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harryspet · 2 months ago

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lonely little lamb | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!stepbrother!rafe x stepsister!reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader, dd/lg dynamic, mentions of violence/blood, somnophilia, stalker!rafe, DUBCON, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: happy OBX4! This was written before the new season :) Dividers by @/ghoulbloggerrr

In which Rafe knows your secret and just how perfect you'd be together.

word count: 7.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Rafe didn’t catch on immediately. At first, he just thought you were strange, his expectations already tainted by what he'd assumed about you. He’d been prepared for his stepmother’s daughter to be a brat, and on the surface, you fit that mold perfectly. But there was something off about the way you acted around him. You never played innocent, never tried to charm him or win him over like you did with everyone else. You gave him sharp glances at the dinner table when he talked back to Ward and even angrier stares when he disrespected your mother. You never hung around after dinner, always rushing to go back to your room, and “call your friends from back home”. Of course, Rafe listened at your door often and he never heard you making any calls. Having grown up in the house, he felt entitled to know what was happening within its walls.

Your behavior puzzled Rafe to the point of obsession. He woke up every morning to check if your car was still in the driveway and easily memorized your schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you attended classes in the morning at the local community college. On the other days of the week you sat through your online classes. You never ate too early, always going for a late breakfast that usually consisted of avocado toast, a bowl of fruit, and you always came down to refill your “sippy cup”. That’s what Rafe had dubbed it. It was clear, decorated with a stencil design of a baby lamb and had a flip-up spout for easy drinking. You didn’t go many places without it.

It was the small things that fascinated him. The comfort items you clung to, the simple routines that made your life feel organized and secure. You usually took a bubble bath about thirty minutes after dinner, and when you forgot to lock your door, Rafe would slip into your room, drawn by the intimacy of your private world.

He picked up items around your room, like the frame you kept beside your bed. It held a photo of you and your mom: you in your old high school cheerleading uniform, hair pinned back in pigtails, while your mom smiled widely beside you. Despite her cheerful expression, your eyes in the picture looked wistful and lonely. Rafe couldn’t help but imagine you now, with adult curves and eager eyes, wearing that outfit. The thought stirred something in him, making him hard, and he had to tuck himself away, cursing under his breath. At least if you walked in, he wouldn’t be caught in the act.

The more he learned about you, the harder it was to quiet these thoughts. He had always found you pretty, but now his body and mind were becoming obsessed with you. He made a habit of collecting a pair of your panties from the hamper before leaving. He needed them for later, for the release that he craved, driven mad by the scent of you.

The sound of soft, melodic music flowed into your bedroom from behind the bathroom door. Sometimes it was girly pop songs, other times classical, but more often than not, it had the gentle, soothing quality of nursery music. Your bed was always neatly made, draped in a floral quilt, and you kept the same stuffed animals on top, meticulously placed. A small chesnut brown teddy bear, white bunny, and a tiny stuffed lamb. Each one had their own white ribbon wrapped around its neck, tied into a bow.

One time he caught a glimpse of your nighttime skin care routine. You removed the light makeup you always wore and used about ten different products that Rafe didn’t recognize, nor could he guess their use. The last layer was always a light layer of lip balm and Rafe always leaned a bit closer when your puckered your lips in the mirror. His mind easily wandered to idea of your lips around him.

You wouldn’t look so lonely, little lamb, if you just let me in.

He had his suspicions about the secret, kinky things you were into. There had to be a reason you spent so much time by yourself. He didn’t get the answers he was looking for until one night when you’d left your laptop, unlocked on your desk. He took the opportunity to program his fingerprint into it too, just in case he needed to snoop again.

He combed through your social media, public and private, and started checking your messages daily, keeping track of who you talked to, what you were up to. Your public social media was perfect. A mix of selfies with soft lighting, photos of cute coffee shops, and other things you deemed as your “aesthetic”.

It was your camera roll that finally gave Rafe the answers he had been searching for. One folder, marked with a delicate pink heart, caught his attention immediately. Inside were photos of you, taken in front of your floor-length mirror. Each picture was eerily similar, the same vacant, wide-eyed expression on your face, as though you were lost in some faraway place.

You wore pajamas he’d never seen before, soft and childlike. Sometimes it was pastel-colored footie pajamas, other times it was nightgowns in soft shades of pink, lavender, or baby blue. In a few, you were bundled up in fuzzy socks or slippers with floppy bunny ears. Your hair was always styled with bows, either pink or white. There was a strange innocence in these details, one that clashed with the tension building inside Rafe as he scrolled through the images.

Sometimes you were biting down on your nails, others your thumb rested in your mouth, but most of the time you were gripping one of your stuffed animals tight to your chest.

You looked...adorable. But in a way that made Rafe’s pulse quicken with something darker. The softness, the vulnerability you displayed in those photos, fed his obsession.

Another folder marked with a unicorn emoji held more photos that you’d saved. He recognized some of the characters from children’s TV shows he remembered Wheezie watching. Others were pictures from Disney movies, and Rafe quickly realized you had a special preference for the princesses. You seemed drawn to Cinderalla, Belle, and Snow White. It offered a glimpse into your mind, into your fantasies, how you were drawn to things with an air of purity and sweetness.

Rafe’s heart slowed when a message popped up from someone named Mr. Hayes. Been thinking about you all day, sweetheart. The message said. A moment later, another one came. How was ur bath?

Rafe opened the text thread and began to scroll. Each word that he read made his blood boil. There were too many messages for him to read. You’d sent him photos of yourself, let him call you pet names, and you’d even gone so far as calling him… Daddy. He’d never sent you a photo but that didn’t seem to matter. You were willing to share the details of your life with him.

Rafe’s vision blurred with rage. Daddy. This virtual fantasy, a stranger who you didn’t even know, did not deserve your affection. He decided then you were his, whether you knew it or not.

Rafe decided then to also make it a habit to check your messages.

Several weeks later, you’d finally convinced Mr. Hayes to meet you in person. Rafe couldn’t let that happen. As your stepbrother and your protector, it would be wrong of him to let some stranger hurt you. Besides, he’d become obsessed to the point where now he was dying to know exactly who this man was.

You didnd’t know any better, but he did.

“Hey,” Rafe spoke to you the afternoon before your secret rendevouz, interrupting your fruit cutting, “My Dad just texted. Him and your Mom aren’t going to make it back tonight. There flight keeps getting delayed so they’re going to stay the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh, okay,” You replied simply, returning back to your task again.

“Wheezie’s sleeping at a friends and I’m probably going to a party at Kelce’s,” You gave him a look, as if it was strange to be conversating with him alone without the presence of the rest of their blended family, “...Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head, “No, thank you. I’ll just stay in.”

Rafe leaned on the marble countertop, staring across the kitchen island at you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you go out one time since you moved in.”

Rafe’s sudden interest in your habits had become more noticeable lately, but you figured it was nothing, just him being Rafe, always lurking in the background, watching everyone, everything. Your mother had warned you that she thought something was off about him and living with him over the past nine months had sealed the fact that you didn’t trust him.

You didn’t trust many people at all, actually, never having had a stable home life. Your mother had always had money, or at least latched on to men who had money, but those men came and went. Even your mother wasn’t someone you could count on. She’d uprooted your life more than once, moving you across states just to be with a man who could give her the lifestyle she believed she deserved.

Mr. Hayes had offered you comfort in this transitional time. You had no one to confide your secret in accept for the communities you found online. It made you anxious to even think about finding a partner one day and having to explain this side of you. Friends on the internet wouldn’t judge you.

But online, the stakes felt lower. The people you spoke with, people like Mr. Hayes, didn’t judge. The risk of being truly seen, and rejected, was something you couldn’t handle. Not yet.

You paused what you were doing, knife hovering over a piece of strawberry, “You really want to spend the night alone. On a Friday night?”

Rafe sauntered around the kitchen island, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made a shiver run down your spine. He knew he was handsome. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes that always had a raging storm behind them. His gold ring and his gold watch. Most important of all, he knew he intimidated you, his size being enough to make you feel smaller than you actually were.

“I have to study,” You spoke curtly, trying to cut off the line of questioning you sensed was coming. You moved to keep cutting up your fruit but you paused again when Rafe reached out to grab a piece from the cutting board. You looked up at him as he popped the piece of strawberry into his mouth.

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe’s lips pulled into a smirk, as if he was thriving on that power, the uncpoken tension in the air. The way he could make your heart race in that mix of fear and something else he knew you’d never admit.

“Oh yeah?” Rafe placed a hand on the counter, “You have all weekend to study. C’mon, have some fun, princess.”

You took in a breath at the sound of the pet name. He hadn’t ever called you that before and for a moment it looked like he was seeing right through you.

“I-” Quickly, you turned your head away, refocusing on the task, as your cheeks heated with embarrassment, “I’m okay, thanks.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to come out,” Rafe continued, his voice smooth, almost coaxing, “You got secret plans or something?”

“No,” You said quickly, “I told you, I’m studying.”

Rafe let out a dry chuckle, no real amusement behind it, “You sure you’re not just hiding?”

“It’s not your business,” You snapped finally, your tone icy, “And I… I don’t have to explain myself to you, Rafe. You don’t even know me.”

“I know you, princess,” You dropped the knife, your heart beating too fast, and you quickly picked up your pieces of fruit and placed them in your bowl. Rafe leaned closer, watching your every move, and the intensity of his gaze was starting to unravel you, “You’re so jumpy. It’s just me. No need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” You muttered but your fingers trembled as you grabbed ahold of your bowl of fresh fruit and your lamb cup.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rafe took another step closer and you backed away from the counter.

“Stop it,” Your frustration flared, unsure of why exactly Rafe was trying to stir you up. Your lips pressed together and you tried to stop your reaction, but with him towevering over you, invading your space, you felt effectively suffocated. It wasn’t until your back was pressed into the stainless steal fridge, your bowl the only thing protecting you from being pushed against Rafe, that you actually flinched.

“Hey,” Rafe lifted on arm, casually bracing his hand on top of the fridge as he looked down at you, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard. His voice was deceptively gentle, “Rafe–”

“I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Something flickered in his eyes, something you didn’t recognize, and for a moment, you questioned if you’d read this entire situation correctly, “I know how fragile you are. How scary the world can seem. I’m offering …you know …because I’d be there to protect you. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You blinked up at him. Surprisingly, there wasn’t even a hint of him trying to talk down to you. Rafe Cameon almost sounded caring. “You don’t need to be so on guard all the time,” Rafe continued.

“I just …” You couldn’t stop the way your voice softened, “I like keeping to myself. It’s not that I don’t want to be around people. I just don’t …fit in here.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding, and it was the first time you looked at one another as real people, “I get it. You’re not like the other girls around here. You’re smarter, quieter … softer. You can trust me though, yeah? You don’t gotta hide from me.”

For a moment, everything felt like it would be okay. Maybe Rafe had managed to see you and was willing to understand you, unlike anyone else you had met on this island. It all felt real until you focused more on his eyes. Your expression had softened, melted from frustration to wide-eyed curiosity, and that had caused a shift in his eyes. You saw that flicker of darkness that you’d seen before.

“I can look after you, ya’ know?” He said, voice dripping to a lower tone, “Help you. You don’t need to worry too much.”

Before you could respond, his other arm lifted, and you felt his fingers graze your cheek, the touch startlingly intimate.

“What are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Rafe’s jaw tightened, the mask he was wearing beginning to slip, “Don’t be like that, princess.”

“Stop,” You managed to say, “Stay away from me.”

In just a few hours, you’d finally get to meet Mr. Hayes. None of Rafe’s games would matter then. When you went silent, you watched as Rafe’s hand balled into a fist and he turned his body away.

“Suit yourself,” He’d said coldly, his void devoid of any of the warmth that was there before.

You stared down at your bowl of fruit dumbfounded for a moment too long. Princess. How did Rafe know how desperately you wanted someone to call you that?

Rafe stayed at Kelce’s party until eleven He finished his last pabst blue ribbon, said goodbye to only a handful of his friends, before he made his way to his truck. Knowing they would find it strange for him to leave so early, he mad the excuse that he was going to meet up with a girl at the Island Club.

In reality, Rafe was headed twenty minutes away, towards Winward Beach. Mr. Hayes wanted to meet you at midnight. One of the many red flags Rafe assumed you had ignored. You probably thought it was romantic, meeting at a secluded beach in the middle of the night. Like the two of you were fucking Romeo and Juliet.

Stupid, Rafe thought bitterly, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Rafe parked his car in the small parking lot that sat near the boardwalk, turning off all of his lights, and waited for the creep to show up first. Rafe thought for a moment that neither of you might show when midnight started to approach. Maybe you’d wisened up, listened to your gut instinct that told you something wasn’t right. He didn’t believe it for long, you were too trusting. Too soft.

When a tan sedan that Rafe didn’t recognize pulled up in a parking spot close to the walkway, Rafe knew who it was. In the dark and without any streetlights, he only saw a dark figure carrying a backpack make his way towards the beachwalk. He waited until the figure made it halfway before he climbed out of his truck.

The moon was high, casting a white glow over the empty landscape.

Anger simmered beneath Rafe’s skin as he watched the man from a safe distance. He moved with a nervous energy, often glancing over his shoulder as if he was expecting to see someone. Wooden planks creaked softly under his weight but Mr. Hayes didn’t notice, not until he’d made it to the beach, and Rafe appeared behind him.

The man turned his head, eyes wide with confusion. For a moment, this was all a coincidence. Rafe was a nobody, just a stranger taking a walk on the beach, until Rafe’s lips pulled into a smile, “Not what you were expecting?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Hayes was certainly not what Rafe was expecting. A completely unremarkable middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his thinning brown hair, pale skin, lightly freckled and a slight paunch that rested over the waistband of his dreams. A complete creep. Someone completely undeserving of even being looked at by you.

Anger wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Rafe was feeling, “You’re Mr. Hayes?”

“What?” Up close, Rafe could see the way the man's eyes started to dart around. He took another step further and the man stumbled back in the thick sand, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just–”

“You’re just a coward?” Rafe finished, his tone mocking, “I mean, I understand now why you hid your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

Rafe interrupted again, snarling, his hand lashing out to grab the front of the man’s shirt. He yanked him forward and the man’s eyes went wild with panic, “Meeting up with an innocent girl in the middle of the night? Sneaking around like a creep? What’s in that fucking bag?”

“Nothing!” Mr. Hayes struggled. Rafe couldn’t believe how weak the man was. Strong enough to overpower you, maybe, but weak. As soon as the though of this man pinning you down in the sand crossed his mind, Rafe’s eyes went wild, “Nothing, I’m sorry!”

Rafe shoved him hard and the man stumbled backwards into the sand. He towered over the man, his shadow casting long across the beach. Waves crashed loudly in the background but Rafe’s voice boomed over the sound, “I don’t think you are! You probably thought you could just take what you wanted, huh? Fucking answer me!”

The man scrambled backwards, hands digging into the sand, backward hanging awkwardly from his shoulder. Why didn’t he just drop it …if he wasn’t hiding anything, he would let it go, “I wasn’t — I didn’t mean, I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know what? That she was half your age? That she was too good for you?” Rafe’s lip curled in disgust. He knelt down, his face inches from Mr. Hayes’s as his voice dropped to a whisper, “She’s not yours. She never will be.”

“Okay,” He nodded, holding out a hand as if to put distance between them, “I just wanted to meet her. I know I lied. I’m sorry. I won’t …it won’t happen again. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at the trembling man. Without another word, he grabbed for the backpack. The man resisted, of course, a series of “Wait, wait, wait,” leaves his lips. Rafe doesn’t leave space to argue because he pushed his palm into the man’s chest, pinning him down, before he lets his fist connect with the side of the man’s face.

The man gasps, whimpers, as he curls into a ball on the sand, “F-Fuck!” The creep moans. Rafe pulls away the bag, ripping open the zipper, and dumping the contents onto the sand.

A cheap blanket, a cheap bottle of wine, and then Rafe’s eye catches on the condoms and then then the thick, coiled string of rope. Without another thought, Rafe was tackling the man, grabbing a hold of his collar, pulling him up and slamming his head into the ground over and over again. Rafe didn’t stop. He slammed his fist into the man’s face harder and harder. Each blow left a sickening crack echoing in the air.

Crack. Groan of pain. Crack. Whimper, “You though you could hurt her? Touch what’s not yours? Brutalize her?” Rafe snarled, voice low and vicious. When the man finally went unconscious, his body limp, face bloody and unrecognizable, “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s chest heaved as he stared down at his work. Nothing about the blood and broken flesh bothered him. He looked down at his hand which were covered in the man’s blood and only felt satisfied.

He’d protected you. His pulse spiked even more as he heard footsteps on the boardwalk. You’d shown up. Rafe watched you kick off flip flops and run towards them. No matter how dark it was, you were easily visible in the baby pink dress you’d chosen. The contrast between you and the violent seen before you sente a surge of protectiveness through him. He stood from where he knelt in the sand and quickly crossed the distance towards you.

You slowed as you took in the scene before you, “Rafe?” you whispered, “Rafe, what’s … that’s not …oh my god.”

Rafe grabbed you by your arms, turning your shaking body away. It was a gruesome mess, nothing you should have to see, “He’s dead,” You spoke with wide, terrified eyes, “Wh-Why? You killed him.”

“He’s not dead,” Rafe said quickly, “He’s still breathing … I had to stop him.”

You didn’t listen, you turned your head and saw the unnatural position the man laid in, “Rafe, he’s dead!”

Rafe shook you slightly, “He’s not. I promise.”

“What did you do?” You cried, tears beginning to stream down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” He tried to assure you, “I had not. He was going to hurt you, Y/N. Look, he brought …he brought all that shit with him. There was rope in his bag, condoms … I did this for you!”

You shook your head, trying to pull away from Rafe’s bloody hands, “You beat him?” Your voice broke under the weight of your fear, “He’s not moving. You can’t …why would you–”

Rafe’s heart twisted in his chest. He wasn’t the one you were supposed to be afraid of, “He deserved it,” Rafe said, voice quiet and serious, “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

Rafe tried to pull you but you resisted. Easily, he lifted you into his arms, bloody hands staining your skin and now your dress, “We have to call someone!” You shouted at him, hiccuping through your tears, “Rafe, put me down!”

Rafe ignored you, strides long and steady, carrying you back towards the beachwalk. It was better for Mr. Hayes if the police weren’t involved. Undoubtely, a man like that had a record. Rafe was doing him a favor by only leaving him bloody on the beach.

In his arms, you were powerless. Your mind was reeling. Even in his bloody state, you knew the man there was not who Mr. Hayes had described himself as. Rafe could be right about all of this but it still felt wrong.

In Rafe’s truck, you sat curled up against the door, your knees pulled to your chest. A dark and empty road stretched before you, yacht rock played at a low volume in the background, and Rafe’s heavy breathing was louder than any of your thoughts.

Every few minutes, you stole a glance at him. The tension had yet to leave his body, though he was coming down from the adrenaline. His breathing was heavy but deliberate, as if he was attempting to calm himself, “I didn’t want you to see that, you know that, right?” Rafe said suddenly, breaking through the heavy silence, “Like …I know that was fucked up. You believe me, right? About what I said?”

Your throat tightened so much that your words came out strangled, “I don’t know … what to believe.”

“He was going to hurt you. If I hadn’t stepped in — If I-I hadn’t acted proactively, he would’ve hurt you. He would be hurting you right now. You know that, right?” The brutality of Mr. Hayes’s alleged actions began to cloud Rafe’s actions. He said it over and over. You couldn’t help that now you were imagining it. Maybe this was the only way to rationalize the situation. Maybe you had to believe him.

You saw the items in the sand. You saw that he’d lied about his age, about his appearance, and his intentions. He was the monster. That was the better version. Everything was a lot less wrong that way.

“Y/N,” Rafe spoke again, his deep voice rattling your ear drums, “You know that.”

You finally nodded, “Okay,” You agreed.

“Good,” Rafe seemed to let out a breath of relief. Hands still tight on the steering wheel, he tilted his head back, “He wasn’t some innocent guy. I swear that to you. Like I wouldn’t lie about that shit.”

You nodded until your head started to hurt.

“I did this for you,” Rafe said, “I’m so fucking glad you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” You whispered as you wiped the wetness from your cheeks. Your eyes caught on the dried blood that wrapped around in a band on your arm, “...Rafe?”

“Yeah, baby?” Rafe voice turned gentler as he glanced over at you.

“Did you …look at my messages?”

Rafe’s demeanor grew casual, like the worst of his anxieties had passed, “I did what I had to do,” He said, like it was a simple explanation. He didn’t seem concerned at his obvious breach of privacy. Didn’t seem to understand that the pit in your stomach was deepening.

“Then you…”

“Then I know,” He finished and you watched a sinister smile pull at his lips, “Aren’t you relieved? I know and I’m not judging you. I’ve been wanting to figure you out since I met you. And now there’s no secrets between us.”

“Rafe…” You began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, “How could you?”

“I had to,” He insisted, “If I hadn’t, where would you be now? What if he had taken you? Killed you? What would that do to your mom?”

Your brows furrowed, trying to process his words, and the vile images that left in your mind, “The stuff on my phone is …private. It’s private for a reason. I don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” He countered, offering you a patronizing tone, “I know what you want, what you need. I’m happy to give you that. And I’d do a hell of better job than that waste of life on the beach.”

You connected the dots the moment those words left his lips. He wanted to be what Mr. Hayes had been to you. A caretaker. Someone to nurture your most innocent idea.

“Rafe … Ward is married to my mom,” The most logical reason that was a crazy idea came to your mind quickly.

“So?” He replied dismissevly.

“You’re my stepbrother,” Not even that registered with him, “I don’t think …it’s not what I want.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Rafe reached across the console, gently but firmly grabbing ahold of your hand. You stared back at him with wide eyes, your fear obvious especially when he took his eyes off the road, “You’re confused. You were willing to trust a man on the internet when the perfect person to take care of you is right here with you. No one else. Me.”

Feeling trapped, your next thought became calming him down. For fear of him crashing the car or never loosening his grip, you forced your expression to soften, “I know you can protect me,” You nodded your head, “And thank you for that …I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was stupid. I’m …I’m glad you care about me like that.”

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, “Yeah?”

“It’s just a lot to take in. I had no idea …I just thought you were usually annoyed with me,” You said and rafe seemed to exhale, his shoulders loosening, “I trust you, it’s just a lot to process right now.”

“I get it,” Rafe let go of your hand, but gave you no time to feel relieved, because next he placed his strong, large hand on your thigh, “I think we’re good for each other. I just have to show you, Y/N.”

Tannyhill was empty except the two of you. Your heart raced as Rafe led you upstairs to your room, hand firmly on the small of your back. When the door to the bedroom softly clicked behind you, closing the two of you in, you felt like throwing up.

You started to imagine Rafe wandering around, looking through all your things, all without your permission. He felt out of place there in your sanctuary but it was clear he’d made himself comfortable a long time a go. He led you over to the edge of your bed, and shakily, you sat down. He kneeled down in front of you, a position quite to vulnerable and intimate for you.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, voice deep in concerning. Lifting one of your heels from the ground, he looked closely at your legs, as if checking for an injury.

You shook your head, know the most your body had been through tonight had been at his hands, “I’m okay,” You spoke, your voice small.

Rafe looked up at you, “It’s okay if you’re not, yeah?” Rafe said, voice softening as his hand slid further up your leg. When you pulled your leg back, his grip remained firm, possessive, “Everyone’s gone. I’m asking you to lean on me, princess.”

With no hint of asking for permission, you stared back at your stepbrother. You couldn’t help but feel as if the timing of tonight had worked out eerily in his favor. Everyone in your family was gone for the night and there was no Mr. Hayes to text about your feelings.

“I’m going to run the bath for you,” Rafe decided, lips parted as if he was deep in thought, “Yeah, stay right here.”

“I’m fine, I can do it–” You began as Rafe made his way towards your bathroom.

He held out a finger and you stopped your movements quickly, frozen by the intensity in his gaze, “Stay.”

He didn’t have to raise his voice for you to feel the threat in his tone. Somehow, this version of him was scarier than the one that relentlessly struck a man until he was unrecognizable.

The sound of running water filled the room. Closing your eyes, controlling your breathing, the sound brought you to your routine. That sound of running water was always soothing to you. It was usually how your mind was able to slip into that comforting place on the other side of your mind. Things were lighter there, a place where you had no cares at all, and you enjoyed the things that you’d normally be embarrassed by. You pressed your feet into your fuzzy white carpet, your favorite place to listen to music and do one of your coloring books. You were almost there, the water having tricked you into falling deeper, until you caught a glimpse of Rafe standing behind the door, washing blood away in the sink.

You tightened your eyes even more, shaking your head. This was certainly not the time to let down your guard.

He appeared moments later, drying his hands with one of your pink washcloths, “Come on, let’s get you ready,” He said, his head tilted towards the bathroom, his voice deceptively warm.

Your feet betrayed you and you hesitantly crossed the room. Another door between you and your life before you knew Rafe felt this way. When it closed shut, you realized you’d sealed your fate. How could it be a mistake when this was the place in life where you felt safest? To accept something was wrong meant accepting that you had nowhere left to feel warm, innocent, or child-like.

Fingers caressed your skin, lifting the hem of your dress, gently raising your arms, until you were standing in your underwear. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again and it didn’t register how badly your lips were trembling until Rafe’s thumb caressed your bottom lip, “You’re okay,” He assured you, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You’d wanted this desperately, for someone to see you and not want to run away. You wanted someone to take care of you, someone devoted to nurturing you. Your eyes locked on Rafe’s and you felt his palm against your bottom, fingers traveling beneath the fabric of your panties. You kept your head tilted up as he leaned down, pressing lips that were softer than could’ve ever imagined, against your neck.

You melted against him.

Vanilla and strawberry swirled in the air, strong but gentle hands caressed you, and your tears started to feel more like a release than a burden. He kissed the spot on your throat that had gone sore from all tears.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered and you felt it everywhere.

After removing your bra and panties, he helped you into the bath. Quickly, the blood and tears seemed to leave your skin, as if you’d imagined them. He touched you in a way that more natural, human, than expected. With deliberate care, he moved his hands over you, an act that felt practiced.

Everything dissolved there in the warm bath, the heaviness of the entire night. Bubbles clung to your skin, and your fingers moved lazily over the surface of the water. Rafe washing you, moving a soapy washcloth over your skin, should’ve felt strange but were left in that hazy place where things were simple.

“This is how things are going to be,” You heard him say, “We’ll make it work, okay? You get to be yourself and I’m the one who takes care of you now. I’m your Daddy.”

You’d never said that word out loud. Daddy. It was a faraway concept, a dream …just like the cloud you were floating in right now. You hugged yourself, mind wandering to that soft bed with all of your plushies.

“Say it, princess,” you turned your head to him, mouth parted, eyes curious.

“Say what?” You asked in a whisper, an innocent haze in your eyes.

He smiled. You had done something right. You gave him a soft smile too. He leaned closer, “Say ‘Daddy’,” He commanded softly, “Please, princess.”

Part of you hesitated, knowing you were giving away something precious. The other part wanted to please him, after all, he’d brought you this sense of peace. And maybe the sooner you made him happy, the sooner he’d tuck you into your warm bed, and let this long day finally end.

“Daddy,” You tested out the word on your tongue and though it sounded fragile, his eyes seemed to light up, “...since you said please.”

Nothing could smoulder that spark of satisfaction in his eyes. The look made your heart flutter, a sharp contrast from before when it felt like exploding.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Your cheeks warmed and you turned your face to hide from him. You couldn’t take it when he looked at you like that. That look made it feel like everything was okay.

“I made a mistake,” Your voice came out in a whine. Rafe ran the warm cloth across your back, a reminder of that peaceful bubble he’d created around you.

He shushed you, “You didn’t,” He assured you, “You’re a good person, a good girl. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

His words made you sink deeper. The soft strokes of the warm washcloth, the vanilla-scent against your skin, and the pressure against your most sensitive areas. You felt the tension in your body melt away further.

Slowly, gripping your knees to your chest, you turned your face back towards him, “You can’t tell anybody, Rafe,” You whispered.

“Never,” He said, leaning closer, “Pinky swear?”

Rafe reached his other hand toward you, his pinky finger extended in front of you, moving like he was carefully dismantling some fragile, like a bomb. You stared for a brief movement, surprised and warmed by the gesture. You had no idea Rafe was capable of being so gentle. You unwrapped yourself a little bit, bring your closest pinky towards his hand. Your smaller finger wrapped around his and you were tethered together.

“There, I promise I won’t tell anyone, princess,” He looked at you deeply, “Okay?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, your hand falling gently back into the water, “Let’s get you out of here before you wrinkle up,” He decided and you watched him cross the room to grab your towel hanging from the back of the bathroom door. He walked back with a quiet confidence and his grip was completely sure, deliberate, as he helped you from the tub, “I’ve got ya’.”

He’d wrapped one arm underneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees, lifting you gently. You imagined pressing yourself into him but a towel soon separated you. You shivered, and instinctually, you wanted to dry yourself but Rafe took responsibility of that as well. He was so close, so protective. It was awkward at first, being able to take care of that mundane task but not having to. You leaned into it, letting your body be soothed by the ritual.

You kept sinking.

“Arms up,” He’d said after bringing you back to your bedroom. He chose an oversized purple t-shirt, designed with small pictures of cartoon pandas. For your underwear, he chose a light blue pair decorated with rainbows. Your eyelids grew heavy and after your first yawn, Rafe lifted you onto the side of your bed, “There you go. All set.”

You crawled into your cocoon further, settling underneat your quilt. You watched Rafe as you settled there, as he moved across the room. Your sleepy eyes widened for a moment, realizing his shirt was gone and that he was fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

It was a threshold you’d never expected to reach, with Rafe or anyone else. The lights flicked off and the bed dipped beside you, your nerves sparked. You grabbed ahold of your lamb stuffed animal, letting that bring you a familiar comfort. Rafe nestled closer to you, his body at ease, relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you.

You did your best to do the same, trying to lean into that same vulnerability you felt when he was bathing you. Warm skin against yours, strong hands on your waist, warm breath against your ear, it was overwhelming, “I-Is this okay?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Looking for reassurance, you turned your head until your noses were almost pressed together.

“Yeah,” Rafe spoke low and smooth, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, nervously, “I’m okay.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to your forehead and you took a deep breath, letting the feeling sooth your anxiety, “I’ve got you,” Rafe’s fingers ran down your arm then to your waist. He held you there, feeling your flesh there, squeezing, “Daddy’s got you, baby.”

He touched you in new ways, gripped you hard in some places and softer in others. The kiss on your forehead turned into a kiss on your nose and then he placed soft lips against your cheek, “Relax,” He whispered in your ear, “I know you’re sleepy. I’ll do all the work.”

In your state of mind, his words felt like a riddle. What did he mean? You knew you liked his touch and that you wanted to sleep. Rafe knew more than you, clearly, maybe that’s what makes him a good Daddy. You should trust him.

You closed your eyes as you let him press his face into your neck. He kissed you there, finding the most sensitive spot on your skin, and it made your lips part in a soft moan, “Call me Daddy,” He spoke against your skin, “Please, baby? Just say it and I’ll make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” You whispered back hesitantly and Rafe groaned, “D-Daddy.”

“Fuck,” Rafe cursed, grabbing a handful of your bottom, “That’s exactly what I want from you.”

You felt hardness pressing against your upper thigh and you gripped your lamb tighter. You leaned into sleep, letting Rafe move your body as he pleased, only moving your lips to whisper, “Daddy” in Rafe’s ear. He seemed please and you felt a warmness in your center that you wanted more of.

Soon he was on top of you, your legs spread as he sat in between them. He rubbed you there. His rhythm was perfect, his accuracy impeccable, so much that you didn’t have to even move your hips to get the friction you needed. You panted and when you reached your peak, Rafe swallowed your moans, putting his mouth on your lips.

It didn’t fully register to you when Rafe pushed your underwear aside and started to push inside of you. He was so gentle and you were so tired. He pulled your arms to the side, pressing his front against you, but you kept one hand wrapped around the arm of your stuffed animal, “Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy”

You winced when you felt all of him, and instinctively, you pushed at his heavy arms, “You’re okay,” He said, and his voice was louder to you than his heavy breathing or the sound of his skin hitting against yours, “You’re doing so good. Daddy’s almost done. You’re gonna make me cum so fast, Y/N. Shit.”

The satisfaction and pride in his words brought almost enough warmth to mask the pain of being stretched by him. You slowly grew used to the feeling but the feeling was so intense and you had so little energy to withstand it, to take all of him.

“Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

His thrust slowed but his weight kept you pinned there. He grabbed ahold of your chin and you blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. His mouth was parted, his eyes holding a darkness that you thought had gone away, “Jesus, baby.”

As he shifted to his side, all you could muster was to turn away, pulling your lamb close to your chest and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. Rafe nestled against you once more, his hands gripping your hips until your bottom was pressed firmly against him. You felt the warmth of his lips against your hair, and then his sleepy voice whispered, “Sweet dreams, princess.”

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#dark fic #rafe cameron #little space #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader

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thedensworld · 2 months ago

Text

Black Card Issue | L. Jh

Genre: fluff, est. relationship, smut

Summary: after a fight, Jihoon didn't expect to receive notifications for a revenge. However, he's not complaining.

Note: having so much fun writing this with @hoshifighting please check lyla's blog here!

Welcome to the densworld woozi🧚‍♀️

Jihoon is a chill man. Very chill. He values his peace of mind so much that no one dares disturb him when he’s in the zone, writing music. His studio is his sanctuary, a place where time stops and the world outside becomes irrelevant. No one crosses that boundary. No one—until you came into his life.

A little bundle of surprise, Jihoon would say with a soft smile. You changed everything.

You love surprises. It’s something Jihoon figured out pretty early on, back when you were just dating. And now, after years together and tying the knot, he knows it’s not just something you like—it’s a part of you. You’re the kind of person who thrives on spontaneity. The joy in your eyes when you do something unexpected, whether it’s a small gift or a sudden change of plans, has become a familiar sight. Surprises are so integral to your personality that impulsivity became second nature to you, a habit you didn’t even realize you had.

And Jihoon? Well, he’s had to become well-trained in handling it.

It wasn’t always easy, especially in the beginning. Six months into dating, Jihoon was already struggling to keep his composure around you. You were a whirlwind of energy and unpredictability, and Jihoon was the type who liked things calm and structured—especially when it came to his work. But then you would send him something, like that photo on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, just as he was about to attend a critical production meeting. A suggestive caption accompanying a picture of you that left him flushed and flustered.

He spent the rest of that day with his head spinning, barely able to focus on anything other than you.

His team noticed, of course. They always noticed when Jihoon was distracted—because it was rare. They’d been with him for over ten years, watching him pour his soul into his music, dedicated and unwavering. But you? It took you mere months to have Jihoon wrapped around your finger. And the best part? Jihoon willingly let it happen. He wanted to be wrapped around your finger.

And as much as his members teased him, he didn’t mind. Jihoon had always been the calm one, the focused one, the one who could drown out the world when he needed to. But with you, he didn’t want to drown out anything. He wanted to hear your laughter in the background while he worked. He wanted to receive those random photos in the middle of his meetings, even if they made him blush.

Now, Jihoon finds himself in his studio. Not the one at home, but the company studio. It was unusual—his fellow producers were surprised to see him there at this hour. 10 a.m.? That’s too early for Jihoon to be at work, they thought, especially since he rarely left the home studio after getting married.

“Did you two fight?” Soonyoung asked, making a quick stop before his schedule.

Jihoon didn’t answer. He simply turned the volume up, drowning out Soonyoung’s voice. Soonyoung scoffed but left, convinced that the only reason Jihoon would be at the company so early was if you two had fought. He knew Jihoon too well.

"Stop working for a while, man. Give your wife a rest," Soonyoung muttered as he left the studio. Jihoon cursed internally. How could Soonyoung read him so easily?

The truth was, last night didn’t go well. It was one of those nights Jihoon wished he could rewind—just take it all back. He came home late again, far too late. The kind of late where the house was eerily quiet, and the only light on was the one in the living room. He didn’t even realize how long he’d been working until he saw the notifications on his phone—your texts, your missed calls.

His heart sank. The guilt hit him immediately, but exhaustion numbed him from fully acknowledging it. He braced himself as he turned the knob, pushing the door open, hoping maybe you had gone to bed. But there you were, sitting on the couch, arms crossed, your phone lying idle beside you. You weren’t saying a word, but your silence screamed disappointment. And Jihoon knew—he’d screwed up again.

He paused at the doorway, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you didn’t. The air between you was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. He could feel your eyes on him, and it made his stomach twist. He hated it when you looked at him like that, like you were waiting for him to care enough to explain himself.

But instead of apologizing, instead of doing what he knew he should have done, Jihoon snapped.

"I work for you! I work hard to afford the life you want! Why don’t you understand?!" His voice rose, frustration dripping from every word. He didn’t mean it to come out that way. He didn’t mean to make it sound like you were the problem, like you were the one pushing him to the edge. But in that moment, he was too overwhelmed to control it.

The silence that followed was deafening. He saw the way your face fell, the way your shoulders slumped as if his words had physically weighed you down. You didn’t even argue back. You just stood there, absorbing the blow, your eyes wide and hurt, like you couldn’t believe the person you loved could say something so cruel. Jihoon could see it—the disappointment, the pain, the betrayal in your eyes.

He knew you weren’t with him for his money. He knew that from the start. You never cared about his fame, his success. You never asked for lavish gifts or expensive things. What you wanted—what you always asked for—was him. His time. His presence. But Jihoon, in his frantic rush to meet deadlines and exceed expectations, had forgotten.

He was so tired. The stress had piled up to the point that it felt like he was suffocating under the weight of everyone’s demands. His work was relentless, the pressure from his team to deliver perfection was unending, and somewhere along the way, he started feeling less like a person and more like a machine. And in all of that, he had forgotten you were the one person who treated him like a human being. The only person who reminded him to eat, to sleep, to rest.

But last night, Jihoon saw something in your eyes he never wanted to see again—pain. He had hurt you, and the worst part was, you didn’t deserve it.

You didn’t even say a word as you left the room, walking away with that shattered expression on your face. He stood there, frozen, wanting to chase after you, to take back everything he’d said, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t think straight. The weight of everything felt too much.

Jihoon ended up sleeping in his home studio that night, staring blankly at his laptop screen, his mind racing with regret. He didn’t get any work done. How could he? All he could think about was the way you looked at him, the way your lips trembled like you were fighting back tears, the way you didn’t even argue because you were too hurt to speak. He hated himself for it.

The guilt gnawed at him all night, so by the time morning came, he couldn’t bear to be in the same house. He thought if he went to the company studio, if he just got out, maybe it would clear his head. Maybe he could focus on work and forget how badly he had messed up.

But he couldn’t. You were all he could think about. Even surrounded by equipment and projects, even as he tried to drown himself in work, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The regret kept replaying in his mind like a broken record, and the truth settled in his chest like a lead weight—he could never stop thinking about you. He never could.

And now, sitting alone in the company studio, he could still see your face in his mind, the hurt he had caused, and it tore him apart.

"Jihoon…" His manager knocked on the door, pulling Jihoon from his deep focus. He turned his head toward the reflection in the glass and saw someone entering. Quickly, he put down his headphones.

"The bank called me," his manager said, concern lacing his voice. "Someone's been making a lot of purchases with your account, and they couldn’t reach you. So, I got worried."

Jihoon blinked, realization dawning as he remembered he had turned off his phone earlier to avoid distractions. He hurriedly switched it back on, and as expected, notifications flooded his screen. Among them were a surprising number of texts from you.

Curious, Jihoon opened your messages, and his eyes widened. You had sent him a series of photos—shopping bags piled high, receipts for luxury items, and then… a car. You bought a car?

Jihoon sighed, rubbing his temples as he scrolled through the notifications of credit charges—clothes, electronics, and more. Why did you decide to buy all of this in one day?

"Everything’s fine. It’s just… my wife," Jihoon said, a little embarrassed as he reassured his manager. "No one’s using my card without permission."

His manager chuckled, seeming relieved, before leaving Jihoon alone with his thoughts.

Just as Jihoon exhaled, another text popped up. A photo of you in a jacuzzi, clearly in some luxurious hotel, wearing a brand new red bikini. The caption that followed made Jihoon’s breath hitch.

You: Want to give me the life I want? Come here. Turns out, spending your money doesn’t satisfy me enough.

Jihoon sighed deeply, his face growing warm as he hurriedly turned off everything in his studio. It was no use—he’d have to go get his black card back from you. Or maybe get something else.

You feel the dash of cold air hit your skin as you lay back against the heated tiles of the jacuzzi, legs lazily draped over the edge. You can’t help the little smirk pulling at your lips as you scroll through Jihoon’s texts. He’s gonna kill you. Well, maybe not kill, but he’ll definitely be pissed off. The shopping spree, the car, the photos—God, you knew exactly what you were doing. Pressing his buttons like that, getting him riled up on purpose, all because he had the audacity to shout at you last night.

But, you’re done with his bullshit excuses. He can whine about deadlines and stress all he wants, but you’re not here for that. You’re here for him, and clearly, he needs a little reminder.

The door to the hotel room opens, and even with the sound of the jacuzzi jets bubbling, you hear it. He’s here. Your heart skips a beat as the familiar, steady thud of Jihoon’s shoes echo in the space. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel the burden of his stare on you, heavy and unrelenting. His presence is like a storm, silent but brewing.

You stretch your arms above your head, not even looking up, knowing full well he’s staring.

“Took you long enough,” You hum, voice saturated by fake innocence, like you hadn’t been the one who set the whole thing in motion. “figured you’d be quicker if i spent a little more of your money.”

Silence.

Then, the sound of him setting something down—his keys? maybe his bag? You don’t care. You hear the shuffle of his shoes being kicked off, and that’s when you finally open your eyes.

Jihoon stands at the edge of the jacuzzi, arms crossed, jaw tight, his eyes dreary and locked onto you.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he finally speaks, voice low, a growl almost. “what do you think you’re doing?”

You shrug, acting like you don’t feel the tension. “Just giving myself a little treat. After all, i am your wife. Don’t i deserve the best?”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, just stares at you for a moment longer before his hands move to his belt. Your eyes widen, mouth parting slightly. “Oh, you think this is funny? You think you can just spend my money, send me those pictures, and i’ll come running?”

“Well, you did come running…” You mumble as if you were talking to yourself.

Jihoon moves, and before you know it, he’s crouched beside the jacuzzi, fingers hooking into the strap of your bikini top, pulling you closer to him with little resistance. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice rough, “this is the last thing you’ll be wearing tonight.”

Before you can even form a reply, he tugs at the fabric, and the red bikini snaps, tearing with a sharp rip.

Jihoon stands back up, the smirk on his face teasing you in a way that gets under your skin. His hand casually tosses the torn bikini top aside like it’s nothing, he looks at you, riling you up on purpose. He doesn’t rush; he takes his time pulling off his shirt, his pants.

You narrow your eyes, trying to keep the annoyance in check, but he’s pushing your buttons. “Really?” you ask. “You had to rip it off just to mess with me? You’re such an asshole”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, taking a step closer until he's right in front of you again. He leans down, pushing you back into the jacuzzi, the water sloshing as your back hits the edge. “You look mad, but I bet you’re dripping right now.”

You can even think of a response, his hand slips into your bikini bottoms just as he sits down. His fingers brush lightly over your clit, not applying pressure, just teasing, circling it slow just to watch you squirm. You twitch under his touch, your legs parting on instinct, hips bucking just slightly. He’s not giving you enough, and he knows it.

“You like to play these games, baby?” he murmurs. “Teasing me, spending all my money. What’s the real reason, huh? Just wanted my attention this bad?”

You bite back a moan, refusing to let him win so easily. “Shut up,” you manage to grit out, but the breathlessness in your voice betrays you. His thumb starts rubbing a little harder, making the bud throb on his thumb. You feel your body arching toward him, a needy moan escaping despite yourself.

“No...” he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I wanna hear you say it. You knew I’d come running, right?”

His fingers press harder now, slipping lower, teasing your entrance without pushing in. Your hands grip the edge of the tub, eyes rolling back slightly as he continues torturing you.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you hiss, your words catching in your throat as his fingers pick up the tempo. He’s still circling, still rubbing, but it’s not nearly enough. You need more, and he knows it.

“Oh, I’m annoying?” he growls softly, leaning his weight into you, fingers pressing harder, deeper, but still not giving you what you need. “What’s annoying is you buying cars and booking hotels like you don’t already have everything you want right here.”

Your legs spread wider, hips instinctively grinding down against Jihoon’s fingers as they tease your entrance. Your hand shoots up to grip his wrist, trying to gude his fingers in, but he stills the arm, cupping you. His other hand trails up your chest, stopping to toy with your nipples, flicking and squeezing them just enough to make you gasp. Then, wetting the valley of your breasts, his hand moves to your throat, wrapping around it in a firm grip, pushing your head back until it rests on the cold border of the jacuzzi.

“You’re so needy,” Jihoon mutters, watching as your mouth falls open, eyes half-lidded, breath coming out in shallow pants. You feel his thumb graze over your bottom lip, smirking as if he’s amused by just how desperate you’ve become. He hasn’t even given you what you want yet, but you’re already a mess for him.

Finally, his fingers push inside, just one at first, but the way your body responds—instantly clenching, your pussy practically swallowing his finger whole—makes him groan low in his throat. The water ripples around the two of you, splashing lightly against your skin as his movements grow rougher.

“God, you’re soaked,” he chuckles, voice almost mocking as his finger curls inside you, hitting that sweet spot making your hips jerk by their own. Even with the water swirling around, Jihoon can feel the heat between your thighs, the sticky slickness of your folds clinging to his fingers as he slides in another.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, trying to pull him closer, but he doesn't let up. Instead, his fingers work you harder, pumping in and out of you making the water splash with every push. The sound is obscene, the wet slaps of his fingers echoing in the room, blending with your suffered moans, and Jihoon's grunts.

You lift your gaze to him, lips parted, eyes pleading, practically begging for more. You look up at Jihoon with a needy expression that you know drives him crazy. But he just grins, slowing his movements slightly, his hand tightening around your throat.

“Aww, look at you,” he coos, voice soft despite the way his fingers are fucking into you hard, relentless. “Such a pretty little mess. You like this, don’t you? Me ruining you with just my fingers?”

You can’t form words, your head tilting back more as his pace quickens again, fingers curling deep, hitting the spongy spot that makes your vision blur. The water splashes harder now, droplets spilling over the edge of the tub as your hips buck in time with his thrusts. Your legs tremble, thighs shaking, and all you can manage is a soft whimper, your entire body arching toward him.

Jihoon chuckles again, watching you fall apart beneath him. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, fingers pumping in and out faster, thumb rubbing over your clit in quick circles. “You’re so fucking tight… taking it so well. What do you want, huh? You want more?”

Your breath catches in your throat, his words making your body ache. You nod frantically, too overwhelmed to say anything. The hand around your throat loosens slightly, giving you a moment to breathe, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers continue their brutal pace, fucking you deep, and you know he’s not stopping until you cum around his long fingers.

You feel your stomach flip when Jihoon curls his fingers and stills them, making your body arch off the jacuzzi edge as you instinctively reach for him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him down to kiss you.

The kiss is brutish, dirty—his lips smashing into yours, teeth clashing as his tongue slips into your mouth. He sucks your tongue hard, biting down on your bottom lip in that way that always makes your legs tremble. You can’t focus, the pleasure building too fast, making it impossible to keep up with the kiss. But you try, you desperately try, your hands clutching tighter in his hair.

It’s only a matter of seconds before your body betrays you. You moan into his mouth, the sound low and drawn out, muffled by the kiss. You pull him closer, your grip tightening painfully in his hair as the pleasure crests, your body trembling as your back arches impossibly high.

Your nipples graze his chest, the sensation of your sensitive skin brushing against his, makes him shiver, his breath hitching as your slick cunt clenches hard around his fingers.

Your moans become more frantic, desperate, and you can’t keep kissing him anymore. Your mouth falls open, head tilting back as you gasp for air, your body seizing up with the strength of your orgasm.

Your pussy tightens around his fingers, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you cum, the water splashing violently around you from the press of your movements. Jihoon smirks down at you, clearly proud of himself, fingers still thrusting into you even as you come down from your high. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice soft but teasing. “Cum all over my fingers.”

Your mind is still swimming in the hangovers of your orgasm when Jihoon suddenly pulls his hand away. You’re left panting, trying to catch your breath, but he’s already manhandling you, turning you around and pressing you into the edge of the tub.

“Get on all fours,” he orders. You don’t hesitate, your body moving on autopilot as you shift into position, knees pressing into jacuzzi, hands bracing yourself against the edge.

Jihoon’s grip is firm as he presses you down, making sure you don’t slip on the slick surface. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady while he strokes himself behind you. You glance back, seeing him gripping his cock, pumping himself slowly, the tip flushed red and dripping with pre-cum, some veins popping up when he cuts the blood circulation. The sight makes your mouth water.

He lines himself up with you, the head of his cock teasing your wet pussy, but he doesn’t push in just yet. Instead, he grabs your bikini bottom—what’s left of it anyway—and yanks it harshly to the side, exposing your swollen, sensitive folds. You feel the fabric digging into your skin, tight and uncomfortable.

Jihoon watches, mesmerized, as your pussy clenches around nothing, your body still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Slowly Jihoon pushes inside. He takes his time, savoring the way your walls squeeze around him, they way you slick starts to coat him too, your body struggling to accommodate his size. You whimper, fingers clawing at the edge of the tub, trying to keep yourself stable as he fills you inch by inch.

He moans deep in his throat, the sound oscillating through his chest as he bottoms out, his cock buried fully inside you.

You bite your lip, arching your back even more, desperate to take him deeper. “Jihoon… please…”

But he just chuckles darkly, pulling out slowly, only to slam back in, making the water splash around you both again. “Oh, you’ll get what you want,” he promises. “Just keep taking it like that.”

His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. The sharp pull has you arching back, your spine curving as he yanks you up against his chest, your back pressing flush against his front. The new angle makes his cock hit even deeper, your breath hitching as the tip grazes that swollen spot inside you.

Jihoon glances at the nearby mirror, his eyes glued to the reflection of your bodies. Your tits bounce with every thrust, soft and flushed, his eyes darken, watching the way your skin sticks to his, the way your body—though trembling—melts against him, sacrificing to the pleasure despite every nerve in your body wanting to tense up.

He moans suffered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, feeling the warmness radiating off your skin. You’re burning up, both of you are, your bodies slick with sweat despite being submerged in water seconds after. Jihoon can’t help but bury his face against your neck, breathing you in, skin to skin, letting the sensation take over him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin, almost as if he's talking to himself. “I missed this. Missed you.”

His hips don’t stop, driving into you harder, your thighs shaking as you try to keep up, but your body is already on the edge. You’re clinging to him for dear life, your head falling back against his shoulder, mouth falling open as breathless moans slip out with every thrust.

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon suddenly murmurs, his voice softer now, tender. He keeps thrusting into you, but there’s an apology laced in every word, every snap of his hips. “I’m so fucking sorry… for everything.”

You don’t answer, can’t even if you wanted to. Your breath is caught in your throat, the only response you give is the way your body clings to his, melting further into his hold as his hands roam down your body.

He doesn’t expect you to answer. Maybe he doesn’t even need you to. He just keeps going, fucking into you like he’s trying to apologize through the way his body moves against yours. His grip loosens in your hair, his hand sliding down the curve of your waist, lower, until his fingers find the puffy bundle of nerves between your legs.

The second his fingers brush over your clit, your whole body tenses again, only to relax almost instantly as he starts rubbing teasing circles. You whimper, legs trembling, hardly competent to hold yourself up, and Jihoon groans into your skin, feeling the way you melt even more against him.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, his voice raspy in your ear. “Always take me so well… fuck… so tight, baby… you feel that? You’re clenching around me.”

You don’t say anything, just a soft gasp escapes your lips, your head falling back further onto his shoulder, exposing the column of your throat to him. His fingers quicken their pace, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, every brush of his thumb over your swollen clit making you cry out.

“I know I fucked up,” Jihoon whispers, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "But I can’t stop… I can’t stop thinking about you. About this. About how good you feel around me.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as his hand continues working you, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tighter, anchoring you to him. His fingers press harder against your clit, drawing tight circles that make your whole body twitch, every nerve ending alive and buzzing.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, his voice dipping into that familiar, filthy tone, the one that drives you insane. “Cum for me… I know you’re close. I can feel it. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

You’re so close, your vision blurring as the heat in your core builds higher. Your body’s completely given in to him, to the way he’s fucking you deep and hard while his fingers expertly play with your clit, not giving you a single moment of respite.

And then it hits, hard and fast. Your back arches, body tensing as the orgasm rips through you, ripple after ripple of pleasure crashing over you as your pussy clenches tight around him. Your hands reach back, desperately grabbing at anything—his hair, his arms—trying to ground yourself as you moan out his name, breathless and trembling.

Jihoon groans at the feeling, his cock throbbing inside you as your walls pulse around him. “Fuck… that’s it,” he rasps, his hand slowing its movements on your clit, letting you ride out your high. He’s still buried deep inside you, his cock twitching, and he watches in the mirror as your body shudders against his.

He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he shifts you forward, placing you on all fours again, his hands steadying you as he lines himself up once more. His hand slides down to your ass, pushing your bikini bottom further to the side so he can watch as your tight puffy walls flutter around him.

Without delay, he starts thrusting again, his pace slow but deep, watching as your body tenses, clenching around him every time he sinks in.

Jihoon lets out a series of the neediest, whiniest moans you've ever heard from him, and it hits you differently—vulnerable, like you’ve broken through every layer he keeps guarded.

Then he sinks in fully and stops.

You slouch forward, your whole body going limp as you brace yourself on your forearms. You feel him pressed against your back, the warmth of his skin sticking to yours as his breath hitches in your ear.

And then it fills you—heat as his cum spurts deep inside you. Hot, thick, and it has you crying out, your voice breaking as your body quakes beneath him. You can feel every pulse of his cock as he fills you up, making your insides feel impossibly full.

Your back trembles under his weight, every muscle in your body quivering as his release continues to flood you. Your pussy clenches around him involuntarily, trying to milk every last drop from him, and it only makes him groan louder.

“Shit,” Jihoon breathes, his voice a wrecked, breathy mess as he leans forward, his forehead pressing into the back of your neck. His hands grip your hips tightly, like he’s using you to anchor himself through the intensity of his orgasm. “Fuck… you feel s'good.”

Your head drops onto your forearm, unable to do anything but take it all in. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, a warm, slick sensation as it mixes with the water around your thighs. Your legs are shaking, your core aching, but you don’t want him to pull out, you want to stay like this, to feel him deep inside you just a little longer.

Jihoon’s breathing finally starts to slow, his body still pressed flush against yours as his arms snake around your waist, holding you tight. You hum softly in response, his cum continues to spill out, and you can feel every slow drip as your pussy flutters, trying to recover from the relentless pounding he just gave you.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to glance down at the sight of your trembling back. A soft smirk tugs at his lips as he watches how your body reacts to him, still sensitive, still on edge. “Look at you,” he whispers, his tone soft but teasing. “You’re still shaking. Did I fuck you that good?”

You don’t answer him; just let out a shaky breath. Your body is completely spent, and you can narrowly keep yourself upright. Jihoon chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your damp skin before pulling out slowly, the loss of him leaving you feeling empty and aching. The last bit of his cum leaks out of you as he does, and he watches, fascinated, as it mixes with the water beneath you.

He moves to your side, pulling you into his chest, his hands rubbing gentle circles on your back as you both come down from the high.

Jihoon gently lifted you from the jacuzzi, his hands steady as he wrapped a robe around your body, drying you with care. His touch was soft, and the tension between you started to ease with each moment. He laid you down on the bed with tenderness, his eyes flickering with a mix of concern and regret.

As he stepped away to quickly clean himself up, you could feel the weight of his emotions lingering in the air. When he returned, Jihoon slid into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his warmth pressing against your skin. His embrace was tight but comforting, as though he was trying to hold on to more than just the moment.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was barely above a whisper, yet the sincerity in it was undeniable. He rested his forehead gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you. "Please forgive me."

You could feel the vulnerability in his words, a side of Jihoon that he rarely showed.

You lay there in his arms, feeling the tension in his body slowly release as he held you close. His apology lingered in the air, filled with emotion you hadn’t heard from him before. For a moment, everything was quiet—the warmth of his skin, the sound of your breathing, and the beating of his heart against yours.

Jihoon pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness. His brows furrowed, and he seemed almost afraid of what you might say. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, the familiar sensation calming you both.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you whispered, the weight of the past argument starting to lift. “But it’s hard sometimes, Jihoon. You get so lost in your work…”

He nodded, the regret still heavy in his gaze. "I know. I promise I'll do better. I can't stand the thought of losing you, or pushing you away."

His words tugged at your heart, and you could see how much he meant it. There had always been that side of him—driven, focused, and dedicated—but sometimes it made him forget everything else. Still, here he was, trying, apologizing, and making the effort to put you first.

Without saying anything, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss. Jihoon sighed against your mouth, relief and gratitude flooding through him as he deepened the kiss, his arms tightening around you as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched again, both of you breathing a little more steadily now.

“I forgive you,” you said softly. His eyes brightened at your words, and you felt the tension finally melt away completely. Jihoon smiled, a rare, gentle one that you didn’t see often enough, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pulling you closer again, as though he couldn’t get enough of having you in his arms.

Jihoon sighed deeply as he glanced around your living room, cluttered with bags and boxes of things you'd bought earlier that day. His eyes scanned the array of items before he asked, half-jokingly, “Is it even possible to empty my bank account in a single day?”

You smiled, shaking your head as you tried to ease his worry. “Don’t stress. I can sell them all on the marketplace. They’ll be gone in two days, tops. I promise.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow and picked up one item that particularly caught his attention—a pair of leopard-printed underwear for men. He held it up with a bemused expression, “Leopard print... for me?”

You grinned mischievously, “Yup! Oh, and I got you the hot pink one, too. Thought you’d look great in it.”

Jihoon groaned, his face a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You know it was a joke when everyone said i wear these kind of panties, right? There’s no way I’d ever wear these.”

You crossed your arms, stepping closer with a playful smirk on your face. “Oh, I can make you wear them,” you teased, your tone light but daring.

Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head at your persistence. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your grin widening. “I have my ways. Just wait until you see how good you look in them.”

He rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

You stepped even closer, standing on your toes to whisper in his ear, “You’ll thank me later.”

Jihoon’s laughter filled the room as he pulled you into a hug, shaking his head. “You never give up, do you?”

“Never,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. "And trust me, you’ll look amazing in leopard print."

With a defeated sigh, Jihoon gave you one more playful glare, “Fine. But don’t think this means I’m wearing the hot pink ones too.”

“We’ll see about that,” you replied, your voice full of challenge and laughter as you leaned into his embrace.

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pucksandpower · 11 months ago

Text

Prove Them Wrong

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: when an invitation to your high school reunion arrives, you are ready to throw it in the garbage … but your husband convinces you to go and prove them wrong

Happy Charles Leclerc contract extension day to all who celebrate 🫶

The invitation arrives in the mail on a Tuesday morning. You’ve just finished your coffee and are clearing the breakfast dishes when you see it — that familiar crest imprinted on the thick, creamy stationary. Your five-year high school reunion.

Immediately, your stomach drops. You haven’t thought about high school in years, haven’t had any contact with your classmates in just as long. Those weren’t the easiest years for you. In fact, they were some of the hardest.

You were shy, quiet, a bit awkward. You never quite fit in with the popular crowd, though you longed to. Much of your time was spent alone, lost in books and music, wishing you could break out of your shell. The kids were cruel in their exclusion. You still remember the whispers, the laughter at your expense, the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

After graduation, you left it all behind without a backward glance. You built a new life, one where you finally found your place. You have a successful career, an amazing husband, a beautiful home. You’ve traveled the world, experienced things you could have never imagined as that geeky teen.

Yet holding the invitation in your hands, the old insecurities come flooding back. Could you really face those people again? The ones who looked through you like you were invisible? Who made you feel small?

You’re lost in thought when Charles comes into the kitchen. He kisses your cheek and asks what’s wrong. Wordlessly, you hand him the invitation.

He glances at it and understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, a reunion. I take it you’re not thrilled?”

You shake your head. “I hated high school. The kids were really mean. I don’t know if I can go back there and face them again.”

Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry you went through that, love. Kids can be terribly cruel.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know, this might be a good chance to show them how wrong they were about you.”

You give him a skeptical look and he continues. “Think about it — you’re not that shy girl anymore. You’ve accomplished so much, you have an amazing life. Maybe going back will give you some closure. A chance to prove to yourself and to them how far you’ve come.”

“I don’t know ...” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your shoulders, looking into your eyes. “You are an incredible woman. You have nothing to feel insecure about. I know it won’t be easy, but I think this could be good for you. Let them see the strong, successful person you’ve become. And I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Maybe he’s right. This could be an opportunity to flip the script, to rewrite the ending to that difficult chapter of your life.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Let’s do it.”

Charles grins and pulls you in for a real embrace now. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Over the next few weeks, you have moments of confidence mixed with waves of doubt. Charles is a constant source of reassurance. The night before the reunion, your nerves are frayed.

“What if they’re still awful? What if all those old feelings come rushing back the moment I see them?” You fret as you get ready for bed.

Charles takes your hands, his gaze earnest. “I know you’re scared, chérie. But don’t forget — you’re not alone now. I’ll be by your side the whole time. And if anyone says one nasty thing, we’ll walk right out that door, okay?”

You smile gratefully at him. “Okay. Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know if I could do this without you.”

He kisses you softly. “You’ve got this. Get some rest, mon cœur.”

***

In the morning, you take extra care getting ready, donning an elegant dress and styling your hair just so. Looking in the mirror, you remind yourself that you belong in these clothes, in this life.

The reunion is at your old high school, in the gymnasium. As you walk in hand-in-hand with Charles, the smells hit you first — sweat and sneakers, just like you remember. There are balloons and streamers, a table of snacks and drinks. And clustered together, familiar faces you haven’t seen in five years.

Your heart begins to pound. Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs. Then you lift your chin and step forward to greet your past.

As you scan the room, you recognize faces that used to fill the halls of your high school. Some look familiar, unchanged by the passing years. Others you barely recognize at all.

You steel yourself as a group of giggling girls comes into view — the former popular clique. Lindsay, Heather, and Bethany. Once the queens of the school, rulers of all they surveyed.

Lindsay spots you first. Her overly plumped lips curl into a smirk. “Well, look who it is. Little Y/N Y/L/N.”

You squeeze Charles’ hand tighter as that old childhood instinct to shrink kicks in. But you lift your chin and meet Lindsay’s gaze head-on. “Lindsay. Hello.”

Her eyes flick dismissively over you before landing on Charles. They widen, lips parting. Of course she recognizes him — his face is rarely out of the public eye.

“Y/N!” Bethany exclaims with obviously fake delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

You allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. “Of course. This is my husband, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles gives them a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”

The mean girls’ jaws drop in unison. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the impressed once-overs they give Charles.

Heather recovers first, plastering on a sycophantic grin. “The pleasure’s all ours! What a lovely surprise.” She touches Charles’ arm lightly. “We would love to catch up and hear all about your life, Y/N.”

You catch Charles’ eye. His lips twitch, seeing right through them.

“That’s kind of you to offer,” you say smoothly. “If you’ll please excuse us, I see some other classmates I’d like to greet.”

You steer Charles away, leaving them sputtering. As soon as you’re out of earshot, he chuckles. “Well, they certainly changed their tune quickly.”

“Once they realized they could get something from me now,” you reply wryly.

You make small talk with a few classmates, keeping it surface-level. Charles’ presence by your side is bolstering. With him here, you’re reminded that you have nothing to prove to these people. Your worth isn’t defined by their approval.

After grabbing drinks, you scan the room again. Your stomach sinks as your eyes land on a familiar figure — Brad Collins. Handsome as ever, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers.

Brad was your biggest crush all through high school. You pined for him secretly, knowing he was way out of your league. He never gave you the time of day — too focused on football, parties, and whichever popular girl caught his eye that week.

“Everything okay?” Charles asks, noticing your expression.

You nod tightly. “My old crush is here.”

Charles spots him and understanding crosses his face. He presses a kiss to your temple. “His loss, mon amour.”

At that moment, Brad looks up and notices you. His stare is cold, dismissive. He says something to his friends and they erupt in laughter, eyes cutting your way.

Your cheeks burn. Some things never change.

Charles’ jaw tightens. He takes your hand firmly and starts steering you toward Brad and his posse.

You glance at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going over to say hello,” he replies calmly.

“Charles, you don’t have to ...”

He silences you with a look. “Trust me.”

You swallow hard and nod. Brad watches you approach with that familiar cocky smirk.

“Well, look who it is,” he drawls as you come to stand before him. “Never thought I’d see you at one of these things, Y/L/N.”

You stare him down unwaveringly. “Yes, well, people can surprise you.”

Brad’s gaze slides to Charles, brows lifting. You can see him trying to place how he might know this handsome, expensively dressed man by your side.

“Brad, this is my husband, Charles Leclerc,” you say sweetly.

Brad’s smirk disappears. His friends gape between you and Charles.

“Husband, huh?” Brad says after a pause, regaining his bravado. “Well, congratulations. Didn’t know you had it in you to land a guy like this.”

Fury rises in you, but before you can respond, Charles steps forward. His voice is pleasant but his eyes are steel.

“Clearly you don’t know much about my wife at all. But that’s your loss. I’m the lucky one who gets to experience her incredible heart and mind every day.”

Brad flushes under Charles’ stare. An awkward beat passes.

Charles continues calmly, “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I just hope you realize what an opportunity you missed out on back then. Have a good night, gentlemen.”

He turns, guiding you away and leaving Brad speechless behind you. Your eyes shine as you gaze up at Charles.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

He grins. “Feel free to tell me again. And I meant every word.” He nods over at Brad’s group, now whispering furiously. “Hopefully that wipes the smirk off his face.”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss Charles’ cheek. “This turned out to be good advice after all. Thank you for being here, for reminding me who I am now.”

The rest of the reunion passes uneventfully. You mingle, laugh, and share stories with classmates who weren’t part of the toxic popular crowd. They’re welcoming and kind. For the first time, you feel like you’re reconnecting with peers, not tormentors.

As you and Charles get into the car to drive home, you let out a long, satisfied breath. The demons of your past have been conquered for good. You faced your bullies and they’re the ones who were left lacking.

You squeeze Charles’ hand, your heart full of gratitude. “Let’s go home.”

***

The adrenaline rush from the reunion slowly fades as you and Charles drive to your hotel. You lean your head back against the leather seat, letting out a long exhale.

“How are you feeling?” Charles asks, glancing your way.

You consider the question. “Good,” you realize with some surprise. “Really good actually.”

Charles smiles. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You shake your head slowly. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t go. Thank you for pushing me to face them. It was so empowering to see their reactions, to realize how little I care about their opinions now.”

“You did all the hard work,” he reminds you. “I just gave you a little nudge. I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

Warmth spreads through you at his words. Not for the first time, you feel a rush of gratitude that this man chose you, sees you, loves you exactly as you are.

Once in your suite, Charles makes you a cup of chamomile tea and you curl up together on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder, replaying the events of the night in your mind.

“Do you think they’ll actually learn anything from tonight?” You ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “All those kids who were so terrible — will seeing me change their perspectives at all?”

Charles considers this, running his fingers idly through your hair. “I’m not sure. Hopefully it gave them something to think about, but some people never grow out of that mindset. The important thing is that you held your head high and didn’t let them make you feel small.”

You nod slowly. “I think if I could go back and tell my teenage self that this night would come, it would have made those years a little more bearable. Knowing I would come through it stronger. That I would have you by my side.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll remind you as often as you need. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’ve always had an inner strength, even if it took time to fully embrace it. Those kids certainly didn’t put it there.”

You smile up at him. “Have I mentioned lately that you always know exactly what to say?”

He chuckles. “Once or twice.”

You talk softly as the evening winds down, the tea warming you from the inside out. Your reunion with the ghosts of high school is finally behind you. It’s time to let go of the last lingering traces they have over you.

Over the next week, life returns to its normal rhythm. You throw yourself back into work, energized by a new sense of confidence and peace. Every day the experience recedes further into the past.

Until the phone call comes.

You’re just sitting down to lunch when your cell lights up with an unfamiliar number. For a moment you simply stare at it, perplexed.

After a brief internal debate, you answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Lindsay chirps in an overly bright voice. “How are you, hon?”

You hold the phone away from your ear, making a face at her faux familiarity. “I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask evenly.

“Well, I was just calling to see if we could get together! You know, have a little reunion of our own. I’d love to catch up outside of that whole silly event.”

You nearly choke on your water. “You would?”

“Of course!” Lindsay laughs airily. “I barely got to talk to you. And I’d love to spend more time with that charming husband of yours ...”

Ah. There it is. You have to stifle an eye roll.

“That’s … kind of you to offer,” you say carefully. “But I’m afraid our schedules are pretty busy at the moment.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could find the time!” She presses. “I would love to take you two to dinner. My treat!”

Tempting as that is, you have zero desire to spend more time with this woman, despite her transparent new interest in you.

“Appreciate the invitation, but I’ll have to pass,” you say, your tone final. “Take care, Lindsay.”

You hang up before she can protest further. Shaking your head, you go back to your salad. Some things never change.

When Charles gets home, you regale him with the bizarre phone call. He looks equally astonished.

“She actually asked you to dinner? Just to get closer to me?” He gives an incredulous laugh.

You grin ruefully. “Yep. I guess you made more of an impression than we realized.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. Then his expression turns thoughtful.

“You know what? I think we should take her up on that offer after all.”

You stare at him. “What? Why?”

His eyes glint mischievously. “Because I’d like to make it very clear what I think of people who treat you so poorly. And a free dinner out sounds lovely.”

You can’t help but laugh at his unexpected scheming side. “Look at you, getting all protective and devious! I have to admit, it would be gratifying to knock her off her pedestal a bit more.”

Charles winks. “That’s what I was thinking.”

And so, despite your better judgment, you call Lindsay back and accept her invitation to dinner that weekend.

You take more care than usual getting ready, playing up your most striking features. Charles looks unfairly handsome in his designer suit, hair perfectly tousled just to annoy Lindsay further.

When you arrive at the trendy upscale restaurant she chose, Lindsay is already there waiting. She air-kisses your cheeks in greeting, fawning over you and Charles effusively.

As the meal begins, she dominates the conversation, barely letting you get a word in. She name-drops shamelessly, trying to impress Charles with all her supposed connections.

“Oh Charles, you simply must come stay at our villa in Positano sometime! I’d be happy to arrange it for you both. Anything for Y/N’s hubby!” She titters, touching his arm.

You and Charles exchange subtle amused looks across the table. When the waiter appears for your order, Charles gives him an easy smile.

“My wife will have the scallops and I’ll take the filet. Oh, and send over your most expensive bottle of champagne, please. My treat tonight.”

Lindsay’s smile freezes. You bite back a grin, catching his eye again. Message received.

As dinner winds down, Charles finally turns the tables on her. “So Lindsay, what have you been up to since high school? Y/N tells me you two were quite close.”

Lindsay flushes, flustered. “Oh … well, you know, this and that!” She forces a laugh. “I’m in between ventures at the moment. But I stay very busy with charity work and running in social circles.”

“How lovely for you,” Charles says neutrally. “And your husband? What does he do?”

“I’m, uh, not married,” she mumbles, clearly off-kilter now.

“I see. Well, I’m sure the right man will come along someday.” He smiles placidly. “Everyone deserves to feel that kind of love, don’t you agree?”

Lindsay just nods, face pinched. You stifle a satisfied smile behind your napkin.

Later in the car, Charles grins over at you. “That was entertaining.”

You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Have I mentioned you’re the best husband ever?”

He laughs. “A few times. But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

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wildestdreamsblog · 6 months ago

Text

Might as well be drunk in love: 2 of 3

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Let the darkness begin.

GIF by sugajimin

Part 1

Tuesday Night, Day 1

Kim Namjoon opened the door, his dimples on display as he welcomed you in the mansion for the second time that night as though he was already expecting you. He looked warm and comfortable, donning out simple white shirt and grey sweatpants instead of his usual formal clothes. A damp towel hanged on his broad shoulders; his hair still wet from the shower he obviously took.

“Welcome home, little one,” he greeted lowly, pulling your reluctant form in. If he felt the way you dug your heels on the ground, he didn’t mention. He was just elated that you were here now. He couldn’t explain the excruciating pain that went through his body almost more than an hour after he dropped you off. He was only able to manage it when Hoseok messaged him, letting him know that you would be coming home with him, and only then did he feel the pain subsided.

For the second time, you stepped foot in the grandiose place of theirs. It was a strange juxtaposition, your cautious movements against Namjoon's determined pull. Funnily, you thought it was similar to the depiction of Lucifer dragging Persephone down to hell. Walking behind you was the intimidating man, Jung Hoseok. He was carrying your bags in his hand in a relaxed manner, opposite to how he was before. The amount of clothes he personally packed were staggeringly ridiculous. It was like he packed your whole belongings with the intention for you to never set foot in your own apartment again. In his other hand was your traitor of a cat that was purring as the man carried him in his arms. It was like your cat left you for a better life.

"You must have been exhausted," Namjoon's voice broke through the quiet, drawing your attention to his warm smile. His concern softened the edges of your weariness. “The day is too long for any of us. You should get your rest.”

You eyed Hoseok, unsure of how to act when he offered you a reassuring smile. “We readied your room, little one," Hoseok's voice was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his prior demeanor. Namjoon bade you good night, his large hand cupping your cheek tenderly before letting you go. With a beckoning gesture, Hoseok motioned for you to follow him, and you fell into step beside him, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders.

He opened the room to the far end of the right wing. Similar to the aesthetic of the house, the room was equally grandiose. The bed, positioned prominently in the center of the room, commanded attention with its regal presence. It was fit for a princess, you thought, with its lavish canopy and layers of plush bedding inviting you to sink into its embrace. Every detail spoke of luxury and refinement, from the gilded accents to the soft, muted colors that suffused the room with an air of tranquility.

Any other time you would have gushed over the beauty of this room, but not this time. And not with the stress that that love potion brought you! On top of that, you were in a strange place with your CEOs who were practically strangers up at this moment! It was more than understandable that you were acting wary of these two men. They were only two of the seven, and you were already displaced by them! What more if the remaining five were to face you now?

You looked over your lashes at the man who was putting your bags down in front of what looked like a huge walk-in closet, his face void of any negative emotions but the people pleaser and the anxious child in you made you voiced out what you were thinking.

“Are you mad at me?”

Your cat, on the other hand, was now roaming freely and inspecting his new home with a purr, uncaring of the stress that you were feeling. You knew that traitor had such an expensive taste that your cat would literally sell you for a piece of chicken. You couldn’t help but notice the amount of cat toys that were kept in the corner of the room, prompting you to think that this wasn’t a spur of the moment kind of thing.

Hoseok blinked owlishly as though you asked an utterly absurd question, one that would never happen. His brows furrowed before he offered you a reassuring smile. “What brought this on?”

You sighed dramatically before plopping down on a surprisingly soft and comfortable mattress. You were even unknowingly pouting, making him want to squish your adorable cheeks in between his hands and cooed down at you. “Well, because I may or may not have ruined your lives because of that drink. But in my defense, which I think is a very good and plausible one and it may actually stand in court, it was never my intention to make you ‘fall in love’ with me and that drink was only gifted to me! Don’t you think I should be given a less harsh punishment?”

“Punishment?” Hoseok repeated to himself, his head tilted to the side as he pondered the notion. Was living with them meant to be some sort of a punishment when this was a big house and you had seven men to cater to your every whim? They would literally give you the world should you asked. “No, honey. Listen, I’m not mad at you. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“I’m mad at you?” you asked with a hint of humor in your voice before flashing him a grin of your own. You were too adorable and funny, he gushed as he kneeled in front of you. Slowly as though gauging your reaction, he held your hands in between his, running his thumb in a soothing manner when you didn’t pull away. Hoseok couldn’t help but smile widely when he held you. It was such an exhilarating rush, he observed, one that he had never felt before.

In fact, it was an addicting feeling…one that he could not bear to lose.

“We’re not mad,” he began, his voice earnest as he looked up at you from his kneeled form on the carpeted floor. He never knelt for anyone, but for you, he would without any questions asked. “None of us are mad. This is merely a…unique conundrum. But we’ll figure it out. We always do. So don’t worry, okay?

We will take care of it.”

It was well after midnight when the five equally annoyed men strutted inside the mansion. Their faces were painted with discontent, their eyes carrying a certain weight of physical exhaustion and their movements that of strain from being physically away from you.

They were, in fact, practically gritting their teeth from the discomfort and pain.

Kim Seokjin was the first to stride into the room, the heavy oak double-doors slamming against their hinges so forcefully that even Namjoon grew concerned. He meant, for heaven’s sake, he had it custom-ordered from his favorite artist that specialized in wood carving! Anyway, it was a rare sight to see him display any negative emotion as he was always the brother that brought lightness to whatever tense situation he found them in. He was known for his penchant to be kidding around, cracking dad jokes left and right and his laughter was contagious. But those traits were nowhere to be found.

His voice was surprisingly deep as he directed his equally captivating eyes to their lead CEO with darkness even Jimin who was walking behind him found startling. “Don't forget, I'm the one who prepares your food, Kim Namjoon."

Namjoon blinked at that, his hold on his laptop loosening at his hyung’s words. “All is fair in love and war?” he supplemented sheepishly, his fingers lifting to flash him a peace sign to which his hyung merely rolled his eyes to before plopping down the huge sofa and closing his eyes, his long leg stretched out in front of him.

Next to display his displeasure was Park Jimin, the one that was the scariest when mad. “You should have just shipped us to Japan then I’d be able to at least buy my skincare products,” Jimin sassed as he rolled his eyes at the lead CEO. His nose was turned up high as he strutted in the room. Despite the long hours spent travelling, Namjoon could not see any evidence that any single blonde hair was out of place on Jimin’s. “I think I finally know what hatred feels like.”

Last to enter was Taehyung and Jungkook. In his own peculiar way, Taehyung was fake sobbing in Jungkook’s arms while the latter was pouting at Namjoon as he patted the back of the former. “I never thought I’d be betrayed by the person I look up the most!”

“Yah!” Seokjin suddenly opened his eyes in disbelief “You trust him the most when I spend all my money on your food from when you were 13 to now?!”

Jungkook merely nodded, his doe eyes seeing nothing wrong with what he said. Taehyung, on the other hand, suddenly stopped acting and stood up straight to face the occupants of the room. “How are we reduced to this: betraying each other?” his deep voice resounded over the room, holding a tone of certain seriousness. His dark eyes met theirs. “Aren’t we better than this? We are brothers. We are better than animals that kill each other in the wild to survive. We are civilized men who are in the top performers of the society, who are featured in every reputable magazine. We are men that are leaders of-”

“Weren’t you the first to betray us, hyung?” Jungkook suddenly asked, effectively cutting off his speech. His head was tilted to the side as he sat beside Seokjin who was actively pushing him away to no avail, grumbling about how he should sit beside the brother he trusted the most.

“That’s neither here nor there!” Taehyung’s volume increased from guilt, his eyes comically widening.

“How?! It’s literally here! And it’s still here!” Jimin shouted, further antagonizing his agemate to which Taehyung gladly took on. The screaming match went on, with Jin joining, whereas Jungkook chimed in every once in a while, clearly enjoying the ensuing chaos. Every now and then, though, he voiced out how much he missed you. Namjoon was massaging his forehead and quietly telling them to stop and to keep quiet because someone was sleeping. It was only Hoseok who was silently watching his brothers and doing a quiet headcount only to come up short.

“Guys? Aren’t we seven?” He broke his silence for the first time, effectively stopping the loud bickering of the brothers. “Where’s Yoongi?”

The loud bickering of his brothers faded as he slipped inside the mansion without them noticing. To be honest, he did not have the required energy to deal with them, much so when he could barely keep himself upright. He didn’t want to see that traitorous bastard, Kim Namjoon, for more than a second. They all had a piece to say but they were all morons, Yoongi thought. As he trudged up the last step of the stairs, he looked up and there was you.

Min Yoongi couldn’t believe his own eyes. He thought that it was his sanity breaking down from the physical pain he had been feeling since he parted from you, and decided to play cruel games with him in the form of you. But there was no way that you were actually here, right? There was no way you were standing in the hallway in your sleepwear…right?

On the other hand, you blinked and looked at Yoongi’s pale face. He looked like he was straining to hold himself upright, evidenced by his grip on the stair’s handrail. His hands were shaking and you were worried that any moment now, he would fall.

You were proven correct not even a second later.

You watched as his body swayed, his eyes closed and you were moving before you could even think of the repercussion. Without heeding to any of your friend’s warning about touching them, you stepped in just in time to steady his body. The momentum from his combined weight and the gravity made you stepped back as his head found its place on your shoulder. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his broad back to anchor him to you.

“Daepyonim Min,” you called for his attention, gauging his alertness while tapping your hand on his back with a sense of urgency. “Daepyonim Min, you need help. Let me call-”

“Little one,” you heard him breathed you in before speaking so slowly, a tone of disbelief in his voice. “You’re real, aren’t you?” His hand slowly cupped your cheek, needing to feel you, needing to know if the object of his love was truly here. “How?”

“I’m here…but it’s a long story. First, we need help. You’re not okay!”

“You’re here,” he repeated to himself, his voice that of wonder. “I-I’m okay now,” he replied with so much warmth as he struggled to lift himself up to look at you. “I just need to sleep. It’s been a long ass day,” he groaned, the ache from his head was slowly dissipating from the proximity to you, yet its intensity since they landed was at its highest. He knew it would take him the whole night to recuperate. But somehow, he knew he could do it easily with you by his side. He didn’t even care why you were here, or even how you got here. What was important was you were now here where you belong- with them.

Against your better judgement and completely unaware of the thoughts running in his head, you nodded as you followed his directions to his room. Just like his personality that you knew him of, his room was no non-sense in a way that all things were functional. It was apparent that the man favored minimalism and comfort over luxury. It was clean and uncluttered, with just the essentials neatly arranged. The bed, large and inviting, dominated the room, adorned with crisp white sheets and a fluffy comforter. A single nightstand stood beside it, holding a small lamp and a few books.

You helped him settle onto the bed, arranging the pillows behind him to support his weary body. He let out a contented sigh as he sank into the softness, his eyes closing momentarily in relief as the weariness slightly subdued.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with gratitude. His eyes held sincerity and warmth. The way he was looking at you, the way he was holding on to your wrist because he didn’t want to let you go only served as reminders of your guilt. He wouldn’t be acting this way if this was normal circumstances.

Your negligence that day brought you here. And those emotions he was showing you were not real, you reminded yourself.

"You're welcome," you replied softly with utmost sincerity, a gentle yet sad smile playing on your lips. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

He had you now, why would he let you go?

It was his rationale as he pulled you to lie beside him, the surprisingly comfortable bed and his enescapable hold were enough to tire you out, you pushing him away did nothing. Despite your inner turmoil, you found yourself yielding to his pull, sinking onto the bed beside him. The warmth of his body radiated against yours, a stark contrast to the chill of your guilt-ridden thoughts.

And when he whispered for you to stay, you did.

It was barely an hour later when Yoongi was awakened by the annoying buzzing of his phone. He looked at you, a smile tugging on his lips at how your mouth was agape as you slumbered off in his arms. You were just so adorable that he wanted to put you in his pocket. He grinned at that thought. He already felt better.

You were the cure, he was sure.

However, the headache seemed to be returning from the persistent phone calls he was getting. He sighed, picking up his phone carefully to not wake you up only to find out it was a videocall from Taehyung.

“Hyung! Where are you?” his deep voice resounded over the quietness of the room. Yoongi, on the other hand, had to lower the volume immediately.

“Shut up,” he admonished him quietly, careful to not arose you from your sleep.

“Are you…sleeping?! When we’re all worried about you?!” the camera spanned out to Seokjin who was eating calmly, lacking any evidence of worry that Taehyung was claiming while Jungkook was running in the background, looking for Yoongi in every corner and even under the furniture. Meanwhile, Jimin was on his phone trying to rank up on his games.

“Yes, you’re right. It’s clear that you’re all worried about me,” he noted in a deadpanned voice, not believing any bullshit coming from Taehyung’s mouth.

Namjoon entered the frame casually, his eyes taking in his hyung’s rested form. He had an inkling of suspicion as to why. “You look well-rested, hyung,” he stated his observation, his complexion looked healthy in comparison to Taehyung’s. Yoongi raised his brow at that. His initial theory that the span of time spent without you was making them sick only got stronger because of Namjoon’s healthier look.

“Did you find our gift?” Hoseok asked from behind the two men, casually hanging his arms on their shoulders. He was smiling. But his eyes held a certain darkness they usually didn’t have.

“I did. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

Wednesday, Day 2

“No one told me that we have an adorable new housemate.”

The six sleepy men sitting around the dining table looked up as soon as Park Jimin entered the room, in his arms was a fluffy cat that was actively hissing at him. He cooed down at it, softly stroking the thick fur with his hand that was now sporting claw marks.

“We’re already so close!” he announced with softness in his voice despite the repetitive kicks brought by the furry creature in his arm.

“I don’t think you are liked very much…” Jungkook quietly commented, his doe eyes went even larger at the bleeding scratches on his skin. As if sensing an opportunity to escape, the cat suddenly wriggled free from Jimin's arms and darted across the room, landing squarely in Hoseok's lap.

“Hi, my son! Did you have a good night’s sleep?” he asked affectionately, reaching down to stroke the cat's fur.

“Hyung has a secret son!” Jungkook whispered to Taehyung in a scandalous manner, clutching his nonexistent pearls. Taehyung, who looked like he lived and fought through three wars from his exhausted form and his sluggish movement only nodded at Jungkook.

“Whose cat is that? Is that yours, J-hope?” Jin asked, pointing at the cat with his mug. He didn’t know that they now had a furry housemate. Additionally, he didn’t know that he was a cat person.

Namjoon just smirked at his brothers, “That’s not his.”

“My God, I am so tired,” Jimin sat next to Taehyung, his muscles aching with exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his whole weight on his friend, seeking some semblance of comfort in their shared weariness.

"Everything hurts," Taehyung moaned, mirroring Jimin's sentiment. He glanced over at Namjoon, pleading silently for a solution. "We need her. Hyung, please. Do something," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

Jungkook finally put down his spoon with a loud thud, standing up to look at them one by one. “Okay, I cannot be the only one curious about whose cat that is!” he pointed at the cat who only meowed back at him before shifting his finger to his hyung who was silently eating with a smile on his face. “And you, why do you look so good this morning, hyung, while the four of us look like we are 3 hours away from passing away?” he asked Yoongi, his doe eyes demanding answers from the chaotic bunch that only turned more chaotic as the morning wore on.

Yoongi, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee, raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's question. His lips curled into a smirk, revealing a hint of amusement. "Well, Kookie, some of us are just naturally blessed with good genes," he quipped, his tone teasing.

“Excuse me?! Are you saying that I am not blessed with good genes?! Me?! The world wide handsome?! Now, you’re just outright lying!”

“Hyuuuuung, do something! I think I’m dying!” Taehyung shouted amidst the noise.

“Stop screaming you’re scaring my son!” Hoseok shot back all while covering the cat’s little ears.

“Whose cat is that even?!” Jungkook asked again in disbelief, the vein in his throat protruding from annoyance and curiosity.

“Oh my God, Taehyung! I already did something, okay?!” Namjoon finally raised his voice for him to hear.

“Ahhhhhhh, my head hurts and she’s the only cure! I have to go to her!” Jimin whined sadly, attempting to leave his chair slowly.

“In that state?!” Jin shouted at Jimin and Taehyung, already feeling the stress causing havoc on his otherwise beautiful face.

But Taehyung and Jimin were already halfway out of their chair, clutching their heads dramatically. "I can't take this anymore! I need her!" he wailed, his eyes darting around the room with desperation only to find you by some miracle.

“Little one…” he called, his voice small as though he couldn’t believe that you were truly there. It was like their pain manifested you, and heavens, it was worth it. He’d willingly go through this pain if it meant seeing you and having you here where you belonged.

With them.

“Good morning, has anyone seen my cat?”

Your voice, despite it being low, was sufficient to effectively stop the bickering among the CEOs. How they heard you amidst their own noise, you didn’t know. One thing was for certain, though. They were attuned to you like lovesick men did. Their eyes were on you with varying emotions. Jungkook was surprised, to say the least. Taehyung and Jimin, on the other hand, were relieved. Yoongi's smirk widened into a grin, his eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of you. Seokjin stared at you in disbelief, as if trying to comprehend how you managed to appear amidst the chaos. Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions reflecting a sense of contentment and joy. The pair looked like they secured an extremely important deal and even won the lottery at the same day.

You didn’t see Taehyung moved but you certainly felt how his heavy body fell against yours. You certainly heard his sigh of relief even as he swayed on his feet.

And when you touched his hand to support him, that was when he fell.

Suffice to say, no one made it to the office today.

You were seated beside Taehyung on the sofa, his thighs plastered to yours as though any space was considered a sin. He had your hand tenderly imprisoned in his. On your other side was Jimin who had his head in the vee of your shoulders. You were their medicine, they were sure.

Meanwhile, you were anything but comfortable. You were never really a fan of skinship, always the one who was reserved and preferred physical distance when surrounded by people. And yes, you were aware that thousands, if not millions, would kill to be in your spot right now but that didn’t make you any more receptive to their proximity. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, not with the way they were watching you.

Especially not with the way Hoseok’s eyebrow raised whenever you even so much as attempted to move. His pointed gaze held you in place, a silent warning against any attempt to flee.

You were stiff. But you knew, and quite frankly you were starting to believe the effectivity and potency of that wretched potion. You already witnessed five of the seven men almost crumbled to the ground from the unbearable pain. There was no way that that was not connected to that potion.

“When did the pain start, Taehyung-ah?” Seokjin asked as he flustered over the younger CEO. He was pouring hot tea for the two agemate, his innate mother instinct surfacing. Despite that, he couldn’t help but look at you with small smile on his lips. He was happy that you were here, truly happy for the first time in ages. It was like his heart calmed down, the darkness slowly vanishing from his mind now that you were in their vicinity. Now, he could just focus on taking care of you

“At around 6 pm…less than 12 hours after little one ran from me,” he finished with his signature pout, turning to you as though he was a puppy you kicked aside and was begging you to take it back. “I was so sad when you ran from me, little one.”

“You also ran from me,” Jimin added, his pouty lips protruding even more as he glared at you. “It deeply wounded me. I am still hurt over that, you know? I woke up so early just to see you.”

“She also ran from me…” Jungkook's voice joined the chorus from his place on the floor with his back leaning on your knees, adding his own layer of disappointment.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Namjoon asked the peculiar man in concern, his worry lessening as Taehyung started to gain back his colors.

“Because! Hyung looked sicker than me!” Taehyung response was quick while pointing at Yoongi who was looking at them stoically. He looked bored, except when he turned to look at you and then all of a sudden, he was shooting sweet smile at your direction, his fingers forming heart sign. You blinked owlishly at his sudden display of affection.

“You idiot, he’s just naturally pale!” Seokjin admonished him even as he continued to feed him light snacks.

“Next time, say something when you’re not feeling well,” Hoseok broke his silence, a smile forming on his lips and you just knew it was fake. “Our little one is with us now. We no longer have to suffer, right, sunshine?”

The weight of Hoseok's words hung in the air, wrapped in the softness and faux innocence of his tone. It almost seemed like an innocent question, but you couldn't shake the feeling of caution that settled in the pit of your stomach. After all, it was Hoseok who ensnared you in his web and brought you into this situation.

Seokjin, sensing the tension between the two of you, directed your focus on him. His body was now turned to you, his form relaxed as he offered you a gentle and encouraging smile. “How did you get here, little one?”

“Daepyeonims Kim and Jung-“

“I take back what I said last night. I love you and you’re the best leader anyone could ever have!” Jimin suddenly said, jumping from his seat to cling to the aforementioned CEO. After which, the five of them listened to your retelling of how you got here.

“It’s true that we had an inkling of why we are acting…well, the way we are,” Seokjin noted after a lapse of silence, looking down at his hands as he did so. “It was the only plausible explanation, regardless of how illogical it was.”

“We weren’t- aren’t behaving normally. We thought back to everything that transpired during that day and the only deviation was our interaction with you.,” Namjoon took charge of the explanation, his voice steady and authoritative, as befitting a leader. “At first, the symptoms were bearable to say the least. I even managed to hold off for the whole day until I saw you in the elevator. And even then, I was already suffering. The pain was nothing I ever experienced before. All I could think about was you. All I craved was your presence. All I wanted that whole day was to go to you.”

Yoongi nodded, experiencing firsthand the excoriating pain last night. “Everything was a struggle. It’s like our organs were not functioning properly, like oxygen struggled to enter our lungs no matter how hard we breathed.”

“And you are the cure.”

You lifted your eyes to Park Jimin who sounded serious for the first time this morning. His smile was even missing from his face, but his eyes held genuineness. “You’re the only one we need, little one.”

But instead of feeling relieved, you felt suffocated, overwhelmed by the weight of their dependence on you. The realization that you held the key to their well-being filled you with a sense of panic, the walls closing in around you. You wanted to help them, to ease their suffering, but the burden felt too heavy to bear. With all seven of them relying on you, the pressure threatened to crush you under its weight.

As you struggled to find your voice amidst the chaos, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The repercussions of that potion were far greater than you could have ever imagined, and now, you were left to grapple with the consequences. “Until when?”

You untangled Taehyung’s arms from you and moved away despite the whine that left Jimin. You stood up, your back almost to the wall as you regarded them with your eyes. “Until when will you need me?”

“We don’t know, yet, my love,” Namjoon answered truthfully at the same time Taehyung.

“Forever,” his deep voice resounded over the room, the weight of his words heavy in the air.

Silence descended, thick and palpable, as the gravity of the situation settled upon each of you like a suffocating blanket. The only sound was the faint hum of the ventilation system, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within your mind.

Forever. The word echoed in your ears, reverberating with both promise and dread. The thought of being tethered to them indefinitely sent shivers down your spine, a chilling reminder of the magnitude of their reliance on you.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, his eyes pleading as he reached out a hand towards you. "Please, don't leave us," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

Your shoulders dropped down at his plea. You knew yourself all too well. You had to help them. You had to go at the bottom of this. You were going to be patient.

But patience was never your best suit.

You finally had it at exactly five in the afternoon. See you didn’t even last for 10 hours and you already felt suffocated. Anywhere you went, there would be at least two of them tailing you. Every time you turned to ask for space, they would be flashing you the sweetest smiles you were ever given. Every time you ran into Yoongi, he would blatantly offer you all his stocks; Jin was always seen to be carrying snacks around for you and trying to feed you; Namjoon would always try to herd you in his display room of paintings and sculptures; while Hoseok would always look at you then his phone and order you clothes that you wouldn’t even dream of buying from the price alone.

Meanwhile, the maknae line was always around you, beaming with energy and trying their very best to rizz you up. It was safe to say that they were doing their absolute best to make you lose your composure.

Which is why you abruptly stopped walking, turned around, and glared at the men behind you that almost crashed into each other, including your cat that was following you around the house.

“May I help you?” you asked, your brow raised as you waited for their answer as they looked at each other.

“Yes, little one. You definitely can help us. Let’s go over there and cuddle!” Jimin smiled angelically at you as he pointed upstairs to what you assumed was his room. See, this man looked so harmless. In fact, you thought he looked the sweetest among the seven, but his eyes could never fool you. You physically saw someone blushed so hard when he smiled at them, his eyes crinkling into crescents as he brushed his hair up like he was fond of doing.

On the other hand, Taehyung, ever the agreeable companion to Jimin, nodded vigorously, his boxy smile widening as he looked at you expectantly. Jungkook was bouncing on his feet, excited with the prospect that he got to have you in his arms despite his inability to meet your eyes at the moment.

Wednesday Evening, Day 2

“We need to talk,” you huffed as you pushed the three men inside what you assumed was the common room of this huge mansion.

Seokjin, who was already inside the room and enthusiastically playing his game, rapidly turned it off despite obviously winning to give you all his attention. His back was straightened after kicking his gaming console away. The way he was looking at you made you blushed, but you were deathly determined to not show it. You were terrified that if you gave in even an inch, then these men would gladly take a mile. You couldn’t let yourself drown in this scenario, and most of all, you shouldn’t let yourself fall for them.

These were just effects of that wretched potion. None of these were real.

“Yes, little one? What’s on your mind?” Namjoon’s voice suddenly disrupted your thoughts as he walked in the room, his posture relaxed. He intentionally brushed against your side, his hard muscles softly swaying your soft one, satisfying the call inside him to have you near him. He leaned against the table where Hoseok and Yoongi were working. They both gave you their attention as soon as you declared that conversation needed to be had.

“Speak your mind, sunshine,” Hoseok urged you gently with a smile on his face as though he didn’t terrify you the night before. Your eyes lingered on him, still unable to read his true personality. Or which among the versions he showed you were his realest?

Yoongi nodded when he saw you hesitated, giving you assurance you obviously needed to continue.

“I need space.”

Cue the tears from Jungkook, chaos from Taehyung and Jimin, rapid reasoning from Seokjin, dramatic clutching of heart from Yoongi partnered with a deathly glare to the who he assumed made you say those wretched word; maknae line, clenched of jaw from Namjoon and deafening silence from Hoseok. Despite the expected mixed reaction, one emotion rose above them all.

Panic.

As though they had one mind, the six CEOs turned to look at Namjoon, a plead for him to make sense of what was happening and to fix this for them. It was obvious that they needed you like air, if not more. Their survival hinged on you, and that was not even an overstatement.

Seokjin, ever perceptive, sensed the uncharacteristic struggle within the lead CEO. Namjoon’s jaw was clenched, a sure sign of his struggle to maintain composure in the face of the unexpected. In a move only Seokjin could execute with dramatic flair, he jumped away from you, creating a symbolic distance that echoed your plea. He was pointedly looking at the expanse of space between of the two of you as though this was what you meant when you knew he understood what you truly meant by space.

“There, little one,” Seokjin spoke softly, his voice carrying a weight that resonated through the room. His eyes were dark that held a mix of understanding and yet, a stubborn determination. “Space.”

You sighed, looking up at the peculiar-looking chandelier you just knew was Taehyung’s idea. “That’s not what I meant-”

“Then what do you mean?” Taehyung cut you off, his earlier tirade and childlike rebellion with his agemate were nowhere to be found and instead, who stood before you was an entirely different man. Had you looked closer, then perhaps you would have seen the swirling darkness in his eyes.

“You know we’d die without you. Why are you doing this?” Yoongi, who was still clutching his heart, spoke lowly. His eyes that you thought to be always emotionless were brimming with sadness. His words tugged at your heart.

But if they just let you speak, then they’d understood-

“Is that what you want?” Hoseok asked monotonously, and this time he didn’t look like the lively and full of sunshine CEO. This time, he looked like a dangerous man who was about to go off. He lifted his dark brow before standing up and circling to where you were. He was close, too close and yet, none of him was touching you. The height difference between the two of you made him seemed more intimidating as he leaned down to meet your eyes. “You want us to die, is that it? Hmm?”

“No-“

“Then what?”

“I just need space for myself-“

“But noona! I need you. We need yo-“

You turned to glare at Jungkook who actively gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. “Can you let me speak? Can you all let me finish?”

“Yes, noona. Sorry, noona. You’re so beautiful, noona,” he rapidly said as he formed hearts with his fingers, his smile was lovely as though he didn’t just annoy you.

“All of you,” Namjoon’s commanding voice echoed in the room, his draconic eyes set on you even as he addressed his brothers. “Sit down and let little one talk.”

Once they were all settled in with the five men sitting on the sofa, Yoongi not moving from his seat, and Namjoon standing tall- a deliberate choice, you thought, to let you know that you might have the floor but he still held the reins, you started explaining to them how you could not do this if it meant that you wouldn’t have any time for yourself. In order to leave this house once this was all over with your sanity intact, then you had to have rules and regulations like civil men did.

Yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing your resolve. Jin shifted in his seat, his expression unreadable. Hoseok glanced between you and Namjoon, silently absorbing the tension. Taehyung and Jungkook remained quiet, their eyes fixed on you, waiting for your conditions. Jimin scoffed lightly.

“What do you propose?” Jimin asked, his velvet smooth voice seemed to be innocent had you not known that he identified as a Slytherin.

“2 hours each. I think that since there are seven of you, that would be 14 hours of my day-“

“Dibs to the remaining 10 hours!” Yoongi suddenly said, his hand shooting up and his face held determination and a hint of mischief. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Yoongi as he leaned back comfortably in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Jimin raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a moment before a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Bold move, Yoongi," he remarked, his tone light but edged with amusement. "I, myself, am also vying for those ten hours, little one."

Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly, uncaring of what Jimin was saying. "I know what I want," he stated simply, crossing his arms as he leaned back further in his seat, looking supremely confident. “And anyway, now that I had her in my arms last night, I really don’t think I can sleep alone, anymore.”

“Excuse me?!” Taehyung stood up, facing Yoongi with disbelief in his face. “How did that happen-”

“Does being the oldest not mean anything anymore?!”

“You might as well step on me, hyung! You might as well kick me where it hurts the most- oh wait! You did!”

You shook your head as maknae line plus Seokjin screamed at each other. Meanwhile, Hoseok was trying to keep the peace. Namjoon was the only one who kept on watching you, his mind going over an overdrive as to how to resolve this all while maintaining their leverage over you and keeping you happy.

“Fine, we accept.”

They all turned to Namjoon, their eyes comically large at how easy their leader agreed. “We do?” Hoseok asked.

“Either that or lose her. Or die. So yes, we agree. In return, within those two hours of your undivided attention, you’ll cater to our every need.”

You blinked owlishly at what he said. And also, did he have to say that like that?!

“F-fine! But those ten hours will truly be mine, okay?”

“What will you even do within those ten hours, noona?” Jungkook asked innocently, his doe eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Shower, sleep, eat, meditate so as to not lose my mind-“

“But why can’t we do all those things together?” Jimin whined, swaying his body in emphasis of his desire to be included.

“Because! That’s private-“

“But we’re close!” Jungkook added, his eyes wide and earnest.

“Oh my God, you idiot,” you heard Seokjin murmured under his breath, disappointed and quite frankly, embarrassed by the youngest’s stubbornness.

“Two hours start when?” Hoseok finally asked something that could be answered logically.

“7 in the morning and ends at 9 in the evening.”

Thursday morning, Day 3

“Rise and shine, my one and only!”

Your room was gently engulfed by light as Kim Seokjin opened the door at exactly 7 in the morning. He was still wearing his blue pajamas and in his hands was a tray with what looked to be a delectable mug of coffee. You blinked your sleepiness away as he stepped in the room. He carefully placed the tray on your bedside table, before cupping your cheeks in between his hands and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Okay.

That woke you up.

His gesture was unexpected, and it most probably showed on your face from the way he chuckled as he booped your nose.

“Ah, you’re so beautiful even in the morning, little one!” He exclaimed before stepping back and flicking the curtains open further, letting even more sunlight stream into the room. How was this fair, you wondered. How could he look so perfect and put-together even when he was still in his sleepwear? You glanced at the mirror on the wall and was horrified to see how opposite you looked to the man who just declared that you were so beautiful in the morning.

If you didn’t believe in the effectivity of the potion before, then you definitely did now. Your hair was all over the place and you had sleep in your eyes.

And oh my God, was that a dried drool on the side of your lips?!

You immediately made yourself presentable the best you could before Seokjin sat on your bed, lifting his own mug to his lips…his very plump lips. He was unfazed by your awkward demeanor.

“I am so glad I have this schedule. Nothing beats spending the morning with you,” he murmured warmly, his eyes shining with sincerity and love(?) “I made breakfast, little one. Get ready and come down, okay?”

It was quarter to eight when you finally joined him in the patio where he set up the breakfast. He was already dressed for work like you, his hair now sleeked up. Also, how could a forehead look that good? Did that even make any sense?!

He turned to you and smiled. His eyes traced your form before standing. He gently tugged you in his arms, completely engulfing you within him. You could hear his heart and hoped that he couldn’t hear yours; it was definitely embarrassing how fast yours was beating in comparison to his. You weren’t really used to being physically close to anyone, let alone your CEOs that you never had personal interactions with before this.

“I didn’t put on at tie yet because I wanted us to match,” he easily shared in your ear before guiding you to your seat as though what he did was not meant to make your heart beat faster.

You looked at all the mouthwatering dishes he prepared and wondered just how long he had been awake for. “Where are the others?” you hadn’t seen nor heard any of them in the house and you wondered if they had already eaten.

Seokjin merely smiled at you before artfully cutting pieces of the croissant he made for you and putting them on your plate. “Little one, it’s my time. You’re mine.”

“For two hours…” you added, suddenly feeling ominous by the way he worded his schedule and his dark eyes despite the sweet and seemingly harmless smile he was sporting.

“Sure.”

After he dropped you off in your office wherein he held your hand all the way from the car until he delivered you to your office chair, he planted a kiss on the back of your hand despite your reluctance. You couldn’t help but noticed the grip he had on you, nor the way he looked around the office and glared at any men glancing your way.

And of course, everyone in the office saw.

At exactly 9:01 am, a bouquet of flower was sent to your office. The sender? None other than Jung Hoseok himself.

He was sure to be punctual, not wasting any second off his scheduled time. He thought that time was gold, and he wanted nothing more since he woke up to be with you.

Sufficed to say, Jung Hoseok craved you so bad.

Your eyes widened from the sunflowers to him as he flashed you his sunny smile as though he didn’t scare you the past days with his warnings. “For the most beautiful part of my day.”

You could hear the murmurs of your officemates, and you were already dreading the gossips that would surely come. You wondered how they would look at you once this was all over. For sure, you’d be the laughing stock of the ton.

You most probably have to resign…

“Darling?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Hoseok tilted his head as he leaned in you, his hand on your armrest. This close and you could smell him. And heavens. He smelled heavenly. He smelled clean and crisp, like the subtle touch of ocean breeze. This close and you could see how perfect his features were, how harmoniously proportionate they were. This close and you could see the darkness he always kept in bay.

“What are you thinking?”

“N-nothing-“

“Tell me,” he demanded gently, his eyes trained on your lips like no one was looking, like you and him were existing in your own world where no one could touch you and take you away from him.

Where no one could take you away from them.

“I-“

“Good morning! I have great, great news!”

Your friend breezed into the office, fashionably late as usual, her face lit up with excitement. The room buzzed with curious glances as she made her way to her desk, her eyes searching until they landed on yours. The grin she was sporting faltered off as the CEO turned to her with an expression she didn’t like before it all went away and Hoseok flashed her a smile.

“G-good morning, Daepyeonim Jung.”

“Good morning,” he answered cheerfully, fully straightening up and granting you the much-needed space to catch your breath. “What’s your good news?”

She looked at you, and only when you nodded did she whisper the news that her grandmother knew someone from the mountains that had the answer and solution. Her voice was hushed enough that your coworkers couldn’t hear her, yet clear enough to give you hope. Your grin was so wide as you stood up and hugged her.

It was only when you turned to Hoseok to share your happiness did you notice something unsettling. His expression had darkened briefly, a shadow passing over his features before he hastily composed himself with a bright smile.

What was that?

Before you could dwell on that, he declared it good news and pulled you out of the office.

You found yourself standing in the middle of his office as he plopped down on his chair, stack of paper on his table that grew in size from missing yesterday’s work. He seemed busy, yet he was looking expectedly at you. His eyes were serious as he gestured for you to come closer.

It was apparent he wasn’t happy with the distance when you decided to stop three feet away from him. His eyes remained impassive as he sighed and without any warning, pulled you to him. You landed on his surprisingly muscular lap, your hands automatically going to his shoulders in an effort to steady you.

Your eyes widened at his actions and any attempt to stand up was squashed by his ironlike grip around you.

“Didn’t you promise you’d cater to our every need when we agreed on that ridiculous two-hour schedule?”

“And having me on your lap is a need?!”

“It is. I want- no. I need you close,” and only when he confessed did you see the miniscule tremors in his hands. He was nuzzling his face on your neck, breathing in the scent he missed so much. Your soft skin against his touch somehow calmed the demons. If he was already like this despite you seeing him last night, then it meant that their symptoms were worsening like what your friend warned you of. The more time you spent with them and the more that your skins touched meant that their lovesickness would only worsen in time.

You were dreading to think what would happen to the remaining CEOs and how they would act, more so when Jimin and Namjoon were in the last two.

Namjoon's schedule sneakpeak Jungkook’s schedule sneakpeak, Part 3 sneakpeak, Part 3

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #ot7 x you #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #min yoongi fic #jung hoseok fic #park jimin fic #kim taehyung fic #jeon jungkook fic #bts smut

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woso-story · 10 days ago

Text

The Weight Of Love And Loss - Part One

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Part Two Three Four Five

The door clicked shut behind Alexia, the sound echoing in the stillness of the apartment. You stood in the kitchen, staring at the counter where her house key now sat beside the note you'd left. The apartment, once alive with laughter, the clinking of wine glasses, and the quiet murmurs of late-night conversations, now felt eerily silent. It was the same place you’d fallen in love with Alexia every day for three years, but now, it felt like a stranger’s home.

You looked around, your eyes landing on the photo of the two of you hanging by the hallway. It was taken after one of her games—a victory that had meant everything to her. Her arm was wrapped around you, her beaming smile brighter than the floodlights behind her. She’d kissed you after the photo was taken, whispering, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

But now? You weren’t sure she even saw you anymore.

---

It hadn’t always been like this.

Before her injury, Alexia was everything you could’ve dreamed of. She was magnetic, passionate, and somehow always found a way to make you feel like you were her priority, even amidst the chaos of her career. No matter how many training sessions, interviews, or away games filled her schedule, she always carved out time for you.

Date nights were sacred. Fridays at that little Italian restaurant down the street, where she’d tease you for ordering the same thing every time. Sunday mornings meant pancakes and coffee in bed, where she’d steal the blanket just to hear you groan in mock annoyance. She’d hold your hand in public, kiss your temple when you felt insecure, and whisper that you were her world.

Then came the injury.

You remembered the moment like it was yesterday. The way she clutched her knee on the pitch, her face twisted in agony. You were in the stands, your heart sinking as the medics rushed to her side. The diagnosis—a torn ACL—was devastating. But you promised her that you’d be there, no matter what.

At first, she leaned on you. She’d cry in your arms on the bad days, cursing her body for betraying her. You became her cheerleader, her nurse, her confidant. You drove her to every rehab session, stayed up late researching recovery tips, and celebrated every small victory with her.

But as the weeks turned into months, Alexia began to change.

Her frustration grew sharper, her temper shorter. The rehab wasn’t progressing as quickly as she wanted, and she lashed out at the one person who refused to leave her side—you.

“Just stop hovering!” she snapped one night when you’d tried to help her with her stretches. “I don’t need you to babysit me!”

You swallowed the hurt and gave her space, hoping it was just a bad day. But the bad days kept coming. The woman who used to hold you close now felt miles away, even when she was sitting right next to you.

---

You thought things would get better once she started to regain her strength, but if anything, they got worse. Her focus on football became obsessive, to the point where you barely saw her anymore. She spent hours at rehab, at the gym, or watching game footage. The few moments you did share were tense and fleeting—an exhausted sigh when she came home late, a distracted nod when you tried to talk about your day.

“Lex, can we have dinner together tonight?” you’d asked one evening, your voice tentative.

“I can’t,” she said without looking up from her phone. “I have a meeting with the physio.”

“But we haven’t—”

“I said I can’t!” she snapped, her tone sharp enough to make you flinch.

It was in that moment that you realized just how far apart you’d drifted.

---

The breaking point came on a Tuesday afternoon. Alexia had just come home from another long day of rehab, her face a mask of exhaustion and irritation.

“Alexia” you began cautiously, “we need to talk.”

She groaned, dropping her bag on the floor. “Not now, por favor. I’m tired.”

“No,” you said firmly, surprising even yourself. “You need to make time for this. For us.”

Her jaw tightened, but she sat down across from you, arms crossed defensively. “Fine. What is it?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. “I’m not happy, Alexia. I haven’t been for a while. I feel like I’ve lost you. Like we’ve lost us. You’re so focused on football that you don’t even see me anymore.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you have any idea how hard I’m working to get back? I’m doing this for us—for our future!”

“But at what cost?” you shot back, your voice trembling. “You’ve pushed me away. You don’t let me in. I want to help you, but you won’t let me. And I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when it’s not.”

She stood abruptly, shaking her head. “I don’t have time for this right now. I have to go—I have another session.”

“Alexia, please,” you begged, tears streaming down your face. “If you walk out that door right now, I don’t think I’ll be here when you get back.”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her hand on the doorknob. Then, with a huff, she turned and walked out.

---

Packing your things was the hardest thing you’d ever done. Every item felt like a betrayal—a reminder of the love you still felt but couldn’t hold onto anymore. The framed photo of you and Alexia on your first vacation together. The jersey she’d given you, signed with a heartfelt message. The books you’d read together, curled up on the couch during lazy Sundays.

You left the key and the note on the counter, your tears smudging the ink as you wrote:

"Thank you for the time we had together. I will never forget anything. I hope you find your happiness again."

You took one last look around the apartment, the place where you’d built so many memories, and walked out the door.

---

In the days that followed, the ache in your chest was unbearable. You missed her laugh, her touch, the way she used to look at you like you were the only person in the world. But as much as it hurt, you knew you’d made the right choice.

Alexia needed to find herself again, and so did you.

And though the pain felt endless now, you held onto the hope that someday, you’d both find happiness again—whether together or apart.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso community #woso #barca femeni #woso x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia x reader #woso fics #alexia putellas

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siythn · 6 months ago

Text

˚◞ HAIRCARE! - SUGURU GETO

SYNPOSIS. with geto being your boyfriend, a morning routine was established. but some say sitting between his thighs as he does your hair; fingers running through strands, removing knots, and stying might be unusual. but to you, it was everything.

WARNINGS! tooth-rotting fluff

WC; 1.05K

THE LIGHT OF THE MORNING SUN filtered through the white curtains, casting a warm glow throughout the shared room. You sat cross-legged on the floor, a small, circled-shaped mirror propped up before you.

Your eyes weren't on your reflection though. Rather, they were closed, too focused on enjoying the sensation of Geto running his fingers through your hair, gently untangling the strands than to bother checking your morning face.

He sat behind you, legs laying on either side of your frame, thighs dangerously close to your face. Your boyfriend's presence brought a comforting weight as you rested your cheek against his upper leg.

You felt a slight tug as he pulled the brush through a particularly stubborn knot, but it was more reassuring than painful.

Honestly, Geto had always been careful with your hair as if it was alive. He always took his time, making sure each stroke was slow and deliberate, muttering sorry under his breath if he tanked on a strand a bit too hard.

It was adorable to see the black-haired male so engaged in a messily task you asked him to one random Tuesday morning that soon became an everyday routine. Even on days, you protested that it was fine—you found yourself in the same position from the day before, getting ready with all the supplies needed seated beside him.

The cherry on top had to have been when you walked in on him practicing hairstyles that you mentioned you liked. Your boyfriend never found out, and you brushed it off as a mere coincidence since he also had a length to his hair.

You had to stop yourself from geeking when the same hairstyle was on your hair two days later.

The scent of his shampoo filled the space between you, a mix of something herbal and earthy. It was familiar to you, seeing as you stole it and used it for yourself a couple more times you would like to admit.

Hearing the soft rustle of his clothes as he shifted slightly, adjusting his position for better access. His fingers were nimble and practiced, and you couldn't help the admiration at how effortlessly he managed your hair, a task that always seemed to take you ages.

"You've got a lot of patience for this," you remarked, your voice soft in the morning quiet with faint blinking eyes; sneakily peering at him through the mirror.

He chuckled lightly, the sound vibrating through the room to you. "Well, someone has to keep your hair in check."

You laughed the sound blending with the peaceful atmosphere. "Hey, I try my best."

"I know you do," he said, his tone gentle. "But sometimes you need a bit of help."

He didn't speak much more, and neither did you. The silence was comfortable, punctuated only by the occasional hum of approval from him when a particularly tricky tangle came free. You felt the coolness of his rings against your scalp, a stark contrast to the warmth of his hands.

As Geto worked, you let your mind drift; eyes shutting once more, focusing on the rhythmic pattern of his movements. He sectioned your hair, clipping some of it up to keep it out of the way. You could feel the slight pressure of the plastic clips, holding everything in place.

"You always take your time with this," you mused, feeling the brush glide through the length of your hair, each pass smoothing out the strands.

"I like taking care of you," he replied simply, his voice low and sincere.

Feeling your body warm at your boyfriend's words, you slightly straighten up, cheek moved up from his thigh to sit at the front. Geto not bothered by the sudden movement switched to a finer comb for the finishing touches, feeling the difference between the bristles.

"Any plans for today?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Not really," he said, his fingers deftly weaving your hair once more. "I was thinking we could just relax. Maybe watch a movie later."

"That sounds nice," you agreed, smiling at the thought.

When the male finally finished, he gathered your hair in his hands, twisting it into a loose braid. His fingers worked quickly, securing the end with a hair tie that was on his wrist. You opened your eyes and looked in the mirror, admiring his handiwork. The braid was neat and tight, but not too tight, and you could see the pride in his eyes as he looked at it.

"You did a great job, Sugu," you said, turning slightly to face him.

"Glad you like it," he replied, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

Geto leaned forward, resting his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear. You could see his reflection in the mirror, his dark eyes soft, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your forehead, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter.

"Thanks," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't need to respond; the gentle squeeze of his hand on your shoulder said it all. The two of you stayed like that for a moment longer, savoring the moment of the morning, the quiet connection between you.

"Want some breakfast?" he asked after a while, his arms had now found their way across your body; secured in his hold.

"Sure," you replied, leaning back into him. "What are you in the mood for?"

"How about pancakes?" Geto suggested, head resting between the crook of your neck, making you squirm in response with sensitivity. You could feel his lips curl to a smirk. "I can whip up a batch pretty quickly."

"Pancakes sound perfect," you agreed with a laugh, playfully taking his face and gently shoving it away from you as if to hide your neck from him.

He grinned and, with a swift motion, scooped you up into his arms. You squealed in surprise, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

"Suguru—put me down!" you laughed, but there was no real protest in your voice as you "tried" to escape.

He carried you effortlessly toward the kitchen, his steps steady and sure. "Nope. You wanted pancakes, and I'm delivering you straight to them."

You giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder as he carried you through the house in defeat.

Maybe you didn't mind this being an everyday routine.

all interactions are appreciated!! love you all lots, take care of yourself ༯

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berzahoes · 1 year ago

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“slut!” | tom blyth

summary: in a word full of boys, tom is a gentleman.

an: takes place before filming billy the kid

warnings: mean names hence the title also if you care, reader is the same age as tom lol

“so keep your boyfriends hidden because y/n is newly single!”

“how many boyfriends has she had in the last four years?”

“clearly she’s the problem if she can’t keep a boyfriend.”

you heard it all. the names people called you, the headlines, news reports. it was always the same. people would rather shame you for your love life than be quiet. in the past you did joke that you went on many dates, clearly the media didn’t care if you were joking or not.

your manager had even banned you from looking at the really negative comments on your phone. twitter was having a field day with your love life.

“slut!” was the phrase often directed towards you. while your loyal fans defend you, you could still see all the hurtful things people said about you.

“do you want to cancel tomorrow’s interview?” lisa, your manager, asked one day. you hadn’t answered your phone at all and she was concerned so she drove to your new york apartment and let herself in with the spare key she had. she had found you in the darkness of your room curled up with your plethora of blankets.

“cancel everything. i just want to rest for a while.” you managed to say. lisa was like your second mom. she cared about you more than anything.

“we can do that.” lisa assured.

“lisa?” you turned to face her.

“yes?”

“thanks for checking on me.”

“always.”

after that conversation, lisa made some calls and any movie or tv show deal you had were quickly cancelled. over the next few days, the media found out that you pulled out of many movies from big franchises like marvel and star wars. it was always a dream of yours to be in anything marvel or star wars related, but for now, those projects had to continue without you.

many friends and colleagues reached out to you, but all you could do was send a simple ‘thank you’ and be done with it.

days passed and you were still in your apartment. you didn’t mind being alone, you liked it better that way. sometimes lisa or your parents would drop by or even your upstairs neighbor, mrs. davis, a nice old lady who knew that your favorite cupcakes were red velvet so she made you some to cheer you up.

it was a tuesday afternoon when you heard someone cursing multiple out in the hallway. you figured someone got locked out so you ignored it. pretty much everyone in the entire building got locked out at least once. you were ignoring the cursing as you continued reading your book and ate your red velvet cupcake that your kind neighbor had made you. a few seconds later, you heard a knock on your door.

“no.” you groaned as you stood up to answer the door. you opened it to find tom. you had only known him because you had a mutual friend so you were surprised to see him at your door.

“hi,” he spoke. “i called and texted . . a lot. i just wanted to see how you were.”

“i’m alive as you can see.” you said.

“i know you’ve been asked this question a lot lately but are you okay?”

that’s when you broke down. you couldn’t keep it together in front of tom, but he didn’t mind comforting you. somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear.

he would often come over to keep you company when lisa or your parents couldn’t. he understood you didn’t want to step foot outside so he didn’t force you. instead, you two would go up to the terrace of your apartment building and hang out. tom would bring lunch or dinner depending on the time that he decided to visit. during that time, you two would talk about whatever would come to mind. tom did his best to avoid talking about work, but you always asked how his filming was going or if he had auditioned for anything new.

“i got the part,” he admitted. “i’m playing billy the kid.” he smiled brightly.

“I’m so happy for you, tom! you deserve it!” you hugged him.

“it’ll be announced next week. you’re the first to know, well apart from my manager.” he chuckled.

“you deserve that and more.” you smiled.

“you do too. other people should see that,” tom said. “you’re so talented and amazing and everything about you is so. . . incredible. i wish people see you the way i do.”

you were speechless.

“are you okay?” tom asked when he noticed you were quiet.

fuck. fuck. fuck FUCK he thought to himself

“you mean it?” you managed to say. you could feel yourself start to blush.

“every bit and more. i enjoy being with you and if i could be with you for the rest of my life then i would die a happy man.”

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #actress!reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth one shot

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michelle-is-writing · 6 months ago

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Unsuspecting Suspect, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.2k~

In movies, the "pregnant women always have to go to the bathroom" is a popular joke to use. However, what most people don't realize is that the joke is highly played down. What you see in movies is nothing compared to what really occurs.

What really occurs is getting up from bed after only five minutes of getting comfortable to go to the bathroom for the fiftieth time that day. Not to mention you've become so used to the bathroom that you don't even have to turn the lights on or anything - you already know where everything is. Plus, if you're me, then that also means picking up your husbands lazily discarded pants that are crumpled up on the floor with his gun and all of his badges still hooked on there just so you can wash your hands.

"Spencer, I know you've worked long and hard," I start, picking up his wrinkled slacks from the bathroom floor. "But if your pregnant wife has to continue bending over and picking up your pants every time she has to use the bathroom because your daughter seems to think my bladder is a punching bag," I begin taking everything off of his belt. "Then I might just have to use you as a punching bag."

"I'm sorry!" I hear him apologize from the bedroom, an ounce of laughter behind his voice. "I forget and just leave them there - I'm sorry!" Spencer repeats himself, making me bite my lip from laughter. He has eidetic memory, and yet, he still 'forgets' his pants when he takes them off everyday he comes home from work.

Taking his badge off his belt and placing it on the counter, I begin dismantling everything else as well. The last thing to remove is his gun and holster, and with this clunky thing, I try as hard as I can to not let it make a sound as I put it on the countertop. Spencer has been very quiet for the past few minutes, and if he's fallen asleep, I don't want to accidentally wake him up.

I just hope he's not quiet because he's worrying himself sick. As of lately, he's had a stalker that the BAU can't seem to figure out who they are. They know they're male, going by the style of handwriting, and they know he has a pattern. Every Tuesday, a letter is sent to Spencer's desk at the BAU, and yet, there's never a return address or fingerprints to go off of. Today was Tuesday, and for some reason, Spencer didn't receive anything. It worried Spencer a lot, but I'm just hoping the stalker has given up; however, his previous letters show no sign of him doing this which makes this all more worrisome.

"No, no, please," I hear Spencer's voice from the bedroom once more, making my eyes go wide as I quickly catch onto the fright and panic in his tone. Who is he talking to? Especially when I've been in this bathroom no longer than five minutes, and I didn't hear a phone ring or anything.

"You are Spencer Reid," My ears catch a very unfamiliar voice, causing me to fully come to a halt with Spencer's revolver still in my hand. Who the hell is in my house? And how the hell did they get in?

Silently padding over to the bathroom doorway, I try as hard as I can to crack open the door enough to see who's in our house. As I do so, I feel my heart beat a mile a minute, and the little girl in my stomach still hasn't given up on her kicking assault. "Your birthday is October of nineteen-eighty-one. Your mother,"

The man pauses to laugh, appearing as if he were trying to mock Spencer; I take this chance to open the doorway as much as I can without alerting the man, and thankfully, it seems to be a success. "The poor old broad can't decipher through her own mind - never has been able to," The man continues. "Finally, you turn eighteen, you send her away, and you go on to live your own life in college and, soon enough, the BAU,"

Slowly peeking around the corner, I see the man talking to a very wide-awake Spencer with his gun raised at him, no mask concealing his face. Instead, his entire body is covered in black material spanning from a dark turtleneck all the way down to pitch black slacks and charcoal boots. Yet, his head and face are completely visible to anyone who sees him, and going by the fact that he's doing such a thing, he thinks he's going to get away with it and not get caught. Not on my watch.

"You've spent- no, wasted! Wasted nearly eleven years of your life on a job that prevents you from actually having a life!" At the mans words, I squint my eyes while readying Spencer's gun in my hands. "Face it, doctor Reid - you are nothing! I am smart - we are smart! But you have married yourself to your job that doesn't need you; it needs me," with that, the man pauses once again, but this time, he begins to pant, obviously worked up over what he's been saying. This guy has to be one of the most conceited guys to walk the earth.

"Now," The man states, leveling his eyesight with the gun once again. "Was there anything I missed?"

At this point, I come around the bathroom corner with Spencer's gun raised at the man. Through the sights, I see the two small pieces of metal lining up with the mans head, and in my peripherals, I see Spencer warily nod his head as he glances over me with extreme and utter nervousness.

"Uh, y-yes, actually," my husband answers, swallowing down his worry as the fate of his life rests at the tip of my fingers. Now that I think about it, if it weren't for Spencer's bad habit of leaving his pants in the middle of the bathroom floor, I wouldn't have the ability to save him right now.

Just as the man turns around, I line up the sights with his head once again as I pull the hammer back, the trigger following soon after. Watching as the man quickly goes down with no life left in him, only slight convulsions surging through him now, I slowly let my hands fall back to my side as the realization of what just occurred passes through me. I just shot someone... someone who was threatening my husband's life, but still! I've never done that before, and I never want to have to do it ever again!

Within a few moments of my eyes widening in shock, I feel Spencer take me into his arms while slowly taking the gun out of my hand and tossing it onto our bed. "You did so well, love," Spencer assures me in my ear, making me slowly sit on the ground with him as shock runs through me. I'm so stunned by what just happened that I can barely breathe. "You did good, baby, you did so good. I'm so proud of you."

Despite Spencer's words running through my head, I find myself suddenly gasping as I realize something. "Baby! The baby!" I almost shout, turning my head toward Spencer as my now free hand falls to my thirty-week old bump. "Spence, the-the noise, the noise! Could the noise have hurt her ears?"

Immediately, Spencer shakes his head before moving to place his hand on top of mine, his other hand raising at the same time to wipe away the sudden rush of tears falling down my face. "No, no, she's fine, (Y/n), she's fine," Spencer assures me, gently rubbing his thumb against my clothed belly. "The muscles and amniotic fluid protect her, so when the noise does reach her ears, it's extremely muffled," he further explains, gently taking my face into his hands to turn me toward him. "But I am going to have a medic look over you and the baby when they get here, okay?"

Keeping my eyes on his, I nod before laying my head against his chest, a small sigh falling from my lips. "He was the stalker, right?" I ask Spencer, my eyes flickering up to his face as his hand reaches down to gently card through my hair.

Spencer simply nods. "Yeah, he was," he tells me, making me shake my head. "The way he spoke, it's how he wrote his letters," Spencer further explains, "He was an obvious narcissist with a superiority complex - just like his letters."

That would explain the man's words from earlier and how selfish they all were. Although, what if the cops don't believe us and arrest me in spite of what's been going on? I know Spencer wouldn't have gotten in trouble shooting him as a BAU agent, but what about me?

"Spencer, am I going to jail?" I immediately ask, my eyes growing wide as panic sets in my chest.

"No, no, you aren't, and you need to calm down," Spencer tells me, holding my head to his chest as he kisses my temple. He's trying to comfort me while also preventing me from looking over at the dead man currently lying on our bedroom floor. "You did nothing wrong, that was self-defense, and you protected me as well as save me from the man who was going to kill me, no doubt," he points out, his voice growing softer with every word. "You're awesome, love."

In response to his comment, I find myself lightly laughing with tears rising to my eyes again. That's what I usually tell Spencer when he gets back from a case and they successfully stopped a killer. Even if the case goes awry and Spencer returns home sad or disappointed in himself, I still remind him of my usual compliment. Now, much to my disbelief, the roles have reversed and now it is me who has stopped the bad guy.

Once my breathing is slowed and my panic has settled down, Spencer helps me go back to our bathroom where he makes me stay. Without wasting anymore time, Spencer grabs his phone from his side table and dials the police before walking through the house with his gun in hand to make sure there are no other intruders. Thankfully, there isn't, and Spencer soon returns to the bathroom to take me out to the living room, getting me as far away from the dead body as he can all the while making sure I remain comfortable.

Sitting behind me on the couch, Spencer makes me lie between his legs as I rest my back against his chest, his right hand rubbing soothing circles against my bump while he uses his other to dial up his team. Thankfully, soon of them are still at the office working late when Spencer calls.

"(Y/n) shot the stalker?" I hear Derek's familiar tone over the phone as Spencer explains the situation. As he goes on, the sound of sirens in the distance slowly grow closer, and the only thing I can do is hold a hand to my swollen tummy as our little girl gives the occasional kick to my ribs.

"Yes, directly in the head," Spencer answers Derek with a quick glance over to our bedroom where the dead body remains, the spilled blood from his wound no doubt soaking into floor. I never would have listed 'blood is easier to clean up' as a pro when choosing hardwood over carpet. "She shot like a trained officer."

Spencer's comment warrants a rare chuckle from their boss. "Too bad she wasn't able to help you when you failed your shooting test and needed to retake it," Hotch's voice pipes up from the background, causing Spencer to let out a little 'hey!' in response. In light of the situation, I laugh a little at that. I can remember him calling me after failing it and I had to tell him it was okay. Of course, in his mind, it wasn't.

"I don't fail tests." I remember him telling me, making me laugh. No matter what I said, he still continued on about failing the test, unable to let it go.

"The team will be here in a few minutes, okay?" I hear him tell me, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to the moment. I hadn't even realized he ended the call with his team.

Still, I nod back at him, only a few seconds passing before he's leaning over and pressing his lips against my cheek. "It'll all be okay," He assures me, making me slightly nod with another small shuddered breath. "I promise," He further assures me, sensing my anxiety. "I'd never let anything happen to my hero~"

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #bau team #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler imagine #Matthew gray gubler

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castiwls · 3 months ago

Text

bed chem .ᐟ

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'i bet we'd have really good bed chem'

Requested; anon

Notes; requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

It wasn’t often you found yourself drawn to a stranger sitting in the bar on a random Tuesday night. Normally the patrons of your local bar were your father's age and tended to come simply to chat up the bartenders and start fights over who won at pool.

Yet today it was different.

You’d noticed him almost immediately and it seemed he’d noticed you as well as in record time you’d found yourself tucked away in a back corner laughing at whatever joke fell from his mouth. One-night stands had never been a good idea - one too many awkward next mornings had all but made the whole idea lose its charm.

Yet sitting her now? You’d never been more ready for an awkward morning in your life.

You’d never understood what your friends had meant when they spoke about instant sexual attraction. How they could look at a guy and just know yet right in this moment you finally understood.

“You can’t be serious?” You laughed, taking a sip from your drink as the stranger - who you now knew as Dean - simply grinned and nodded his head. “As serious as I can be sweetheart.” He shot you a wink before finishing his own drink and placing the glass down with a quiet ‘click.’

He watched you for a moment, his green eyes shining under the dim lights of the bar. His eyes seemed to ravish you almost as his gaze slowly raked over your face, a slight flutter settling in his stomach.

“So, what brings you to this fine establishment on a tuesday night? I’m sure there is more… interesting places for a woman like you.” He raised an eyebrow, a smile which could only be described as charming growing on his lips as he watched you blush slightly.

Seeming satisfied with himself he slowly crept a hand across the small table, his fingers brushing yours where they were still wrapped around your glass. Your own heart was thundering in your chest as his touch seemed to light your skin on fire.

Your own eyes watched his hand for a moment before clearing your throat. “Small town. Not many options.” A small hum left him as his other hand tapped the table for a moment. “Tight nit.” Dean nodded looking over to the barman for a moment.

The man sent him a guarded look as he watched you both closely while cleaning a glass. “Not everyone's as welcoming as you.”

Nodding you shifted in your seat. “Small town you know. Everyone knows everyone…we’re all pretty close.”

Dean looked back to you, his smile returning. “Your friend at the bar looks about ready to chop my head off.” His smile slowly slipped into a smirk as an idea lit up in his head. The bar tender had been giving him shit all night - all day actually but you didn’t know that.

He was more then sure that he was the guy they were looking for but you seemed far more interesting. This could be a win win almost for him, he’d get the girl and also maybe provoke the guy into acting to prove that he actually was who they were looking for.

A quiet laugh left you. The sound was music to his ears almost as he watched your eyes crinkle. “Coles harmless he’s just…protective.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

You hummed quietly raising the glass back to your lips but Dean’s hand stopped you. His own hand wrapped around yours, bringing the glass back down to the table before leaning closer, his knees brushing yours.

Was this actually happening?

His hand reached out to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Are you trying to sweet talk me?”

“Is it working?” He grinned, his eyes lingering on your lips.

Shifting you lent closer, your faces only inches apart. “You have a car?”

The words seemed almost foreign on your tongue. The drink giving you a confidence you’d never had before.

But something inside you was screaming that this was the right thing to do.

Dean’s own eyes widened before he cast a look at the door. “I like your thinking.”

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lechrts · 11 days ago

Text

Stuck With You. ✷ Ollie Bearman

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Reader

Summary: When doing laundry at University on a late Tuesday night turns into something completely unexpected.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Disclaimer/s: University!au , forced proximity, fluff! ^_^

Vera's Voice! read this prompt on a boy and blog from like ages ago and it altered my brain chemistry so i had to write one myself. :3 Smirk. hope u enjoy!!!!

Tonight, you just wanted some peace—your roommate was at her boyfriend's and you finally had the alone time to deal with the overflowing basket of clothes that had been sitting at the edge of your bed for too long.

Finals week was the worst thing imaginable. There was so much to do that it ate at the back of your mind. No matter where you looked, just exams after exams after projects after projects. Just no escape.

Yeah sure, maybe the holidays was something to look forward to, but there was still another week to get through after.

The laundry room was usually this quiet on a late Tuesday night, save for the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. You didn’t mind. In fact, you’d picked this late hour on purpose. The place was usually crowded earlier in the evening, full of students loudly catching up or overall just not one available machine in sight.

Balancing the basket against your hip, you nudged the laundry room door open and stepped inside. Rows of washers and dryers gleamed under the artificial light and not a single person was in sight. It was almost calming, in its own weird way.

You walked toward the machine where your last wash of clothes sat. Dropping your basket to the floor with a small sigh, you waited for the last few minutes to finish up, watching the little window as your clothes swirled harmoniously which was oddly therapeutic.

The sound of the door creaking open behind you pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see another late-night procrastinator like yourself.

And of course, a boy walked in, carrying his own basket of laundry.

He looked a little disheveled, as if he’d been buried in textbooks all day and had barely remembered to do his laundry at the last minute. His messy brunette hair stuck up in all directions, and there was a faint shadow of tiredness under his eyes.

He caught your glance, offering a small, polite smile as he walked past. “Hi,” He said, his voice low but friendly.

“Hi,” You replied, giving a little nod before retreating your gaze back to your laundry.

You didn’t think much of it at first—just two strangers in a shared space—but as you continued attempting to let your mind wander off, you became increasingly aware of him.

The way he moved, quietly but efficiently, as he loaded and unloaded his own washer a few machines over. The way his fingers fumbled with a stray sock that kept falling out of his basket.

You tried not to stare, but when you caught his gaze again by accident, he gave you another faint smile. This time, it lingered a little longer.

You felt a small warmth bloom in your chest, but you quickly shook it off.

It was just a smile...

Lock in. That was nothing.

The two of you were stood in silence, the only sounds coming from the soft clatter of clothes and the occasional beeping of buttons being pressed.

He finished loading his washing machine not long after and leaned back as well, standing a few feet away from you. The room wasn’t big, and the silence between you felt almost… companionable.

It wasn’t until your washer beeped that the quiet was broken. You moved to transfer your clothes to a dryer, and as if on cue..

So did he.

You both ended up standing in front of dryers a couple of machines apart, working side by side.

At one point, as you tossed in a handful of clothes, you glanced his way. He was doing the same, and when your eyes met, he smiled again—a little wider this time.

Now, with both of your dryers finally running, you both wandered toward the door, baskets now empty. You were so ready to head back to your dorm and get in bed to wait for the dryer to stop...

But, as he reached for the door handle first, giving it a firm push...

It didn’t budge.

Frowning, he tried again, this time pulling instead of pushing.

Nothing.

“Uhm… I think it’s locked?”

“Huh?” You stepped forward, your brow furrowing. “That can’t be right. It doesn’t lock from the inside.”

“Well, apparently it does..” He said, his voice almost playful, probably trying to lighten the mood of this worst case scenario as you rattled the handle again for good measure.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, already planning to call for help��only to see let out an unfortunate groan. “Well. My phone is dead.”

You winced. “I left mine in my dorm.”

You both stood there for a moment, staring at the uncooperative door as the realization sank in.

“So… we’re stuck?” You said finally.

The boy exhaled a soft laugh, brushing his hand through his messy hair. “Seems like it... but, could be worse,” He said, his tone casual.

“Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “How?”

He shrugged, leaning his hip against a counter and crossing his arms. “I mean, we’re not trapped in, like, a storage closet or something. At least we’ve got chairs.."

You couldn’t help but snort at that, shaking your head. “Yeah, you lost me." Your arms crossed as you leaned against the wall behind you, staring at the offending door.

"Definitely not how I saw my night going.”

“Me neither,” He sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I was kind of hoping to get this done, crawl back to my dorm, and pretend the day didn’t happen.”

You smiled faintly at that. “Rough day?”

“You could say that.” He tilted his head slightly toward you. “What about you?”

"Finals have been ruthless." You said calmly with a shrug. "Was hoping to cram some psych notes into my head for my exam tomorrow.. or, today, I mean." You continued.. adjusting your sentence since it was already “tomorrow.”

“Psych major, I'm assuming?” He asked lightly, his lips twitching up at the corners.

A small laugh escaped your tired body. "Ding ding." You said with a nod. "And let me guess, Engineering?" Your eyebrow quirked after giving him a good glance up and down.

"What?! How can you tell?" Your educated guess shocked him, but you laughed again.

"Well.. considering it's on your sweatshirt..." A small grin continued to linger on your lips as he looked down, probably feeling a little stupid now.

He glanced at his sweatshirt, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he realized the giant block letters spelling out ENGINEERING DEPARTMENT. “Wow,” He muttered, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “So observant.”

“Thank you,” You said, biting back a laugh and matching his sarcastic tone. “I like to think it’s one of my best traits.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and a little self-deprecating. “And here I was thinking I had some kind of mysterious vibe going on.”

“Honestly, nothing about you is screaming mysterious to me,” You teased, crossing your arms. “You're wearing race car pajama pants.”

"Oh, so you're a hater?" He said in mock offense. "How dare you."

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “The biggest."

“This whole scenario was actually the highlight of my day until you made fun of my outfit,” He said, his tone light and teasing, though there was a sincerity in his eyes that made your chest flutter.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your head back with a contagious smile. “That’s kind of sad, honestly.”

He laughed, a low, easy sound that filled the quiet room. “When your day starts with an 8 a.m. lab and ends with getting locked in a laundry room, the bar for excitement is pretty low.”

"Fair point." You gave him that with a nod. "Still, I feel like you should set your standards a little higher."

He tilted his head, as if considering you carefully, his smirk softening into something gentler. "Maybe I would if the bar wasn’t already set with you."

Your stomach plummeted. You blinked at him, thrown off entirely, and all you managed was a weak, “What?”

His grin widened, like he was enjoying every second of this. “You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to mask how flustered you felt. “Are you flirting with me right now?”

“Depends,” he replied, his voice smooth, gaze lingering on you in a way that made it hard to breathe. “Is it working?”

You scoffed, desperate to regain control of the conversation. “Maybe... and this works on all the girls, I’m assuming?”

He didn’t even blink, his expression shifting into something softer but no less confident. “I don’t know,” He said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s my first time trying. What do you think?”

Your nervous walls were crumbling but you felt like you couldn’t fold just yet. “You are such a tease!”

The boy grinned at your flustered response, clearly enjoying himself. “Maybe,” he teased lightly, before his voice dropped just enough to make your stomach flip, “But I’m only a tease when the company is worth it.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but no words came. You were done for—absolutely, embarrassingly done for.

“Is this your idea of passing the time?” You finally quipped, trying to sound unimpressed, though your voice wavered just enough to betray you. “Flirt with the first poor soul who happens to get locked in with you?”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up into an unmistakable smirk. “Only if she’s pretty.”

You froze. His words hung in the air for a beat too long, your mind scrambling to come up with something—anything—to say back. But you weren’t quick enough.

That'll do it.

“Ah.” He smiled, and there was something about the way he looked at you, like he was taking in every tiny detail—the curve of your blush-tinted cheeks, the way your eyes darted away, your nervous grip on your empty laundry basket. “Made you blush.”

“I—” You opened your mouth, then immediately closed it, flustered beyond saving. A laugh bubbled up from your chest instead, a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “You're crazy.. Are you usually this bold before even knowing someone's name..?"

“Right.. well, do I by any chance…” He paused for dramatic effect, his expression as cheesy as it was charming, “Get to know this pretty girl’s name?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and suddenly, the room felt warmer than it had five seconds ago. It was ridiculous how easily he had you cornered—like every playful remark of his chipped away at your resolve.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a helpless little laugh. “Wow. You’re a dork.”

“And yet,” He grinned, holding his gaze steady on yours, “You haven’t walked away yet.”

“Where am I supposed to go? We’re locked in,” You shot back, trying to sound exasperated, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

He chuckled under his breath, that same maddening confidence never faltering. “Fair point. But still… the name?”

You hesitated, biting your lip to stop the smile that threatened to break through again. Just say it, you’re embarrassing yourself at this point.

Finally, you sighed and muttered your name quietly through a small grin, hoping it didn’t sound too flustered.

His smile widened like he’d won some kind of victory. “There we go,” he said softly, like he was tucking the sound of your name into his memory. “And I'm Oliver." A pause.

"My friends call me Ollie, but, you can call me yours." His laugh was immediate, seeming like he couldn't keep a straight face saying that bit. It was clear sarcasm, but yet, it made you blush intensely. Your heart had skipped practically hundreds of beats.

Your jaw dropped, a laugh of shock escaped your mouth before the two of you bursted into a fit of giggles. "You did not just say that." Your voice squeaked, trying to calm down from the sudden serotonin boost.

“Not my proudest moment..” He giggled, his grin widening with that same impossible confidence. “But I’d think it landed pretty well.”

“You’re delusional." You shot back, but you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped, no matter how hard you tried to sound annoyed.

Ollie leaned back slightly, his expression playful but observant. “Maybe. But I still got you to laugh, didn’t I?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Only because it was that bad. Easily the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “That’s harsh.”

“Just being real,” You corrected, biting back a smile as you watched him pretend to recover.

“Well, clearly I’m going to need to try harder,” He sighed, already looking far too pleased with himself. “If I can’t impress you with words, I’ll just have to take you out, unfortunately." Another grin reappeared on his lips.

Way too fucking smooth.

"Take me out?" You asked, trying to sound casual, but there was a flutter in your chest you couldn’t ignore. Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the excitement you were trying to hide. "And where do you plan on taking me, Oliver?"

His eyes glinted mischievously, and a playful warmth spread through the space between you. "How does coffee after finals sound?" He suggested, his voice smooth, almost like he was offering you a secret only the two of you shared. "I know a new place that opened down town."

You felt your heart skip a beat, your breath catching for a moment. Coffee after finals? You couldn’t help but grin, your nerves melting away as his suggestion settled in. Something to finally look forward to, thanks to him.

You tried to play it cool, but inside, you were already picturing the two of you laughing over steaming cups, the world outside fading to a quiet hum.

“That sounds…” You softly grinned, feeling like a schoolgirl caught up in something way more exciting than just coffee. “That sounds nice.” You smiled shyly, only for your moment of calm to be interrupted by a loud clunk of the door handle.

A voice from the hallway cut through the air. "Oh no, not again." The RA appeared, shaking his head with a grin as he unlocked the door.

"You two get stuck? Happens all the time, you know. These doors lock automatically after 2AM."

You both turned toward him, trying to suppress your sudden surprise, already knowing what was coming. The RA gave you both an amused look as he held the door open.

“Well, doesn't seem like you two had the worst time..” He chuckled. “Carry on. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you so you can grab your laundry.”

You shot Ollie an amused glance. With the door now unlocked, you quickly made your way toward the dryers, laughing quietly as you grabbed the last of your clothes. The quiet, mundane task felt oddly intimate, especially with him standing beside you, his eyes lingering on you in that way that made everything feel more significant.

“So, after finals, you and me?” Oliver said softly, almost as though he was testing the waters again.

You shot him a playful look, feeling that flutter again, but this time, you didn’t try to hide it. “Yeah, you’ve got a date.”

He grinned wider than ever. “I’ll make it worth your while, promise.”

"Did you need my number...?" You quirked a brow, nearly laughing as he almost forgot a crucial detail.

Ollie blinked, his grin faltering for just a moment before his eyes lit up with realization. “Right, that might help,” He said with a sheepish chuckle, pulling out his phone and holding it out to you. 'Wait.. it's dead." He suddenly remembered.

You rolled your eyes with a grin. "Come with me back to my dorm and I'll give you my number real quick." You offered with a kind expression.

A playful glint in his eyes was visible as he smirked. "Inviting me to your dorm already? Let me take you out on our date, at least!" He mocked as you rolled your eyes in disbelief, but your sweet smile gave away the fluster behind it all.

"Such a dork." You snickered, brushing past him as he was quick to follow behind anyways.

likes, comments, and rebogs are appreciated! ^_^ , i fear he was giving bold frat boy which wasn't my intention but WHOOPS!... it's okay i hope.

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox

#ollie bearman x female reader #ollie bearman x y/n #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #bearman #fastest bear in the world #formula 2 driver #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 driver x reader #fluff #f1 #f2 #alternate universe #university au

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