#she has the worst day of her life and then when she goes to do the thing she was explicitly told to do in this situation

[stupditysholy]

I have to get this off my chest because the amount of Curly love on tik tok actually stresses me out and I’ll tell you why:

So to my understanding having experienced the game multiple times, Curly absolutely fails to advocate for/help Anya. She hides the gun to keep it away from Jim because Curly will not allow her to protect herself. He straight up calls her crazy to her face, too: “You never had to get psych evals like the rest of us. I should’ve known” or something along those lines. When Curly confronts Jim before Jim crashes the ship, he doesn’t say ANYTHING in defense of Anya, instead consoling Jim that they would figure it out, and he’d been in rough spots before.

For all intents and purposes, Curly does not see that Jim has done something inexcusable, and rather he has made a series of mistakes. He does not for one single moment consider how Anya’s life has been permanently altered, how her autonomy has been entirely stolen from her.

Until he experiences it himself.

Curly being reduced to a mostly immobile spring sausage is his way of experiencing the pain he allowed to be inflicted upon Anya, full stop. Even more ironic? Anya can’t bare to give him his pain killers, so he is left completely at Jim’s mercy, a fun-house mirror of how Curly could not bare to hold his friend accountable, and therefore left Anya at Jim’s mercy pre-crash.

Curly only becomes Jim’s victim because he allows Anya’s victimization to go on unchecked. He thought he was exempt from Jim’s abuse, and that is his biggest mistake.

Also, I have to say the idea that Curly get’s rescued and lives happily ever after does the narrative no justice. In fact, it completely undermines Jim’s entire character arc. Curly living happily ever after would, in some sense, redeem a little of Jim’s character—redemption he did not remotely earn because he did NOT take responsibility. At all.

Jim putting Curly in the pod at the end is no act of mercy. It’s actually the worst and most selfish thing he could have done. It’s the exact freaking opposite of taking responsibility. When he has his big talk with Polle before the very end, he is spouting complete and utter bullshit. Why?

The crash and Curly are NOT the things he is supposed to be taking responsibility for. The thing he is supposed to be taking responsibility for is ANYA’S TORMENT. That is the thing which started all of this, which lead to the crash, which fried Curly. That is the inciting incident.

That’s the freaking irony!

Anya get’s completely and utterly forgotten in this moment. In my opinion, this is why Polle says:

If all of that is true… why are you still so concerned with him?

Because right before that, Jim is about to say “Our worst moments don’t make us monsters.”

And Polle knows, then, in that moment, that when Jim thinks of his worst moments, he thinks of the accident, what happened to Curly, rather than the immeasurable pain he inflicted on Anya PURPOSEFULLY. Jim completely fucking ignores his worst moment, and that DOES make him a monster.

So when Jim puts Curly in that pod, not only is he righting the WRONG wrong, but he is actively choosing to believe this is what it means to take responsibility. He is making his amends to a man he accidentally hurt rather than the person who suffered the most at his hand.

It’s also pretty evil of Jim to put him in there because he knows: a good captain goes down with his ship. He makes Curly out to be a selfish and pitiful. He may even be setting him up for failure depending on how the authorities reason out what happened.

I just think at the end of the day Jim is the villian of the story, and Curly is a freaking bystander. Obviously post-crash this is inevitable, but that’s almost funny—not gonna do anything to stop him, Curly? Guess what, now you don’t even have a freaking choice.

Anyway please stop glazing the spaghetti man you can love his complexity but he is not a good guy or uwu cutie pie. He sucks. Straight up.

Feel free to start discourse in the comments I’m okay with being wrong about him I guess I just don’t think I am.

[akirathedramaqueen]

Wow, this is a comprehensive analysis. Lots of wonderful observations. I adore your ability to pick up so many things in this show.

For instance, I've never connected the starting scene in the IMP office in the 'Seeing Stars' episode with Blitzø promising to never replace Loona no matter what in the end. 🤔 And his breakdown in the TV studio a bit earlier makes so much more sense now, damn. It all ties to his little pushback he allowed himself after she acted horribly to his clients and hurt his business for literal months. And it still had such a big effect on him. It just . . . fuck, it all clicked to me.

Also, Blitzø not being able to comprehend what does unconditional truly mean. What he probably meant is unlimited, at least I suspect so—but indeed, the only type of relationship he can understand is some kind of exchange being behind that. To be useful. Not to tag along for one date. To give his body for one night. I mean, look at all his connections. He pays M&M's, his, as we found out, best friends. He cares for Loona, his own fucking daughter, and you think this is how it's supposed to be, but well . . . as stated earlier, he doesn't feel safe being stern in any way. He allowed to push himself around because he thinks that the moment he stops being useful to her, she leaves. And he'd rather be diminished and humiliated in front of Tex than stand his ground.

I do think though that 'self-forgiving journey' is a bit of a stretch when it comes to self-hatred issues. We see that Cash conditioned him to believe he's only worth as much as he can provide. We see him showing that quality throughout all his relationships.

And the problem is . . . this is an integral part of him now. You can only do so much to help it. I doubt there will be a day when Blitzø will wake up and, quote-unquote, forgive himself. It goes way back: before the fire, before the events of 'The Circus,' even before his conscious self started collecting memories. It goes all the way back to his father, who never valued him for what he was. And this is not something you can scorch out of yourself, however much you try. This is the background noise of your mind, infested, part of your self-image.

But what he truly needs is to not let this part of himself, ever-doubting, self-demeaning, self-sabotaging self rule his life. He should not build his decision-making process around his worst vision of himself. And I do believe he can grow past the point where he's just acting on his sheer fear of intimacy, of being hurt again. But it's not going to be a cure to his self-hatred. This is important to understand.

Also, he needs a stable support system—which he thankfully sort of has, as we were shown with Millie, but the issue is, Millie can't be there forever. She has her own life and even here, in this episode, we saw her being torn between two men in her life who crumbled and her already not being able to help both, being forced to choose.

I remember us talking with @lost-romantique about it, and what we found out was that Stolas is actually a perfect fucking candidate for that. With his ability to love truly unconditionally, with his capacity for sharing and repeating again and again and again that Blitzø is kind and beautiful and gorgeous and resourceful and so many more things Blitzø forgets about himself all the time. The owl loves words, words is his love language. And words—i-love-you's, reminders, real life examples—are exactly what Blitzø needs. That and someone staying by his side no matter what. No matter how shitty he feels or how many mistakes he made.

Blitz and self-hatred, plus his self-forgiveness journey.

Aka, watch me try to make sense of the massive lore drops in ghostfuckers. (Long post alert, my first meta post after ghostfuckers dropped)

Section 1: The roots of Blitz's self-hatred.

The circus fire. We know what Blitz's actions were that day, he saw Fizzarolli, and tried to call for help, but then he realized that Tilla was also caught up in the fire, and instantly rushed over to attempt to save her the moment Blitz realized that fact.

We know that Fizzarolli getting severely hurt in that fire affected Blitz very deeply, considering that it was one of the memories in that slideshow.

If you look at this frame by frame, you can see some sort of face in the fire when Blitz is rushing to save Tilla from the fire. The face in that fire looks like a mix of an angry face and a screaming face at the same time. Signaling that Tilla has been consumed by the flames. That she's dead.

There's an interesting detail within the hallucination sequence as well.

"This is your life." The fact that the fire in this sequence starts right at Blitz's hand is really telling. It tells us that Blitz still blames himself for accidentally causing the fire. Blitz blames himself for the fire that severely hurt Fizzarolli, and the fire that killed Tilla. Blitz feels like he hurt Fizzarolli and killed Tilla, his own mother.

Look at Blitz's hand during this memory, you can very clearly see that it's quite badly burned, including some that haven't even fully scarred properly yet, placing this memory very shortly after the fire happened. During this scene, Cash hits Blitz, and it's very clearly a memory that still deeply affects Blitz, a memory that most likely reinforced Blitz's own self hatred, because he's blaming himself for Tilla's death and Fizzarolli's injuries at this point, and his dad is just rubbing that in a lot by getting extremely pissed off with Blitz and hitting him because of the circus fire.

Plus, just look at Blitz's reaction to this memory, look at Blitz flinch, look at Blitz starting to struggle against the chains the moment this memory comes up. Blitz's reaction to this just proves how deeply it affects him to this day, and also proves that Cash hitting Blitz added to Blitz's self-hatred over the circus fire. Also, just how many times did Cash physically abuse Blitz like this over the course of his life so far?

Finally, we have the memory of Cash keeping Blitz from seeing Fizzarolli at the hospital. "But they told me you didn't want to see me.", Cash lied to Blitz and most likely the hospital staff as well considering the 'they' used, saying that Fizzarolli didn't want to see Blitz again, having strong implications to Blitz that Fizzarolli hated him. He also lied to Fizzarolli and said that Blitz never even visited him in the hospital. Further adding to Blitz's self hatred over the circus fire.

Section 2: Everything that has reinforced Blitz's self hatred, and is important on Blitz's self-forgiveness journey.

Let's start with Loona, we see her two times during the memories sequence.

The first having this exchange of dialogue.

Blitzo: Because, I adopted you! And that should mean something!

Loona: Oh, what does it matter?! You're not my real dad! I was almost eighteen!

Blitzo: It still counts!

Loona: Well, it shouldn't! I didn't need you then, asshole! I don't, now!

Notice the word 'need.', it's something that Blitz has internalized by now, Blitz thinks that if the people in his life don't 'need' him, they'll just leave him. Another thing that this shows is that Blitz is worried about if Loona hates him.

And it's very clear that Blitz is still effected by this exchange in s1 e3, even quite a while later. In s2 e2, we see Loona kick Blitz right in the balls, and just look at Loona's face in this scene, what Blitz sees here is his fear that Loona hates him, which is why it's in the memory sequence, and there's also these pieces of dialogue to consider.

Loona: If I'm so terrible, how about you just grow a pair and replace me?

Blitzo: Okay, well, maybe I- Maybe I might.

Blitzo: Oh, Loona, my sweet baby girl! I'm so sorry, I'll never replace you no matter what you--

Blitz is still concerned that Loona hasn't forgiven him/hates him for saying that he might replace her, hence why he instantly says he'll never replace her the moment Blitz sees her again, and that face and kick in the balls definitely fed into Blitz's fear that Loona hates Blitz.

And this fear that Blitz has about people who he cares about hating him seems to be something that applies to a lot of different people.

We see this fear in Fizzarolli, because this is one of the memories that comes up in that sequence. The malice-filled stare Fizzarolli gave Blitz during Ozzie's, and we all know Cash was the reason why Fizzarolli hated Blitz for so long, because he lied to Fizzarolli and said he started the fire on purpose, and said that he never visited him once. Alongside other things like Cash making Fizzarolli the golden child. So even all those years later, Cash is still contributing to Blitz's fear of the people he cares about hating him.

Don't be mistaken as well, just because they made up in s2 e6 doesn't make this fear of Blitz's go away, doesn't make the pain of the malice-filled stare go away, which this memory being brought up proves.

And, as I've said before, Blitz still blames himself for accidentally causing the fire that severely hurt him, also adding to the fear and self-hatred.

Barbie Wire, we can see this fear play out with her as well.

"I never wanna see you ever!"

Looking at both Blitz's face at the time and the fact that this scene made it into the memories sequence, it just shows us that Blitz has this fear for Barbie Wire as well, just like how he had it for Fizzarolli. The fact that Barbie Wire doesn't even want to see Blitz again just confirms that fear he has, that Barbie Wire hates him, and the memory of it also confirms just how deeply her saying that effected Blitz.

"Are you worried I may have enough of it one day as well?"

Truth Seekers, the fact that this is Blitz's subconscious telling him this is proof of the fact he has this fear that Moxxie will get tired of Blitz's behavior, that Moxxie will hate him and just, leave.

And the sequence with all the dead Millies and her appearance in the memories sequence also confirms that Blitz has this fear when it comes to Millie as well. Plus, the sequence with the dead Millies also tells us quite a few things, but I think the main ones are the insecurities Blitz has that he 'keeps fucking people's lives up' and 'leaving them worse and more broken than he found them', which both add to the fear that the people in Blitz's life who he cares for hates him.

The last person, Stolas.

There's three memories in ghostfuckers of him I'd like to bring up here.

The first being the All 2 U song memory, just look at how angry Stolas looks to Blitz in this specific memory, while singing lines like "'Cause I don't think it meant a thing at all!"

This one, Stolas was literally just crying a moment ago with all the makeup streaming down his face, but Blitz doesn't seem to remember that fact, instead, he's more focused on what Stolas said, more specifically, "You! Why are you here? I don't want you here, go home, please! Let me not feel so sad!"

And the final one, Stolas and the BTB guy. It's not jealousy, it's god damn heartbreak, especially considering the 'I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?' Which shows us that Blitz thinks Stolas deserves a better partner, and then a guy literally with a shirt named 'Better than Blitzo' came in, with them dancing and enjoying each other, something that Blitz most likely wished he could do.

Plus, it had been around 24 hours since Stolas' confession to Blitz, and to Blitz, Stolas is already with someone else, someone 'better' than him. With the moment of the BTB guy kissing Stolas being all the confirmation Blitz needed, that he'll never be enough for Stolas, that Stolas has found someone better than him. That he's unlovable.

With all these three memories just massively contributing to Blitz's fear that Stolas hates him, and his self-hatred in general.

(Obviously Stolas doesn't hate Blitz, and that the BTB dude is a one night stand at most, but I'm speaking like how Blitz sees things rn)

Something else that's also relevant is this memory of Verosika, and the reason why this is specifically in the reel is because this was the moment that Verosika said "A reckless, heartbreaking freak!", all while Stolas was watching, which is something Blitz very clearly noted in his memories of the event, showing how much this effected him as well.

And to show that even more, this is the exact point that gets Blitz's tears flowing.

Another thing I want to quickly mention is that Blitz struggles to understand concepts and such of love, outside of a transactional context. Like, correct me if I'm overthinking this, but the 'unconditional support' card is yet another example of Blitz doing this kind of stuff. Everytime they give Blitz 'unconditional support', Blitz punches a hole in the card, with the one at the end being that Blitz has to leave M&M alone for one date, like, my babygirl, that isn't unconditional.

I also suspect that this has roots with Cash as well, considering that Cash was 100% the type of person to only see their value as 'how much money they can make him', and that the less they make for him, the less that Cash will 'love' them, something that is extremely clear in the difference that Cash treated Blitz and Fizzarolli on multiple occurrences. Like, here for example. Plus, there's also the fact that Blitz was bought by Paimon to be friends with Stolas as a kid.

And well, I think we all know what the biggest example of this kind of relationship has been throughout the show, it being something that only ended a few episodes ago.

Of course, I have to mention "I believe your subconscious is trying to tell you that you simply cannot fathom proper intimacy, but… also crave it as well.", which is something that is extremely intertwined with this subject, and the best example of this is probably s2 e8.

Something else in the memories sequence that this line from truth seekers also heavily applies to are these memories.

It shows us very clearly that Blitz is rather envious of the relationship that Moxxie and Millie have, because Blitz craves proper intimacy, so what Blitz sees is something he wants, but something he feels like he can't obtain.

Finally, the last subject I'd like to talk about is the fact that Blitz, hasn't really been able to see much of the good things he's done for the people he cares about or that he straight up doesn't know, by just being himself.

Blitz saved Moxxie from a life with Crimson and also busted him out of prison, Blitz gave Millie a life, a husband, and a purpose, Blitz gave Loona a home and a loving father, right before she was about to get kicked out the system, and Blitz gave Stolas the courage to stand up to his abuser, to allow him to choose for himself and get that divorce.

But, the sad part is that Blitz doesn't really see much of that.

Section 3: The progress Blitz has made on self-forgiveness journey so far.

S2 E6, the fact that Blitz and Fizzarolli was able to make up after so long removed a huge roadblock in the way of Blitz's self-forgiveness journey. The fact that Fizzarolli no longer hates Blitz. While there are still memories about Fizzarolli that still haunt Blitz, as I've shown in this post, this is still a huge step forward for Blitz being able to repair his relationships.

tbh, thinking about it, the memories sequence, and the other bits worked quite similarly to how exposure therapy works, which I believe has proven benefits for mental health. I know it wasn't therapy in the slightest, but I still believe that in the long-run, that memory sequence was important for Blitz to witness, as it tells us a lot about Blitz's self-hatred, something that is extremely important.

The first real heart-to-heart Blitz and Millie conversation, a lot gets brought up here, just exactly how Blitz has improved Millie's life for the better, confirmation to Blitz that Millie never hated Blitz and the fact that they're best friends. Of course, there's also Millie's apology to Blitz, with this conversation being something that Blitz desperately needed to hear, and I really hope everyone else eventually tells Blitz just how much he's changed their lives for the better.

And the second conversation between the two, the first thing that Blitz mentions is Millie's best friend comment, and that is huge for Blitz, because it signals the start of Blitz learning that people in his life can care for Blitz unconditionally. That Blitz can just have friends in his life, as the line "I- I've never had a real friend that I didn't want to fuck."

(hit the image limit, so time for timestamps!) Timestamp 24:31

(Timestamp, 24:45) "The bird got to you that bad, huh?", it just means so much to me that Blitz has finally admitted the fact that Blitz has feelings for Stolas, because it shows that Blitz is slowly, but surely starting to open up, and this is gonna be a huge thing for Blitz's relationships, including when Stolitz finally gets back together.

[spicyraeman]

Lae'zel doodle with some post zaith'isk hcs

[malkaviian]

random oc facts, of the "they have problems" flavor

[coffeebanana]

some things i've been thinking about (this was supposed to be separate ideas but now i guess it's a rough fic outline in bullet points kasdbfksbjd):

marinette telling adrien the truth YEARS later, after everything's settled down and the butterfly's been recovered and their identities are revealed

maybe they live together. maybe he was getting ready to propose

after his initial shock, anger, time he needs to process, mostly he just wants to understand WHY she lied

when she tells him the she just couldn't bear to hurt him any more than she already had to by telling him his father died, and some part of adrien sees that as his own failing--surely if he'd been stronger, if he'd been the kind of person she thought could handle the truth, then she would have given it

maybe they go to couple's therapy. one of the exercises they're given is to practice honesty with each other and marinette goes... a little overboard

adrien thinks it's sweet, at first. until he realizes she's scared to leave a single second of her day unaccounted for. she's stressing out because she forgot to tell him something minor and he doesn't want him to think she just decided not to tell him something again

he realizes just how much she's been beating herself up about this all these years. just how much she's always loved him despite her mistakes

he remembers the ring he has stashed upstairs

and maybe it's not the time for proposals. but all he can think is that even at their worst, he still wants forever with her

of course, he's never been one for keeping his affections to himself. so he tells her.

it's not a question, it's not an offer. it's a fact: I want to spend the rest of my life with you. i want to marry you. she looks at him like he's crazy, so he pulls out his ultimatum. but i need you to forgive yourself first

all these years, marinette's been secretly awaiting her punishment. secretly awaiting having to pay for what she's done. forgiving herself was never on the table

do you forgive me, she asks in a quiet voice

i don't know, he says, and marinette's heart sinks until he adds, but i know i want to

and in the end, it's not so hard for him to get there. for him to forgive one decision she made under the worst possible circumstances. one mistake in the midst of all the ways she's made him feel safe and wanted and loved. all the times she's held his hand or helped wipe his tears, all the times she's let him do the same for her

when it comes time to exchange vows, for better or worse is already something they've agreed to

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 8

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Breeding - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.4k

Summary: Your family’s yearly vacation is here and once again, you’re single. To avoid having your dating life be poked and prodded by your relatives, you decide to turn your best friend for a little help. Everyone already knows him! What’s the worst that could happen if he pretends to be your boyfriend for the week?

—————————————————————————

“It’s going to be a disaster,” you lament, leaning your head back over your couch. Your coffee mug gripped tightly in your hand.

A random movie is playing on your TV, but neither you nor your best friend are paying attention.

“It will not,” Chan chides and nudges your arm with his elbow.

He sips his own drink slowly, watching you throw your arm over your eyes.

���Yes it will! Every year my family goes on this vacation to the mountains, and every year I’m reminded that I’m the only single adult in the family.”

You sigh.

“You’re not the only single one, what about your cousin?”

“He started dating someone about a month after last year’s vacation. They’re still together, so she’s coming on the trip.” Your tone switches to something less dramatic. “She’s lovely, by the way, you’d like her. Very friendly.”

Chan laughs. “So, you’re single and alone there, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s your family. ”

“They make fun of me the whole time! And if I do anything my mom doesn’t like, she’ll go ‘this is why you don’t have a boyfriend, Y/N.’ Ugh!”

“Aren’t there only four ‘older’ cousins?”

“Yes, and I’m the only single one above the age of seventeen. I’m twenty four and I am going to die alone.”

Your arm drops from your eyes and you stare up at the ceiling.

The air in your apartment is warm and comfortable. Candles burn on the table beside you, filling the house with a pleasant warm cinnamon scent.

It was always one of Chan’s favorites.

“How long until the trip?” he asks.

“Next weekend.”

“Not enough time for a dating app, huh?”

You force a laugh. “No. Can you imagine? ‘Coffee was great! You wanna come on a week-long vacation with me and my giant, loud family?’ They would run for the hills.”

“Your family is great and you know it.”

“I know, they’re just… obnoxiously close, that’s all. I love them, don’t get me wrong.” You motion your arms up to the ceiling wildly in an exasperated movement. “But if I need to listen to my aunt nitpick my appearance in passive aggressive ways to ‘help’, I might kill myself.”

Chan takes a long sip of his drink. “They’re not that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “They love you so much, what would you know? Every time I bring you around them I always get tons of questions afterwards about you. I think my cousin is in love with you.”

“Which one?”

“Lily.”

“She’s twelve.”

“Twelve and in love with you.”

Both of you sit in silence for a moment. Chan’s attention slides back to the TV. He’s looking at it, but he’s not absorbing what’s really playing.

Same with you, you’re too busy wrapped up in your thoughts when an idea hits you all of a sudden.

“That’s it!” you yell, sitting up straight. Your voice startles Chan and he almost spills his drink all over your couch.

“What? What’s it?” he asks quickly, checking his pants to make sure nothing spilled.

“You can come with me!”

“You want me to go on your family’s yearly vacation in place of a boyfriend?”

“I want you to come on my family’s yearly vacation as my boyfriend.”

Chan’s head snaps over to you, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. You’re already looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please, Chan!” you beg before he has a chance to say no. “Please, please, please!” you repeat over and over again.

Placing your coffee on the table, you crawl closer to him on the couch, begging over and over again.

“They already love you so much! It would be so easy ! Plus, it’s all expenses paid! It’s a free vacation to a lake house in the mountains with your best friend!”

“Felix isn’t going.” Chan teases.

You whine and grab his free hand. “No, me! Your best friend! Pretty please Chan! I’ll owe you big time!”

He stares at you for a long moment, thinking it through in his head. You’re staring at him with big, pleading, sparkly eyes. He’s never been able to say no to that look.

He sucks his teeth, head cocking to the side for a second. The hand in yours twitches and he holds it, like a faux-shake.

“Fine,” he says. “But, you owe me dinner.”

Squealing, you throw your arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He wraps his beverage-free hand around you and hugs you back. “You’re seriously the best, thank you!”

“I know, I know. Now can we please finish the movie?”

——————————————

The trunk to your car slams shut, Chan dusts his hands off and then rests them on his hips.

“You look like a dad,” you tell him while coming up to the car with your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“A dad who packed the trunk of your car perfectly.” He eyes the backpack on your shoulder. “That goes in the backseat. I’m not opening the trunk again.”

Giggling, you open the backdoor and toss it in.

“Can you drive?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. “You know how much I hate driving.”

Chan sighs and holds his hand out for the keys.

“You’re the best!” you cheer and toss them to him.

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Chan rolls his eyes and ducks into the driver’s side of the car. “Do you have the address?”

You duck inside the car and start typing on your phone. “I should have it in my texts, one sec.”

Scrolling through your phone, you try to find the text that your aunt sent you with the address. Your family has rented the same AirBnb every year since you were fourteen and yet you could never remember the address of the place.

As you’re searching for it, a phone call from your mom comes in.

“Oh, hold on.” You say to Chan and hit the answer button.

“Hey, ma!” you greet into the phone.

“Hey, sweetie! Are you on your way yet?”

“We just got into the car, actually. We’re about to leave.”

“I thought you would’ve left an hour ago.”

“Chan got held up at work, actually. Not his fault.”

At the mention of his name, Chan perks up and looks over at you, listening to the phone call intently.

“Ah, gotcha. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you two finally started dating.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still kinda new,” you lie through your teeth. You look up and make eye contact with Chan. “We only became official about…”

His eyes widen and he looks around panicked. Quickly, he holds up three fingers.

“About three week-”

He moves about wildly.

“Months! Three months ago! Sorry, I’m a little distracted putting all the bags in the car.”

Chan reacts to your lie comically, his chin jutting forward, head cocking to the side. You wave him off silently. Your mother doesn’t seem to clock your panic about the situation.

“I always saw how the two of you looked at each other, it was only a matter of time, really.”

A blush crawls up your neck and turns your ears and cheeks red. Chan looks down at his lap and coughs nervously, a blush of his own making its way onto his skin.

“Anyway, we better get going, mom! You know how talking on the phone while driving is illegal and all.”

“Make Chan drive! He’s the boyfriend.”

“You’re so right… And he should do so without putting up a fuss.”

Chan motions down to himself, as if to say ‘I’m already the one in the driver’s seat’. You wave him off again, trying to focus on your mother’s voice.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see you soon, but I expect some questions to be answered when I see you, Y/N!” Her voice is teasing, but it makes your blood run cold.

“Of course, mom. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye, love you!”

You don’t give her a chance to answer you before you hang up.

The silence in the car is so loud, the air is so still.

“So,” you say slowly. “We need to come up with a backstory, huh?”

“It seems so.”

Another bout of silence.

Neither of you are looking at each other, you’re both facing forward, staring out the windshield.

“I’ll uh… find the address.”

“Yeah.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and scroll through your phone. Chan waits a second before starting the car.

——————————————

Chan turned one of the final corners of the trip onto the street.

“Our first date?” he asks.

“Coffee at the cafe by my apartment.”

“Second date?”

“Movies, we saw Barbie. We went out to eat afterwards. A diner.”

“When did we become official?”

“Three months ago. May 6th. You asked me after our third date.”

“And?”

“You kissed me at my door.”

“Good.”

You both pause for a moment.

“How come I can’t be the one that kissed you?” you tease him.

Chan laughs out loud and turns the car into the driveway. “As if you would ever make the first move.”

You look at him incredulously. “I so would! You’re the one who gets too nervous to do anything. I say I kissed you, not the other way around.”

“No way, I kissed you.”

Chan puts the car into park.

“Absolutely not. I kissed you first.” you reply.

“Keep dreaming. I walked you to your door, we stood there and talked for a minute. You went to walk inside, but I stopped you and kissed you.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt.

“No, after we talked, there was an awkward silence and I could see how nervous you were and how you kept looking at my lips. So, I took the first step and kissed you.”

Grabbing the door handle, you wrench it open before Chan could issue a rebuttal again.

He calls your name from inside the car and lets out a loud groan afterwards.

“You can’t have all the firsts, now can you?” you call back, walking around to the trunk.

The front door to the house rips open and two of your little cousins come tearing out of the house with happy smiles.

“Y/N! Y/N!” they both call out, sprinting up to you.

Leaning down, you scoop both of them up into a hug with both arms, giving them an equally excited hello. Both of them hug you tightly.

They’re five and nine years old, girl and boy– the youngest of the cousins.

“Look who else I brought with me,” you giggle and look over at Chan, who was watching you from the side of the car. The door still opened, his arm leaning on the top.

Both of their tiny gazes turn towards him and just like that, you’re forgotten about.

“Chan!” They both cheer and run at him full tilt.

He wraps both of them up in his strong arms and picks them off the ground.

“Hello, you two!” he coos and gives them both kisses on their heads.

Something twinges within your heart seeing him interact with the two of them that way, it goes through you like an arrow. His brown eyes are so warm and sparkly holding your two little cousins close to him.

A genuine, bright smile pulled across his beautiful face.

Chan steps away from the car and puts them on the ground, they both complain. “Come on, I need to help Y/N with the bags. I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I made her carry them all by herself.”

Your heart thuds again. Boyfriend.

The two kids groan and give in, running back into the house, telling everyone of your arrival.

Chan watches them for a moment before turning to look at you with a sheepish smile. You smile back and knock twice on the hood of your car.

“Come on then, boyfriend. These bags won't carry themselves.”

He laughs and grabs the bags from the trunk, arguing with you when you try to lift some of the heavier bags. Well, you weren’t going to argue about carrying something if you didn’t need to.

The cold air conditioned house was a familiar sight when you walked through the front door. One of your aunts was near the entrance when you first came in.

“Y/N, Chan, you’re here! We have you both in the room down here, I hope that’s okay.” she says, pointing to the room down the hall. It’s one of only three bedrooms on the first floor.

“Yeah! That’s totally fine, thank you.”

You smile and walk to the room, dropping your bags down on the bed.

The singular bed in the room.

Chan follows you inside the room with your bags, plopping them down on the floor by the door. You turn to look at him, he’s staring at the bed, most likely thinking the same thing that you are.

He closes the door behind you both.

“I didn’t think about this part.” you say quietly just in case someone was outside the door.

He shrugs. “Just don’t hog the blankets,” he jokes. Chan brushes it off so easily.

What you don’t know is his heart is racing just as much as yours is. His mouth has gone completely dry and he had to gulp down some nerves before jesting with you.

It’s just a bed, right? Both of you can share a bed, no problem. Not at all.

The two of you have fallen asleep on the couch together before. But, it’s not quite the same as sharing a bedroom for the next week.

“I didn’t think you would need any blankets since you’re a human space heater.” You open your one bag and pull out a few smaller things.

“You’re just jealous because you’re cold all the time.” Chan stands on the other side of the bed, plugging his phone charger into the wall.

“I’m not cold all the time.”

“You’re in a sweatshirt and it’s eighty five degrees outside.”

“We had the air conditioning on in the car.”

There’s a few knocks on the bedroom door. “Dinner!”

——————————————

Contrary to what you both originally thought, your family did not grill the two of you interrogation style about your relationship. Instead, you were met with a lot of “It was only a matter of time”.

Each time one of your family members said something along those lines, both you and Chan would grow extremely shy, faces flushing and hearts racing.

Dinner was held in the back room attached to the large kitchen, a long dining table sat in the room, benches full of your family members lined it.

There were so many of you: eight cousins, three aunts, two uncles, two parents, one sister, one brother in law, one grandmother.

This was not the first time Chan had been around your extremely large family, not at all. He’s around you all the time, especially when he can’t go home to Australia for holidays. You always invite him to your family celebrations, and each time he’s more than thrilled to be there.

Everyone was so happy that he was there; part of you thinks they’re happier to see him than you.

Dinner came and went, it was filled with laughter and stories, like it usually is. Your dad and his brothers all teased one another, bringing up stories of being young in the 70’s and 80’s.

“Let’s do a movie night!” One of your younger cousins turns to her older brother. “You’ve been promising me that we would watch Star Wars.”

“You want to watch Star Wars tonight?” he replies.

“Yes, please! Cousins movie night!" She cheers and grabs her plate. “We can set the couches up like last year!”

Chan leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Movie night?”

“There’s a den upstairs with a couple couches, we push them together to make a giant bed and all watch movies at night. Very common L/N Family Activity on vacation.” you answer, leaning closer to him. “The adults usually go to bed and all the cousins watch movies.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Both of you chuckle and smile at one another. His dimples showing. You two seem to be in your own little bubble.

Chan’s leaning so close his body heat is radiating through your clothes. The fabric of his shirt is brushing against your bare arm.

“You’ll find that there’s a certain schedule to each day, breakfast, play down at the lake, lunch, back to the lake, get ready for dinner, eat dinner, movie time.”

“I think I can get used to that.”

“You better.”

A throat clears by you. Your aunt is looking at the two of you with a playful smile. “Are you both going to help clean up or what?”

——————————————

“Dibs on sitting next to Y/N!” One of your little cousins calls out after you all finished pushing the couches together.

“No, I want to sit next to her!” Another yells out.

The youngest runs up and throws his arms around your hips, hugging you close to him. Both arms don’t make it around you all the way.

“No, me!”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. He holds you tighter and it knocks you off balance slightly.

“Come on, hon, you got to sit next to me at dinner, let someone else have a turn.” you coo down to him.

“No!” he pouts and hugs you tighter. You grimace and try to pry his arms off you.

Chan comes out of nowhere and picks your cousin off the ground in one fell swoop. “How about me, huh?” he teases and tickles your cousin with his one free hand.

Your cousin starts giggling like crazy.

“Don’t I get to sit next to my girlfriend?” he jokes and tickles him even more.

The biggest smile stretches over your face, heart warming once more.

Chan drops your cousin onto the couches, he bounces a bit, still laughing.

The tickle torture continues now that both of Chan’s hands are free. Giggles turn into cackles.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t fight the smile on your face and the feeling that stirs in your stomach. Are you ovulating? You have to be. There’s no other explanation for the flutter within your chest.

He just looks so natural like that. The teasing looked adorable.

It wasn’t until one of your older cousins came into the room before your gaze was taken away from Chan.

“Lovesick, eh?” he says in your ear.

“Oh, shut up.” You hit him in the arm.

“I know that look anywhere, Y/N. You can’t fool me.” He laughs and then walks to take his spot on the big couch huddle with his girlfriend.

Chan picks your little cousin up by the ankle and starts dragging him around. Both of their laughter was music to your ears.

“Okay, okay! Move time!” You call out to the two of them. Chan looks over at you immediately with the goofiest grin on his face.

Your little cousin groans.

“Give me my boyfriend back,” you tease and climb onto the couch.

After several minutes of figuring out seating and finding the movie on the TV, everyone was finally settled.

Chan sat directly next to you, his arm on the back of the couch behind you. Both of your legs stretched out in front of you and a shared blanket draped over you both.

The opening title sequence of Star Wars starts playing and silence falls over your cousins for the first time since you got there.

Absent-mindedly, Chan’s fingers lightly brush over the skin of your exposed shoulder from behind you. They trace small shapes lightly.

You can’t even focus on the movie in front of you, Chan’s touch is too distracting.

Your sister and her fiance sat on the other side of you. She leaned over and whispered in your ear about twenty minutes into the movie.

“You can cuddle with your boyfriend, you know.”

A flush crawls up your neck. “Yeah, of course I know that. I just didn’t want to–”

Chan must’ve heard her, his hand closes over your shoulder and brings you closer to him. Your body turns into his, head tucked underneath his chin. His body warmth seeps into you as soon as you press into him.

The cherry on top is when he presses a kiss to the crown of your hair before resting his chin on top of your head. A shockwave of goosebumps ripples through your body.

Thinking you were chilly, Chan wraps his other arm around you and holds you even closer.

Well, if he’s playing the part.

You intertwine your legs with his underneath the blanket. His heart jumps in his chest and he has to fight the urge to press another kiss into your hair.

Chan knew he was pushing his luck with the first one, but it just felt so natural, he couldn’t help himself. Every single time the two of you touch, he instinctually takes it further into a romantic zone.

Previously, he would restrain himself from advancing these moments with you, but now? He doesn’t need to hold himself back. He can let his body react naturally.

The movie continues on, whenever a younger cousin would ask any questions about the movie, one of the older kids would answer.

Whenever Chan was the one to answer, his voice would rumble deep within his chest. The later it got, the raspier it sounded.

Throughout the movie, you both just got more and more tangled up underneath the blanket. You slid an arm around to rest your hand on Chan’s chest; fingers mindlessly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt.

Chan melted into your touch so easily.

In all the years you’ve been close friends, you’ve never been this level of a human pretzel while hanging out. He’s relishing every moment of it. Your shared body heat mingling is intoxicating to him.

He’s such a tactile person, physical touch is definitely his love language.

Chan can’t remember a time he was ever this cozy while watching a movie.

One of his hands moves from your shoulder and into your hair, running his fingers through the strands gently.

Every muscle in your body relaxes when he starts scratching at your scalp lightly. His soft exhales puff out on your head. Normally, this would bother you, but instead you find it soothing.

Both of you were fighting against your eyelids towards the end of the movie. The little kids fell asleep about ten minutes before the credits rolled.

Chan squeezes you tighter for a moment before whispering into your hair, “Time for bed.”

Your heart squeezes. “I gotta help get the little ones to bed.”

“I got it,” he answers. “Go wash up and get to bed. I’ll be downstairs in a few.”

Words can’t even describe how much your heart melts at his words.

Pull it together, Y/N. He’s your fake boyfriend for the week, remember? Not your real one.

It’s Chan – Bang Chan. The same guy who held your hair each time you drank yourself sick in college. The guy who camps out at your dining room table to work because he claims the Wi-Fi is better at your apartment.

Nevertheless, you peel yourself off of him, untangling your limbs and sitting up.

“You’re the best,” you say to him with a sleepy smile.

“I know.”

——————————————

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window and the air conditioning unit continuously hums in the room.

A strong arm squeezing tighter around your body is what drags you out of dreamland.

A searingly hot body is pressed flush against the back of yours; legs tangled up, back to chest, soft exhales blowing into your hair lightly.

The haze of sleep still has your mind in its grip. All you know in that moment is that it’s so cozy, so warm, so nice that you can’t help but press your body backwards into that serene clasp.

The arm tightens again and brings you even closer.

A nose nuzzles further into the back of your head.

Chan, it’s Chan behind you.

You should care. You should be prying his arm off your waist and scooting over away from him.

But you don’t want to. It’s too nice.

It’s so peaceful, you’re about to drift back to sleep when the sound of two separate footsteps run towards your bedroom door.

They’re so loud, it rips you from sleep and you tense up, preparing for impact.

Your bedroom door is practically flung open.

Chan jolts against your body at the noise, his eyes snap open, arm tightening around you even more in a protective manner.

He has about two seconds to get his bearings before both cousins leap onto the bed, yelling at you both to wake up.

Chan releases you and turns over onto his back with a deep groan.

You groan and squint your eyes closed, bringing the covers up over your head.

“Noooo…” you moan out.

Chan laughs and grabs one little cousin closely, hugging her close to his chest. “Are you in here to sleep in bed with us? I sure hope so since it’s still soooo early.”

She giggles and tries to fight against his strong arms. “No!” she cackles. “You have to eat breakfast so we can go swimming down at the lake!”

Your other, more calm, cousin squirms underneath the covers and cuddles up to you. Slinging an arm around him, you keep your eyes closed and try to let your mind drift off again.

This is not the first time he’s done this, and it most likely will not be the last. It breaks your heart thinking about the year he feels like he’s too old to do this.

Chan is practically wrestling with your cousin next to you. She squeals when he turns on his side with her encased in his arms.

“Chaaan!” she giggles.

After a few moments, he lets her go and she clambers off the bed.

“Come on, Chan! Come sit next to me at breakfast!” She pulls on his hand closest to the edge of the bed.

He laughs and turns his head to look at you. You’re fast asleep again with your younger cousin asleep in your arms.

Chan’s heart slams against his ribcage and his stomach does a cartwheel.

Your sleeping face is so peaceful, and the way your little cousin has the same hair color as you had the cogs in his mind turning.

What if that was your kid in your arms, not just a cousin?

What if it was his?

His eyes flicker all over your face.

Something stirs in his mind, shooting down his spine. If it wasn’t for your other little cousin yanking on his arm over and over again, probably would’ve watched you for a few more moments, allowing his mind to roam into dangerous territory.

——————————————

“You’re staring.” Your aunt sits next to Chan with a plate full of food.

He’s camped out on the back porch of the cabin. It overlooks the wooden stairs that lead down to the dock hanging over the lake.

You’re lounging out on a floaty, pina colada in your hand– courtesy of him. He had walked it down to you only a few moments ago.

When it was announced that it was lunch time, you told Chan you wanted to work on your tan without worrying about your cousins splashing you every five seconds.

Maybe making you a frozen drink was just an excuse to see your face light up when he brought it to you. Maybe it was an excuse to watch the water droplets slide over your body up close.

Chan clears his throat and tears his eyes off your lazing form. Clearly, he’d been caught staring at your bikini clad form.

She nudges his arm playfully. “Don’t be embarrassed, it would be weirder if you didn’t stare, you know.”

Your family can be so crass sometimes.

Chan laughs and takes a bite of the sandwich on his plate. “It’s just nice to see her relaxing for once.”

“Has she been working herself into the ground again?”

“She never stops.”

Your aunt nods and looks back down at you before taking a bite of her own food. “Also helps that she looks good in that bathing suit.” She pauses. “Damn, your kids will be good looking.”

Chan chokes on his bite of food, his body jerks forward and he slams his fist into his chest to try and get it down.

Your aunt pats him on the back a few times, laughing at his expense.

“What?” She questions with an evil chuckle. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

“We’ve only been together for three months,” he wheezes out, still hitting his chest. The clump of food is sitting in his throat.

“And?”

“It’s too early to think about stuff like that,” he lies through his teeth.

You’re not even his. You’re not. This week will end and you’ll have to go back to just being best friends.

He’ll have to pretend that he wasn’t fake sleeping for the last hour before you woke up just to have his arms around you for a little while longer.

“Please.” Your aunt rolls her eyes and goes back to her food when another family member joins the table.

Chan takes a long swig of water before letting his eyes flicker to you once more. Your free hand hangs down in the water, head tilted back to dip into the cool lake, exposing your long, beautiful neck.

In his swim trunks, his cock twitches and he takes an even bigger drink of water.

——————————————

The torture continues endlessly for the two of you.

It’s the fourth night when it’s just you and Chan left awake.

Rain is pouring against the windows outside, the fireplace is lit, TV playing something in the background.

“I’m never going to get to bed.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have had coffee with dessert,” you tease Chan, nudging his arm.

“Your uncle offered me a cup and I panicked.”

“You don’t even like coffee.”

“I know!” He whined.

You laugh at his expense. “Come on,” you tug on his arm. “You promised you would play pool with me.”

“When did I say that?”

“Literally this morning!”

“Fine, fine.”

He allows you to pull him off the couch with a dorky smile on his face. He loves giving you a hard time for no reason at all.

The pool table sat in the front room, just a few steps away from your bedroom.

Every time the two of you had gone to play pool, other family members would get in the way and pull one of you two in another direction.

Tonight was really the first night you both had to yourselves.

“You break,” you tell him once everything is set up. He nods and lines up his shot. After a second, he hits the cue ball perfectly into the cluster and all the balls scatter along the table, but nothing sinks into the pocket.

“Pity,” you tease him.

“Pity,” he repeats, mocking your tone.

Laughing, you bend over and line up your own shot. From across the table, Chan watches your form bend over, his lip pulling between his teeth mindlessly.

You hit the ball and sink one in.

With a cheer on the quieter side, you look at him with a smirk. He rolls his eyes playfully as you line up another shot.

The game continues just like this for a bit. Both of you going back and forth, missing most shots, but also nailing some good ones.

You’re tied at the end, racing to try and sink the 8-ball before the other person.

Leaning over the table right in front of him, you try and set up your aim.

“Wait,” Chan says quietly before you can pull the pool stick back to take your shot.

He leans down over you, pressing his back into yours, arms coming around you. He guides your aim to hit the cue ball differently.

The entire time, your heart rate is increasing exponentially.

“Just a bit more to the left,” he whispers in your ear. Chills rip down your body and you gulp. His voice sounds so low and sensual.

His hand over yours adjusts with tiny, miniscule movements. He keeps changing the aim a bit to the left, then a bit to the right, like he’s prolonging the contact.

Behind you, his hips are pressed into yours. It’s taking every ounce of willpower and control for him not to get hard in his sweats.

Especially, since in this position, he potentially could–

“Pull back,” he rasps. You follow his instructions immediately. He helps guide the pool stick back, hesitating for a moment. His chest inflates with a deep breath.

He breathes in the smell of your shampoo.

“Shoot,” he exhales.

With his guidance, you both shoot the ball, standing up quickly to watch it bounce off the 8-ball and then sinking into the corner pocket.

You cheer and jump up, turning around to face him directly.

“Take that!”

When you turned to face him, he hadn’t backed away yet. You’re practically nose to nose with Chan. A gasp catches in your throat from his proximity.

And yet, he still doesn’t back away. He continues to stare at you, his eyes dart from yours, down to your lips, then back up to your eyes again.

“Y/N,” he breathes out.

You swallow nervously and hold his eye contact.

Chan’s jaw clenches once, his hands ball into fists at his sides. Every single ounce of constraint is being tested within his body right now.

Cracks are going up the dam of his self control.

You’re not moving away; why aren’t you moving away from him?

He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips once and that’s all it takes for his mind to snap.

Chan lunges forward, grabbing your face with both of his hands and smashing your lips together. You let out a surprised noise against his mouth, your pool stick clattering to the ground.

Every bit of pent up aggression from the last few days is poured into the first kiss.

His hands aren’t on your face for long. He can’t keep still, sliding them all over your body; into your hair, down your sides, grabbing your hips, he’s everywhere.

“Fuck,” he growls against your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit.”

Even though he’s apologizing, he can’t stop himself. He can’t stop slotting his lips over yours, devouring your very being.

Chan’s eyebrows are pinched together painfully. He’s pinning your body against the pool table with his hips.

You grab at his shirt and pull him closer.

“Shut up,” you say in between heated kisses.

“But I–”

“Shut up.” Your tongue runs over his bottom lip and his mind whites out. Every rebuttal fell from his mind, through the floor and into the Earth.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face even closer to yours as he licks into your mouth. With each turn of your heads, your noses brush against one another.

Chan runs his hands down your body and grabs underneath your thighs, picking you up and placing you on the pool table.

Your legs part and he stands in between them, never leaving your lips once.

As he runs his hands up your legs, he squeezes your bare thighs every few inches. It makes your core clench and body tingle.

Your fingers run up through his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling. Chan moans into your mouth and moves his hands to grab at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

“Chan,” you whisper on his lips. He responds with a grunt. “Need you.”

God.

His hands fly to your legs again, grabbing you by the knees, he yanks your hips forward. Your clothed core comes into direct contact with his erection.

“I can give you exactly what you need, baby.” he nips your lip with his teeth. “I can take good care of you, yeah?”

Trailing his fingers up, he toys with the waistband of your shorts. At the same time, he moves his kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back to give him more access.

“Wanna take these off, babygirl?” he moans when you roll your hips into his.

“Yes, please.” you hiss in response.

Lifting your hips, he grabs the fabric and slides it down your legs, tossing them onto the floor with the forgotten pool stick.

Kisses trail lower and lower down your neck as he lowers to the ground.

Chan pulls away to kneel onto the ground.

His eyes are heated and strong when they meet yours. A dark scarlet color covers his cheeks and down his neck, disappearing into his sleeveless shirt.

Both of his hands grab at your thighs when he looks down at your glistening cunt. You’re absolutely soaking wet by now.

Since the moment he helped you line up your shot, you felt your panties dampening.

Wasting no time, Chan leans forward and runs his tongue from the bottom of your slit all the way up to the top, swirling around your clit and sucking gently.

Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, the other rests on the table behind you to keep your balance.

He repeats the action again, this time with more fervor and you squint your eyes shut, head tossing back from the pleasure that rips down your spine like a zipper.

Chan’s hands tighten around your thighs, eyes staring up at you and studying each reaction closely.

You taste so fucking good. He can’t get enough of you. His tongue greedily scoops up your juices, licking around your clit to feel you grind into his face.

His cock throbs with each moan, each whine that makes it through your fingers held tightly over your mouth.

After one long suck on your clit, Chan dips his tongue inside you, licking at your walls. Your eyes roll back into your head, the hand over your mouth flies down to grip at his hair.

He can’t help but smirk into your folds.

Every single moan is music to his ears.

Slowly, he inches his fingers over and when he moves his tongue up to your clit, he slides a finger into you, immediately curling it up to hit that spongy spot inside you.

“Jesus fuck–!” you cry out as quiet as you can manage.

It doesn’t slip your mind that you’re quite literally in a house full of relatives who could wake up and come into the front room at any moment and see the two of you.

But the fear just adds an extra layer of arousal to you.

“Does that feel good, babygirl?” Chan mutters into your cunt. “Does it feel good to have my fingers inside you?”

He thrusts his finger in and out slowly, those brown eyes studying you like a predator studies prey.

You bite your lip, eyes closed, and nod your head.

Chan adds a second finger and your head tosses back again. He can feel you clench down hard on his fingers when he licks your clit in long, even strokes.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body.

“Chan,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he teases, licking up slowly, the pace of his fingers is equally as slow. But, regardless of the pace, he’s still coaxing you towards the edge of an orgasm. It’s building slowly, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach.

“Shit,” you buck your hips into his face when he does one particularly hard thrust.

“Use your words, little girl.” He bites your thigh and then goes back to your folds. You clench around him hard at the name.

How are you supposed to use your words when your voice keeps getting caught in your throat? When every time you think you can open your mouth, a sultry moan tumbles out.

“N-Need you,” you manage to strain out.

A devilish smile pulls at his lips. He begins to thrust faster with his fingers, licking your clit quicker.

“Need me?” He asks in between licks. “You need me?”

Veins are popping in your neck from straining to keep your voice down.

“Yes, fuck!” You hiss out. “ I need you.”

In between his legs, Chan can feel his cock weeping with precum. His mind is so clouded with lust he can barely think straight.

Desperately, he wishes that you didn’t have to keep your voice down. He wants to make you scream.

Faster and faster he thrusts and licks at your soaking cunt, greedily tasting your juices.

Your thighs twitch on either side of his head the closer you get to your orgasm.

“Chan,” you grab his attention by yanking on his hair. He grunts and looks up at you through his lashes, lips still devouring you. “Inside, inside. I need your cock inside me.”

Your words go straight to his dick, he licks at your cunt a few more times before standing to his feet quickly to lock your lips together, fingers still buried inside you.

When you taste your own slick on his tongue, your eyes roll back in your head and you clench around him. Chan smirks into the kiss, curling his fingers up.

He’s relentless. Tongue sliding over yours, moans being eaten up by a greedy mouth while his fingers fuck into you.

With more strength than you thought you had, you pry Chan’s lips off yours by pulling his hair back.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I’ll pin you down and ride you until your cock can’t cum anymore.”

An exhale is punched from his chest. His mind whites out. Chan’s mouth drops open and his fingers stutter within you.

Did you really just say that? That sounds like a fucking dream.

“Babygirl,” he growls darkly. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

Your eyes darken and you pull his hair again. “Fuck me until I can’t walk, Chris.”

Chan rips his fingers out of your cunt, grabs both of your hips and roughly pulls you off the pool table.

He fists a hand in the back of your hair and spins you around, shoving your head down, bending you over completely.

You’re lucky you had half a mind to put your arms out to rest your weight on your elbows.

Using his one foot, he knocks the inside of yours outwards to spread your legs even more.

“Fucking look at that,” he marvels, running his free hand up your ass and kneading a handful. After a second he reels back and brings his hand down with a painful smack.

Your one hand flies to your mouth to cover the squeak that you make.

“Bent over, soaking wet cunt just fucking waiting to take my cock.” His hand tightens in your hair. The other hand rips his sweatpants down to take his cock out. “What a good girl you are.”

Chan can’t remember a time he’s ever been this hard.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you look back at Chan. His eyes are blown out, lip pulled in a sneer as he fists his cock, staring directly at your fluttering walls clench around nothing.

“You wanna fill me up, Channie?”

His eyes snap up to yours with a predator-like stare. His hand stops pumping his own cock, hell, he even stops breathing.

Chan’s jaw clenches, every ounce of self control is being drained. How much more of this can he fucking take before he passes out?

“What?” His voice is so strained and hoarse.

Your eyes narrow and you wiggle your hips tauntingly. “Come on, Chan.”

Chan’s eyes darken. He fists your hair and shoves your face down on the table and slams his cock inside you.

Your mouth stretches open in a silent scream, but you don’t let the noise make it out of your body.

Chan’s eyes roll to the back. You feel so fucking good.

“Holy shit.” He moans out. “Jesus fuck you’re so fighting tight.”

He wastes no time, pulling his cock out to slam back inside you. Your back arches and hips press into his to meet his thrust.

Each sharp wave of pleasure shoots down your legs and into your toes.

Small gasps and whines make their way through your lips.

Chan leans down, yanking your hair back to pick your head up slightly. His face comes down next to yours.

“You like this, yeah?” He whispers harshly. Thrust after thrust slams against your cervix. “You like when it’s rough?”

Closing your eyes tightly, you keep your mouth shut, trying to nod with his hand so tightly wound in the crown of your hair.

“Better be quiet, then. Don’t want someone coming out and seeing you look like a cum hungry, whore.”

Over and over again he fucks into you.

After one harsh thrust, your mouth drops open and before you can moan loudly, Chan’s free hand covers your mouth tightly.

“Feels that good to have my cock inside you, huh? Can’t control that pretty mouth, you’re so fucked out.”

You whine and nod again. Nails digging into the felt of the pool table underneath you.

Hot, white pleasure is coursing through your veins. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life.

Chan leans down more and bites at the side of your neck, lapping at the skin and leaving small marks that will fade by the morning.

“You’re fucking lucky you have to be in a bathing suit in front of your family tomorrow. Otherwise I would leave my fucking mark all over you.” He bites, but doesn’t suck. “Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Another whine is stopped by his hand.

“I have a better idea, babygirl.” He bites your earlobe, pace slowing down within you. Instead, he thrusts deeper, you can practically feel him within your gut. “I’m going to do exactly what you said, yeah? Fill you up? Make that pussy sloppy with my fucking load.”

Your hips jerk back into his to try and encourage him to pick up the pace. Chan only tightens his hold in your hair.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you, every last fucking drop. Even after I pull out, I’ll stuff you with my fucking fingers so nothing gets wasted.”

Arching your back, you press into him more.

“You want that, huh?” He growls, biting your ear. His pace picks up gradually, each thrust rougher and faster than the last. “You want my seed inside you?”

You nod pathetically.

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

His thrusts start growing erratic.

You never expected him to be this talkative during sex. But he hasn’t shut up once.

Another nod accompanied with a whine comes from you. You’re absolutely drowning in pleasure.

“Gunna carry my kids, got the fucking perfect hips for it, yeah? You’ll look so fucking hot all pregnant with our kids. Fuck.”

He’s so lost and fucked out, he can’t stop his mouth from running, spewing all his fantasies.

Moving his hand from your mouth, he trails it down to grab at your throat.

“Chan!” You moan out, licking your dry lips.

“Can feel you clenching, babygirl. You gonna cum for me? Gunna cream on my cock? Suck up my cum and hold onto it with this tight fucking pussy?”

“Yes yes yes yes.” You pant over and over again. “Kiss me, kiss me, please”

When you turn your head, your lips smash together.

The coil in your gut is seconds from snapping.

You bite Chan’s lip and pull back.

“Fuck me full, daddy.”

Every muscle in his body tensed and his thrusts turn into something animalistic. The hand in your hair is so tight your scalp is screaming.

“Say it again.”

“Fu-huck,” is all you’re able to manage.

“Say it again.” He barks in your ear. You’re not going to be able sit down tomorrow.

“Daddy.”

A bite to your neck.

“Again.”

“Daddy! Fuck me, daddy!”

“Holy shit.” He whines in your ear. Hearing you say that makes him feel fucking insane. His body is acting on its own.

With a few more thrusts both of you are thrown over the edge at the same time. Your cunt clenching around him so tight, Chan can barely breathe.

His cock spurts and sprays within you, painting your walls white.

Every single sensation feels so good you think you leave for body for a few minutes. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

His entire body is wrapped around yours. Grunts in your ear keep you grounded.

You feel so full.

Chan came inside you so much that it’s leaking out and dripping down the inside of your legs.

He pants heavily into your ear.

Releasing your neck, he lovingly runs his hand down your side, caressing your hip, massaging circles into the bone.

His hand slides around and cups your lower stomach tenderly.

Slowly, he unwinds his hand from your hair, kissing at the roots he’s been relentlessly pulling on. He scratches and rubs at your scalp to ease the ache.

But still, he hasn’t pulled out.

Chan kisses the top of your head and down to your face, kissing the cheek he’s able to reach.

You can’t catch your breath.

“Y/N,” he whispers into your hair.

You hum back to him, eyes still closed in bliss.

“I love you.”

Your heart jumps in your chest, Chan feels you clench around him.

“I love you too.” It falls from your lips so easily, like it’s been sitting there for so long, just waiting to be heard.

Both of your heads turn to kiss one another.

It’s so ungodly sweet for the events that just took place minutes ago.

His lips are so soft and plush, especially from being swollen from your steamy kisses.

Inside you, you can feel his cock twitch. Is he…?

Breathlessly, you pull away from his sweet kiss.

“Are you still hard?” you pant.

Sheepishly, he smiles and ruts into you. A moan catches in your throat.

“Babygirl, I’ve been waiting for so long to fuck you. It’s going to take a few times before I’m ready to call it a night.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[qdbs-writes]

How do you think the Cullens would act around a disinterested crush? Maybe they're fated but reader isn't having it lol

(I love your twilight writing btw thank God someone is still doing it 🤤🤤)

ah it has been many moons since I've gotten a twilight request yay!

Cullen Clan Reacting To Their Crush Being Disinterested In Them

Carlisle Cullen

Being alive for just over 400 years tends to give one a good perspective on life and the bigger picture, and Carlisle sure has a pretty good idea of how all things pan out. So you're not interested in him? That's fine, Carlisle can wait for as long as you need to change your mind.

In the meantime, Carlisle will continue to maintain your friendship and continue to show just how hard he's worked to become the kind caring father figure he is. He knows you'll fall for him, eventually.

Esme Cullen

Obviously, she's not going to stop caring about you just because you don't return her feelings. But she might switch up how she shows her affection.

Rather than flirty winks and suspiciously candle-lit wine tastings, she'll back up to more traditionally motherly affections. Making sure you're eating right, baking cookies, etc. And of course, giving you homemade soup when you're sick is still one of her favourite things to do, no need to stop now.

Edward Cullen

Of course, you're not interested, how could anyone love a monster like him? Who did he think he was, thinking he was worthy of your love? Or so his inner monologue goes.

But it's really not that dramatic, it almost never is, Edward just sprung his crush on you suddenly and it caught you off guard. It was largely the excessively long preamble about how he was an irredeemable murderer that put you off first, but of course, he won't realise that until considerably later.

Rosalie Hale

She's a little relieved actually. All her mortal and immortal life, Rosalie has been aggressively pursued by people she wasn't particularly interested in, so the fact that she can crush on someone who isn't really that interested is a wonderful change of pace.

For the first time ever, Rosalie has butterflies in her stomach, she fumbles with her words when she speaks to you, and she feels like a silly, mortal teenage girl again, begging her mother to let her go to the dance just so she can sneak away to catch a glimpse of someone just like you.

Emmett Cullen

You and Emmett had been good friends for a while so when he casually drops a blissful "We should get married" into the conversation, you initially choke on your drink in laughter.

Emmett's a little heartbroken that you'd laugh at something like that, considering that he was being 100% serious. But since you've known him, the both of you have been constantly cracking up jokes, trying to get on each other's nerves, so no wonder you thought this was another one of his pranks. He decides to take this reaction as a blessing, you have no idea he's actually into you, now he knows he has to work out a different way to confess his feelings for you.

Alice Cullen

She's a little confused obviously, having multiple visions of the two of you in a romantic relationship kind of gave her the impression that it might've been going to come true, but your disinterest says something else altogether.

But the worst part is that those damn visions of you and her together keep coming back, taunting her, luring her in deeper to despair with the thoughts of what might be. It's all getting so intense, so she decides to skip town for a bit, see if that changes anything, or at least helps her clear her head.

Jasper Hale

Oh well, so you're not interested in a romantic relationship, so what? Doesn't mean you can't still be friends. Doesn't mean he can't be the charming Southern gentleman he is. Doesn't mean he can't still pull out chairs or open doors for you. Or send anonymous bouquets to your house. Or leave your favourite snacks in your locker when you're having a rough day. Of course not.

It doesn't mean he can't worry about other people who might want to date you. Doesn't mean he can't scare off people who'd be bad for you. I mean, what else are friends for?

[steddiehasmywholeheart]

Thinking of Steve with PTSD from the torture in Starcourt. (TW: explicit memories physical torture)

Steve, who wakes up feeling hands punch him. Steve, who sometimes gets his fingers caught on knots in his hair, tugs at them accidentally, and suddenly feels the needle against his neck again. Steve, who can't remember the last time it didn't feel like someone was touching him, even when there's no one there.

During the day, it's not so bad. It whispers over his skin, but sometimes it's like it goes completely silent, drowned by the chaos of the kids or Robin's antics. But nights, or any time he's alone in his house, are hard. His skin burns from being slapped, pinched, injected, and the walls waver and morph into the basement of Starcourt for hours.

Obviously, Robin get's it, she was there too, so the pair try to spend as much time as possible together. But on the night's she's working, or her parents force her in and Steve out, he struggles, avoiding his house like the plague.

It's on one of these nights he meets Eddie. Eddie, who's a little skeptical of him, but who saw his fall from grace, and can see the wild fear in Steve's eyes from a mile away. Eddie, who's always ready to adopt a stray sheep. Eddie, who's babbling brings him back to earth, even when he has no idea what he's on about. He learns Eddie's funny, and loud, and brings life to his sickeningly quiet home in a way no-one else can, and Eddie learns he's not a stuck-up bully of a jock, and it quickly becomes a routine for them to meet whenever Robin's busy. Overtime, Eddie learns Steve struggles because of what he went through in Starcourt, but not much else.

One night, he rocked up to Steve's for a movie night, and he can tell instantly it's a bad day. Steve looks haunted, there's no other word for it. He knows he's going to have to pull out the extra Munson Special to be able to get a real smile out of him tonight.

But it doesn't work. In fact, Steve just seems to be getting worse.

He keeps zoning out, knuckles wise where they grip his jeans, the sofa, anything. And not only is he shaking in general, he's also jolting. And... dodging. Like some invisible figure is hitting him.

Eddie's so worried, he actually stops talking, just watches for a little bit and. Steve doesn't notice. He just keeps breathing too fast. Keeps staring at some ghost in his past. Keeps flinching.

Saying Steve's name isn't enough to get his attention, so slowly, carefully, Eddie reaches for him, placing a hand on his arm, just lightly. But it's enough to make Steve reel back.

They're both apologising in seconds, Steve looking distraught as he assures Eddie it's fine, he's just being stupid, and Eddie saying he should have asked, it's no big deal. But Eddie doesn't miss the sheen in Steve's eyes as he nods, or the tremble to his lips.

He takes a deep breath. Asks, "Steve? what's going on?" Watches as Steve tenses impossibly more for one second. Two. Then crumbles.

"I- I can just f-feel- and-and it hurts, and I don't-"

"Okay, okay, what can I do?"

But Steve just whines, because he doesn't know, he just feels pain everywhere and he just needs to make it stop.

Cue Eddie wracking his brains, and asking where it hurts the worst. Cue Eddie asking if Steve trusts him (and of course he does). Cue Eddie talking Steve through what he's about to do. Cue Eddie gently reaching out to touch Steve's neck, rubbing his thumb over it gently, holding his breath as Steve goes rigid underneath his hand, only to let it out when a significant amount of the tension just bleeds out of him a few moments later.

Slowly, Eddie works his way around all the sore spots, murmuring soft assurances, gaining more confidence as Steve trembles less, breathes easier, and melts under his touch.

They end up with Steve's face buried in Eddie's shoulder, Eddie's arms around him firmly, but not tightly. And Steve doesn't have the words to explain why he needed this, what had caused this. But it doesn't matter. Because Eddie's got him.

From then on, Steve's always got someone to help him remember his body is his. Eddie doesn't hesitate to welcome Steve with a hug, run his hands over Steve's wrists, trail fingers over Steve's neck, or just wrap him up in a blanket and snuggle with him and watch a movie. It doesn't matter that Steve's not allowed to explain. He can piece enough together himself (and after Vecna, he learns anyway). It just matters that Steve is sleeping easier, and laughing more brightly. It just matters that Steve is his.

[sunniques]

— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

➺ PAIRING: kim taehyung x female reader

➺ GENRE: brother-in-law au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: your sister’s selfish husband is unexpectedly sweet on you. maybe a little too much.

➺ CW/TW: brother-in-law!taehyung, toxic family dynamics, reader can be carried by taehyung, cheating, fingering, masturbation (m), oral sex (f & m), unprotected sex, creampies, (some) cum play

➺ WC: 4.4k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

Taehyung has always been selfish.

Ever since he was young, he would go around taking toys from other children because he thought he deserved to have them. It’s a habit he never fully grew out of, and even now as an adult he still goes around taking anything he wants. His undesirable disposition is hated by many, but not by his wife. (That’s only because she’s the exact same way.)

As the first born daughter of her family, she grew up spoiled rotten. Constantly being doted and placated on made his fiancé into a bratty woman with a terrible temper. It didn’t bother him so much because she never acted that way with him.

The same could not be said for her youngest sister.

From what Taehyung had gathered, you two weren’t particularly close. It made sense since you had often had to concede to your bratty sister. Being forced to share the doting attention and unconditional love from your parents had never sat well with her, and it didn’t change even now that you were both adults. As much as his in-laws tried to get his wife used to the idea of sharing, they simply couldn’t.

At least, not when it came to her things.

Taehyung didn’t often feel sympathy for others, but he couldn’t stand the way your parents and other siblings constantly indulged his wife at your expense. Being the sweet little angel you were, you never said anything. You selflessly accepted all the disappointments with that pretty smile he loved so much.

While your disappointment wasn’t always obvious, Taehyung still caught onto it even when your family didn’t. That’s why he took it upon himself to dote on you whenever he could. If there was anything you wanted, he got it for you. His praise and compliments were constant, and so were his affectionate hugs. Taehyung never cared that it bothered your sister because the fond way you looked at him made it all worth it.

That’s where his need to have you all for himself began, and the feeling only intensified when his wife demanded that he stay away from you. As a man who had always gotten what he wanted, Taehyung didn’t listen.

It’s the night of your college graduation, and you’re having the worst time of your life. Instead of the day being all about you, your family decided to celebrate your sister’s promotion. Originally, you were meant to go to a restaurant that everyone liked to celebrate both achievements. In a very unsurprising turn of events, your sister insisted that she wanted to go to her favorite restaurant knowing that you were extremely allergic to seafood.

You didn’t say anything even as your family left with the vague promise of celebrating your once in a lifetime accomplishment another time. The funny thing is, you don’t feel completely disappointed. You’re mostly irritated because you turned down celebrating with your friends because you thought your family finally wouldn’t act shitty for one night.

It’s a shame that you’re staying in because you look really good. Your brother-in-law bought you the dress you’re wearing as an early graduation gift. You could still picture Taehyung’s cute boxy smile when you told him how much you loved it. Thinking back, maybe seeing you in the dress is what set your sister off when you walked down the stairs.

Pushing that out of your mind, you walked up the stairs to your room. As you ponder about what to do with the rest of your night, you wonder if Taehyung is still asleep. In probably the only selfless act your sister ever committed, she suggested her husband stay home to sleep off his jet lag.

You furrow your eyebrows when you see you door is ajar. As you get closer, you hear soft sighs and what almost sounds like moans.

“Fuck.” A deep voice you recognize instantly groans deeply.

You’re being extremely quiet, and a second later you hear a soft schlick schlick schlick sound that grows louder and quicker as time passes. Through the small opening, you can see part of your brother-in-law. Even though you can’t fully see him, you can tell he’s completely naked. Your eyes practically pop out of your head when you realize what’s going on. Taehyung is actually jerking off in your room, on your bed.

Your eyes get bigger as the wet sounds get more lewd. It’s like your feet are rooted to the ground, and all you can do is stand there and listen to him like some sick pervert. The longer you stand at your door, the more turned on you feel. Your panties are starting to get slick with your arousal, and you’re about to leave to put a stop to your sick behavior until you hear a moan of your name.

It’s like you’re not in control of your own actions as you go to push the door open. In spite of knowing what was going on, you’re still not prepared to see Taehyung sitting on the edge of your bed with a pair of panties wrapped around his cock.

Your panties.

“It’s rude to stare, sweetheart.” Taehyung’s voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. His lustful tone has you pulling your eyes away from his dripping cock and up to his smirking face.

What you should’ve said is that he’s the rude one for his actions, but you’re too flustered and turned on to say anything reasonable.

“Tae!” You squeak out, eyes dropping back to his thick dick. “Th-Those are mine.”

“I know.” He says brazenly. “Your sister doesn’t wear cute little panties like this. You don’t mind that I borrowed them, right?”

Your mouth is watering. His cock is so long and thick—it’s undoubtedly the biggest you’ve seen in person. You can’t stop staring at it, and you can’t really think past the arousal you feel. The feeling is sickening, especially because you know it’s wrong that all you can think about is how badly you want you put your mouth on his pretty cock.

“It’s wrong.” You finally manage to say. “You’re married to my sister.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem fazed by the reminder. He raises an eyebrow at you as he stands from your bed. Your panties are tossed by his discarded clothes, and you have a sick inkling that you won’t be getting them back. Before you can say anything, he steps forward and grabs your arm. He effortlessly pulls you closer until you’re flush against his chest. You swallow nervously when you feel his twitching cock rub against you.

“Your sister has to learn to share sometime.” His smirk is wolfish as his big hands settle on your waist. “God, baby. You don’t know how long I’ve been holding back. Been jerking off to the graduation photo your mom sent into the group chat since I woke up.”

“You’re sick.” You try to sound disgusted, but Taehyung’s eyes only shine brighter at your words.

God, you’re cute. Especially because he knows how much you like it. Your desire is reflected in the way you gasp filthily when he pinches your nipples through the dress you have on.

“I am.” He agrees through a hum, not stopping his rough movements. “But you like it. I can tell how turned on you are that I stole your panties and used them to jerk off.”

You let out a breathy moan as you feel a rush of arousal so heady it makes you dizzy. His hands trail down your body until he’s playing with the hem of your short dress.

“I bet your little pussy is soaked.” His voice is seductive as he places his lips near your ear.

You can’t say anything because it’s true. You’re so wet that you wouldn’t be surprised if your arousal started to drip down your thighs. Lust and arousal are dictating your actions now, and it’s why you don’t stop Taehyung when he uses one hand to push up your dress and slips the other into your panties.

“Oh, honey.” He purrs in pure delight. “You’re so fucking wet—just like I thought. Want me to play with your pussy, hm?”

You don’t say anything, but your sister’s husband isn’t having any of it.

“Say it. Tell me how much you want me to play with your juicy pussy.”

Whining lowly, you buck your hips forward. “I want you to play with my pussy, Tae. Please.”

Of course you comply to his wishes easily. You’re always so good for him. Taehyung licks his lips hungrily. He was going to wreck you in every way possible.

“Such a good girl.” He kisses your jaw fondly.

You let out a quiet gasp when his fingers swipe over your swollen clit. They delicately trace your pussy lips down to your leaking hole. He repeats the motions until you’re writhing against him. His long fingers gently rub circles on your sensitive lips, gathering your wetness and smearing it all over your aching clit. You’re moaning loudly by now, not caring that you’re doing something so despicable.

Taehyung smirks and pulls away from you, loving how you whine in protest. “Want more sweetheart?”

You nod almost petulantly.

“Tell your brother-in-law what you want. You know I’ll give it to you if you ask nicely.”

Any morality you have flies out the window at that moment. “Want to taste your cock.”

Taehyung’s eyes become impossibly dark at your words. His cock twitches as he watches you slowly peel your dress off. He groans at the sight of your naked body, cockhead leaking with more precum. God, he’s never wanted anything so badly in his life. (Not that) deep down, he knows that once he has you he won’t ever let you go. And he definitely won’t let anyone else have you.

You kneel in front of him so you’re face to face with his cock. It’s so hard that it almost looks painful. You lick your lips as you greedily take in the arousing sight.

“Fuck.” Taehyung groans when he sees you pressing your thighs together. “I’m going to blow my load if you keep looking at it like that.”

“Can’t help it. You’re just so fucking big.” You moan out the last word as you try to put pressure on your throbbing pussy.

More precum leaks out of his tip and slowly drips down his aching length. Taehyung groans lowly, the sound reverberating in his throat as his pupils dilate. He knew having you for real was better than any fantasy he could dream up.

“Yeah? Then show me how much like this big cock, sweetheart.”

You lean forward and lick up all the precum leaking down his dick, moaning against the soft skin. Sucking dick has always turned you on, but the fact that it’s Taehyung’s cock you have your mouth on is even more arousing. You lick your way back up and softly suckle on the head, slurping up his precum like candy. Your brother-in-law pulls out to trace your lips with his drippy tip, smearing precum across your mouth to claim you as his. Your arousal is dripping on the floor as you press a quick kiss on his dick. With an excited moan, you start to lap on it until he’s fucking his cock back into your mouth

“Fuck, baby—that’s it.” Taehyung moans, gently thrusting his cock forward. “Suck that cock like I know you can.”

You quickly bob your head down with a soft mewl. Taehyung’s eyes roll back when he feels your tongue tracing the thick vein on his cock as you sink down inch by inch. The soft hum you let out has his cock twitching in your mouth, coating your tongue with more of his precum.

“Feels so damn good.” Taehyung groans as he goes to caress your head.

More juices drip out of you as you hungrily keep sucking his cock. Your tongue circles his head before dipping into the slit to taste more of his precum. The cute little moans and mewls you let out around his dick only drive your brother-in-law more crazy.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, honey.” His eyes are dark as he rocks his hips into your mouth, pushing himself deeper into your throat until you start to gag. “Fuck. I can tell you like sucking me off. Didn’t expect you to be such a dirty little slut.”

You whine cutely, sucking him deeper into your mouth. Taehyung groans when you lick his leaking cockhead before sloppily bobbing your head further down his dick. Never in his life has he had his dick sucked this good, and he can’t help but think you deserve a reward for it.

“Get ready, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum.” Taehyung groans lowly. “I want you to swallow my load like a good girl. Can you do that for me?”

He pulls his cock out until just his leaking tip is left resting on your tongue. Taehyung moans your name as thick spurts of cum fill your mouth. You swallow it all up eagerly, loving the taste of him. Your pussy throbs when you see his stomach flex in reaction to you gently leaning forward to suckle the head of his cock. It’s like you want to make sure none of his seed goes to waste.

You give his throbbing tip a quick kiss before pulling back and shakily standing on your feet. Never have you been so turned on, and for the first time in your life you want to be greedy and demand more.

Luckily, your brother-in-law is greedy enough for the both of you.

“Don’t think I'm done with you, honey.” His voice comes out in a growl. “I haven’t even tasted that cute little pussy yet.”

The next thing you know, Taehyung has you splayed out on your bed, face buried in your wet cunt. He’s eating you out with a vigor you haven’t experienced until him, and all you can do is whine and moan loudly.

“I fucking knew you’d taste as sweet as you look.” He moans, tongue lapping at your dripping folds as he maintains eye contact. “Such a sweet little cunt. Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Taehyung’s large hands push down on your thighs to spread you open for his eager mouth. He pulls back to spit on your pussy before fucking his spit into your clenching hole. The moan you let out is so loud that you wonder if your neighbors are able to hear you. At this point you don’t care. You’re too lost in pleasure as Taehyung shoves his face back into your cunt, licking into your slick hole.

“S-Shit, Tae.” You mewl as you grind your pussy into his mouth. “I’m already so close.”

He loves how surprised you sound. Clearly, those college boys hadn’t been doing a good job at keeping you satisfied. Taehyung is going to rectify that. He’s going to make sure you know what true pleasure is by the end of the night.

Taehyung flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, parting your folds and pressing deeper into your dripping hole. You whine loudly, lost in the pleasure your brother-in-law is giving you. He’s slurping up your juices like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and that just turns you on even more.

Your hands pull at his hair as you start to grind against his mouth, toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. Taehyung groans at the burning feeling. He eagerly sucks your swollen bud into his mouth and flicks his tongue against it until you’re writhing against him.

“I’m gonna cum!” You moan loudly.

Taehyung hums in approval. He starts to suckle your clit softly to keep you on the edge longer. It’s so satisfying to hear your pretty moans and feel you trembling against him. Taehyung groans into your pussy as he begins to lap at your hole with nice slow licks.

“Cum on my tongue, honey. Show me how good I make you feel.” Your brother-in-law moans against your sopping folds.

“Taehyung!” You cry out as you cum all over his face, juices coating the lower part of his face.

He moans along with you, suckling your clit back into his mouth until you’re writhing from overstimulation. Taehyung smirks against you as he presses a gentle kiss on your throbbing pussy. He starts trailing wet kisses up your body until he gets to your mouth.

“Such a good girl.” He whispers before pressing his lips on yours and shoving his tongue into your mouth.

You can taste yourself on his lips as you arch up into his body. His dripping cock drags against your throbbing pussy, gently teasing you. The mewls you let out makes him thrusts his hips to rub his cock through the slick leaking from your cunt. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull his cock closer and grind up against it. A quiet fuck falls from your lips when you feel his hot cock glide through your messy folds. Eager hands run through Taehyung’s soft hair. You’re so turned on that you can’t think straight.

“So fucking good for me.” Taehyung coos after he pulls back. The pretty, needy face you have is one he keeps wanting to see. Eagerly, he starts to press sloppy kisses across your neck. “Can’t wait to feel your wet little pussy, baby.”

You whimper and pull him back up into another kiss. This time he licks into your mouth messily, spit dripping from the corners of your lips to slide down your jaw. You feel him grind his cock against you before pulling away. Taehyung takes his cock and slaps it against your dripping pussy, gathering all your slick along the length of it.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” His deep voice growls. “Ready for me to stuff your pretty little cunt?”

“Yes!” You mewl desperately. “Want to feel you split me open, Tae. Fuck—you’re so big.”

You can see his pupils expanding. “Yeah? You want me to stretch this tight little hole out? Show you what it’s like for a real man to fuck you?”

You nod, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth before sinking your teeth into the plush skin. Fuck. You’ve never wanted anyone so badly. Any thoughts of how wrong this all in disappears when you look back into your brother-in-law’s eyes.

“Shit,” he groans before he spits on to your wet pussy.

Taehyung pressed his cock down so his leaking tip slowly eases into your soaked pussy. He slowly rocks his hips to sink inch by inch into your pulsing cunt. Your mewls and whines makes his dick throb almost painfully, and it’s right then that he decides he can’t let you go. Never.

“What a tight little pussy,” Taehyung says as he licks his lips. He pulls back and thrusts forward harder than before. Your tight cunt clenches down on his cock as he bottoms out completely. “Such a treat.”

“God, Tae.” You whine, voice high. “Fuck me.”

Immediately, he starts sliding his cock in and out of your cunt. Taehyung’s rough thrusts make your lovely tits bounce. You moan loudly when his pelvis rubs over your swollen clit. It makes you keen and move your hips to meet his movements. Heavy balls against your ass with every thrust, the loud plap plap plap of skin on skin drives your arousal even higher.

“So fucking good!” You gasp out, whines and moans mixing in together.

You feel almost dizzy as Taehyung keeps spearing you open on his thick cock. He’s hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, and you can feel a familiar coil building in the pit of your stomach. Your brother-in-law groans when your wet cunt clenches around him. He lowers his weight on your body, wanting to get impossibly closer to you. Your skin starts to stick to his from the sweat building between your bodies.

Taehyung starts to place wet kisses on your neck, teeth grazing your skin with gently nips that make your pussy flutter around his cock. You feel so good that you can’t contain the wanton noises from leaving your mouth. Taehyung’s fat cock grinds into the spongy spot inside your cunt as he savagely ruts into your body. His pelvis grazes your sensitive clot, sending shocks up pleasure up your spine. Slick gushes from your pussy as he hammers into your g-spot, making you squeeze him tighter and tighter.

“God. You’re so much tighter than your sister,” he groans into your ear. “Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this cute little pussy.”

His words do the trick and make you cum hard on his cock. You cry out loudly, chanting his name repeatedly as your pussy clamps down on his dick. Taehyung grins deviously. His hand slips down your body to rub and tease your clit. This prolongs your orgasm until it feels like you’re cumming a second time.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so fucking hot,” Taehyung groans as you coat his dick with your cream.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as he fucks you harder. He’s so addicted to your pussy that he can’t completely pull his cock out of you. Your brother-in-law desperately ruts into your slick walls, chasing his own orgasm. After a few more mind blowing thrusts, he’s pressing his cock deep into your cunt until thick cum is spilling from the bulbous head, stuffing you full.

“Got the tightest little pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

You mewl in content as Taehyung’s hips press against yours while he continues to fuck his cum into you.

Your slick walls milk his cock for all its worth. You can feel it pulsing inside you as he pants against your skin. Taehyung swivels his hips into you, smirking when you cry out for him. He pulls his cock halfway out of your cunt before sinking it back inside a second later. Your creamy arousal and his cum mix together and form a ring around the base of his dick.

“Feels so good, Tae.”

You’re so fucked out, but he can tell you want more. Being so used to only getting the bare minimum, he knows you won’t dare to ask for more. Luckily, he’s greedy enough for the both of you.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m not done using your cute little pussy. Gonna keep you on my cock all night long.”

Time seems unreal from then on. You’re lost in the haze of pleasure, and you can’t be sure how many times you’ve cum all over Taehyung’s big cock. You know he’s came in you two more times after his first orgasm. Somehow, his cock is still so stiff and hard.

“Think you can take one more for me, baby?” Taehyung coos as he lifts your limp legs on his forearms.

You mewl weakly, hips lifting slightly. He smirks down at you, loving how you can’t get enough of him. Taehyung nudges his drooling tip against your entrance, dragging the leaking head to smear the cum from the last cream pie he gave you all over your messy cunt. The actions make you whine and shift against him, silently begging him to spear you open all over again.

“One last load for your greedy little pussy,” his smile seems more innocent than it actually is. “Be good for me, honey.”

With that, he sinks his dirty cock into your sore pussy. Taehyung leans forward to press your sweaty bodies together. Your eyes roll back of your head as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, thighs shaking in his arms.

“The best pussy I’ve had wrapped around my dick, and to think it belongs to my sweet sister-in-law.”

Your pussy spasms and clenches down on his thick cock as you cry out. Brain melting pleasure seeps down your spine as he fucks into your cunt roughly. All you can do is cry out as he keeps hammering his cock into your sensitive hole.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m not gonna be able to give up this sweet little pussy. It’s so tight and wet. Makes me want it all the time.”

The way he whispers those filthy words make another orgasm slam into your body. You cry out his name as your pussy pulses and leaks with your arousal, sucking his cock deeper into your hole.

“That’s it, honey. Milk this cock like it’s yours,” he groans into your skin, thrusting into your pussy until you’re crying out from overstimulation.

Taehyung smashes his lips on yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He bites down on your bottom lip before pulling away from you.

“That’s it, baby. Take all of my cum like a good girl.”

As always, you do as you’re told. Your pussy clamps down on once again, milking his thick cock as he buries it inside your messy walls. He moans against your skin as he slowly grinds into you, spilling thick ropes of cum inside you. The sticky heat makes your clit throb with arousal even as you’re on the verge of being overcome with exhaustion.

Taehyung places a gentle kiss on your temple before he pulls his softening cock out of your leaking cunt. He sighs contentedly as he slaps his cock down on your messy pussy. The wet splat sound makes you whine out.

“Tae, I’m sore.” You pout at him.

“Sorry, honey.” Taehyung sounds sincere as he fingers him cum back into your pussy. “Let’s get you in the shower.”

Taehyung’s heart lurches as you reach out for him. He scoops you in his arms and helps you to the bathroom, whispering sweet praises when he helps you step under the warm water.

At this point, he can care less that this will potentially drive his wife over the edge when she finds out. He was being completely serious when he said he’s not going to give you up. Taehyung can’t care about the potential consequences. He’s selfish, even more so than his wife. She knew this and still wanted to unify herself to him. That’s why he can’t be entirely blamed. After all, everything that is his wife’s also belongs to him. And that includes you.

[cherry-leclerc]

don’t lock the door ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, humor, smut, angst, thriller/suspense, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of homicide, erotic literature, tragedy

word count: 9k

An oleander is beautiful—yet deadly. You’re beautiful—yet deadly. But Carlos has always been gentle, and has always known how to take care of things he loves. And even if he doesn’t, he’s willing to learn, just for you. But you can’t outrun secrets. Not when they have everything to do with the only thing he adores—you.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... fingering, riding, car sex

STOP AND READ:

The story you are about to read is not meant to be admired or looked up to. Regularly, the types of fics that I like to present to all of you are light, humorous, and sweet. While I feel that this story does have occasional glimpses of that, it also deals with heavy topics such as; suicide, depression, and homicide. At the end of the day, I care about all my readers, so if any of you feel like this is not something for you then you are always welcomed to head over to my masterlist for much lighter reads. You all know me by now, so you must know that sometimes I like to mix a story of traditional love with a dash of real life struggles, such as trauma and guilt, in this case. With that, I hope you enjoy word for word.

cherry here!...did you miss me????

Tension is normally one’s enemy. It’s fairly simple, you try your best to avoid what makes your skin crawl. Isn’t that how the story goes?

Not quite. 

There’s tension, yes, but it's only because you’re the opposite sex. Nothing beyond that. It could also be because you’re both introduced to each other as a pair of miserable singles. Lewis is the person you share in common.

She’s a close friend, he proclaims as you two shake hands. The touch is sticky, just like hot glue— and for a minute—it feels like a knife cuts this invisible strain in half. He lets himself salivate over your lioness stare; dark, sharp, amorous. You lean towards him just the same; dominant, mature, suggestive.

I’ve seen you race.

He hums, still attached to your desirable touch. Yeah? Why haven’t I seen you then?

Fingers press sternly against his warm skin, as if to provoke him more than he already feels himself falling into. It should be alarming the way his mind slips into a frenzy because of it, but likes it. The rush. 

Maybe because I wasn’t rooting for you.

There. Right then, he disconnects. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.

You grin. Well, now you know. 

“You know what? Mingle—”

“Who says mingle?” you and Carlos question at the same time, judgemental eyes staring coldly. 

Lewis blushes. “I-I-Is that not a thing anymore?” Silence. “Fuck, I really am getting old...”

The night consists of mimosas, because according to you, it reminds you of your late-mother. “She liked something fruity, but also fun enough to make her head spin. It was entertaining to watch.”

“How so?”

“She’d ramble on and on. Slurred about her dreams.” A sad smile. “That’s the only reason why I ever found out she wanted to become an author. She was fifty—five decades too old—but she said she wanted one last adventure before retiring. It didn’t even matter if she made it onto the New York Times Best Seller list.”

The way your eyes even out, round and almost doughy, makes him trip for a second because this is not the same girl he shook hands with nearly three hours ago. No, this version of you was almost childlike, but he supposes that's how everyone who loses a parent becomes. 

It comes out shy—closed off—your laugh. As if you just caught yourself being too vulnerable. That was always the worst. “Look at me making you my therapist. I have got to stop doing that.” 

His mouth opens lamely, ghostly scoff sitting upon his lips. And if it were to be released, it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. It was a weird thing to note. “I like hearing you talk.”

A beat. “We’ve only just met.”

Carlos grins, crinkles tracing the corner of his eyes like some beauty. “Then let's meet some more.”

The opportunity is there, the kind you’ve been looking for. With a sheepish smile, you nod. “I should warn you though, I’m a bit of a mess.”

Finally, the scoff escapes. And like envisioned, you laugh at the sound.

“Consider me warned.”

-

He fucked you that same night in the back of his car. It was late, so dark that you barely even had the chance to register the fact that you squirted all over his vintage Ferrari. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he pants as he snaps his hips up again, fast motion making you head loll bad. You wonder what he means, but as soon as his long fingers circle your swollen bud, you’re just as good as gone.

He asked you out an hour later, when he dropped you off right in front of your apartment. You happily accepted, unable to hide your excitement. 

Your smile falters. “Give me a reason as to why I should say yes.”

“Um, well, you sort of already said…yes?”

The confusion that settles onto his handsome features makes you glow with satisfaction. “I could always change my mind. Pretend this night never even happened.”

Panic rushes harshly against his shoulders. He doesn’t even know why he cares so much, but he does. 

Vulnerability is a bitch. 

“Huh,” he hums, relaxing against his seat, head hitting the expensive cushion. And you can see it. The challenge. He clicks his tongue, bored all of a sudden. “Listen, I want you, but I certainly don’t need you.”

You realize right there and then—you met your match. 

You realize right there and then—you two share the same green pride. 

You realize right there and then—

“It was nice getting to know you.” 

-

The only reason you’re even friends with someone like Lewis is because your mother married rich.

Filthy fucking rich. 

Then, somehow, married richer by her third and last marriage. The man was twisted, but you never knew just how much. Not for a very long time. 

He dabbled in stocks, or some boring shit like that, and later invested in some other crap. Somewhere along the line, you met the Brit. 

The same Brit who now hisses at you through the phone. 

“God damn it, what happened? Weren’t you two getting along?”

You sigh, rubbing your feet together as you admire the way the navy blue paint covers your pedicured nails. Stormy clouds match your mood as you shake the bottle of pills that lay on top of your desk. 

“He’s too vain.”

He groans. “You my dear, dear friend, are looking into a mirror then, I suppose.”

A sharp gasp. “Are you insinuating I’m the same?”

“If the shoe fits…”

“May I remind you that you sit and stare at yourself for God knows how long before any race? Newflash, dickhead, you’re going to sweat, look like shit, and one out of ten times, you’re going to win.”

“I see I triggered something.” He sighs heavily. The sound tells you he’s not really upset or anything, but more so worried. Ever since she died, you’ve been that way. 

Snappy. Defensive. 

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I know you.” 

And although he can’t see, you still smile fondly. Rattling the bottle of antidepressants, you inch up higher and higher onto your chair until you face your own reflection. Shattered glass stares back at you as you feverishly look down. 

“Do you still have an extra pass to this weekend's race?”

-

There had to be something wrong with you. Everyone could tell, and quite frankly, you could agree. Would you admit to it out loud? No, now that’s something different. Or maybe you’re just odd. That would also make sense. Whatever it was, it would explain as to why everyone around you screams with excitement as the fast cars fly by. You, on the other hand, simply stare with straight lips and empty eyes.

While all clap cheerfully when Lewis finishes on the third step, you cross your arms. While everyone runs out of the Mercedes garage to declare front row, you drag your feet slowly to the last. 

While Carlos makes eye contact as he lifts his trophy—notably bigger than the Brits—you yawn.

You’re not impressed.

She’s not impressed, the Spaniard remembers thinking to himself as he smiles wider towards the stacks of cameras that turn him temporarily blind. He selfishly thinks you’re here for him, but he knows that's straight bullshit. Truth be told, it didn’t seem like you were here to support your friend either.

“It’s been so long,” Lewis huffs in disbelief as you stare across with vacant eyes. To him, you’re simply jetlagged. “Can you believe it?”

An exhale. “You did good.” Extending your legs outward, you admire the black tiles that shine back brighter than if it were to be white. “Drinks. On me.”

The Brit laughs. “Deal.”

-

Somewhere close by, they play jazz. 

“Pretty,” you softly speak as you connect your lips to the glass. The live band sways back and forth, only adding to the charm you seem to like. And you like it a lot. “Dance with me.”

Lewis snickers. “I love you to death, but I’m gonna have to go with no.”

You frown. “Come on. I never ask you for anything.”

“You were born with a golden spoon and have used retinol since you were ten, you’re not allowed to ask for anything when you’ve already had everything.”

“Yeah…well not this.” You’re secretly envious of every lady in the room. The way they beam with sincere smiles at their husbands. Boyfriends? Flings? Affairs? Who cares honestly, you were jealous nonetheless. 

The Mercedes driver watches as your fingers lazily tap against your lap, as if signaling you’re free. Guilt slithers down his neck as he sighs in defeat. “Fi–”

“Nice seeing you two here.”

Lewis wants to cry with utter thankfulness as Carlos inches closer with a lousy grin. “Hey! Oh God—hey.” You blink. “Wh-what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, of course, because I’m not.”

The Spanirad shrugs. “I won. Wanted to celebrate, I suppose.” Brown eyes flicker towards you like thunder and suddenly you feel naked under his gaze. You swallow. “You look nice.”

And there it is again—tension.

He cocks his head to the side, almost as if waiting for a compliment of your own. Instead, he finds himself being ignored. Crossing your legs, you lift the empty glass up as the bartender hurries for a refill. 

Finally, Lewis speaks up. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay—”

“Who says hay?” you and the brunette spit out with snarkiness. You bite back a smile while he releases a chuckle. 

The Brit stands up, chugging the rest of his drink as he waves you two off. “I’m not that old,” he shouts as he turns the corner and disappears. 

Carlos takes the time to catch up on your appearance. Last time he saw you, you had longer hair, now it appears you’ve had a trim. He likes it. You were slightly tanner, but now appear a shade lighter. It could just be because it’s winter. It's nice seeing other versions of you. 

“So, how have you be—”

“Why are you still here?”

He freezes. It takes him a while to find the strength to open his mouth. 

“We never finished our conversation.”

-

He didn’t fuck you that night, no, he took you dancing. And maybe that’s why it worked this time around. Instead of taking the time to learn all the different types of moans you have, he took the time to learn all about your upbringing. 

I learned how to bike when I turned six. Had severe trust issues for a year, so I tried again when I was seven.

That must be where your scars are from, he thinks to himself, but he finds them endearing.

I like long hair, I find it beautiful, but as soon as it’s starting to grow out I think it looks too weird on me. 

That must be why your hair is shorter than he remembers, but he loves it. Has the urge to run his fingers through.

My favorite movie is How Harry Met Sally, but quite frankly, I don't find Harry attractive at all, so I never really understood why Sally settled down with him after so long.

And you’re honest. Brutally honest. And he finds that attractive.

“How about you, Mr. Singapore?”

I learned how to kart before I learned how to bike, actually. I, too, have scars on my hands from small crashes. 

You blush as you hide yours beneath your coat. 

I have two sisters, so I mainly learned how to dance because of them. I hated it at the time, but now I’m quite grateful.

Is it possible to swoon harder?

And I don’t have a favorite film, necessarily, but I’ve watched How Harry Met Sally, and I would agree. Sally was too good looking for him. 

You have to laugh. “Is that so?”

He smiles. “The name Harry sounds so…” He winks cooly before running a hand through his locks. You giggle. “He looks more like a Bob.”

“Oh my God! Could you imagine? How Bob Met Sally?” You pause. “Wait, that actually doesn’t sound half bad…”

He chews on his bottom lip slowly, nodding in agreement. Silence engulfs you two as you stare at each other with round eyes. He’s the first to crack a loopy grin and you quickly follow with a sheepish one. Then, it vanishes and he’s left looking like he swallowed a frog.

“Listen, about last time…”

“Long forgotten.”

He halts, almost surprised by your response. “No, no, there’s no need to pretend, I was a—”

“Jerk?”

The Spaniard rolls his eyes. “Great, so you haven’t forgotten.”

You shrug. “I’m a girl. We remember everything.”

“Got it,” he declares. “Ask me again.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze. “What?”

“Ask me why you should say yes to a date with me.”

“You don’t have to do this, we’re good—”

“I know we are, but I still want you to ask.”

You lick your lip anxiously before relaxing your stiff shoulders. He tilts his head as if urging you and you nod. “Why should I say yes to you?”

Satisfaction settles. “Because you like a good challenge.” He leans closer. “And isn't that what this is?”

-

Carlos Sainz Jr. was made for you.

“Leave me alone,” you scream, veins throbbing, as you rush past him, heading towards the guest room. You’re glad his parents aren’t home at the moment because Lord knows the embarrassment you would feel.

“No. Not until you talk to me.” As simple as that. Your eyes twitch as you turn back, then bring your hands up to your hips. He adores it when you do that, though he probably shouldn’t right now.

“You want to talk?” You let out an unhinged scoff. “Oh, would you look at that, he wants to talk! Now he wants to talk. Well guess what, fuckhead—I don’t.” 

With that, you march out into the balcony. His eyes follow the way you light up a cigarette. The way you drink the last drops of champagne that linger in the bottle gifted to you by his mother. 

She was kind. She was beautiful. She didn’t deserve someone being this mean to her son.

You barely recognize him because of how blurry your vision is, but his scent does it. Musky. Woody. Calm. 

He hands you the familiar pill, then a glass of water. He rushes the champagne away, then takes the cigarette and squashes it against the cold floor. He doesn’t so much call you out for being a lunatic, for upsetting his dogs with all your yelling, or for pushing him. No, he doesn’t do any of that. And you have never been more in love with him than now.

“I know I can be a bit much sometimes…” A sniffle. “I swear I try to catch onto it so you don’t have to deal with any of this, but—”

“You don’t mean it.” He tangles his fingers through your hair as you sob. And it’s soft despite spending the entire day near the ocean. It feels silky. He’s obsessed. “I know you.”

-

You were made for Carlos Sainz Jr.

“How do I look?” 

“Like an angel.” He swears he turns bright red when you blow him a kiss. “Your name must’ve been Bonita in another life because look at you…” A hand flies up to clutch onto his heart as he makes a face. “Though, I must say, you do know how to make me look bad.”

You giggle. “Oh? This old thing? I thrifted it. Nice, eh?”

He groans. “Very, but you’re supposed to be rooting for Spain.” A gag. “Not Italy.”

You frown. “That's all I had. Plus, you’re basically Italian given your working status.”

“No, amor, they pay me to like Italy. It’s a cover up, think about it.”

You huff, popping your hip outward. “Still. I like it, so I’m wearing it while cheering for the opposite team.”

“Always over complicating things.” He laughs. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you’re a complicated person.”

A deadpan expression. “Suck your own dick.”

“Oi, relax.”

Spinning to face the mirror, you fix your jersey one last time before skipping out the door, tube socks sliding as you go. The Spaniard lets out a dreamy sigh. 

Were you flawless? Not at all.

Were you put together? Not without a prescription.

But he loved figuring it all out with you. And that’s called love.

-

You’re in the middle of a rampage, during dinner. While everyone stares at you puzzled, he simply laughs at your cartoon expressions. 

“I mean, I offered!” A pout. “I clearly stated I could get the cap signed for her and she gave me the nastiest, ugliest, dirty-looking glare! I for sure thought her face was permanently damaged.” You relax against the chair, your shaky hand finding its way to your water bottle. “Like sorry for riding your favorite driver…”

Charles laughs nervously. “I don’t think that was a necessary thing to include…” 

You shrug, raising your brows over to your boyfriend who struggles to breathe. 

The conversation flows easily, like most nights you're all together, but this time there’s a minor bump. You’ve been good about it; avoiding the question for so long. Over the course of time, you’ve managed to be so mendacious, that truly no one knew the truth. Not even Carlos.

“I hope it’s not overstepping, but how did your mum pass?”

He means no harm, Lando, but you just wish so badly that you could believe that. While Carlos and Lewis were the closest thing you have to a family nowadays, even they knew not to ask. You never laid the rules out loud, but they could tell it was an unwanted topic to have on your behalf, no matter how curious they got. 

All of a sudden, your mood deteriorates. The look in Lando’s eyes makes sure to strike off as an apology, but you’re so busy looking down onto your lap that you don’t even pinpoint the meaning. The table grows awkward as time ticks by. 

No one has the power to change the subject, save you the same way doctors tried to save your mother—because they, too—wonder. 

You gulp, feeling small, but far too seen at the same time. It was confusing. “She, um…her last husband…” Everyone feels bad, like you’re some limping puppy, zigzagging down an empty highway, but remain quiet. Then, you look up, stone cold but the tip of your rosy nose and blotchy face is enough reassurance that you still have a beating heart.

“Husband number three strangled her to death.”

You say it like you don’t care. Like it hasn’t affected you at all, and that makes Carlos blink twice as fast as everyone else in the table. A droplet makes its way down your cheek as you let out a light laugh. 

“I guess he thought he was some Superior God who had a say in cutting her time short.”

They all freeze. 

“I am so sorry for asking—” 

“I didn’t need to respond.” You smile lamely. “It’s fine, Lando.”

But it’s not, not even close. They ripped the confession out of your throat, at least that’s what it felt like. No one stepped up, no one said anything. 

Your eyes flicker to the only man who makes your heart speed. 

He reaches for your hand and you grip it hard.

No one said anything.

Not. Even. Carlos.

-

You’ve always excelled at holding a grudge. It came fairly simple. 

But as you stare at him through the screen, for the first time—and only the first time—you struggle. Maybe it’s his puppy eyes that betray you, or his gentleness anytime he steps near you, you don’t really know. 

And you don’t want to.

“I was thinking mariscos.”

Hair flies past your eyes as you squint. He looks particularly handsome today, wearing a linen shirt that drapes over him like some silver armor. Long waves brush against his temples as he returns the squint, slightly smiling at your lips. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Soft music roams the isolated restaurant that almost seemed to belong to just you two, and that helps you relax. You could tell it helps him too. 

“The car felt good today.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, biting onto a piece of shrimp. “Felt like I was flying.”

You let out a whistle. There’s a comfortable silence that lingers for a while before you raise a brow up to the open sky. “Hey,” you start as his orbs flicker up with all the attention in the world. “Do you believe in angels?”

A moment. “I’d say so, yes. Yes, I do.”

Hum. “You sound freakishly sure.” You inch forward with teasing eyes. “Why?”

“Easy.” Chocolate orbs swirl with adoration. “There’s you.”

“I don’t count.”

He frowns. “And why not?”

“Because you love me, of course you’d say that only to be nice.”

“I say so because I know so.”

“Love is blind, love is blind,” you chant, sipping on his open can.

A second ticks by. “Why do you ask?”

And like the first night he met you, your eyes merge into doe eyes. “Because I do.” A sheepish grin. “And sorry to disappoint, but it’s not you.” 

“What’s his name?” he jokes.

But you’re not even listening. “My mom was pure. She was a good person, Carlos.” A beat. “She’s my forever angel.”

His heart physically hurts at your glossy eyes, immediately reaching for your hands. “You must really miss her…”

A wet laugh. “Is there a word stronger than ‘really’? If there is, then that would be one way to say it.”

And he has to apologize, even if it’s seven days too late. 

“I’m sorry for not stepping in that night. I-I-I should have said something and you should have said nothing.” Thick brows knit in together. “You don’t know how shitty I felt, but—”

“You wanted to know as well.”

The way his features freeze is enough confirmation. And you can't be mad. Not even a little. Not even a lot. 

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Carlos. I should have been more open and honest with you first.” A gust of hot air slaps you across the face. “I tend to shut out people like you because…I don’t know.”

“Vulnerability is a bitch?”

You laugh. “That’s one way to say it.” Orbs scan his beauty with no shame before falling back. “You still have plenty of questions, don’t you?”

“O-of course not.”

Another laugh. “It’s okay. You caught me in a good mood. Go on.”

He’s awkward at first, but slowly eases with the sound of your breathing. “Why hasn’t he been arrested?”

“Because he’s a multi-billionaire.”

He gulps and you blink. “Why haven’t you sued?”

“Because I’m not a multi-billionaire.”

“So…he did a cover up with a wad of cash?”

“Mhm. No one dared ask whose hand shaped bruise was imprinted in her neck.”

He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, but he knows he needs this because he knows it will keep him up the same ways it’s kept him up since that god forbidden dinner. 

“This was the cause of your…” He doesn’t even want to finish his sentence.

“Depression…yeah. Losing someone you love will do that to ya.”

But he wants to ask—he wants to ask more because he knows there has to be more. He’s lost people he loves too—and he loved them very much—and he never got this way. In a flash, he feels guilty for comparing his healing process to yours but quickly looks down onto his lap. 

And the hot summer rain is enough warning for him not to question you any further. 

The Spaniard shares a grateful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. To take care of you, and all t-that,” he stutters, blushing.

“I love you, Carlos.” A beat. “I’ve always trusted you. The only person I don’t trust is myself.”

-

“Be quiet,” she hisses, urgently signaling you closer. “And make sure to shut the door.”

Confused, you hesitantly push until you hear a click. Inching closer to your mom, you slowly become more and more lost as you eye the scattered papers all over your step-dads office table. “What is all this?”

Color drains from her normally youthful face. Even the brightest shade of red can’t help add life. “Proof of embezzlement.”

“What?”

She slides stacks of black folders towards you and you quickly flip through, to which you don’t understand a single thing. “He’s stealing money, that’s what. We’re not talking thousands, we’re talking millions,” she whispers frantically before growing green. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay, okay, hold on, you’re okay.” Rushing to be next to her, you clumsily tie her hair up into a messy ponytail before fanning her with the white sheets. You wince, quickly placing them back down. “How did you even come across this?”

Just as fast as a lighting bolt, she spins the chair. “I’m starting my book—” She gags, “I was supposed to start today, but I came in here looking for his typewriter. You know, the one with the tiny cherubs?” Across the office, you spot it, the tiny angels delicately painted onto the infamous typewriter. You nod. “Well, I started to search for some paper and instead found all of this…”

Even you grow dizzy as you eye the infinite zero’s that jump out against all types of sums. That’s not even enough to spend in ten lifetimes. It was no wonder he just recently made it onto The Forbes list. Her eyes—honest as ever—make you panic as you twirl your thumbs. “Wait…you’re not thinking of confronting him about it, are you?”

“I have to.” Pause. “Right?”

No. You don’t want her to. Not in any scenario. It’s taken you both so long to reach the life you deserve, and now that you were finally here it’s about to be ripped away from you? Your lack of words makes her glare. 

“I don’t know why I’m asking you, I have to! It’s the right thing to do.”

Adrenaline. “Mom, just think about it—”

“I did not raise you to be avaricious,” she spits out, fire practically fuming out of her.  You flinch. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Y-you’re right.” There goes all your money down the drain. “I’m with you no matter what.” 

Knock knock.

Like mother-daughter, you both freeze as your eyes flicker to the sound. 

“Angelica, are you in there?”

You never liked the name Angelica. Not on anyone else that wasn’t your Angelica. 

Running over to open, she finds herself face-to-face to Lucifer himself as he cocks his head in humor. “Locking me out of my own office now?” He enters. “Fun.” Dark eyes roam the messy area. “Fun.”

Her eyes plead with you in a language only you both knew, but never did you mean to obey. You wanted to stay with her—something told you to stay with her. 

“Honey, give us some privacy, yeah?”

“U-uh…” He winks like that was the go-ahead. Like that was the last permission you needed to agree. And maybe it was. 

Deep down it’s almost like you knew he had sinister intentions. Deep down it’s almost like you knew he was capable of committing those sinister intentions. 

Deep down. 

It’s like you don’t even care.

You smile, tight lipped. “Whatever you need.”

You heard the argument that night, you heard the threats. You heard her pleads, you heard her chokes. You could only imagine what was going on inside, but you were your mothers daughter. You could imagine quite a lot. 

She could’ve been an author—with his resources she might just have hit the New York Times Best Seller list. She could have been a grandmother one day—surely your kids would have lived a luxurious life. 

She could have been obedient. Why wasn’t she obedient? Was it so hard to brush it all under the rug?

He was sweating, just as much as a pig. Or maybe he’s glowing, he is smiling after all. Here and there he apologizes in a lousy manner, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was—

“How much money am I gonna get to keep?”

He’s intrigued. “How much do you want?”

“Enough to not have to worry.” You can still see it; cramped rooms, tin canned meals on paper plates. You could never go back.

An eye roll. “You’re just like her…” A beat. “Fucking greedy.” You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You’re embarrassed—-of course you were—who is he to judge? He sighs. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“It means I’m not transferring you anything. I want you out of this house no later than Sunday.”

Plump lips open, then snap shut, teeth gritting. “I’ll tell everyone that you’re a murderer. You’ll lose it all, w-watch.”

He’s not phased. Not even in the slightest. “And who’s going to believe you? Tell me, really, because I’d like to know.”

Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything.

And fuck yourself for having nothing at all—again.

Months swept by, the death was ruled a suicide, and antidepressant became your loyal friend. There was no one else, and sometimes you feared there would always be no one else. 

Then—by some miracle—there was Carlos.

He was handsome. He was shy. He was sweet. He was kind.

He was rich.

You played hard to get, but so did he. You played the long haul, but so did he. You were a fantastic liar, but he was an ever better believer.

And it all clicked.

Just the way it was supposed to.

-

You’ve been accustomed to a certain lifestyle for years now, but somehow you’re always surprised about the sudden boost you’ve switched to ever since you’ve met him.

Chanel heels turned into red bottoms. Last season dresses turned into those that were not yet  released. You loved everything about it.

“You look so beautiful, cariño,” he groans against your lips, desperate for more. His large hands play with the silky fabric, fighting to slide it up against your hips. You shudder. “I mean…come on.”

“Hey, hey—that’s sweet and all—” You push yourself closer to his toned body, immediately feeling his erection. You nearly whimper.  “But why don’t you fuck me instead?” A kiss. “You missed me, no?”

And instead—he whimpers. “How dare you even ask?” 

With that, he picks you up with ease, pinning you against the wall. You’re dizzy, because unbeknownst to him, he’s casted a spell on you. Never did you think you could fall in love, much less, have someone reciprocate. 

Tender fingers make their way to your clit as you lunge forward, biting down onto his shoulder. It should amaze you how he holds you up with one arm, but you’re not. If anything, you leak more and more by every passing second. 

His dirty pants make you fold as you clench around him. The way they curl, the way they pulse, all of it was your kryptonite. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you squeal, keeping your eyes trapped shut, feeling the familiar knot forming. He grins, pecking your sweaty forehead, digits speeding up. Berry lips form an O as you moan louder with every push.”I-I’m c-c-close—oh God.”

“Shh. It’s okay, let go for me, yeah? I’m right here with you.” 

Gritting your teeth harder, you moan like some pornstar as you finish all around him. Almost like some rule, he desperately sucks his fingers clean. The Spaniard hums like he’s living his biggest dream of all before opening his round eyes. 

“So sweet.”

You blush. “Yours tastes like shit.”

He laughs. “And yet you beg for me to finish all over your face, isn’t that so?”

Nearly choking at his bluntness, you fight back a smile as you play with his floppy locks. They’ve grown so much from the last time you saw him, so this was certainly eye candy to you. He sighs, relaxing as you continue to twirl thick strands around your fingers.

Soft legs still drape over his waist, hands still lay around your waist, and even breathing connects you both. Carlos feels like he’s nearly dozing off, but his hand remains firm, preferring to take a bullet than to let you fall. 

You like to think that you like his lashes the best. But then there’s his eyes. And his nose. And his heart. And his lips. And his hands. And his sculpture body. And his jokes. And his laugh. And his freckles. So you never could choose, not truly.

Inching closer to his ear, you smirk slowly. “Wanna fuck my mouth?”

His eyes snap open, jaw clenching. “You’re such a tease.”

A shrug. “Want to or not?” You bite your lip, legs letting go of his hips as you slide down. “Because this offer ends in five…” He raises a skeptical brow. “Four…” You motion him closer to which he steadily follows. “Three…” He laughs. “Two, one!”

Sprinting up the stairs in a flash, you giggle as he chases after you. The sound of his steps make your heart beat faster as you jump onto your shared bed. Rushing past the corner, he cocks his head to the side as he clicks his tongue. Stepping into the room carefully, he swung the door closed before locking it. You frown.

“Reassures me that no one will walk in.”

“No one will walk in,” you whisper as your stomach drops. “There’s no need t-to—”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees, taking in your breathless state. “But I prefer it this way. Just you.” A closer stride. “And me.”

Palms are sweaty. Blood slithers down your throat and thighs. And yet your freeze. You feel hot and cold, all at once. You don’t like the feeling, any of it, but you try to ignore the inner monologue. 

“You look stunning,” he states, finally reaching you. “You always do.”

Your speeding heart lessens. “T-thank you.” 

A beat. “You’re not nervous—are you?”

Hastily, you shake your head. “N-no! Of course not!”

Thick brows knit together. “Because you normally aren’t.” His smile fades. “W-we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to, you know that right?”

Physically, you’re cringing. Mentally, you’re spiraling. The act itself makes the Spaniard withdraw, taking a steady step back and shaking his head. Panic rises fast as you crawl closer to him, reaching the end of the bed. 

“I just have a lot on my mind, but I want this.” A beat. “I want you.”

It’s as if you’re a blank sheet of paper, blinking up at Carlos with such innocence. So much so, it makes his heart stop. He looks for reassurance, which you give him, and he looks for it again, which you give again without hesitance. 

“Come on, Carlitos…” you slowly whisper, batting your eyes. “I know you’ve missed my mouth.”

If you weren’t so breathtaking, if you weren’t so seductive, if you weren’t so goddamn tempting then surely turning you down wouldn’t be an issue. By alas, you’re here—and even better—you’re all his. 

“Eres un sueño.” It seems like an eternity passes by before he finally steps close to you once again, getting rid of whatever distance you ever had. Like it was never meant to be there to begin with. “Can I kiss you first?”

It’s sweet that he feels the need to build up to fucking you sore, but sweet nonetheless. That’s one thing you love about him—and there’s a lot to choose from—his respect towards you. Smiling warmly, you extend your arm, inviting him like an angel before he smashes his lips against you like the devil.

The contrast. It’s just what you needed.

“God, I fucking love you.” 

“I—” His lips press harsher as he continues marking his territory. All of it was making your head spin like a rollercoaster. “I love you too,” you manage to spit out as he makes his way down. You blush. “I-I-I sort of wanted to…”

He blinks. “Sort of what?”

“Well, you know…” You point towards his hardened cock. 

And he actually snickers. “Cat got your tongue today or what, bella?”

A groan. “You’re so fucking annoying—”

“No, no, no,” he cuts in with a whistle. “By all means, go ahead.”

Desperate hands crazily reach out towards his belt in a nanosecond. You should be ashamed how hopeless you are, but you don’t find enough strength to care. Not when he was looking down at you with hungry eyes. 

“Tan linda,” he whispered underneath his breath. As if you weren’t meant to hear him. As if he can’t quite believe it’s you he gets to keep. This must all be a dream to him, he thinks. 

Just as you’re about to pull his jeans down, large hands get ahold of your wrists. Confused, you look up at him, head tilted and messy hair falling over your shoulder. He grins wickedly. 

“Just one more kiss.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you kidding me—”

But his soft lips move with such urgency that you don’t even have time to bitch and moan. Not that you’re trying. You can feel it; the hunger, the lust. The way you run your fingers through his hair, or how he squeezes your ass. In a matter of seconds, the room grows steamy, hot breaths expanding with every peck. It’s as if Carlos was too afraid of being ripped away from you even for a second, scared your lips might change and he wouldn’t know a thing about it.

Not knowing you might be his biggest fear.

It happens without a warning, his grip. You feel it slide slowly up your ribs—you remember thinking how much you like it, how much it tickles. Then it reaches your chest, to which his eager hands squeeze your tits, pathetically moaning into your mouth. You can’t help but giggle, but still not separating. And then…

It reaches your neck.

As soon as he squeezes, your eyesight begins to blur, but he doesn’t notice. Your chest begins to rise and fall at an alarming rate, but he doesn’t notice. And you’re terrified.

But he doesn’t notice.

“Carlos,” you whimper, but he takes it as a good sign, mouth moving with ease. “Carlos, honey…”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is deep. “You like that?” Large palm squeezes harder. “Bet you do.”

“Okay, stop!” you scream, arms flying like some madman. “Let go of me!”

Panicked, he releases you in a hurry, jumping off of your trembling body. Color drains his face as realization hits him, but it's too late. You’re sobbing hard, shoulders bouncing up and down. The way you crawl back with fear makes his heart break as he shakes his head, running a hand against his jaw.

“Fuck.” More cries. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—I am so sorry, baby…” Desperate eyes stare back at you as you hide your face against your shaky hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have known, I should have known.” Inching closer proves to be a mistake when you leap off the bed, throwing a mountain of pillows like daggers. 

“Stop it,” you demand. “Stay. Right. There.”

He flinches. “Are you afraid of me?”

The laugh that erupts from your throat is unlike the others he’s heard. It’s almost maniacal. It makes his skin grow with goosebumps. “Is that even a question?” Dark mascara runs down your cheeks as you breathe heavily. “You just tried to kill me.”

“No,” he pronounces. “No, you know that that’s not true. I-I-I thought you’d like it!” The glare you flicker is enough for him to wince, pinching the tip of his nose. “I should have known better, okay? Please, just…calm down.”

All your sniffles come to an end as you freeze. “Are you calling me crazy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God.” Pushing your hair back, you release a chuckle. “You actually think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, stop putting words into my mouth.”

A scoff. “Okay, wow.” 

He doesn’t have a clue as to how he continues to dig himself into a hole—and yet—here he is. Digging his own grave. Exhaling hard, he licks his lips before looking straight into your glossy eyes. “I love you,” he starts, but you remain as still as a statue. “And I want us to work through this. I want to be able to talk to you, yeah?” A beat. “I’m sorry about…what I did, I should have never done it knowing you’re…traumatized.” 

He’s almost scared to see your reaction, but it never comes. Instead, you blink hastily, as if you’re mortified. 

You should’ve known. You should have figured that karma would catch up to you sooner or later.

I mean, all sins must be paid for, right?

As soon as he starts closing the gap, you’re thumping heart picks right back up. “I just want to talk—”

“No.”

Despite his hurt, he continues his march towards you. “I just want to be near you, please—”

“I said no!” 

It happens almost in the blink of an eye, the sound of glass shattering. He sort of thinks he must’ve imagined it, your hand flying to punch the mirror right besides you, but the gentle blood that oozes out of your hand makes his heart stop. Suddenly, all the scars you have make sense. So much makes sense. 

“Just…stay there, Carlos,” you say, voice trembling, small hand holding out a piece of sharp glass towards him like some wannabe knife. You bite your bottom lip. “Just—there.”

“Cariño…”

“Stop it with that,” you plead, teardrops slipping. “Stop calling me that.”

Somewhere in the shard, he catches his reflection. Half-scared, half-brokenhearted. He doesn’t even know how you two got to this point. 

He gulps. “Okay. I’ll stop, I’ll stop, but please put that down.” You shake your head fast, splotchy cheeks flushing furthermore. Carlos sighs desperately. “Come on—you’re bleeding.”

“I’m used to it by now.”

Tension resurfaces once again between you both as you stare at each other, awaiting for the next challenge. Playing the silent game for a second, curious to see who breaks next. 

“Why did you lock the door?”

He almost laughs. “We always shut the door—”

You raise the blade up higher as you begin to lose patience. Deep down, you know you’re not capable of harming him, but how could you ever let your guard down once again when he tried to strangle you to death?

History almost repeats itself, and you’ll be damned if you ever let it happen.

“You said it, we shut it but we never lock it.” A soft cry. “What were you planning on doing to me, Carlos?”

It’s like a knife to the heart, you’re sudden distrust. The brunette finds himself struggling to breath as he blinks like a lost deer. 

“You know that I would never hurt you. Not on purpose, at least…”

You let out a wet snarl, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you.”

A flinch. “All of this was a mistake and I adore you.”

“You don’t, though,” you protest, the shaky vision intensifying. “If not you wouldn’t have tried to mur—”

“For the last time, I’m not your step-father!” It’s as if he’s finally reached his breaking point, just now. His body is tired. His mind is tired. Everything is just tired of trying. Carlos shrugs lamely. “If you don’t want to believe me…so be it.”

The pain that rains out of him should be enough for you to know that he’s telling the complete truth. He’s a good guy, with pure intentions. He’s not here to get even with you on your mothers behalf. None of what you’re imagining is true.

But you just can’t seem to understand. 

“I don’t believe your lies, alright?” you spit out with deep breaths. You drop the blade, finally. “Open the door.”

With his head hung low, he complies, feet dragging with every step. And finally, with a hand on the knob, he turns to give you one last glance. He can tell you’re holding in your breath and he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Why it make him feel so much like a monster…

Click. The wooden door swings open as he pushes it gently.

“Now leave.”

A wave of nausea strikes with your words. “Amor—“

“Stop. Don’t even look at me.” Tension. “I don’t want to see you ever again—not even by accident.”

And that was the last stab that ended it all.

-

Every now and then, he wonders how you are. Hopefully better. 

He hears your name mentioned once in a blue moon, but instinctively blocks it out, too disturbed at the thought of what occurred between you two. 

What did occur between you two?

He could take a guess and say that you’re internally fucked. Straight and simple. 

But it’s still annoying. The way he wishes to forget you with every passing birthday wish. 

At first, it was because he missed you. He just wanted to forget you because he missed you—yes.

Later, it was because the memory of the cramped room suffocated him. The sound of glass breaking was stronger than the sound of his car crashing. And somehow the latter seemed better. 

He just wanted to forget that day—yes. 

Staring off into space has been his thing for a long time, often getting called out on it. Now, he finds himself with his eyes closed, too scared that someone might notice his feelings and feel the need to ask if he’s okay. 

He hasn't been. Not since you. 

“Grape or watermelon?”

Popping and eye open, he catches a glance of Lewis before rolling over. “I’m good.”

It’s tough, this silent war between both his friends. The break up simply made this…tough. Especially when no one really knows what happened. 

Setting the electrolytes down, the Brit claims a spot next to the brunette. Groaning at the unwanted company, Carlos switches to sit upright. Brown eyes glare strongly before Lewis laughs it off. 

“How you doin’, bud?”

Great, no yeah, just severely depressed thanks to your so-called friend. Would you mind asking her where she gets her antidepressants from for me? I mean, I would, but last time we saw each other she, uh, I don’t know, tried to stab me? And you know what’s the most fucked up shit? It’s the fact that I still love her just the same. 

I just wanted to help. 

He forces a shy smile. “Fine.”

A pity grimace. “I can tell she misses you, you know?”

Carlos hates how excited the thought of you alone—dreamily sighing for his return—gets him to sit up straighter, suddenly interested. It’s foolish, really. 

“She would never admit it, but I can tell because I know—”

“Her?” The Spaniard lets out a mocking scoff. “Trust me, you don’t. Not entirely.”

That shuts Lewis right up as he sits there, staring blankly. A dark brow furrows. “Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two—not that I need to know—but she’s a good person. And so are you. So…don’t be afraid of reaching out.”

He flickers his brown eyes accusingly. “Why should I? Did she put you up to this?”

“She didn’t—“

But the fact is, the hesitation gives him away. Anger arises as the Spaniard rolls his eyes. “I knew it, God, I knew it!” A second. “I know her.”

The Brit drowns with nervousness as he waves his hands in despair. “She just wants you to apologize!”

A singular laugh. “Apologize for what?” He pauses, squinting at his friend. “She didn’t tell you why we broke up, did she?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t really know who’s fault it was, do you?”

Lewis looks down onto his lap. “No. Not really.”

“Great, then let me be the one to tell you that it was both of ours. I’m no saint but neither is she.”

An award silence lingers as the Spaniards voice echoes the room. Lewis nods. “Understood. I got it, okay?”

He sighs an irregular sigh. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” A sheepish grin. “It’s not my place to fix anything about your guys’ relationship, I get it.”

Carlos’ face switches to bright red as he nods his head once. “T-thanks.”

The Brit, ever happily, stands up firmly before patting his back. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Gracias.” Lewis is just a few steps away when he clears his throat before he can even stop himself from asking. “How’s she doing?”

It came across almost softer than a mumble, and one might have missed it if not alert, but not Lewis. 

Spinning to face the almost manchild with round eyes, he smiles as bright as the sun, and that makes his stomach turn. Because he knows. He knows you’re doing—

“Really well.”

Fluffy hair falls down as he tilts his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s good.” Sure. He returns the same smile with a twitch. “That’s really good.”

Lewis has known you two for a long time now. He’s unwillingly memorized your ticks. How the right side of your face slightly twitches before every lie, or how the left side of his does the same before every lie. Much like right now. 

The Brit contemplates for a minute, then two, then opens his mouth in the most hesitant manner. 

“She’s moving to Germany.” Carlos freezes. “Only for a few months. Maybe a year, who knows. But…you should read her book.”

He unfreezes. “Her what?”

A faint smile. Eyes crinkled. “It’s a tough read, but I believe it was necessary. You know, to finally talk about it.”

-

He never quite believed you would open up this way, and yet here he was, in an unknown bookstore, spacing out. Your name jumps out like some shooting star, too difficult to ignore. 

Without a doubt, you’d get a lawsuit from your step-father. Of course—you were only dragging the last name of what seemed to be the world's richest man. 

For what it’s worth, Carlos is proud. This must mean you’re open to moving on. To get the necessary help you so desperately need. From start to finish, the pages are enticing. You go into gruesome depth, something you never seemed to have a problem in doing. From the mention of how her eyes remained open with no sign of life, only terror, to the fact that you got your many scars from punching the door, trying to get in on time. How he bribed his way against the laws. 

Everything seemed to be coming out.

So then why, as he sits in his driver's room, staring at your picture in the back of the book, does he feel like doesn’t believe it? 

Not even a generous half.

-

Angelica lived up to the first five letters of her name. 

She was there for you in the moments you needed her the most. She braided your hair for playdates, she tied your shoe laces even when you were too embarrassed to ask, and she worked her way up, making sure you had it all. 

Undeniably, she was one hell of a woman. Then again, she had more within her—pulled some trigger you never thought she’d pull.

You were going to lose it all, why couldn’t she foresee that? That conversation was going to rip your inheritance straight from your tight grip; the one that ensured your future vacations. How could she ever betray you? Her own daughter? 

You were acquisitive. You were possessive. You were partially responsible for her death.

But call it naiveness, you really thought it’d work.

No one will truly know the way your soul left your body when you heard you wouldn’t get a single dollar. Not even a fucking cent. You had to find some other way to stay secure.

But Carlos was out to get you, you just know he was. You don’t have a clue as to how he found out about the truth, about what happened inside that stupid mansion, but he knew it all. And you had to get out of there.

Only it led you back to square one. With no purpose. With no money. Fuck men and their actions, seriously, too all hell with them.

However, you were your mothers daughter at the end of the day.

You could be a writer. An even better one that she could've ever been. If you wanted to, you could do it. 

And that is exactly what you did.

You typed, and typed, and typed until your fingers would cramp up. The multi-billionaire was a leviathan and everyone would see that no matter what. 

You, on the other hand, were an innocent bystander. Too weak to intervene, to fight back. Too young. Yeah. That was what happened that night.

But you also had your own perspective. One your mom could never match.

While she married for the illusion of love, you would’ve married for money with no shame. Carlos just happened to be the luckiest of strikes because you got both. 

While she always was at the front of the room without having to try, you were always in the back with a bitter smile. Why did she get to have two dimples? All eyes would have surely been on you if you had at least one. 

And while she never cared about reaching the New York Times Best Seller list—you did. 

She would have jumped with joy just by selling ten copies, but not you. You always wanted more—craved more. Label it as ambition. 

More copies sold means more money. A trust fund means more money. Playing the victim against your step-father means even more money. So yeah…

You did care about that stupid list. 

Tilting your head back against your seat, you flinch at the taste of the pill, too familiar for your liking, but the wine helps. It always does nowadays. 

Buzz. 

Picking up with a level of indifference was all fake—you had been yearning this call for what seemed like your whole life.

“Hey.” His voice is almost raw. Like he could use a couple cough drops. “I-I-I read your book. It was incredible.”

And for the first time in a while, you smile. “Thank you, that means a lot, Carlos.”

You can hear the static against the line, indicating once again that you’re on opposite sides of the world and not together. You can almost bet that it will always stay that way. 

The Spaniard coughs awkwardly into your ear.

“Oh, and also, congrats on making it onto the New York Times Best Seller.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[not-neverland06]

hi!! Given my obsession for Hugh jackman I am CRAVING for some Leopold X reader (from Kate & Leopold)! Maybe with some little angst but happy ending??

I love your blog!! Have a wonderful day 😽💐💓

Leopold Mountbatten x fem!reader a/n: I don’t know how controversial this is going to be and I don’t care. I could never finish the movie because I hated Meg Ryan in it so much. It’s so odd, I’ve loved her in everything else she’s been in but she made it such a hard watch. Maybe it’s because she reminds me of my grandma in the worst way lol, but I finished it for you anon sorry this was a little rushed Anyways, hope you enjoy lovelies Summary: Your neighbor went back in time and dragged someone back with him. He's irritatingly polite and far too interested in your way of life. What are you meant to do when you fall for a man who was never even supposed to meet you?

“Hello, madam, please I need your help!”

You’re used to crazies, it is New York after all. But they’re not usually shouting at you through your window. Especially not when you’re on the sixth floor. You look away from your coffee and glance towards the fire escape. 

There’s an oddly dressed man with red eyes waving at you through the dirty glass. You offer him a tentative wave back and he nods aggressively. “Yes, hello, I need your assistance.”

“Um,” you shake your head, “Sorry, I don’t have any drugs dude.”

“No,” he places his hands pathetically on the glass and shakes his head. “Please, I have been kidnapped.” Finally, you take a step closer to him. You can tell now that his eyes aren’t reddened from any medicinal fun, he probably got pepper sprayed. 

Your friend did it to you once when you tried to surprise her on her birthday and you’ll never forget just how awful you looked afterwards. You can see him a bit more clearly now. Whatever odd costume he’s got on, it looks good. Genuine and clean. 

Not like most of the street performers you see in Times Square. Besides, he doesn’t have that maddened look in his eye that makes you worry he’s going to come inside and kill you. Tentatively, you open the window. 

He’s leaping through in a second and you jump back with a yelp. He turns towards you and his eyes widen before he quickly turns away. “My good lady, where are your pants?”

“Uh,” you glance down at the oversized shirt you’re wearing and the tiny shorts underneath. Admittedly, it’s a little skimpy, but you’re not walking around naked. You’ve heard of committing to the bit, but this is a bit much. “On,” you tell him, walking around him and trying to stand close to the phone. 

“Ma’am-” He’s cut off as someone slams their fist on your front door. You keep a weary eye on the man while you unlock your door. 

“Hey,” Stuart smiles at you. His eyes drift slightly past your shoulder and he goes barging into your apartment. “Leopold! What did I say?”

You huff and glare at Stuart’s frantic back. “This is yours?” Stuart nods and rushes Leopold out the door. You don’t miss the pleading, while slightly scandalized, look he sends you. 

You slam the door closed behind them, shaking your head and going back to your morning paper. You doubt you’ll be seeing him around again. 

You know, it’s just your luck that your upstairs neighbor is a scientist, one who happens to dabble in the art of time travel. And it’s just your luck that he had to fall down a damn elevator shaft. 

Now, according to him, you have to care for someone from a different century so he can make it back to his time portal in, well, in time. This is fucking ridiculous. “I’m going to kill you, Stuart.”

“Look, they’re going to take my phone but he really cannot-”

It goes silent on the other end. You shout his name a few times but hear nothing in response. You assume the hospital staff has finally gotten sick of his shenanigans and has taken his phone. You slam your handset down with a huff and look towards the living room. Leopold hasn’t sat down since you walked in and it’s unsettling. 

“So,” you start and his attention snaps towards you. “1876, huh?”

He nods and you roll your eyes with a scoff. “Oh, this is insane. This is insane,” you mutter to yourself, walking towards Stuart’s door. Leopold gives you a concerned look before quickly following after you. There’s a part of you, and you hate that part, that actually believes some of this. 

Stuart is a brilliant, though flawed, scientist. You don’t doubt that he might have actually unlocked the secret to traveling back to the past, but it’s such an insane idea to try and wrap your head around. 

“Come on, we’re leaving.” You know that Stuart doesn’t want him out of the house. Tough. You’re not going to just stay inside and wait until he can supposedly go back to the past. You don’t give Leopold any time to process your answer, already out the door and heading towards the stairs. 

“You know,” he starts as he catches up to you. “You are quite rude.” Your first instinct is to snap back at him. But you take a breath and stop yourself. 

You’re desensitized, ridiculously used to just how awful New Yorkers can be to each other. And whether this man is truly from the past or not is up for debate. But he is polite and earnest, and you have no reason to be a bitch to him. 

“I’m,” the words are hard to come by but you force them out anyway, “I’m sorry.” He looks genuinely surprised by the apology and it only makes you feel worse. “This is just an insane idea to try and grasp.”

He chuckles softly, smiling as he glances down at his feet. “Yes, how do you think I feel?”

You’re sure it’s not his intention, but you only feel like more of an ass. If this is hard for you, whatever he's going through is a hundred times worse. You weren’t forcefully ripped out of your own time and shoved into another you don’t understand. He’s still trying to comprehend the television.

Though, you’re sure being a scientist has helped him in marginally understanding how all of this is possible. “How do you like the future?” It sounds awkward and stiff, but you haven’t had to talk to anyone in a really long time. 

Your interactions are pretty limited at the book shop considering no one ever comes in. They all order online nowadays and all you really have to worry about is organizing shelves. You’re embarrassingly rusty when it comes to conversing. 

And his propensity towards eloquence only makes you feel worse. “I must admit, some of your inventions have been quite fascinating. I’m especially fond of your showers.”

Your face scrunches slightly at the mention of hygiene and you nod, “I bet.” Before either of you can attempt to salvage this horrible attempt at conversation your phone starts ringing. “Hold on one second,” you tell him. You walk a few feet away from him but you can still feel his eyes boring into your back as you move away. 

“Hello?”

There’s a frantic shout of your name down the line and then the distinct jingling of keys. “I need you to cover the shop. Marcy just went into labor and I’ve got to go!” Paul doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he hangs up. 

Your jaw gapes and you stare down at your phone with shock. You know Paul and his wife had been expecting, but had it really already been nine months? Has your life become so monotonous and dull that nine months doesn’t even register for you?

It’s a depressing thought. One you’d rather not linger on. “What was that?”

You scream, though the people passing by don’t pay you any mind, and jump away from Leopold. “Jesus, where the hell did you come from?”

Leopold flinches away from you and his face is just as aghast as yours. “Good heavens, what is the matter with you? Do you respond to anything as a sensible woman might?”

“I resent that.” You tell him bitterly. Though, he does make a good point. You’ve been on edge constantly. You always seem to be more anxious than you are happy. It’s not a good state to perpetually exist in. “I need to go into work.”

You don’t want to outright say that he needs to go back to the apartment. It feels a little mean, but you’re hoping he’ll catch onto your tone of voice. 

His entire demeanor perks up and he smiles at you. “Wonderful, I am dreadfully curious as to what you do.”

You open your mouth to correct him, let him know he’s not coming. But he’s staring at you with such hopeful eyes that you cannot find it in yourself to turn him down. He seems so excited, you’re sure he won’t be when he gets to your cluttered little bookshop. You let out a weary sigh, “Fine. Okay.”

You walk towards the curb, hoping to hail a cab. But Leopold’s hand gently wraps around your elbow and tugs you in the opposite direction. Your eyes widen in response to his boldness. You thought touching a woman he wasn’t courting would cause someone like him to combust. Seems he didn’t mind breaking the rules sometimes. 

You make a mental note of that for later. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the information, but you find it intriguing. Maybe the modern world was rubbing off on him more than he’d like to admit. 

“We should take this,” he stops you in front of a horse-drawn carriage and you immediately begin to shake your head. 

“No, Leopold, these are just tourist traps-”

He doesn’t let you finish, opening the carriage’s door and gently nudging you inside. “Nonsense! This is far more enjoyable than those yellow monstrosities.”

“Taxi,” you correct. You turn towards the carriage driver and give him directions to your bookshop. “Ink and Tea on Fifth.” He nods and the carriage rolls forward with a lurch. You grip the cushioned seats and pray you don’t get motion sickness. 

“Ink and Tea?” Leopold inquires. “Are you a journalist?”

You smile and shake your head. “No, nothing so fancy. I just help take care of an old bookshop. They were supposed to extend the shop when it first opened. They were going to build a space for people to get pastries or drink tea, but it never happened and the owner was too lazy to change the name.”

It feels a little humiliating to be talking about your minimum-wage job to a renowned scientist. He’s invented or is going to, elevators. He doesn’t care about your stupid shop. But he doesn’t look particularly judgy of you. If anything he seems to be endeared to you the more you talk. 

Normally, you’re oblivious to these sorts of things. But it’s nearly impossible for him to hide. He’s not shy with his attraction, never taking his eyes off of you and hanging onto your every word. You’re not used to such outward attention. 

You look out of the carriage, pretending to take in views you’ve already seen a thousand times. “This city is incredible,” he wonders aloud. His awe is palpable. 

Your nose wrinkles and you shrug. “It’s dirty and the people are intolerable.”

“Must you always be so pessimistic?” You snap your mouth shut and feel embarrassment creeping around you. You’ve never had someone point out when you’re being negative, but he has a point. 

You used to view the city through the same rose-colored glasses. Something’s broken inside you in recent years that has just taken the joy out of life. Everything is grey to you now, until Leopold, nothing spectacular has ever really happened to you. 

The carriage comes to a stop outside the shop before you can respond to him. You want to deny what he says, but you can’t. Your attitude is almost always unnecessary. You think sometimes you might just be trying to see if everyone feels as miserable as you do or if there’s just something wrong with you. 

“Come on,” you tell him, getting out and paying the driver. He wanders towards the shop, eyeing the displays in the window curiously. 

“These are wonderful,” he tells you, pointing to the way you’d made the books look like they’re floating above the shelves. It was just some silly little thing you’d tried to get more people in the shop. It’d worked for about a month. 

“I did that,” you unlock the door to the shop and open it for him. But he doesn’t walk in immediately, instead, he lingers in the doorway. He offers you a soft smile and you can’t help but return it. 

“You’re more creative than you give yourself credit for.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him walk inside. He keeps making these oddly astute observations about you and it’s throwing you off your game. You barely know this man and you’ve always been good at keeping yourself aloof and vague. Yet, he seems to read you like you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

“Feel free to…” he’s already made himself comfortable somewhere in the back and you trail off. “Look around,” you finish lamely. His form is lost somewhere in stacks of books and cluttered shelves. 

You know most of the classics and history books are kept towards the back. You wonder if he’s reminiscing or getting a headstart before he gets back to his time. You smile at the thought and walk behind the counter, sitting on the stool and preparing to finish off the rest of the day.

Leopold is still somewhere lost to you an hour later. Occasionally you’ll hear a page flip or the clatter of a book being reshelved, but there are no other signs of life. Not until the bell above the door rings. 

“Clark,” you smile, sitting up straighter as your friend walks through the door. “What’re you doing here?”

He gives you a crooked grin and shrugs. Just over his shoulder, you can see Leopold’s head pop over a shelf, he looks between you both, eyes narrowing with disdain. “Paul told me you’d be here, figured you might want some company.”

“Actually-” you start, but another voice cuts you off. 

“Leopold Mountbatten,” he comes around the corner, hand outstretched as he comes in between you and Clark. “And who might you be?”

Your brows furrow in confusion at the interaction. Leopold seems oddly hostile and Clark looks strangely caught off guard. “Um, Clark. Nice to meet you, man.” He shakes Leopold’s hand but his grip is weak and it only lasts for one awkward half-second. 

It’s uncomfortable to watch them try and interact and it only gets worse when they turn towards you. Clearly, they want you to tell them who the hell the other guy is. But you feel like that might just make the situation worse. 

Besides, you were pretty content with it just being you and Leopold, you don’t need Clark coming in here and riling things up. “You know, Clark, I’m set here. You can just go home.” Your tone leaves no room for argument but you know he wants to. 

“Alright, I’ll just call you later, I guess.” He throws one last skeptical look at Leopold before finally slinking back out of the shop. 

“Neither of you should be alone without a chaperone present.” Leopold bluntly scolds you without even waiting a second before Clark is gone. It catches you off guard and you scoff. 

You motion between the two of you, “We don’t have a chaperone.” 

Leopold shrugs, “Yes, well, I’m not courting you.” It shouldn’t, because he’s right, but that stings. He is attractive, surprisingly so. You have this odd belief that anyone from his century had to be at least a little ugly. But he’s near perfect. 

Hearing him tell you so bluntly that you’re not courting hurts a little. Though, you can’t blame him. You must be dramatically different than the women he’s used to. From your manners to how you dress, you’re practically an alien. 

You stand up from behind the counter and walk towards the cart of books that need to be shelved. “Clark is a friend. Nothing more.” You’ve never once been romantically interested in your friend. He’s attractive, but he’s not really your type.

Apparently, British men from the nineteenth century are. Which does not bode well for your romantic prospects once Leopold is back home. “It is plain for anyone to see how he wants you. Don’t let yourself be blinded by naivete.”

“Naivete?” you scoff and turn around to glare at him. “Don’t pretend to know anything about me, alright? I’m not some maiden in a frilly dress who needs a chaperone.” You can see that your words affect him. He looks a little taken aback by your anger and so are you. 

It’s misplaced. You’re not mad at him, just mad that you even like him. “Just go read or something, Leopold.” You dismiss him more rudely than necessary and hide yourself behind a few shelves. The rest of your workday is spent in a tense silence that makes your stomach churn. 

You’re nearly ready for bed when something slips under your door with a slight whoosh. You turn towards it, frowning when you see a little envelope with a wax seal on the ground. You pick it up and let your finger slip under the paper, opening it to find a letter with your name on it inside. 

The handwriting is impeccable, with a gracefulness to it that you’ve never seen before. You don’t have to read for very long to know who it's from. Leopold writes poetry about the color of your eyes and the way your lips curl when you smile. And then he ends it with a vague, nearly ominous, invitation to dinner. 

You can’t help but smile to yourself, changing out of your pajamas and slipping into something a little nicer. A few minutes later you’re climbing out your window and taking the stairs up the fire escape to the roof. 

You don’t believe your ears at first, thinking the music must be coming from another apartment. But when you make it up to the roof there’s a violin player there waiting for you. He smiles happily at you as you approach. 

You spin in a slow circle, taking in the sheer amount of flowers littered around the roof. You don’t know how he managed to afford all of this. He transformed the barren and empty rooftop into your own little paradise. Candles lit and a live musician playing for you. 

You’ve never had anyone do something like this for you, ever. It’s a little hard to accept that someone would be willing to put this much effort in for you. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would come.”

You turn around and Leopold is waiting behind you, that familiar smile playing on his lips. You aren’t aware of the grin forming on your face in response. You don’t have much control over that when you’re with him. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He looks like he wants to respond but at the last moment thinks better of it. He instead pulls your chair out for you, helping you into your seat. “This is nice,” that feels too underwhelming a word for such an incredible gesture. 

You sigh and frown as you try and find the right words. You don’t notice him sitting down across from you. You only look up when you feel him placing his hand on your own. “It’s alright,” he assures you. 

It’s still so odd how he can know you so well after such little time. “This is incredible,” you tell him, undeterred by his attempts to soothe you. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”

He looks like he takes personal offense to that and it makes you laugh. “You deserve far more than this. Sadly, it seems Stuart’s pockets do have limits and I’m afraid I would have put him into debt if I’d gone any further.”

You have the perfect mental image of Stuart coming back from the hospital only to find his science project has robbed him. It makes you laugh and you squeeze his hand once before drawing it back into your lap. He lets his touch linger on you for a long moment, seemingly reluctant to pull away. 

“No,” you tell him, “this is perfect.” 

You fall into a comfortable silence for a little while. Conversation mostly drifting toward what his life was like as a duke. You don’t have much to say about your own life. It’s been incredibly normal and you’re a little sad to find that you don’t have one good thing to share with him. 

Nothing comes to the front of your mind. 

Inevitably, you drift into the topic you’d both been so adamantly avoiding. “Has Stuart said when you’d need to return?”

Leopold’s grip on the fork tightens and for a moment he refuses to meet your eye. “Monday, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen and you feel something burning at the back of your throat. Monday, the same Monday that’s two days away. 

“Dance with me,” the suddenness of the demand catchers you so off guard that you forget the tears. He stands, holding out his hand to you. You almost say no, you can’t remember the last time you danced and you doubt it’s going to be pretty. 

But he whispers your name and something about his tone tells you to take the chance while you have it. You slip your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t sweep you off your feet and dance the night away. 

Instead, he holds you close and you sway together. Like moving even an inch away from each other would hurt. “You could come with me,” he tells you. And you know immediately what he’s talking about. 

You also know it could never happen. Going to the nineteenth century is insane. Even considering it should be enough to have you sent to a psych ward somewhere. Especially not for a man you’ve known for less than a month. 

You try and tell him that you can’t, but he stops you. “I know, a preposterous idea. I just wanted to think about it.” You look up at him and find that you can’t take that away from him. There’s nothing wrong with imagining what it could be like with him. Even when you know it can never happen. 

You dance like that for a little while longer, swaying against each other while the violin plays in the background. He whispers your name and when you gaze up at him this time, there’s a certain look in his eye that you know is reflected in your own. 

He dips down, lips caressing yours gently before he’s pushing more firmly against your own. The world stops. Cliche, you’re aware. For the first time in years, though, you’re alive. You feel something other than the dull monotony of life. You feel excited and terrified all at once. Because you know you can never have this feeling again. 

You will never meet another man like Leopold who ignites this spark of life and passion within you. Never has a man been able to make you doubt every decision you’ve ever made with just a kiss, but here he is. 

Your arms lift like you might try and draw him in closer. His hands come up, taking yours in his gentle hold and squeezing. He pulls away from you and reality comes crashing back down. You’re not in love, you can’t be. You’ve only just met him a few days ago. 

Yet, here you are, wondering if you might actually want to leave everything behind to be with him like the great romances authors write about. He smiles at you and there’s a bittersweetness to it, a final farewell that you know will break whatever is left of your heart. 

He lifts your knuckles to his lips, pressing his lips against them like he never wants to part. “Goodnight,” he whispers your name and backs away from you. You watch him go, watch him leave, unable to muster up any words for him. 

You can’t think of anything that would ease this gnawing ache inside of you. Nothing to soothe the pain for either of you. You let him go because you know if you asked him to stay he would. And how selfish of you would it be to let history unravel simply because you fell in love? 

Monday. It is Monday. You’ve been coming to terms with that all weekend. You don't want to think about the fact that Leopold will be gone tonight. Your time together was so brief but you feel like you’re never going to get over losing him. 

Before the night was over on Sunday, a note was slipped under your door. This handwriting was messy, it made you think someone other than Leopold had written it down, but you don’t know who it could have been. 

It was a date and time, jump off the Brooklyn Bridge at this time on Monday night. Only an idiot would jump off a bridge because of an ominous note slipped under her door. But you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of it, not since you first picked it up. 

Leopold had invited you to go with him. And while you might not have said no, the insinuation was clear. Your eyes dart to your clock. If you left now, you could still make it in time. What an absolutely ridiculous thought. 

So, why are you running out the door without locking it? Why do you not care who slips into your home now? There’s this sense of finality within you that lets you know you’re never going to see that place again and that’s okay. 

You never truly felt comfortable in your life. You always thought a part of yourself was missing. Or that you were always running late for something. You think you understand what you were feeling now. 

The thing you’ve been searching for your whole life wasn’t halfway across the world, a hundred thousand miles from you. He was on the wrong side of time, or you were, at least. 

You manage to snag a taxi to get to the bridge but there’s a traffic jam. You’re forced to jump out of the car and run through the different lanes of blocked traffic. People shout at you. Your cab driver screaming after you about your fare. You don’t care, the only thing you can think about is the note crumpled in your hands and the clock counting down how long you have to jump. 

You’ll either be on the news tomorrow as an unfortunate suicide. An idiot who accidentally threw herself off the wrong side of the bridge. Or, you’ll see Leopold again. 

You reach the ledge and you can’t hesitate. If you do, you won’t jump in time. You close your eyes, holding your breath like you’re jumping into your neighbor’s pool. Air rushes around you, whipping at your hair and skin violently. 

It’s not until you hear someone shouting down at you that you realize you’re not dead. You’re lying in the middle of a dirt road, a group of people staring down at you with concern in their eyes. 

You only have to take in the clothes they’re wearing to know you’ve made it. Before they can react you’re leaping to your feet and running off. You know you’re near the Brooklyn Bridge, or where it’s supposed to be at least. You know enough about the area to remember where Leopold’s house is supposed to be. 

You’re covered in sweat and red mud. The people you pass by in the streets hide behind their hands and whisper about you. You’re not making a good impression on your future neighbors, that’s for sure. But, honestly, all you care about is making it back to him. 

You see people congregating outside his uncle’s home. You know there’s a party inside, that he’s supposed to be announcing who his wife will be. You barrel through the people outside, shoving through the crowd and running up the steps of the house. 

You can hear Leopold’s voice as you run, “The woman I’m going to take as my wife is-”

There’s a loud gasp as you come panting into the room. You can’t catch your breath long enough to speak but it doesn’t matter. The crowd is parting around you and Leopold is smiling down at you. He says your name and there’s nothing else that matters about the world around you. Not when you finally found each other. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Kate & Leopold, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[eternally-racing]

racer girl | lando norris

pairing: dad! Lando x wife! reader (+ their adorable little kiddo)

wc: 1.3k

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: Lando's more than apprehensive when his daughter wants to try karting for the first time, but luckily you're there to hold his hand through it all.

note: this fic is part of the racer girl collection but can also be read as a stand alone !

----- The request came on the list your daughter, Piper, wrote for Santa, and as soon as you saw it you ran to go show your husband, Lando. “Go karting” was written in scraggly letters.

You had anticipated it to be a joyous event in the Norris household. None of you ever put any pressure on your daughter to follow in either of your footsteps, but the image of your little girl in a racing suit just like her daddy made you smile. You surprised Lando with the when you both were cleaning up after dinner, but the reaction you got is nothing like what you expected.

“She’s not going karting. End of story”

“It’s what she wants, Lan, and I think it makes perfect sense.” 

“It’s TOO dangerous. That’s my little girl out there.” 

You’ve never seen Lando look this serious in his life. He’s not being overdramatic or overzealous, but there’s a fire behind his eyes that tells you that he’s dead set on this. 

“Do you think your mother was ecstatic when she found out her son was in love with one of the most dangerous sports in the world? Probably not, but she let you do it anyway. Because you loved it, and who knows, maybe Piper’s gonna love it like her daddy.” 

This is why Lando loves you. You're always realistic and you keep him grounded while he floats away into overthinking on situations like this.

“I guess I’m just scared for her,” Lando says more quietly, taking a seat on the couch and curling in on himself. You’re quick to join him and cuddle into his side.

“You’ve seen what I’ve been through Y/N - the training, the crashes, the missed birthdays and weddings, the mental toll, how can you still say you want her to do this knowing all of that?”  

You sigh as you take Lando’s hands in yours. You rub your thumb over the back of his hands while you ask him your next question.

“Looking back, do you regret anything, Lan? Would you give up racing entirely if you had the chance to start all over again?”

He shakes his head in denial instantly, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as you lay with one another.

“We’re not committing to her becoming a Formula 1 driver, babe. She just grew up seeing her daddy do this really cool thing and wants to give it a try, and I don’t think it’s the worst thing if we let her.”

Lando buries himself further into your neck and he mumbles his next words. “Our little girl is growing up, isn’t she?” 

You don’t reply back with your words, but Lando understands you perfectly as you cuddle further into his side. 

- - - - - - 

It’s a rare instance when Lando tosses you the keys to drive to the track. He protects his McLaren like it’s his second child, but from the way his knee is bouncing in the passenger seat you know that he’s in no state to drive. It’s a perfectly mild cloudy day, yet Lando is wearing these ridiculous wide rimmed sunglasses that you can only assume he found in a hurry while foraging through your shared bathroom. While you may not tease him much for it since you know they’re covering his teary eyes, your daughter is still just as merciless and cheeky as her father usually is. Lando teaches her the word “allergies” on the drive down as he’s coming up with excuses for his sniffly state. 

When Piper first gets a helmet, she runs right past you to get her daddy to put it on her. She’s serious when she tells him not to make it “tew tight”, but Lando’s hands are shaking so much that he can hardly get the buckles done up anyways. She barely spares you both a second glance and Lando has to pull her back to give her a quick kiss on the helmet before she goes off. You both wrap her in your embrace and give her a squeeze until she’s telling you it’s time to let go, and Lando only gets halfway through his dad talk of “we can leave at any time if you get scared and I’m gonna be standing right here supporting you” before she’s already dashing away again. Piper is barely going past a crawling speed in the kart but something about the sight tugs at your heart. You’re used to this feeling, watching half your heart racing away while you’re on the sidelines, but you realize this is the first time Lando’s been in this position instead of being the one in the car. You reach for his hand and hold it tight as you lay your head on his shoulder. You two had so many “firsts” with your daughter: first steps, first time you left her at home, first words, and so much more, but none of them compared to this feeling of watching her karting for the first time. 

The first time Piper bumps into a wall Lando says that he thinks he’s gonna throw up and you have to almost physically hold him back from running out there to her. Once you see a big thumbs up from your daughter to confirm she’s okay, the whole situation earns a little giggle from you and you reply back with Lando with “imagine instead of going into the wall at 3km/h it’s actually 313km/h and you’re watching the father of your children crash.” 

Lando’s never seen your point of view before like this. You spent years on the paddock as the worried girlfriend, then as the worried fiance, then as the worried wife, and then finally as the worried pregnant wife (probably the worst situation of all since you were already nauseous anyways). You never once pushed him into retiring for the sake of your family - you could see the joy the sport brought him and he always appreciated your respect for that. He thinks having to watch on the sidelines might be even harder than actually being on the track, and he looks at you with a newfound appreciation for your strength as you cheer on your daughter.

“Thank you.” Lando whispers to you with a little crack in his voice.

It’s more than a thank you for convincing him to let Piper do this - it’s a thank you for supporting him all these years, through all the ups and downs of his racing career. You only hold onto him tighter as a response, pulling out your phone too to capture the moment. Whether Piper continues in motorsport or not, you know this is a moment that you’ll both treasure forever. 

That night Piper begs for you both to put on the home video of Lando’s first karting win while she eats her supper. You’ve never seen your daughter this happy before, and you know from the look on Lando’s face that he thinks the same. It’s only after she retells her experience in karting from start to finish for the 4th time over that you’re able to finally bargain with her to go to sleep. Her one concession is that she sleep with her helmet in her bed, an action that brings the tears right back to the forefront of Lando’s eyes since that was something he did as a kid too.

“Our baby girl is going to be the first ever female driver in formula 1” he cooes as you both stand at the foot of her bed. “Typical Lando” you call out, not surprised one bit that he’s gone from banning his daughter from stepping foot into a kart to imagining her future in motorsport history all within the span of a couple of days. You have to slow him down before he starts going off on a tangent about the best places to train and the moments he can’t wait for her to experience in the sport. But at the end of the day you’re so happy that Lando came around on this (an “i told you so” or two sometimes slip out when the topic comes up), and you know that it’s going to be a fun journey being karting parents for as long as Piper wants to do so. 

----

author's note: this was such a fun one to write <3 you'll probably see a lot more dad! Lando on my page in the future! If you have any dad! Lando scenarios (or any scenarios really) that you want me to write, feel free to drop them in my ask box! Until next time <3 - Em

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour (7)

While having dinner with your family, you begin to see Jungkook in a new light.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4.962

Warning: kissing, simp jk, tsundere reader duh, baby fever, shower sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talking, unprotected sex, biting,

“Ah, Y/N.” your mother looks over her shoulder at you, her eyes glazing behind you for a moment. “You’re alone.” she notes matter-of-factly.

You scoff humorlessly. “Jungkook had to visit his family before coming here.” you respond, kicking off your shoes. “He should be here soon.”

You should have known coming here without Jungkook would result in your mother questioning you - curse Jeon Jungkook and his personality that has your mother loving him already.

Your mother makes her way towards you, wrapping you in an embrace. “I’m happy to hear that. I can’t wait to see him again.” she says. 

You roll your eyes.

Deep down, it’s nice knowing that your mother liked Jungkook. Her opinion on whoever you dated is important.

However - this was Jeon Jungkook you’re talking about. Everything he had said has come to life - even from the very beginning. You acknowledging him due to needing streaming services, you and him dating, your mother loving everything about him and to the worst of them all  - you liking him. The man revels in the fact that he was winning whatever challenge you and he had and he wasn’t even doing anything but being himself. 

Fuck Jeon Jungkook. 

“Why didn’t you go with him?” your mother asks when she releases you from her embrace. “Have you met his family already?”

You shake your head, glancing away. 

You didn’t want to admit that you were nervous because you were you - you never got nervous But you were new to this; meeting the family. 

That, and Jungkook didn’t necessarily ask if you wanted to come. “I’ll be having breakfast with my parents.” he said, putting on a jacket. “You can come if you’d like.”

That wasn’t an invitation - and besides, you didn’t want to intrude on a holiday. Jungkook doesn’t see his parents as often as you do yours.

“Think they wouldn’t like you?” your mother murmurs in a low, gossiping tone that you choose to ignore.

You greet your father silently - he was on a business call and appeared utterly miserable doing so. He hated talking, and each day you begin to realize that maybe you took more of his traits as you grew older. 

You and your mother speak as she continues to cook - about anything that the conversation brings. It began with small talk - work and family gossip. She asks how you and Jungkook are and you answer as honestly as you could - she gushes how you appear to be “glowing” and that it’s Jungkook’s doing, but you’d never give a man that much satisfaction.

It was another 20 minutes when Jungkook did arrive. He had knocked softly on the door and you instantly knew it was him. You were ready to retort snarky towards him when you swung the door open, but you stopped in your tracks. 

“Sorry I’m late.” Jungkook speaks, a smile on his lips. The piercing slightly shines in the evening sun. He’s dressed casually, a dark shirt with dark jeans that are ripped at the knees. 

You notice Jungkook’s change immediately - his hair. His once long locks that sat on his shoulders have now been cut - the sides slightly shaved, and the top of his head, though longer than the sides, have but cut, as well. There’s a loose hair that falls slightly on his forehead and you swallow thickly. 

In Jungkook’s hands are flowers - this time bought and not yanked from his neighbor's garden. They’re assorted - lilies, sunflowers, gerberas and more. 

“You’re late because you stopped and grabbed flowers.” you deadpan, opening the door wider. Jungkook steps inside your home and goes to kick off his shoes. “Of course.” he chuckles. “Everytime we go to the bakery besides the flower shop, I notice you look inside.” Jungkook explains.

Jungkook extends his arms to hand you the flowers, a soft look in his eyes. Your stomach begins to churn and your heart thump. “Oh,” you murmur, glancing down at the bouquet of flowers now in your hands. “I didn’t know you noticed that.”

You’re embarrassed - you never knew Jungkook paid attention. It wasn’t anything worth being embarrassed about - flowers are pretty and you’d often admire them whenever you could. You just never knew Jungkook had been observing you do so. 

“Of course I do.” Jungkook responds. He steps closer to you to wrap an arm around your waist to bring you closer to him. He inches his face closer to yours. “I watch you a lot.”

“Stalker.” you retort with a lick of your lips, your eyes darting from his eyes to his lips for a split second - a second that Jungkook catches. 

“I’d prefer admirer.” Jungkook responds right before kissing your lips. “What lipgloss are you wearing? Tastes sweet…” Jungkook kisses you once more, deepening it. 

“It’s,” Jungkook interrupts your speech to kiss you once more. “mango,” and again, Jungkook kisses your lips. “Kook-” Jungkook hums into the next peck of your lips.

You manage to push Jungkook away from you, your body rushing with heat. “You’re so obsessed with me.” you roll your eyes, a smile forming onto your lips.

Jungkook chuckles heartily, embracing you tighter. “I’m your number one fan.” he says. “Just missed you is all.”

Your heart leaps once more - this time at his words. You push yourself away a bit more so you wouldn’t fall into the rabbit hole that was Jeon Jungkook - you were in your parents home and you didn’t need anyone seeing how truly down bad you were for Jungkook when he spoke so nicely to you.

Despicable, you think, a few nice words from Jungkook has you ready to be out of your panties. How far you’ve fallen.

“You cut your hair.” you say to change the subject, eyes darting up to the new cut. Your hand reaches for it, touching the sides with interest. 

“I did.” Jungkook nods, leaning his head into your hand. “You like it?”

You nod slightly, then huff. “It’s alright.” you shrug. You needed to regain your control over the situation - and the overall relationship. You can’t keep falling for Jungkook and his traps.

Jungkook smiles widely. He wouldn’t tell you, but you were the reason he cut it. He recalls you telling him once on a random occasion that he would look nice with a cut you have seen while scrolling on your phone. It was a side comment that you didn’t think he’d take into consideration - and even now, he’s positive that you didn’t even remember. 

“What made you cut it?” you then ask, and Jungkook’s cheeks flushes. “What?” you say, snickering at the look on his face. “Did your little girlfriend suggest it?”

“My little girlfriend?” Jungkook raises a brow, unsure what you were about to say next. 

“Yeah, Sia.” you say teasingly - but your eyes zone in on Jungkook as you wait for a reaction. Jungkook scoffs. “Ah, we’re bringing up the girl that doesn’t cross my mind in the slightest.” he says and it’s the truth. He would forget about Sia entirely if she didn’t attempt - keyword: attempt - to speak with him.

“Just kidding.” you laugh. Your hand drops from his hair to his cheek. “I really do like it.” you murmur to him, a soft moment that you’d allow him to have - just this once.

Jungkook’s smile widens slightly, but there’s a glint in his eyes. “You want to sit on my face so bad, baby.” he murmurs.

“Ugh,” you push Jungkook away. “as if.” You do - and Jungkook knows it, too. But you’d have to deny it until it was time to actually do the deed. 

Jungkook is quick to wrap and arm around your shoulder, bringing you in for a side-ways hug. “We’ll worry about that later.” there’s a quick peck that’s placed on your forehead. “Let me greet my in-laws.”

“You’re not my husband.”

Jungkook doesn’t let up. “Yet.” he says, sending you a wink. 

Your mother is first to greet Jungkook, appearing far too excited to see him than she was seeing you prior. She wraps Jungkook in a hug. “You’re so handsome with your haircut!” she says.

You roll your eyes hard, placing the bouquet of flowers down on the kitchen table.

“Thank you.” Jungkook beams at the compliment. 

“Doesn’t he look handsome, Y/N?” your mother then turns to you.

You glance at Jungkook whose eyes are looking at you along with your mothers. His eyebrows wiggle - he was enjoying this entirely.

“I seen better.”

Your mother gasps at your words and Jungkook only laughs because he knows your true feelings. 

“It’s not like she had a lot of boyfriends. She was always so mean to the opposite sex.” your mother tells Jungkook with a shake of her head. “I don’t know how you deal with her.”

You’re taken aback for a moment, your ears perking at the conversation. 

“Y/N knows she can’t run me away.” Jungkook says to your mother. “I know how to deal with her just fine.”

Your eyes widen slightly at Jungkook’s words, your lips forming into a thin line. You shake your head at Jungkook - you didn’t need him insinuating anything sexual.

“You have to treat him right, Y/N. He’s such a sweetheart!” your mother turns to look at the bouquet of flowers with a huff, trying to rack her brain and remember when was the last time she received one.

“Jungkook’s not going anywhere.” you snort. “Is dinner almost done?”

“Yes!” your mother rounds the corner to go towards the stove. 

“Right.” you turn to Jungkook. “I’m gonna go wash my hands.”

“I will, too.” Jungkook follows close behind you, his eyes glancing around the walls as you walk down the hallway - there’s pictures of you and your brother from different stages of life and some family pictures.

You open the door to the bathroom and venture inside, flicking the light on. “Don’t let my moms words get to your big ass head.”

Jungkook follows behind you, closing the door slightly. You turn on the water and begin washing your hands. “I will. She called me handsome.”

You roll your eyes. “She makes it seem like you’re trapped.”

“Never!” Jungkook wraps his arms around you, his eyes on your reflection in the mirror just as you were finishing drying your hands. “I’m here willingly.” Jungkook’s lips place themselves on the nape of your neck and he kisses it. “You already said it. I’m not going anywhere.”

You bite your lip and turn off the faucet and wave your hands a bit to get the excess water off. You know what Jungkook is doing - you aren’t a fool. Him kissing your neck in this exact spot isn’t something innocent. “My parents are literally in the other room.” you sigh. 

Jungkook now has his arms wrapped around you, him standing directly behind you. One hand holds you in place by your waist while the other roams upwards. He grips your breast teasingly before placing it on your neck. 

“I just want a kiss.” Jungkook responds innocently - and you know it’s all a facade. 

“It always starts with you wanting a kiss.” you grumble. Jungkook’s breath is warm against your neck. “Then it ends with-“

“You sitting on my face. I’m aware.” Jungkook presses another kiss against your neck. “I just want a kiss, Y/N. That’s all. I promise.”

The hand that lays on your neck rises to your chin and gently, Jungkook pushes it to the right. “Just one.” you murmur, your defensive walls crumbling yet again. You curse yourself because of course Jeon fucking Jungkook was winning the battle.  “Then you have to get the fuck off of me.”

Jungkook laughs at your response. “Of course.”

Jungkook connects your glossy lips to his own and lowly, he groans. He was positive he kissed all of the gloss from your lips - but maybe you put more on when he wasn’t looking. 

The hand on your waist tightens and you know just what Jungkook was thinking. 

“That’s enough.” you murmur weakly, but Jungkook only kisses down your jaw to your neck again. 

“Okay.” Jungkook sighs. “You smell so good.” he compliments. “Taste good too…”

“Stop.” you respond firmly. You were a whore for praises - and Jungkook knows this. Even if you would insult him or call him a simp, it wouldn’t faze the man because he knows that deep down, you enjoy it.

“Stop what? Complimenting you?” Jungkook snickers. 

“I know what you’re trying to do.” you argue. “You want to-“

The door to the bathroom - which was never closed to begin with, just cracked - slams open. Immediately, you and Jungkook are startled, jumping away from one another and turning around to see just who had made their presence known.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Immediately, your shoulders relax at the sight of your niece - for someone so young and only the age of 8, she was a lot to handle. Oftentimes you’d forget that you were the adult in the situation, bickering with her whenever and would be confused to be her older sister when out in public instead of her aunt. 

“Why are you here?”

“Rude.” she murmurs, crossing her arms. “My dad says we’re here to meet your boyfriend.”

Jungkook looks at the small child and instantly, he sees you. He blinks between the two of you, slightly amused at the sight and also afraid to speak.

“How does-” you sigh, already knowing the answer. You’re sure your mother had told him about dinner, invited not only him, but his children - especially his oldest child - to torment you further. “-this is Jungkook.” you sigh, waving lazily. She was going to pry into your life until you gave her what she wanted. 

“Jung…kook…” she says his name, looking up at the taller man. “Okay.”

Jungkook watches as your niece turns away and skips down the hall.

“Wow she’s-” Jungkook begins.

“Annoying?” you snort, turning towards him. 

“I was going to say just like you. So cute.” Jungkook snickers.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook.

There’s something about the way Jungkook looks right now.

Of course, the hair. The cut looks amazing on him and somehow appears even hotter than usual. The tattoos and piercings are always a plus - but that wasn’t it.

Jungkook’s holding your nephew. He’s only one and in the stage that he’s learning how to walk. Your mother and father are chatting amongst each other and your brother and you had just got done having a heated debate about if tomato was a fruit or a vegetable.

Somehow, your niece managed to sit directly beside Jungkook and talk his ear off about everything and nothing at the same time, and the man appeared entirely too intrigued about her meaningless conversation. And with how interested his sister looked with Jungkook, only made your nephew be, as well, crawling over and demanding to be picked up and sat in his lap.

Maybe that was it - the way Jungkook looked holding your nephew. He wasn’t a baby, but he looked smaller than he truly was in Jungkook’s arms. He appears utterly content being held by the stranger and Jungkook allows him to play with the rings on his fingers while he listens to your niece talk.

You glance away from the scene for a moment to collect your thoughts, grumbling something under your breath.

“He must really like you.” your mother’s words have you coming back to reality. “He doesn’t really like being held.”

You frown at the sight of Jungkook and your nephew now because it was causing a weird pull in your heart that has your mind racing at what in the world it could be. 

Your brother and you make eye contact, both knowing where your mother was going with this.

“Do you want kids, Jungkook?”

You groan with a roll of your eyes. “Mother-”

“Yes, I do.” Jungkook answers immediately. He bounces your nephew on his leg, his hand being tugged by the toddler. “Maybe two one day.”

Don’t entertain her, you want to tell Jungkook. Your mother would never stop digging deeper and asking more questions. 

“Oh, really? When do you two-”

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there.” you intervene, body flushing with heat. You take a sip of your water before continuing. “Mother, please.”

To your mother, the sooner you and Jungkook started a family, the better. She was growing to like him and that meant that she would be pushing the act of marriage and having children with you more often - even before you finished college. 

“I’m just saying,” your mother is quick to defend herself. “Jungkook looks like he’s amazing with children.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook because now you were never going to hear the end of this.

Your brother is amused with the interaction as it reminds him when he was in your shoes with his current wife that his mother had adored similarly to Jungkook. 

“I’ll have to ask Y/N to marry me first.” Jungkook chuckles. “Getting her to be my girlfriend was a challenge alone.”

“Good luck getting me to say yes.” you grumble, crossing your arms. You try to be as offish as you could be to get the thoughts out of your head - the thoughts of Jungkook holding a cute baby that possibly looked exactly like him.

A baby with big doe eyes…

A baby with squishy cheeks…

A baby with a wide toothless grin smiling up at you…

Oh fuck, you think. This feeling couldn’t be baby fever. That could not be what you were feeling while watching Jungkook and your nephew - surely not. The last thing you ever wanted was a child - especially not with him. No, you need to push out all the thoughts of that. There’s no way you’d imagine how good of a father Jungkook would be; how attentive and kind and loving - 

You want to gag and your eyes glare at the culprit - Jungkook’s eyes already on you and his lips twitching upward as if he knows what you’re thinking right now.

“Fuck Jeon Jungkook.” you say aloud accidently, fully intending on saying it in your mind and hoping it would telepathy transfer to the man.

“Y/N!” Jungkook only laughs as your mother goes to scold you, your brother following suit.

“Y/N, I have to buy it for her!” Jungkook pleads with wide eyes. “She called me Uncle!”

“Can’t you tell she’s playing you?” you sigh with a shake of your head. “She’s 8. She doesn’t even call me her aunt.”

“Maybe if you bought her a Barbie dream house she would.” Jungkook says, turning his phone around to show you said dream house your niece had asked for at dinner. 

You blink a few times to process Jungkook’s words and then you shake your head once more. “You already bought it, didn’t you?” you ask suspiciously. When Jungkook doesn’t respond, your eyes widen. “You’re unbelievable. How could you let a child play you?”

Jungkook places his phone onto his bed and follows you into the bathroom. “But she called me Uncle…” he trails off. 

“She did that because she knows how soft you are.” you roll your eyes, kicking off your clothes and begin to turn on the shower. “She already has one.”

Jungkook isn’t fazed. “I know. She told me.” he says. “But this one is bigger.”

You should have known Jungkook would fall victim to your niece. She could be sweet when she wanted to, and cutesy. Of course, that was before she ran your pockets dry with whatever doll, dollhouse or slime she desired.

And all she had to do was call Jungkook uncle - she could smell the weak ones a mile away.

“When we have a daughter, Y/N, you can’t be jealous when I buy her things.” Jungkook says jokingly - it’s only done to get a reaction out of you. 

You turn around hastily to glare at Jungkook, body heating up. “I’m not-”

“I don’t want to hear anything else you have to say.” Jungkook interrupts. “Let’s take a shower without you denying me our future.”

Jungkook proceeds to strip as you enter the shower and goes to do the same. “Does the water have to be this hot?” he murmurs. 

“Yes.” you respond without saying anything further. If he wanted to shower with you it was something he was going to have to deal with.

Jungkook stands behind you, hands on your shoulders. He begins to rub them, enjoying how close he gets to be to you. “You have work tomorrow?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah.” you respond, eyes fluttering close. The water burns heavenly against your skin as Jungkook’s hands work on your shoulders. “I don’t wanna go.”

“You don’t have to.” Jungkook suggests, working his hands to your neck. “We can just stay in bed together.”

You snort. “There you go again trying to get me to leave my job.”

“You constantly talk about the co-worker twice your age arguing with you.”

“Because,” you turn around so fast that Jungkook flinches. “the bitch had the nerve to tell me that I was wrong when I was told to stock the shelves!”

The water is burning Jungkook’s skin and he contemplates if he should have showered with you today - but nonetheless, he places his hands back onto your shoulders, you now facing him. 

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods quickly, because if he didn’t then you’d revert your anger towards him for losing track of what you were saying. “Fuck her. I bet she’s just jealous of you.” it’s always safer to agree with you than disagree.

Your shoulders relax and you close your eyes. Jungkook watches you, just wondering how your body can stand such hot water trailing down your skin.

Naked skin…

Such soft naked skin, gentle to the touch. Warm skin that he loves touching and rubbing…

“Is that your dick against my thigh?” you ask without opening your eyes because you know the answer. 

“I can’t help it.” Jungkook quips. “You look so beautiful…” he trails off, slightly embarrassed that it doesn’t take long for him to get hard.

You open your eyes and look at Jungkook, blinking away the droplets of water. You would usually say something snarky - how obsessed he was with you. But in the end, you and he already knew as such - and he would always agree with your words.

So instead, you smile - a genuine smile that has Jungkook’s cheeks burning and his cock hardening even more.

“You’re so cute.” you tell Jungkook, placing your hands on his chest. You rub up and past his shoulders, to his neck and then his cheeks. You gently pull on them. “So, so, cute.”

“I’m a man.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, but he allows you to tease him as much as you’d like. “Men can’t be cute.”

“Sure they can.” you snort. “You’re cute.” you place your hands on his shoulders once more. “Like a little puppy always humping my leg.”

Jungkook releases a deep laugh at your words. He brings you closer to him, wrapping you into an embrace. 

“I got you a gift.” you say after a few moments of being in Jungkook’s arms. “I hid it under the bed since you don’t look under there often.”

Jungkook hums. “You got me a gift?” he asks. “I wasn’t expecting one.”

“Of course you weren't.” you retort. “You always buy me things…I figured I should get you a little christmas gift.” you say, suddenly nervous.

Jungkook nods his head. “Thank you.” he murmurs. “I got you something-”

“You have to be kidding me.” you groan, pushing away from him slightly. “I told you not to buy-”

“I didn’t!” Jungkook shakes his head hastily, chuckling at your reaction. You had insisted on Jungkook not wasting any more money during the holiday season - even if he never truly listened to you. “I actually made you something.”

You furrow your brows and tilt your head. Jungkook’s not lying, you note. “Made me something…?” you’re skeptical of what Jungkook had made you. He’s artistic you know, very creative in his own right - it was one of the reasons as to why you got him the gift you did.  “Thank you.” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “My mom’s convinced that I’ll have you running away soon if I don’t treat you right.”

“You treat me just right.” Jungkook hums, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I know how to handle you.”

Jungkook’s hands hold your waist. 

“Besides, I promised your mother that I’ll give her adorable grandchildren-”

“You always know how to ruin the moment, huh?” you grumble. 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I saw the look in your eyes…” Jungkook turns you around, your back to him. He holds you close against his body, hands roaming your own. “...I know baby fever when I see it.”

“Fuck you.” you hiss - that comes off more like a moan. Jungkook’s hands are now groping your breast in his hands, the hot water burning your skin and causing even more arousal to run through you. 

“It’s okay to admit, baby. I think I’d be a hot dad.” Jungkook jokes, his lips on your neck. “But that won’t happen until after we’re married.”

“As if I’d say yes.”

“You will.” Jungkook hums, teeth grazing the skin of your neck. “That won’t be until we’re both ready, though. Until then…”

Jungkook’s hand trails between your legs, fingers rubbing gently onto your clit. His free hand places itself onto your neck to lean your head back against him. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” you moan, Jungkook’s fingers twirling around your clit. He forces your legs apart so he can feel even more of you. “You are, too.”

“Pretty?” Jungkook chuckles, licking his lips. “Thank you.”

“...’want you.” you moan, your hand gripping his wrist.  “Don’t wanna wait.”

“You’re always impatient.” Jungkook snorts.

“We still have the entire night.” you say, removing Jungkook’s fingers from your clit.  You bring Jungkook’s hand towards your lips and bring his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirls onto his fingers, knowing that the act would drive Jungkook wild. 

Jungkook groans and without warning, presses you to the shower wall. You yelp at feeling the cold tile, but don’t complain. You just needed Jungkook inside of you now.

“You’re so pretty.” Jungkook whimpers, entering his cock inside of you. “So perfect for me.”

Your hands hold onto the tile walls for support as Jungkook goes deeper into you. 

Jungkook shudders, one hand on your waist and the other above your hand on the wall. He starts slow, enjoying the way your pussy takes him so good. There’s something about how tight you always are that drives him crazy - how wet and warm and willing you are for him. He could never get tired of it.

“Feels so good.” you whimpered and it’s enough for Jungkook to pick up the pace. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook presses his lips against your shoulder blades. “I love the way you feel.”

Jungkook plunges deeper inside of you, his only thought right now was to cum and make you cum with him. 

Jungkook’s teeth lightly bite down on your shoulder blade, short breaths releasing from his lips.  He places his fingers back onto your clit - he loves giving you double the pleasure. 

You bite your lips hard - fuck Jeon Jungkook and his hands never staying off of your clit. He always made it difficult for you to remain snippy with him, especially when he fucks you so good. 

As for Jungkook, his fingers never cease their rubbing. There’s something about your moans that often sets him off - to always want to pleasure you until the very end of it all.

Jungkook thrusts into you a little harder; more needily. Over the sound of the running shower water, Jungkook’s thrust is heard. Skin slapping echo throughout the bathroom, the burning sensation of the water he has since grown accustomed to.

“My pretty girl,” Jungkook breaths. “I’ll have to propose to you in the middle of fucking you.”

“Shut-” your words are interrupted with Jungkook removing his cock out of you to crash right back inside, pressing you firmly against the wall.

“Eventually you’d admit just how much you like me, baby. But I’ll never be going away.”

“S-Shut up.” you hiss against the wall, feeling Jungkook’s palm tighten its hold onto your hand. “I do like you.”

Jungkook snorts. “I know, baby.” is all he says before he continues to ram deep inside of you, his focus now fully on cumming - the quicker he did, the quicker he and you could do this again later.

Your walls, so humid and velvety, are preparing to milk him for everything - and he was preparing to give them to you. They twitch around his cock so lovingly and he knows you want him to cum in you like he always does.

“Please,” you whimper, pussy clenching tightly around his cock that Jungkook couldn't help but choke. “please cum in me.”

Jungkook doesn’t know when the last time you begged him to cum in you in such a way, but that didn’t matter to him. He was going to give you what you wanted like he always did; it never took much convincing. He closes his eyes, mind wandering in how full he could make you with his cum.

How beautiful you’d look full of his cum…

How your skin would have a flushed glow to it…

How perfect you would look with a rounded stomach…

“Fuck…!” Jungkook cums the hardest he’s ever had, surprised with himself at his own thoughts of you. He twitches, unable to let you go and fully unaware that his hand that once cupped your waist instead cupped your stomach.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook, Jungkook thinks himself.

Series Masterlist

@minaamhh @suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 @busanbby-jjk @joonlover1207 @hollowtree11 @amberpanda99 @parkinglot-nights @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @hoseokteardrop @jingerbreadoutofstock @subtaegguk

[astonmartinii]

big girls do(n't) cry | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: reader x charles leclerc

charles' gf just can't seem to catch a break

yourinstagram

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 201,876 others

yourinstagram: weekend breaking with the girlypops

view all 17,546 comments

leclercbaby: so charles is racing in miami and y/n is out spending his money with her friends?

ynandcharles: you know she has a job right? and a life outside of charles?

charlesdefender: let's not pretend her little writing gig covers all of this shit

charles_leclerc: lovely lady

yourinstagram: why thank you my dashing gentleman

ferrarigirl16: imagine dating an elite athlete and smoking? it's so gross charles needs to drop her asap

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 612,088 others

charles_leclerc: friday feeling in monaco 🇲🇨

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babygirlpierre NO Y/N ??? DON'T GET ME EXCITED

holacarlos55 do you people not have jobs or ?

yourusername what do they put in the water in monaco woooooof

charles_leclerc says the tall glass of water herself

justleclercthings let's not pretend that her missing his home gp isn't a HUGE deal omg

lordperceval i usually don't care about wag drama but like ... we all know y/n is the worst wag, right? she hardly comes to races, is always spending his money with her friends and is smoking as if he doesn't need to be in top condition?

likedbypierregasly you might have a point

yourusername

liked by yourbff, landonorris and 231,887 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourbff1, yourbff2, yourbff3

yourusername: you didn't think i'd forgotten about monaco, did you?

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cl16x mother back to mothering as she should

charlesstan okay well some of y'all are real quiet now

charles_leclerc wouldn't be a monaco race without you (and your stray cats)

yourbff since we're staying at your house i'll keep what i wanted to say to myself

yourbff2 meow bitch

yourusername don't pretend you don't love us

peargasly why can't she go anywhere without her friends it's so weird

pierregaslight because she obviously has no friends in the paddock any time the camera goes to the ferrari garage no one is ever with her

grussy63 she seems super annoying idk what charles sees in her

f1wagsupdates

liked by gatekeepgaslightgirlboss, babyricc3 and 1,276 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: y/n y/ln at the release party for her new book sharp objects! this is her third book and it's already a new york times best seller, so happy for her

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howdyricciardo so everyone who gets on her ass when she can't go to races but where's the same energy for charles now - we all know they have the week off cause he's on holiday with pierre.

landonowins it's such a double standard

number16 i still think she's bad for charles her actually doing her job won't change my mind

charlesbaby can't wait for the day when she won't be on this page anymore

perceval16 these comments ... they're on every post i really think charles needs to say something at this point, he's just hanging y/n out to dry

yourusername added to their story

[caption: lonesome love. i am bored by his heroism, virtue, and honour. i think the best these men can do is not talk about themselves anymore]

yourbff

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 4,198 others

tagged: yourusername

yourbff: since no one else will, LISTEN UP SLUTS!!! this girl is the most talented and kind-hearted girl in the whole entire world. ANYONE would be lucky to be with her, so it honestly BAFFLES my mind that those blessed enough to be with her are so silent when his so-called fans rip a person they do not know apart on social media. i say this sincerely GET A LIFE!!! also she's the sexiest girl in the world and could have literally anyone she wants so PICK UP THE SLACK OR we'll activate operation hot girl summer - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

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yourbff1 @charles_leclerc

yourbff2 @charles_leclerc

yourbff3 @charles_leclerc

yourusername i love you all so much - platonic soulmates for real

danielricciardo @charles_leclerc

charlieleclerc oh wow charles just got humbled

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 1,087,556 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: i've not been the best of boyfriends in recent weeks, so it is time i say my piece. y/n is the most talented, patient and beautiful individual i have ever met and i won't stand for her being attacked on social media by my "fans". you are not a fan of mine if you attack my girlfriend. i love her and nothing an anonymous comment can say will ever change that. you attack her for not "supporting" me enough and yet none of you know anything from behind the scenes (not that you should need to), if anything i have been the unsupportive one. i love y/n so so much and i will do anything to make sure she knows it. please stay out of our business.

comments disabled on this post.

yourusername

liked by yourbff, charles_leclerc and 101,775 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: he's mine. cry more.

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lilacleclerc i love them so much PARENTS

danielricciardo WHOOP TELL EM'

charles_leclerc love you too baby

yourusername i love you more

landonorris mic drop

myloveleclerc finally !!!

dutchlion i'm so glad he finally said something - and also me if i were a wag CRY MORE

note: bit of a random one but alas i hope y'all enjoy

[ladykailitha]

So I saw this on Facebook and thought it would make a great Steddie fic.

Now the jewelry screams Eddie, but I think that this is bouncer Eddie and drunk Stevie, having been broken up with for the hundredth time and just wanting to get blackout drunk.

Modern AU. Robin is off visiting family when this happens and strictly forbade him from going out. But Steve is out of ice cream and fucks to give so he goes out.

He gets steadily more wasted as the night goes on. He's not even flirting with the hot bartender Chrissy. Which she thinks should feel insulted by, but just really feels sorry for him.

He's a weepy drunk and it's not long afterwards that she cuts him off before he scares off her tips.

She calls over one of their bouncers to get this guy out from under her bar.

Eddie lopes over and picks him up.

They try to get ahold of some of his other friends but they aren't answering, which considering it's well after midnight, Eddie really doesn't blame them for.

But he has a hot mess on his hands and no place to stash him. So he talks to his boss who lets him off early to take care of Steve. Who is definitely NOT sober enough to tell him his address and because he's been kicked out by his girlfriend his wallet really doesn't help (he had been staying at Robin's).

So Eddie takes him home and of course about half way up the stairs to his apartment, Steve empties his stomach EVERYWHERE. All over Eddie's boots, the stairs, but most importantly all over himself.

He manages to make it to his apartment and carefully strips him down to his underwear and socks, removing everything including some small jewelry. He throws the clothes in the washer and then sets about cleaning up any vomit that might still be on the guy and tucks him into bed.

Then he goes about cleaning the vomit up from the hall, he cleans his boots and sets them to dry on the balcony.

Then Eddie starts preparing for the this poor guy's inevitable hangover. Painkillers and water on the nightstand, phone plugged in with a spare charger he had. Wallet and keys next the jewelry in the drawer.

He puts some warm clothes in the top drawer of the dresser, towels on the toilet seat, and making sure there is coffee ready to be brewed for the guy when he wakes up.

Then he goes to sleep himself and wakes up to find the guy still out cold and he has to go to his day job. He feeds Dio his breakfast and takes him out to do his business, but when he comes back and still the guy hasn't woken up. So he types up the note and sets it on the nightstand over top of the guy's phone and heads out.

Two hours later, Steve wakes up to find the worst hangover he's ever had and that includes to the time Robin and Steve decided to do a drinking tour of the world and didn't know you were supposed to spit out after tasting.

He also almost naked and is really freaking out, hoping he didn't have some one night stand because Robin would murder him a second time, after killing him for going out when she told him not to.

Then he sees the note and his heart melts a little at being taken care of then immediately kicks up to 100mph when he realizes who his rescuer is.

The hot bouncer he flirted with the get in the club in the first place.

Shit, shit, shit.

He really needs to leave and needs all of his stuff before he can do that so he reads the note again and re-reads the last paragraph again and again.

Shower, Netflix and doggo? Hmm...

He doesn't work today, that's why he went out drinking in the first place. He could call an Uber to meet him at the main street in the note...

Or...

He could spend the day in comfort and security for once in his life.

He takes the second option and has a lovely time with Dio and messaging Robin.

She's still going to murder him but she's glad he's safe.

Then the owner of said apartment shows up and Steve is really glad he stayed.

They order in and get to know each other a bit more and when he finally gets back to his car and home, he's got a name and a number with the possibility of a date.

Robin absolutely hates his luck. Even more so when she meets Eddie because he's perfect for Steve.

It becomes her funny story at their wedding two years later.