want to bring back gifts for Naomi, Bayley, and your cousins”

It’s the mention of the twins that makes him roll his eyes as he falls back into the mattress. “You always trying to take care of the homeless.”

Solana giggles, hovering over him, hand on his chest. “That’s so mean, Roman. They’re not homeless.”

“Then why the hell are they always at our house?”

She shakes her head, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t prevent her from leaving the bed and doing just that.

And in less than two hours, both showered, fed, and dressed, they’re out of the house and on their way to the market.

Adolfo López Mateos is the municipal market and offers a trove of items for Solana to pick from. Countless authentic options for her to bring back home as gifts but also as souvenirs for herself, reminders of this wonderful place that will forever hold such beautiful memories for her.

A place that also leaves her feeling so connected to her maternal side.

To her mother.

Roman serves as the quiet, always surveying husband who remains by her side the whole time as she goes from stall to stall. He serves as her personal shopping assistant as well, holding the growing number of bags for her purchases.

But, he handles it exceptionally well, never once complaining. Granted, she is mindful of the fact that the crowded market and all of the fellow shoppers and merchants seem to well exceed his tolerance for people in general.

So, she does make note to try to wrap it up sooner rather than later.

She’d never want to take advantage of his kindness and generosity.

Solana is at a stall looking at fabric when stiffening beside her drags her attention to her husband as well as what’s caused him to tense.

A child.

A little girl. Around 8 or 9. She has dark hair that’s down and unruly, the light breeze in the market causing it to splash against her tanned face, hazel eyes landed directly on Roman. Her hand is outreached, a flower in hand.

Solana recognizes it rather quickly. She steps forward, asking in Spanish, “is that for him?”

The little girl looks over and nods, directing her gaze back on Roman. Solana does the same, small smile on her face as she informs. “She’s giving it to you.”

His expression is unchanged as he asks. “Why?”

Solana giggles. “It’s an Alstroemeria. They represent friendship.”

“This random ass kid wants to be my friend?”

Solana rolls her eyes. “She’s being friendly.” Seeing Roman has no intentions on further acknowledging this child, she gently shoves him. “Please?” The ‘for me?’ doesn’t need to be asked as Roman sighs loudly and accepts the flower followed up with a muttered ‘thanks.’

Pleased, the little girl beams, suddenly motioning both Roman and Solana to follow her.

Curious, Solana asks, “you want us to come?”

She nods excitedly, pointing a few stalls down to where flowers bloom. Solana asks, “That’s where you got these from? You want us to see the rest?”

Another nod, and Solana finds herself following the child, Roman begrudgingly on the heel of her, committed to his not allowing her to explore a stretch of land or sea on this trip without him being right there next to her.

Even if it means forced socialization.

Solana allows the child to guide them to the stall that’s filled with the most beautiful, intricate flowers she’s ever seen, some of which she recognizes from conversations with her mom.

“Look how beautiful…..” Her eyes land on the powder pink ones, a brief realization setting in as she asks the little girl, “are these sword lily’s?”

Again, the child offers only a nonverbal acknowledgement via a head nod, and Solana starts to wonder if her silence is by choice or limitation. Either one, she can kind of relate to.

Turning to Roman, Solana explains to him, “these are sword lilly’s. They represent sympathy and memories.” Memories…Solana has plenty of those. The good, to some extent, starting to outweigh the bad.

He looks more uninterested than the actual tone of his voice. “Do all Mexican flowers have some sort of meaning?”

“Some. Not all.” She answers, fingers gliding over the petals. “And it’s not always flowers native to Mexico, just flowers that we have meaning attributions for. Culturally.”

“You are correct.” A voice enters the conversation, Solana watching a woman step out back from behind the stall. Her hair is a deep onyx, thick and wavy, her skin lightly kissed by the sun that also highlights the beauty of her eyes. Fine lines give away that she has some years under her belt, but it’s hard to tell just how many. She switches languages, “You don’t speak Spanish like a tourist.”

Solana realizes she must have overheard her asking the girls about the flowers. “My—my mother was a Native.”

“She taught you well.” Her smile grows, warm and friendly, familiar in a weird sort of way. “What is your name, child?”

“Solana.” She gestures towards Roman who’s still looking just as uninterested as he’s been in any other type of social interaction outside of Solana. “This is my husband, Roman.”

“I figured.” She motions to Roman’s closeness to her, the way he stays almost hovering, protecting and caring but still pretty close. “He’s very protective of you.

Solana nods. She has no idea. “What is your name?”

“Paloma,” she introduces, removing one of her work gloves to shake Solana’s hand. The younger woman is slightly grateful that Paloma doesn’t try to greet Roman in the same manner. She’d surely get her feelings hurt. “What brings you here?

Again, a gesture to Roman with her thumb. “He surprised me for my birthday.”

Paloma makes a sound and smiles wryly. “Ahh, so it’s only others he’s unfriendly with.”

“He….he’s very quiet.” An ironic choice of words considering just who is saying them, but it’s the best word to come to mind to describe Roman without being mean. He is technically quiet, but the fact that it’s because he, in his own words, hates people isn’t necessarily something that needs to be shared. “Do you really grow all of these?”

“I do.” The proud smile on her face makes Solana smile just as warmly. “I own a nursery about twenty minutes out of here. A family business that my mother and her mother and her mother started generations ago.”

“That’s so beautiful.”

“It was….” The use of past tense causes Solana’s smile to dim a bit. She can sense there’s a story there, a story that no doubt holds some level of pain. Paloma shakes her head, gesturing to the flowers. “Were you wanting to buy any?”

“Uhhhh….” The technical answer is no. Solana would have probably stopped to admire the beautiful flowers, maybe tried to identify one or two, but it would not have gone beyond that. It’s the little girl who Solana realizes is behind the stand, poorly sneaking glances at Roman, who called them over. “Yes, I—”

“She brought you over, didn’t she?”

“Yes.” Solana lowers her voice, asking as gently as she can. “Does she speak?”

“Yes, but she prefers not to. Very shy. Parents fight a lot. I don’t think she really gets a lot of space to talk.” And the frown is back. Solana can definitely understand that. “Do you two have plans tonight?”

“Uhhhh.” Solana turns to Roman, asking, “did you have anything else planned for us this evening?”

“If she’s trying to get us to do something around other people, yes. I’ll find something.”

Solana rolls her eyes, lightly scolding in her soft voice, “Roman, that’s not nice.”

“Solana, I’m pretty sure we had this conversation already. I don’t like people. I hate people. You’re the only one I like.”

Solana decides to win him over later versus now as she turns to Paloma with a friendly expression that contrasts her husband’s scowl. Something tells her he already knows she’s about to sign them up for something that forces him to be around people.

“We’re free this evening. Why do you ask?”

________

“Tell me again why we’re meeting this random ass old woman for dinner?”

Solana is only seconds away from applying her lip gloss when Roman’s question deters her from her task, creating a new one in its place. Capping it, she walks out the bathroom, leaning against the doorway. “Her name is Paloma, and she’s really sweet, and she invited us.”

Turns out, Paloma owns one of the restaurants in town Solana remembers stumbling across when she was perusing other places to visit while on their trip. It’s just a crazy coincidence that Solana ended up running into her and receiving a personal invite to dine there for dinner this evening.

And it’s an offer she didn’t want to turn down.

“Are you sure she didn’t just invite you?”

Curious, she asks the question she’s almost certain she already knows the answer to. “Would you let me go by myself?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly.” Walking over to Roman, Solana glides her hands up his chest, locking them behind his neck. “It’s just a dinner. We won’t even be there that long. Then…tomorrow, it’s just the two of us.”

“It could be the two of us tonight too….”

His fingers dance across the small of her back as she bites back a smile. “Roman, it’s been the two of us this entire trip already, basically….”

“You know I could never get enough of you…” He gently squeezes the sides of her stomach, sliding into reluctant acquiescence. “But, you know I can’t say no to you either so….”

She smiles and leans up and presses a kiss against his cheek, murmuring, “thank you.” Taking a bit of a mile with the inch she’s been given, she implores, “can you….try to be a little more friendly? For me?”

Roman looks at her like she just asked him to let her go alone. “Solana….”

“Just for tonight.”

“Do they even speak English?” She gives him a look that’s just another form of ‘for me?’ He tilts his head back and scratches his beard. “I’ll try not to maim or kill anybody. That’s the best you’re getting from me, baby.”

“Thank you.” She kisses him again, turning for the bathroom when he pulls her back to face him, and right away, she recognizes that look. “Roman….”

He ignores her, both casually and suggestively complimenting, “I like this dress.” It’s combined with him slowly moving one of the hands on her waist down the length of her dress until he can slip his hand underneath.

“T–thank you…” She swallows, struggling to stay focused. “We’re—we’re gonna be late.”

“Too bad.” He moves his hand between her legs, gradually sliding up her thighs. “Should have thought about that before you put this on.” He kisses her temple, asking in a low voice, “do you want me to stop?” At the same time, his hand pauses on her skin.

The logical answer is yes, but the carnal answer is the complete opposite. And desire seems to overpower logic in this round. “N–no.”

It’s the perfect answer for her husband whose full lips form into a smirk as he removes his hand to guide her towards the bed as he lays her on her back. Solana half expects him to move on top of her, but he instead moves to his knees and tugs her toward the edge of the bed.

The anticipation of what pleasure is to come makes her lick her lips, prematurely moaning his name, “Roman…”

His brown eyes flick up to her, desire and lust dancing away in his irises.

Yeah, they’re most definitely going to be late.

________

The night goes as expected, Solana enjoying herself, and Roman enjoying that his wife is enjoying herself despite the fact that being surrounded by a bunch of fucking strangers who speak mostly in Spanish has him subtly checking the time on his watch more often than not.

The desire to pick up the language grows exponentially. Roman dislikes being out of the loop in any sort of capacity.

Solana translates for the most part, granted it’s mostly things he doesn’t really care too much about. Paloma asking what he thought about the food, requests to join in the dancing—that’s a hell no—and other pleasantries that violate his religion of Anti-Peopleology.

Except his wife, of course.

And to be fair, they’re able to share their dinner together without many interruptions, conversation staying between the two of them, which he appreciates. He’d appreciate it more if no one was there to interrupt, but alas, Solana having a smile on her face almost the whole night makes it all worth it.

She seems exceptionally taken with the little random ass girl from the market whose name he doesn’t bother to remember. Something with an A, he’d guess. She also seems just as interested in Solana, which he doesn’t entirely not understand. She’s relatively mute with the exception of a couple of words and sentences.

It reminds him of Solana and how nonverbal she was at the beginning of the marriage. And something tells him the girl also reminds her of herself. Which makes the pull between the two make more sense than maybe he’d like to admit.

But, his inner dialogue is interrupted as the old lady approaches the table where he sits alone as Solana dances with the child, both of them smiling and laughing.

“You’re not the social one of the two of you, are you?” She asks what he considers both a stupid and ironic question. Typically, Solana isn’t this social either. But this….this place….it seems to bring out a different side of her.

A happier side of her.

Roman only casts the old woman a bored glance. “This is her world. Not mine.”

The woman chuckles, and to Roman’s chagrin, sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Yes, I suppose this is very different from the Bloodline.”

Her statement doesn’t surprise him, doesn’t take him off guard, and that’s because Roman isn’t stupid. He would never allow some practical stranger to invite his wife for dinner at a restaurant she owns without researching her.

Paloma Aguilar. 70. Widowed. One child who seemingly disappeared without a trace over twenty years ago. Her late husband, Ricardo, was a man who at one point entered the world of the cartel and smuggling, but it was short lived as he passed away from a heart attack at the age of 45. His brother, however, Tomas, is still actively involved, but Paloma couldn’t be farther removed.

From his research, Roman could see she truly prefers to live her life away from the in-laws business, preferring her restaurant and gardening, the polar opposite of the high-paced crime life.

But, it would be ludicrous for her to not be aware of him and who he is, regardless of her preference to stay separate from that life.

Curious, though he already knows the answer, he asks, “when did you realize who I was?”

She smiles, “soon enough.” The lack of specificity annoys him even more than he already is. “Probably around the time you found out who I am.”

Interested to see how she’ll respond, he asks, “and just who are you?”

Her smile is small and sad. “Just an old woman living out the rest of her days in solitude.” Roman has experienced enough loss to be able to recognize when someone else has also had the misfortune of losing someone. It’s evident in her tone.

Still, that doesn't diminish his disinterest in this conversation.

She also looks over at his dancing wife, casually commenting, “I suppose it’s true that opposites attract.”

Eager to stir this woman away, Roman responds with all the casualness. “I’m not Solana. You could be 90, and I’d still snap your fucking neck if you presented any kind of threat to my wife.”

It’s uncalled for. He knows this. A misplaced threat against an elderly woman, sure. But, it’ll hopefully be enough to get her to leave him the fuck alone.

She smiles, partially surprising him. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, young man.” Her grin dims a bit. “I would never judge a man for protecting the woman he loves.”

Roman tenses, effectively managing to keep his reaction to her statement to himself.

Love

What the fuck is that even?

He knows…..familial love. But….romantic love?

That’s….that’s such an unfamiliar concept. Something not even in his repertoire.

He can’t deny that he likes Solana. A lot. Cares for her deeply, and recognizes that he needs her in his life. Needs her light in what is otherwise dark and dreary.

But…..

To say that he loves her….that’s too much. That’s too strong.

Too dangerous.

Love is weakness.

And Roman can’t afford to be weak. He won’t. Not for anything or anyone.

Not even Solana.

But, of course, this old ass woman just has to twist the knife even deeper as she stands up to leave. “You two will make great parents.” Roman is an expert at hiding reactions to what’s being said to him, but this one takes some effort. A lot, if he’s being honest. “Your protectiveness. Her nurturance.”

With that, she finally leaves him be, but not without a million and one thoughts floating through his mind, all of them now revolving around two things he’s never considered for himself.

Love and children.

________

As the night comes to an end, Solana pulls Aurora, the sweet little girl who’s taken a liking to her and a crush on Roman, to the side.

“I have something for you.”

Aurora’s eyes light up with all the excitement of a child eager to receive an unexpected present.

Solana hands over the beautiful journal she picked up in the market earlier that day. Originally a gift for herself, but now something that she wants to pass on to the little girl who reminds her so much of herself.

Aurora’s mouth drops open with surprise as she accepts the leather journal. Solana smiles and explains, “When I was a little girl, I didn’t talk a lot either. But, my mom always told me that when I couldn’t speak, I could always write.” She frowns a bit, instructing. “And that’s what I did. I wrote until I found my voice. The same way you can.”

Aurora looks up with teary eyes and surprises Solana by attacking her with a big hug. Solana easily settles in the embrace, holding and hugging the little girl in a way that every child should be comforted.

Aurora pulls back and offers a simple, “thank you!”

Solana blinks back some tears. “You’re very welcome.” Her smile shifts into something teasing but also hopeful, “now I expect to see you when I come back to visit, okay?”

Aurora nods happily as she gives Solana one more hug before running over to an older woman who Solana would guess is her mother.

“She’ll never forget that, you know.”

Turning to the source of the voice, Solana’s smile grows. “I hope not.”

Paoma chuckles and moves closer, repeating the same words. “I have something for you too.”

She pulls out a cloth jewelry bag and takes Solana’s hand, placing the bag in it. “Open it.”

Confused but curious, Solana does just that and gasps almost immediately at the beautiful gold necklace she recognizes instantly. “A Cruz de Caravaca.”

Paloma looks pleased by Solana’s knowledge and asks a follow up question. “How much do you know about these?”

Swallowing the emotion, she recalls the information taught to her so long ago. “They—they ward off evil and bring protection.” There’s an almost bitter tone that enters her voice. “My mother had one….” It’s the most Solana can bring herself to say, because her mother wore one almost religiously. And it did nothing to protect her from the evil of her father.

Or the knife that viciously tore and sliced through her body, violently ending her life.

Paloma nods, complementing, “whoever taught you our ways taught you well.”

Emotion burning the back of the throat, “it was my mom. She—she died when I was young.” Murdered. She was murdered, but acknowledging that feels too much, is too much. Regardless of how her life ended, it all means the same.

That she’s not here anymore.

Paloma’s expression is solemn as she lifts her right arm, turning it inward, revealing her tattoos. Two Hummingbirds. “Many years ago, I lost my daughter. And shortly after, my husband. I—I didn’t really know how to go on after that. She was my only child, and he was the only man I ever loved.” Her smile is emotional. “But then I remember that love never dies, it transcends into another form. They’re not here in the way I want them to be, but they’re still here. And every so often when I’m in my garden, I see Hummingbirds, and I feel better because I know they’re still with me. Watching over me.”

Solana wipes at her eyes as Paloma places a comforting hand on her arm. “And so is your mother.”

It’s hard to verbalize what she’s feeling in this moment. Paloma’s words provide her with a type of comfort that feels almost motherly, an ironic feeling considering the nature of the conversation.

“Thank you.” It’s such a simple thing that doesn’t feel strong enough for how much Solana appreciates such comforting words of support.

“You have a good heart. A kind soul. But, be careful child.” She takes Solana’s hands in her own. “My….my daughter was like you. Loving and giving. But too trusting, and it cost her her life. Betrayal and darkness can come from where you least expect it.”

Paloma’s words confuse her. The warning aspect of it. What…what exactly does that mean?

“Stick with that husband of yours….” Paloma adds, smile gradually returning. “He is protective of you the way my husband used to be with me.”

That ebbs away some of her confusion regarding the ominous warning, as Solana suddenly asks, almost tentatively. “Could I….could I come back and see you too?”

Paloma chuckles, and Solana almost swears she sees emotion brewing behind the woman’s wise gaze as she pulls her in for a hug.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t, child….”

________

He’s not entirely surprised to find her in the kitchen, but that doesn’t necessarily make her presence in the kitchen any less concerning. Especially when she’s supposed to be on bedrest.

Roman comes up behind her, smiling when she jumps a bit as he hugs her. Years later, some things remain the same.

Solana turns around, a warm smile on her pretty face. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” Not necessarily. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to find it in him to be sorry for touching his wife.“Hi.”

“Hi.” She giggles as he kisses her.

Eyes shutting a bit as he relishes in the feeling he’s craved dearly for the past few weeks. “I missed you all.”

“We missed you too,” she murmurs, moving her hands up his chest. “You look tired.”

He’s a bit jet lagged, but it’s nothing he won’t bounce back from in a couple of days. That’s the least of his concern, anyway. Roman moves his hand to her stomach, big and swollen, pressing against his abs. “You should be resting.”

Solana rolls her eyes and calmly counters, “not with how active this one is.” She moves his hand around, probably trying to find a spot where he can feel the movement. “He’s definitely your son.”

He counters, “even more reason to be resting.”

She shakes her head, changing the subject a bit as she softly shares, “they’ll be happy to see you. I didn’t tell them you were coming home early.”

His eyes light up a bit as he asks, “where are they?”

Solana chuckles. “You already know.”

Roman makes a sound and nods, murmuring with a final kiss to her temple, “I’ll be back.”

He walks out of the kitchen and into the hall, moving to the back of the house.

Two separate rooms, directly across from one another, each providing a variety of different activities and spaces. Most completely opposite one another. Expected, given their staunchly different personalities.

There’s no active decision regarding which room he walks in first, no specific desire to see or interact with one over the other. He just so happens to venture left vs right.

And sure enough, as predicted, she sits at the table, so small but perfect for her. She’s focused on the paper in front of her and crayon in her hand. So focused to the point where she misses his entrance, doesn’t overhear his footsteps until he’s only a few feet away from her.

But when she does, big brown eyes landing on him, eyes that are exact replicas of her mothers, the crayon is dropped and the smile is out. She jumps up from the seat and runs over to him, Roman leaning down just in time to catch her hug, an instant ease washing over him, deeper than what’s allotted even with his wife.

This is something different, something deeper, something he still doesn’t quite know or believe he deserves to feel. But nevertheless, it’s present, it’s felt, and it’s wonderful.

When she pulls away, he finds himself pushing back some of her curls, light and fluffy, framing her face that’s the perfect combination of himself and Solana. “I missed you…” Her smile grows as he asks, eyes narrowed a bit. “Were you a good girl for your mom while I was gone?” She nods excitedly and reaches for his hand, Roman standing as she guides him over to the table where she was drawing. Roman crouches back down as she shares her artwork, an in-progress photo of the ocean, most likely scenery she’s memorized from one of their many trips to Isla Mujeres. “Is this what you’re working on?” Again, another nod as she points between the drawing and him. He points to himself. “Is this gonna be for me?”

Instead of the expected no, she answers in her voice, so soft and light. “I’m sorry it wasn’t done in time….”

A small smile grows on his face. She’s very much unlike her sister, of very few words. So much so that Roman insisted he and Solana discuss her quietness with the pediatrician to make sure nothing was wrong. And of course, nothing was. It’s just that she inherited quite literally Solana’s entire disposition. Quiet with a great big heart that seems too pure for this world.

And, unfortunately, a tendency to apologize when unnecessary.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.” His praise seems to bring back her smile as he kisses her forehead. “Fa'afetai tele.”

She matches his smile, surprising him yet again with more spoken words vs non verbals. “E le afaina.”

Standing back up, he informs, “I’m gonna go see your sister. Can you go help mom finish cooking dinner?” He knows Solana is almost done, if not already, but Roman also knows that personality and disposition weren’t the only things inherited. So were passions and interests, hence the drawing.

And cooking, judging by the way her eyes light up as she dashes out the room to play assistant.

Roman chuckles and walks out, hitting the switch as he moves across the hall, once again unsurprised by what he finds. She’s going at it with the freestanding punching bag, kicks that are pretty impressive considering her age. Her face is scrunched up in determination, the same face as her sisters yet so different.

Where one is soft and quiet, the other is loud and bold. One is timid, the other adventurous. One is Solana, but this one….she’s her father’s daughter, through and through. Bold and fearless.

“Don’t forget to point your toes.”

His deep voice breaks through her concentration as she whips her head to the side, a reaction similar to her twin sister. A huge smile breaks through that impressive focus.

“Daddy!”

Again, he moves to one knee to catch her for a hug, tight and heartwarming. She pulls back almost immediately, asking with all the excitement. “Did you see me?”

“I sure did.” He comments on what’s more than obvious. “you’ve been practicing.”

She nods with just as much excitement. “Aunt Bayley and Aunt Naomi said I’m really good!”

“You are.” He wouldn’t lie to her. She is. But, he also knows it’s because this is her passion. Where her sister finds joy in art and books, she gets that joy from movement, from fighting, her gravitation towards martial arts happening at such a young age.

“I’m gonna be better than you!” He chuckles. At not even a fraction of his age, she already is. And it has nothing to do with her natural fighting abilities.

“We’ll see.”

“I am!” She affirms, so determined and focused. “I’m gonna wear the ula fala and be Tribal Chief just like you, daddy!”

Roman does his best to keep that small ounce of concern hidden and tucked away. Young. She’s too young to know just what she’s asking for, the weight that comes with what he does, the truth about what and who he is.

It’s been the decision of both himself and Solana to shield the girls from it. The truth of it all. For now. As long as they can, at least. But the girls aren’t dumb either, they know he holds a high rank, one of the highest, in his family.

And his spitfire of a daughter seems determined to do the exact same.

“Cousin Jamar was saying I can’t cause I’m a girl, but I told him he’s just a stupid boy and I’m way smarter anyway.”

Roman’s eyes narrow slightly as asks the question he already knows the answer to. “And you hit him too, didn’t you?”

Even when he has to be away from home, Solana makes sure to keep him informed of all happenings with the girls, especially this one who’s already gotten in trouble a couple of times at school for her mouth.

And fist.

Her eyes drop as she pouts slightly, murmuring, “he made me mad….” His temper. She definitely has inherited that too. “No one talks about me, you, mommy, sissy or my new baby brother, or I’ll punch them in their face.”

This is the part where Roman struggles, where he tries his best to tap into that part of him that feels so unfamiliar. Because his initial response is that she did nothing wrong, that she’s doing exactly what she’s entitled to.

Protecting her family and standing up for what she believes is right.

“It’s important to know when to fight, and it’s a lot harder not to sometimes.” That’s the best he can come up with in the moment to not necessarily let her know he doesn’t see much of an issue with her behavior. “I’ll teach you.”

Her eyes light up with excitement. “I get to train with you?” A request she’s had for at least the past two years, Roman pushing it off and allowing Bayley and Naomi to help her because his level of training is far too intense for her young age.

But

That doesn’t mean he can’t modify his approach a bit.

“Yes!” She jumps up and down, hugging him, another small smile on Roman’s face. Some kids like to play dolls, like his other daughter, but this one….this one lives for a good fight.

And speaking of, the calmer of the two of them coming running into the room, Roman turning just in time as she smiles and tugs on his shirt, motioning for them to follow her.

“Is dinner ready?” Learning to understand her even with the absence of speech has come second nature for all of them.

She nods, as the other one breaks the hug with Roman, asking her twin with all the excitement and competitiveness. “Wanna race?”

Roman already knows the answer, watching as his more quiet child is suddenly waiting for her sister to count them off. Seconds later, the two of them rush out the room on a trajectory that’ll lead to Solana who will no doubt chastise them for running in the house.

But they come back, giggling together as they stand in the doorway, hitting him with both a question and a demand.

“Daddy, are you coming?”

“Daddy, wake up!”

Roman shoots up from the bed, hulking shoulders moving up and down in sync with his heavy breathing. Movement to the side of him shows him Solana shifting in her sleep, a peaceful expression on his face.

It’s the exact opposite of how he feels.

Moving his hand through his silky, wavy locks, Roman takes the blanket off of him and carefully moves out the bed, prioritizing not disturbing his wife.

He blows out a breath and walks out the double doors that bring him to the patio, his big body settling down on one of the chaise lounges.

It’s only then he asks himself the burning question at the back of his mind.

What the fuck was that?

Roman doesn’t really dream a lot, and when he does, they’re more along the lines or nightmares.

Night terrors when he was younger.

But this……he doesn’t even know what the fuck that was.

Children.

Roman has never really seen himself as a father, never allowed himself to think about it because it’s never really been a desire. He’s always known that he would have to create an heir to carry on his legacy, but that’s a thing of duty. Not desire.

So why the fuck is he dreaming about having not one but several children with Solana?

Solana….

Her oath a few weeks back of giving him an heir returns to the front of his mind. It makes him wonder all of sudden what her view on children is. Does she want children? Without inside knowledge of her trauma, one would think that’s an obvious thing. She would have never married him, never agreed to the arrangement when the sole purpose of the union was to create a child if she didn’t, in fact, want a child.

But, Roman knows her, knows her trauma. Knows that she was forced into this.

Which makes him incapable of shooting down the possibility that maybe she doesn’t even want children?

And then he thinks about her tonight, thinks about the permanent smile on her face as she interacted with that little girl, the way she interacted with several of the children present who came up to her.

She looked….she looked happy.

Content.

And of course, the now haunting words of the old woman who Solana also seems to have heavily gravitated towards:

“You two will make great parents.”

Thinking about and being completely honest with himself, he sees it for Solana. Could….could see her as a mother.

But seeing himself as a father….that’s something he can’t answer. Can’t understand, really.

The same way he can’t understand why there’s a small part of him that’s upset he woke up.

Upset that the dream didn’t last just a little bit longer.

Upset that he’s now thinking heavily about what the old lady predicted.

Himself and Solana as parents.

Fuck.

First the love comment, now this?

Damn that old woman.

________

Something is off with Roman.

Solana has noticed it ever since the night of the dinner at Paloma’s restaurant. She figured it was maybe because Roman really can only withstand so much social interaction. Chalked it up to him needing the night to sleep it off.

But, it was there the next day and the day after that and even as their trip in Isla Mujeres came to an end.

On the jet ride back home, he’s quiet, working diligently on his work laptop. She tries her best not to think too much of it, because it’s not like he’s ignoring her. He still talks to her, still interacts with her, still touches her, but it’s just….off.

There’s like this….this distance that she can’t understand.

A distance that hurts.

It’s why she stands in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to not get too into her head over her dress. It’s probably the most risqué thing she’s ever worn, more skin showing than she would prefer to be exposed. But, a small part of her hopes it will catch Roman’s attention.

Hopes it can progress the touches into something more.

Because along with his distant behavior, there’s been a lack of intimacy between them. And that’s especially hard for her to not think too much about. Because, to her, it was going well. She….she enjoys being with him in that way. Being that close to him.

She thought he did too.

Roman suddenly knocks on the bathroom door, asking, “you almost—damn.” Him stopping himself puts a smile on her face.

Solana chews on her bottom lip, asking, “do–do you like it?” She then motions to her chest that’s heavily exposed. “I know it’s—it’s a lot.”

Roman moves closer to her, eyes raking over her slowly, hand moving to the back of her, under her dress, cupping her ass. “You sure you don’t want to stay in tonight?” A small smile starts to form on her face at his suggestive tone. “The two of us…naked.”

Her stomach flutters with excitement. This is the first time in days that he’s expressed any desire to be with her in that way, and now she’s beyond grateful that she pushed past her insecurity and put on the dress. Because it’s brought out that side of him that she’s been missing.

The side that makes her feel like he wants her.

A hand on his chest, she murmurs, “when we get back.”

Because while she also has a desire to be intimate with him, she’s also excited to see their friends.

Naomi, Bayley, and the twins inviting her (and naturally, Roman) out to a VIP lounge to have a belated birthday celebration since she wasn’t available to do anything with them for her actual birthday. She’s excited to see them, to be around her friends.

“Are you….” Solana doesn't know where exactly it comes from, the bravery and confidence to ask what she’s about to, but it seems to leave her mouth before she can really think too much about it. “Are you okay?”

His gaze takes a curious tone. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, suddenly nervous about how to word it right. “I don’t know. You’ve just seemed….kinda off the past couple days.” He swallows, and she sees something flash in his eyes, something he shoves away. Something she’s now just as curious about. “Is–”

“I’m fine,” he answers. For some reason, she has a hard time believing that. “Adjusting to being back has just been irritating. I’ve never taken a vacation before, so shit has just been an annoying adjustment.”

Solana nods, believing there could be some truth to that. She doesn’t doubt it’s been an adjustment for him. But, there’s also this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that there’s something else he’s not telling her.

“O-okay.” Something tells her this conversation will need to be revisited, just not right now. Not when it’s clear he has no desire to express whatever is really bothering him.

Roman dips his head and kisses her cheek. “Let’s get out of here. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can be inside you.” She giggles, gasping as he slaps her ass.

“Roman!”

________

The lounge is beautiful. Reminiscent of an upscale club, minus the packed bodies and loud music. It’s clearly geared toward upscale clientele, and the second level of the lounge has been rented out, space cleared for their small party.

Something she greatly appreciates. Both for herself and Roman. Her husband already sacrificed so much of his preference to be isolated from others vs surrounded by people on their trip.

The group separates naturally, Roman and the twins with Solana sitting near Bayley and Naomi, the two women nearly bursting at the seams with a ton of questions/statements.

“How was it?”

“We already know it was nice considering we barely heard from you.”

“Dulce mama was out here living her best life.”

“You got a lil tan too!”

“We want to know everything.”

Solana giggles, shrugging. “It was really nice.”

Bayley scoffs, “just nice? Girl, you gotta give us more than that.”

Solana opens her mouth, pausing a bit. “I mean….we spent a lot of time together.” Her eyes fall over to Roman who’s surprisingly engaging in conversation with Jimmy and Jey. Solo, as well. His presence surprised her.

She didn’t know he was coming. Not to mention, she didn’t think he’d want to be present for anything that’s not required when it comes to her.

“And?”

Solana knows they’re not intentionally asking about sex, but their questions are unintentionally pointing her to share just that. And for some reason, most likely the trust and bond she’s formed with them, she’s not opposed.

That doesn’t stop the maddening blush from forming on her cheeks as she shares, “we—well, we finally, umm—”

Loud gasps interrupt her, Naomi being the one to ask the infamous question, “Solana, did ya’ll….” Solana chews on her bottom lip, nodding softly.

Bayley and Naomi have to cover their mouths to hold in the screams that would no doubt draw all of the wrong attention.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Bayley exclaims, suddenly asking with all the protectiveness, “he was good to you, right? Didn’t pressure you—”

“No. No. Never.” That’s probably the easiest thing to answer. Solana doesn’t know how to properly express how good Roman was to her. Has been to her. “He was—it was perfect.”

Naomi smirks, playfully nudging Solana’s shoulder. “We told you it was great with the right person.” They couldn’t have been more right. “So….was it just once or—”

Bayley scoffs. “We cannot be asking her all these intimate details!” Only to then casually ask, “so like how big is his dick really?”

Naomi falls out laughing while Solana’s eyes widen at the graphic nature of Bayley’s question.

“So you can ask about his dick size, but I can’t ask about how many times they’ve done it?”

Bayley protests, sipping some of her Vodka as she counters, “my question is for science.”

“Bullshit!”

Solana shakes her head, giggling as she coyly answers, “we…it’s been a couple times.”

Naomi smirks. “Okay, girl, I see you. Ya’ll went to Mexico and got freaky.” Solana takes a sip of her bottled water, more than certain her cheeks are a red, hot mess. “Seriously though….I’m happy for you. With what you’ve been through, you deserve to have a happy, healthy, sex life. Every woman does.”

“She’s right.” Bayley agrees, and Solana finds the emotions brewing again.

Never did she think it was possible, that she could have just that. A healthy sex life. Just how she never imagined she would end up with someone as amazing as Roman. Yet both of those things are exactly what have happened, and she’s never been happier.

“Wait, does this mean we’re gonna be godmothers soon?” Bayley asks an otherwise normal question that has Solana still in her seat.

Naomi chimes, “I mean, she’s not allowed to be on birth control, and I know Roman had to have broken his condom only rule since they’re married so….”

Solana has a hard time saying anything, has a hard time not thinking about something that should have been considered the moment that barrier was broken.

Roman and Solana have consummated their marriage.

They’ve had sex.

Several times.

Unprotected sex.

They are actively having unprotected sex.

Naomi is right in that not once did Roman bring up protection.

It has her wondering now if he didn’t bring it up because, in his mind, they’re now working on creating an heir?

But, she dispels that theory pretty quickly, remembering how determined he was to help her not feel any pressure regarding them conceiving a child. He’s never seemed too concerned with that part of their marriage deal.

Unless….

Unless it was because they weren’t sexually active, but now that they are….

Suddenly, another conversation with Roman regarding just what the plan is for that is on the agenda.

Along with whatever it is that’s bothering him that he won’t open up about.

Bayley and Naomi must pick up on her change and mood, switching the conversation to something regarding some mess that kicked off at the Warehouse between Nia and some person named Mia. Solana does her best to follow along when she feels her phone vibrate in her bag.

Pulling it out, she unlocks her phone and opens up messages, specifically the unopened thread from an unsaved number.

Unknown: Did you really think you would get away with fucking us over?

Unknown: You were warned.

Unknown: What happens next is on you.

The phone drops out of Solana’s hand the minute she’s done reading the text. She can barely breathe, barely process what’s happening as her head snaps up, eyes frantically searching for the one person who’s now been kicked to the front of her mind.

Roman

She spots him, expression unreadable as he sips on a beer, speaking to Solo.

Solana jumps up from the sofa, ignoring Naomi and Bayley asking what’s wrong. She kicks her heels off and makes a beeline straight for him, uncaring about the bodies she has to squeeze between, the few individuals who she actually shoves out of her way. Something at any other time she wouldn’t dare consider doing. But this isn’t any other time, this is life or death.

Literally.

“Roman!”

His eyes snap with hers seconds before she successfully makes her way over to him. Her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. She can barely breathe, and she’s certain that she’s trembling, but none of that stops her from rushing out, “we have to get out of here!”

His hands move to her face, cupping it, taking note of her frantic state as he asks with all of the protectiveness. “What’s wrong?”

Eyes watering, she opens her mouth. “I—”

That’s as far as it goes, the most and only thing that she’s able to express because before she’s cut off. Roman’s gaze lifts above her and the last thing she sees is the slight widening of his eyes as he shoves her to the side of him with so much force that she slams against the ground, her head bouncing off the carpeted floor.

But, that’s not what catches her attention. Not the shock of him pushing her so harshly, putting his hands on her in a way she would have never thought possible. No, that’s not an issue at all, because the sound that only seems to have registered upon her fall is what has her attention snatched and fixated.

A single sound that she hasn’t heard in years.

A gunshot.

And then chaos.

There’s shouts, there’s screams, there’s people running around in a mass panic, but a single voice cuts through all of that: clear, loud, furious. “Get her out of here now!”

Roman.

And it’s the sound of his voice that makes Solana snap her head to the side, eager to lay eyes on him in the midst of this chaos.

But, it’s when she does that everything changes, the world stops and time stands still.

“No.” She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move, can’t function because all she can focus on is the sight of Roman’s men with a perimeter around him, guns lifted and aimed, ready to fire off at a moment's notice. “Roman!” She tries to climb up off the floor, tries to get to him, to see him, to touch him.

Solana is unable to look away from the sight of him holding onto his shoulder, face grimaced in pain, blood seeping through his long fingers.

But before can get to him, before she can actually touch him, another voice calls out, “cover me!” And she’s suddenly off the floor, body pressed against a stranger, the interaction causing her to try to jerk away.

Partially because of the contact, mostly because she needs to get to Roman.

“We gotta get you out of here!” Solo’s voice, harsh and determined, makes her realize he’s the strange body that she also now realizes is trying to get her the hell out of dodge. “Now!”

And it’s right then and there that another gunshot rings out, followed by several more.

Solana’s panic nearly triples as she tries to push him away, tears burning her eyes, “no! I’m not leaving him!” Solana beats her fist against Solo as he continues to drag her, Solana begging, “don’t make me leave him!” The tears are spilling over, the last glimpse of Roman showing Jimmy and Jey rushing over in his direction. “Please!” Solana continues to cry out his name, fighting a losing battle against Solo who is successful in ushering her out of the emergency exit located in the back.

Once outside, he has to keep dragging her down the fire escape staircase, because she doesn’t stop trying to push him away and doesn't stop from trying to get back to Roman. Solana can’t stop replaying the nightmare that has just become a reality.

She has no idea where Naomi is. Where Bayley is. Only able to see the twins and Roman before she was ripped away from the scene.

Roman….

He pushed her to protect her.

Moved her out the line of fire and took the bullet intended for her.

He’s been shot because of her.

He’s been hurt because of her.

And it’s all her fault.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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