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omgeto · 1 year ago

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☆ R U GONNA STAY THE NIGHT? — fratboy!GETO SUGURU

summary:geto suguru, 'top dog' on campus, is used to ploughing through all the ditzy little freshmen without any concern for their feelings. but now his biggest challenge, is you, and it's not getting you in his bed, its getting you to stay in it.

wc: 4k (look guys I did it)

cw: afab!reader, all types of fucking, masturbation, you ride his dick, you ride his face, he gives you like two spanks, he's kinda whiny but then at the same time not. you both think you're the boss of this situationship and you are both wrong. MDNI slight angst if you squint, or maybe angst angst idk

an: first fic in 10 days, is this what you call a comeback? idk but I hope you enjoy whatever this is I TRIED OKAY I TRIED! Also thanks bae @kazushawty for betaing some and bullying me in our chats

sleeping with a frat bro wasn’t on your to do list during your freshman year, but there is something about geto suguru that you just can’t shake. you thought that you were one of many, after hearing all the rumours about him that spread throughout campus and that didn’t phase you as long as he could get you off, you didn’t care what else he did. but little did you know he is all about you and he is finally gonna let that be known tonight.

"excuse me," a whisper brushes against your ear, a deep, low hum that sends shivers down your spine. hands press lightly on your waist, shifting you ever so slightly. you glance over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowing when you realise there is more than enough room for the person to pass. it's geto suguru, and you shoot him a withering glare.

"what's the problem?" he asks, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he observes the hard look you're giving him. but instead of answering, you simply turn away, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

geto, undeterred by your cold response, takes a step closer. his presence is magnetic, and you can feel the heat of his body inches from yours. the music pulses around you, the crowd dancing and laughing, but all you can focus on is him.

“y’know me” he leans in, his breath warm against your ear, and his voice drops to a seductive murmur. "can’t resist the opportunity to get a little closer to you."

“oh fuck off geto,” you hiss, but your words had no real bite, you move your elbow to try and deter him but his stance remains fixed behind you.

“you’re a hard woman to please,” he sighs, with mock sadness, “but as frat president i can’t have one of my party guest having a bad time at one of my parties can i?”

“maybe you just aren’t trying hard enough,” you retort quickly, finally turning around to face him head on, a teasing smirk appearing on your face, “what would you know about pleasing me?”

“i think we both know what i know about pleasing you,” he offers his hand out, “c’mon let me show you a good time.” you hesitate, seeing the spark in his eyes and he puts his hand out further, urging you to take it. you close your eyes swiftly, taking a deep breath before letting him drag you into the crowd of people.

geto hand remains a reassuring hold as he drags you through the sea of intoxicated dancers. he pulls you into him, his dick already bricked up as brings it to your ass, your turn your head and raise your eyebrow, and he flashes a smile in return his hands sliding down to hold your hips as he starts to gyrate against you. you quickly match his pace, throwing back your ass, your hips swaying in time with geto and the music.

he places his hand at the small of your back, forcing you to bend slightly, as he widens his stance and forces his body into your further. your mouth parts, at the contact, and you smile at the feeling — geto suguru actually has rhythm. he’s quick to pull you up, peppering light kisses against your face as he grinds into you.

his arm hooks around your neck in a gentle but firm hold, as he bends down to your ear, his lips whispering words only meant for you, as he continues to rub his clothed dick in the crook of your ass. geto manoeuvres his hands up and down your body, his fingers teasingly toying with your tits, as he explores all you, right on the dance floor.

you could feel the heat between your legs grow, so you pull away from geto turning around to face him, his hands coming down to hold you close to him as if he was afraid you'd run away. “not bad huh?” he asks, knowing that you feel the exact same as he does, you both didn’t even notice all the eyes on you, as the crowd of partygoers just witnessed you almost fuck on the dance floor.

before you could even respond, you could feel the wind being knocked out of you as a broad chest collides right into you. geto keeps you upright, so you don’t fall on your ass and places you behind him as he steps to the person responsible for almost knocking you over.

as the fog of the moment clears, you see the cause of the commotion—gojo satoru, geto's best friend, is in a blissful state of drunkenness, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"heeeeyy, suguru," gojo greets loudly, his bleary eyes darting between the two of you. "is this you, yeah?" his words slur slightly, but it's clear he's trying to figure out the situation. geto doesn't respond verbally, but the subtle smirk on his face and the bashful look on yours speak volumes. "you know what we could do to make this night greater," gojo announces with an exaggerated flourish.

geto sighs, on a usual day he’s all up for entertaining his friend but tonight all he wants to do is entertain you. “what is it satoru?”

“shots!” he cheers, looking around the room to be completely ignored, in too much of a drunken state to even notice, “c’mon sugu, you love shots, you can even bring this pretty little thing you’ve got with you.” he finishes, gojo’s eyes linger on you a little too long as he sizes you up, his bottom lip pulling into his teeth and all you could do is raise your eyebrows up at him, puzzled.

“bro,” geto commands, and gojo’s eyes snap to his friends as he raises his hand in mock surrender, “just take us to the fucking shots.” the subtle tension between the two guys didn't go unnoticed by you, but you brush it off, chalking it up to frat boys being frat boys.

it was soon forgotten anyways, with you sprawled across a table of the frat house, drunken partygoers jeering at you as your shirt is half pulled up just stopping at your breast and gojo is cheering as he’s sprinkles salt on you and lines your stomach with shots.

“care to do the honours,” gojo taunts geto as he finishes pouring the final shot. geto sends a glare his way ignoring him as he makes his way over to you, giving you a long stripe of his tongue down your stomach, before quickly downing all the shots on your stomach, his eyes stuck on you. gojo offers him a lime, which he snatches straight out of his hands. gojo tuts, shaking his head, “someones touchy.” and just to add fuel to the fire, gojo has his own lick at your stomach, more slower and sensual then geto’s was, and he pours himself a shot, giving you a wink as he drinks it.

“what the fuck man?” geto interrogates, stepping to his friend, slightly wobbling as the shots he just backed in swift succession, hit him quickly.

“what’s wrong suguru?” gojo teases with a playful grin, he wasn’t dumb he knew who you were before he even saw you, geto talks about you all the time. so when gojo finally saw you with him, with geto still downplaying how he hard he actually fucks with you, he couldn’t help but fuck with his friend a bit, “you jealous?”

“don’t even start with me ‘toru,” geto warns, and you begin to sit up with an eye roll, you couldn’t deny you were a bit tipsy, but no amount of alcohol could make you bear to see this lame exchange of fray boy bravado.

“oh whats your issue man,” gojo brushes him off, going to pour himself another drink, but geto is hot on his tails. “bro we literally always share the hot freshmen, what makes her any different.”

“because she just is,” geto snaps, in an attempt of a hush tone but you hear him loud and clear.

“i think i’m going to go,” you say out loud, and geto hears you pausing, slightly panicked. forgetting all about gojo his focus back onto you.

“no no, you don’t have to leave, we were having a good time right?” he stammers, rushing to persuade you stay. you couldn’t deny that you were having a good time, geto suguru is actually fun to be around, and the way he was staring at you, begging for you just stay with him, hits you right in your core. he pulls you close to him as he murmurs to you, “i know you felt what i felt when we were dancing, just give me a chance and like i said earlier i could really show you a good time. if you let me.”

geto just wanted to get you alone, he could see that the heavy noise of the club was clearly not your vibe, but he couldn’t let you leave just yet. he offers out his hand just like he did at the start of the party, but this time you didn’t hesitate to take it. letting him cart you off upstairs as you both ignore that wolf whistles coming from gojo, “you better get some suguru, go and get some for the both of us!”

when you get up into geto’s room, you try to disregard the slew of people strung out in different rooms across the house. but geto was confident, he had no reason not to be with you in his arms, wanting him just as badly as he wants you.

“c’mere,” he beckons you, as he sits down, patting down his thigh. you happily skip over to him, perching yourself right on his thigh, your arms hooking around his neck, your hands clasping together, locking him in. you face inches closer to his, your lips part ready to taste him but he halts you, smirking as he says “you're cute, y’know that right?”

“how so?” you ask, entertaining him with an eye roll.

“you always sit in class with me, trying to act all bothered by my presence,” he comments, “but turns out all it takes is for you to come to one of my parties, and for you to dance with me, to get you cumming in my lap… literally.”

“are we gonna fuck?” you say bluntly, catching him off guard, “or are you gonna continue to talk nonsense.” even though he wasn’t talking nonsense, he was right, tonight really did change your perspective on geto. but you weren’t dumb he was the president of the frat, and his best friend gojo’s comments earlier only further cemented the type of people frat guys are.

you press your lips against his before he has a chance to respond, your tongue darting in his mouth as he moulds into you. one of his hands works its way down your body whilst the other stays caressing your face. you groan against him, driving yourself against his thigh, your clothed cunt, already dripping just from the friction alone.

“you getting off on my thigh yeah?” he teases between kisses, and you nod, desperately pushing yourself into him. he hikes you up further, his lips still moving in tandem with yours, and he spreads you into lap so you could properly straddle him. you both had quick movements, both of you are needy and wanting of the other. geto’s hands slide down your back and keep your ass in a firm hold as you begin to rock against him.

geto pulls away from you, his lips already plump from the way you’ve been gnawing at them. you pout at the removal but he laughs, “patience, princess.” but you ignore him your hands darting into his pants, ready to free his dick and land it, but he places his hand on your wrist, his eyebrows raising in warning, “what did i just say?”

“to take out your dick and sit on it right?” you shrug coyly, chuckling at your joke, and he smiles, but the warning in his eyes doesn’t leave.

“strip,” he commands, the single word having you folding like a chair, as you fling off your clothes leaving you in your underwear. he pulls you by the waistband of you panties, ripping them off you in one swift motion, biting his lip as he’s met with your wet pussy. “she’s so pretty,” he comments, flicking at your clit and as he slides his finger down your slit, just about to enter he pauses, putting his finger in his mouth instead of in you. he swirls it around his tongue, “sweet.”

“suguru,” you whine, at his teasing, “this isn’t funny.”

“play with yourself,” he says, disregarding whatever you were saying.

“what happened to you giving me a good time,” you argue.

“c’mon show me how bad you want it,” he persuades with a grin, leaning back, waiting for you to put on a show for him, “i’ll make it worth your while.”

despite everything, you could just never tell geto, no. it’s the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, how he carries himself. with how he is just leaning back in his bed, his eyes low in anticipation as he waits for you to pleasure yourself for him, exciting you to do whatever he wants.

your hand works its way down to your pussy, your thumb landing on your clit rubbing against it as your finger part your sobbing cunt, letting geto see how wet you really are for him. “f-fuck,” you moan out, as you push your fingers inside of you, your eyes clenching shut at the contact.

“oi,” geto calls out to you, your eyes opening and landing on him, “keep your eyes on me. okay?” and you nod, as you quicken your pace, watching as geto palms his dick at your performance.

“this is boring,” you complain as you continue to rub at your pussy, trying your best to reach your climax on your own, “need your fingers, need your di—”

“keep going,” he orders, smirking, he could tell by the way your stance weakens and your legs tremble, that you were close. you were predictable and even though you were hungry for his dick, he knew you’d be able to cum with just your fingers and his eyes on you. call him cocky, but the influence he had over you was unmatched.

you roll your eyes at him, but you listen, continuing to finger yourself as he told you. your mouth parts, and you exhale feeling yourself about to cum, you push your digits in you harder, and your eyes stay fixated on geto and he shrugs his shoulders letting you do as you please—for once. you moan loudly as you cum all over your fingers, releasing hard as you spill out all down your thighs.

“see wasn’t so hard was it?” he taunts, pulling out his dick that has been hard from the moment he saw you at the party. he gives it a few strokes, pre cum oozing from the tip and you hungrily pounce on him, your pussy still dripping with your cum as you hover over his dick. you pause before sliding down on him, hissing at the feeling of you stretching you wide. “fuck man,” he groans out as he feels you clench over him, “your shit’s so tight.”

you bounce up and down on him, as he thrusts up into you, his hips hitting yours in a hard flurry of repeated connections. you press your hands flat on his chest, as his hands stay cupping your ass, keeping you upright as he drills into you.

his pace is unmatched, as you try and keep up, grinding your pussy down on him, desperate to have him stuff you up even more. “sugu ‘ts too much, f-fuck you’re relentless.”

“c-cant help it,” he stammers, still maintaining his merciless strokes, his dick twitching inside of you, “your pussy is just too good, or should i say my pussy,” he finishes with a wink.

“y-your pussy?” you retort, laughing at his seriousness.

“yeah it’s mine right?” he interrogates, sending a slap to your ass to prompt further confirmation, “tell me it’s mine.” you don’t respond, a teasing smile spreading across your face, as you stare down at him, still riding his dick. but geto pauses, halting your movements and he slightly eases you up off of his dick, “what was that?” he prompts.

“it’s yours,” you give in quickly, not even bothering to entertain it any further with how needy you are to cum, “of course it's yours.” satisfied, geto charges his dick back into you with no warning, and you immediately go back to pushing your ass down on him, spreading your legs wider to straddle him more, taking him in deeper.

“t-that’s all i needed to hear,” he stutters, feeling himself about to cum, so he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before easing you off of him, cumming all over your stomach. you're quick to follow, your cum spraying his sheets, as you slump over him, dripping down on his body. “i made sure to not cum in you this time, i know how angsty you get over that shi.”

“oh how gentlemanly of you,” you deadpan, “all gives love a stomach covered in salt and semen.”

“well what would you prefer? your pussy filled with my cum,” he taunts, smirking as you still, “i know i would.” you didn’t answer pulling your sticky body away from his, as you come down off of your high.

“are you gonna stay the night?” geto asks with a grin it was like clockwork, everytime you finish fucking he’d always ask the same question, never getting bored when you mutter the same tired words.

“you know i don’t sleep in frat houses suguru.”

he shrugs casually, propping himself up on his elbows and admiring your naked figure. "you fuck in them though," he remarks, as if that justified everything, "so what's the difference?"

rolling your eyes, as you begin to do the laborious task of trying to locate your underwear—geto always had the habit of throwing them across the room. "the difference is," you pause, looking over your shoulder at him, "I can wake up tomorrow in my own bed, feeling just a little less gross for even fucking you in the first place."

a mock expression of hurt crosses his face as he crawls up behind you on the bed, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. "oh, how you wound me, princess," he coos, his breath sending shivers down your spine, "just stay."

“no, i shouldn’t” you argue, letting out an exhale as his lips attach to your collarbone, sucking against your skin, pulling and nipping at it with his teeth.

you try to distract yourself by putting on your bra but geto is quick to fling it off you, his mouth trailing down to your tits peppering kisses all over your nipples, murmuring “stay” between each kiss.

he takes your boob into his mouth, sucking on its flesh as his other hand toys with the other, massaging your nipples with just enough roughness to have you writhing in his palms. your back arches involuntarily, your tits pushing further into his touch, aching to feel him further, “see,” he smirks as he toys with you, “you do wanna stay.”

“i won’t, if you keep talking” you warn, gritting your teeth as he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. “now c’mere, convince me on why i should stay,” you lift his head off your tits with your fingers, eyeing him down as he stares back at you with pure lust in his eyes. you press a kiss to his lips before steering his head down towards your pussy.

“since when do you run things?” he doesn’t budge, his eyebrows slightly raise as he chuckles.

“you’re the one that wants me to stay, no?” you counter, your eyes locked with his.

“well what i want is for you to come sit on my face and my head can stay sandwiched between your thighs, how about that?” his grin widens as your mouth parts, speechless. he tugs you by the arm close to the head of the bed, you climb up his body your pussy still wet from he fucked you before, leaking out your juices all over his chest. “so hop on girl, a man’s gotta eat,” he mutters impatiently, smacking your ass to urge you onto his lips.

he takes you in hungrily, his mouth enclosing on your pussy with such greed that he is practically drowning in your scent. he laps at your cunt, his tongue giving such long, deep strokes which have your hands pressing against the walls, grinding down on his face.

geto grips and claws at your ass, he grins, his nose burying into your pussy as your thighs clench tighter around his head. “s-sshit suguru,” your hands slap against the wall as you squeal out, trying to grasp at something to keep you afloat, as the way geto is working your pussy and how his fingers dig into your ass cheeks, has you buckling over about to topple off of him.

he hums against your pussy, the vibrations jolting right through you, having you moan even louder. his tongue darts against your clit, swirling at it vigorously, nipping at it lightly with his teeth.

“sugu i—” you pant, trying to ease off of him, the pleasure getting too much for you, but his hands stroke both your thighs keeping them in place. “bout to cum sugu.”

you could hear him mumble something, you didn’t care what, but the two taps he gave to your thigh let you know you could release all over him. you cry out as you cum, feeling yourself spill out all over his face. geto continues to eat you up, drinking in everything he can take, his chin getting covered by what he couldn’t swallow.

“you are way too good at that.” you gasp as you slowly come up off his face, your breathing still laboured.

“only the best for you princess,” he jests with his eyes half open, a blissful smile on his lips as his tongue swipes at the remains of you left on his face.

“yeah me and all the other freshmen you fuck,” you mutter, to yourself but he heard you loud and clear.

“what was that?” he urges, wanting you to repeat your claims. before you started fucking geto, you knew he was and what he was about and technically you didn’t care, you only wanted him for his mouth game—which proved to be very useful. but when he tries to sweet talk you you couldn’t help but be reminded of what kind of guy he is.

“i think you heard me,” you shrug, “i’m saying it to insult you or anything, i'm just telling the truth. you like to fuck everbody and everything.”

“wait? is this why you won’t stay the night?” he says, sitting up, staring you down.

“you must be only a pretty face, if you thought otherwise,” you laugh at his shock.

“no it’s just i think its crazy that you just won’t stay,” he complains, glaring at you as you put back on your clothes, “we could get to know each other properly.”

“like we agreed when we first started messing around,” you cringe, pitying the pouty look on his face. “let’s just… keep this casual”

“but that was ages ago,” he tries to reason, “some may say you’re just using me for sex.”

“suguru we use each other for sex,” you respond quickly, you step towards him pressing a peck on his pouty lips, with a smirk on your face as you see his lips chasing yours as you pull away, “well i'm gonna go now, i’m sure i’ll see you at one of your many lame parties you and your people always throw. it’s been fun as always” geto raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement, blowing out a hard breath, as he watches you strut out of his bedroom.

“she’ll stay the night eventually.” he murmurs to himself, maybe it’s wishful thinking, but a guy can dream.

AN: she’s only gone and done it. but yeah how was it guys 🥺? There’s only two lines in this whole fic that I actually thought “damn I cooked here” if you guess the lines you win a reward. ALSO IDK WHY I WAS DROPPING HINTS AT SOME GOJO ON SOME MR STEAL UR GIRL TYPE SHIT but I just went with it. But geto is sooo sweet HE JUST WANTS U TO STAY and you don’t even fuckinnn stay 😭😭 looool aren’t u mean. Technically I wrote the fic backwards it was meant to start with the “r u gonna stay the night” AND then gojo and geto would have a a conversation about you AND the it would end w the party and u tucking but I wanted to keep if one continuous flow and ANYWAYS this an is becoming a diary entry so LMK UR THOUGHTS PLEASE CAUSE THIS HAD ME STRETCHED

#stampedwithane★#jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fic #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #jjk angst #geto angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x y/n

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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♡ Forever Only ♡

Week 3 of my Playlist series

Summary: You thought you wouldn't see him again, at least for a while, but Spencer Reid finds you, and he has questions.

Warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni. Penetrative sex, voyeurism, fingering, multiple orgasms, semi-protected sex, creampie, almost breeding kink, like if you squint, slight angst, dom!Spencer Reid.

A/N: First smut of the series! This one is based on one of my top songs of 2023, everyone say thank you, Jaehyun, for releasing the closest K-pop is ever going to get to 00s R&B. I hope you all enjoy it 🥰

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Of all the places you'd been where you thought of Spencer Reid and your paths crossing again, you never expected it to actually happen here.

The club was lit so low, so you didn't really expect it to be him, your ex-something, not quite boyfriend, far from nothing, situationship maybe? But there he was.

Not just him, but all of them. The BAU, minus their bosses, were all dancing and drinking at various points around the club, having fun but still being vigilant.

You're surprised you notice him before he notices you, but you're not surprised that it doesn't take him much longer.

You're not exactly here to blend in with the crowd.

The low-cut dress with the lower-cut bust line is already getting as much attention as you'd expected it would, and that doesn't go unnoticed by Spencer as he finally drags his eyes over to the commotion you've made in the corner.

“I don't know you,” you tried to politely explain to the creep who'd blocked you in with one arm. “I'm just waiting for my friend, please leave me alone.”

“Let's have some fun, baby, you, me, that body you're hiding under those scraps of fabric. I'll make you scream, I promise.”

You'd scoffed the first few times he'd made similar remarks, but he was tenacious, and he didn't understand the word “no,” and was vaguely unfamiliar with “leave,” “me,” and “alone” too.

You'd scanned the room for a friendly face and had locked eyes with the man you'd been waiting six months to meet again. Perfect timing.

Of course, he'd picked up on your discomfort and walked your way, and of course, he'd bought back-up.

“Y/N, you should've sent me a text when you got here!” Emily Prentiss expertly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a hug, as the man was forced to let you move.

“Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked,” you mumbled, still feeling the weight of the creeps gaze on you despite your newly inherited guard dogs.

“Come on over to the table, baby girl, we got bottle service. I'm going big tonight.” You tried to thank Morgan as well, but the smile you sent him didn't reach your eyes as you consciously avoided Spencer's gaze.

“You know these people, babe?” The stranger from behind you put a hand on your waist as he pulled you back a step, leaving you stumbling wide eyed until your back was to his chest, shoulders unconsciously rounding into a protective stance as you tried to shrug hum off.

“For the last time, let go of me. I don't know you, and I don't want to know you. This is your last warning.” You rounded on the man, turned your back to the other three agents, and tried to calm your thoughts to see his next reaction.

“Stuck-up bitch, I said you're coming home with me tonight.”

You made sure his last attempt to grab you was his last attempt to grab any woman as you flipped him onto his back, your fellow agents behind you pulling their guns and handcuffs to helpfully lead him out of his hunting grounds.

You'd hadn't wanted to see Spencer Reid again so soon, and you certainly hadn't wanted to enlist the entire teams help on a serial rape case, but it wasn't your final decision to make.

And honestly, you'd been glad for the help in the take down, with your office so understaffed.

After reading the creep his rights, seizing the date rape drug he'd planned to slip into your drink later that night, and the knives and rope in his card that he was planning to also use on you, you were just thankful that you had all the help you could get.

Now that you were back at the station at 4am, with nothing but aching muscles from handing the nearly 200 lbs man his ass to him on a platters and aching feet from doing it in heels, you wanted nothing else than for the last week to erase itself.

Six months absence from the BAU wasn't long enough to fall out of love with Spencer Reid, and you never thought it would be.

A year was all the time it had taken to fall head over heels for the man, and you'd assumed you could reverse that in the same time, so you'd left.

It wasn't a leave of absence but a strategic departure to a task force in Rapid City, where rape numbers were spiking. You were still doing your job, that was the important part.

You changed into your comfortable clothes in the locker room and grabbed your bag, ready to head out for the night, picking up your keys to head home. You only got two steps out of the room when you ran into him.

“Early start?” He joked, looking at you again with that hesitant half-smile he'd worn the entire week he'd been here.

“Late night.” You replied. It had been a joke you'd developed after so many unusual shifts, so many 3am run-ins where neither of you could find the effort to make actual polite conversation so you'd said the two sentences and sat in amicable silence, often rested against each other as you let exhaustion carry you through the night.

“Can we talk? We're leaving in the morning, and I…” he struggled to find the words, jaw clenching and releasing the way it always did when he couldn't put his emotions into words just yet.

“Sure. But not here. My apartment is a five minute drive.” He nodded and followed you out of the building as you primed your heart to shatter into pieces again.

The drive home was quiet and peaceful, too late for natural traffic, and too early for the morning commute to begin. You made it home in record time and led him inside the apartment you'd chosen.

You flipped the light switch and kept you back to him while you completed your daily routine, trying your best to ignore that he was standing in your doorway. You tried not to be curious about what he could tell about you from the doorway, what the lack of decoration meant, how different it was from that cosy box room three blocks from his apartment, how cold it seemed instead.

So you kept your eyes off him to not have to answer the questions he'd likely have.

“So what did you want to talk about, Spence?” You almost cursed yourself for how easily the nickname slipped from your tongue. You'd heard JJ call him that a few times your first week in the office and assumed it was something everyone used for him. The way he flushed red when you said it the first time was engraved in your head, those first heavy beats of your heart alerting you to oncoming danger.

You grabbed two bottles of water from your fridge and walked back to your living room, where he was still stood taking things in.

“Spencer?” You asked again, holding out the bottle.

He took it with a small smile of thanks, and you led him over to the sofa, urging him to talk again.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“You… you didn't say goodbye.”

You knew this was coming, but you hoped he wouldn't have the courage to ask you the questions you knew were about to arrive at your door.

“I'm coming back in six months, Spencer. I didn't say goodbye because it wasn't going to be goodbye.” You'd turned this excuse over in your brain enough to know it was a weak argument, but you hoped your friendly smile would reassure him.

“You didn't tell anyone you were leaving until you were gone. That hurt a lot.”

“I didn't want to hurt you. Everything was just so fast. I had to take the offer immediately, or they would've moved onto someone else. You understand, right, Spencer?” He sat back, resigned, and nodded again slightly.

But a silence built up as he stared at you, and your hands got all sweaty the way they always did when he paid attention to you. You couldn't just stare everywhere else until he broke the silence again.

“How is Rachel? I haven't heard from her in a while.” You blurted the words under the weight of his gaze.

And you knew you'd said too much in those two sentences.

You'd first introduced Spencer to your college roommate after you realised you were in love with him. You'd spent a year at the BAU, and you thought he felt the same way, too.

You hadn't said anything, but you ate together at his apartment weekly, and you went on outings - dates, you'd thought they were dates - to museums and movies. He'd slept over at your house once, and you'd never felt happier than waking up with his arms wrapped around you.

So, of course, you'd taken him along to a party your friend from college was throwing. You'd nearly introduced him as your boyfriend, and looking back, you were glad Rachel had cut you off before you could.

“Is this the famous Spencer Reid? You're cuter than I thought you'd be.” You saw the flirtatious spark in her eyes, heard her tone, and felt uncomfortable.

You felt even worse when she took his hand and led him off to introduce him to more of your friends without a glance back at you.

For the first hour, you were worried about him, knowing that he never did great in social settings. You contented yourself by catching up with old friends, nursing a glass of wine, and trying not to follow him around the room with your eyes.

You'd given up and sat miserably in the corner for the next hour before you'd decided you wanted to leave. This time you'd had to track him down.

It wasn't that you'd found him in any compromising situation. He was just sat on the couch, smiling and talking to her. But when you said you wanted to go home, and he'd agreed to drive you back, she'd grabbed his hand.

“So Tuesday, 8 pm, right? It's a date." He nodded and said his goodbyes, and you wiped all of the emotion off your face so you didn't break down right there.

He talked to you as he drove back, but you could only nod and hum in response.

You shrugged off his concern as you walked into your apartment alone and let your heart break.

You were in Rapid City the next week.

“Your friend from college? I'm….I'm not sure.” He looked genuinely confused down at you as your lungs capsized in on themselves.

“Oh, right.” You nodded again and forced out a yawn, desperate to get rid of him before he could climb back into your heart again and roost there.

“You didn't keep in touch with her after you moved?”

“We had… a disagreement.” It was a kind way to put what had happened. You'd sent her one text asking her what all of that was at her party, and she'd sent you a paragraph back the day of her date with Spencer calling you pathetic and lonely and jealous. And then she'd blocked your number.

“That sucks. She seemed nice.” You couldn't help but scoff at his words, completely forgetting your plan to ask him to leave. Of course, he thought Rachel was nice. He'd been half in love with her by the end of that party.

“What was that for?” He asked, the words spilling out quickly as his eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing. It's late, Spencer.”

“I don't think it was nothing. Why are you asking me about your friend? Why would I know?” He was on the edge of his seat now, and you needed desperately to put some space between you. You stood up and stretched, moving to clean up a pile of papers you'd left on your coffee table that morning.

“You certainly seemed interested six months ago, Spence. I just assumed there was a second date after that first one. My bad.”

You moved to your kitchen, bit he followed you.

“What do you mean? Y/N?” You weren't listening though, instead organising and cleaning things at a quick pace so your brain didn't have to focus on his question.

“Y/N, look at me. Please.” He stepped closer his chest nearly against your back as his hand found your wrist.

It was involuntary, but you relaxed into his familiar grip, your body finally content, and now it was back in his arms.

“Or don't look at me and just listen to me. I don't know what you're talking about, but I never went on any date with Rachel. I wasn't interested in her like that, I was interested in-” He stopped short, frustration ebbing his voice off as the silent words hung between the two of you.

You finally turned around to look at him, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

He whispered his question again.

“Why didn't you say goodbye?”

“Because my heart was broken, Spencer. Because I took you to meet my friends and I thought I was going to introduce you as my boyfriend, but instead I got ignored the whole night and then you arranged to meet with her and she called it a date. I loved you, I love you and I couldn't say goodbye because then I'd have to hear about it. About how you were happy without me, when I was lonely and broken without you.”

You didn't know you were crying until the tears his your lips. He wiped then away, but they still tasted salty as you licked your lips.

“I didn't come to work for a month,” he confessed. “After you left, I tried to give Hotch my resignation letter. He wouldn't tell me where you went. I came back but it wasn't the same without you.” His forehead rested against yours, noses touching as his words came out barely above a whisper.

“I can't come back, Spencer. Not until I don't feel this way anymore.”

He didn't miss a beat before pressing his lips against yours.

“Don't.” He said between kisses, pinning you against your kitchen counter as he gripped your waist in one hand. You didn't pull away, even as you felt your hot tears flow freely.

“Don't stop loving me. Please.” His voice broke as he pulled you in for a hug, wrapping his arms tight around your back, pinning your hands to his chest as sobs wracked through your body.

You'd held onto this pain for a year and it was all spilling out now.

He looked at you again and started kissing each tear away, lifting you up until your legs were wrapped around him, and he was as close you you as he could possibly be.

“Love me forever. Please.”

You pulled his head away to look at him again, searching for reassurance again that this wasn't going to be one-sided.

“What about you? If I love you forever, which I don't think I have a choice in, how-”

“I love you. I loved you then, I love you now, I will always love you. I don't know how it wasn't clear when I followed you around every second of the day.” He kissed you with each confession, looking angry at himself that he'd never said the words before.

“I asked your friend how I should ask you to be my girlfriend. She had a lot of ideas and said we should meet up and talk about it. I didn't know…” He cursed, not quite as quietly as he'd attempted to. The strangeness of it shocked a laugh out of you, the rumble of it vibrating through your chest. He still held you tightly, but he looked at you again, getting out of his head.

“What's funny?”

“You tried to quit your job to look for me.”

“You moved to South Dakota instead of asking what we were.”

“You kissed me before you told me how you felt.”

“You kissed me back and then you laughed at me.”

“You swore!” You laughed again, and you were sure that he was going to have to put you down this time. You were laughing so much.

Instead he pulled you tighter into his arms and walked out of the kitchen.

“Is this the bedroom?” He asked nodding towards the closed door.

Your laugh quieted at the charged question, until your eyes found his lips as you nodded.

“Good.”

You let him lay you down on the bed before you pulled him in for another kiss, this one more fiery than any you'd shared in the kitchen as he hovered over you on the bed.

“Spencer!” You gasped as his hands trailed under your shirt. You regretted changing out of that small dress now, regretting the amount of fabric between you and him as his hands glided up to your breasts, mouth pressing kiss after kiss into your neck and collarbone.

He nestled his knee between yours and climbed fully over you, pushing your legs open as he showed you where you were going next. You moaned as your back arched into his touch, rubbing yourself against him but still needing him closer.

“I love every sound you make.’ He whispered as his other hand worked its way under the sweatpants you'd thrown on earlier, silently pushing them down your legs as you lifted your hips to help him once again.

His mouth connected with yours again after he got them to your knees, hand pressing flat against your stomach as you finished off the job.

He laid next to you, pulling his lips off your own as you trailed after him. But his eyes weren't on you anymore. You followed his gaze to his hand and watched him slip his fingers under your panties as he began to tease your sensitive parts.

You whimpered slightly as the contact, as he gathered some of your wetness and ran his fingers up and down your sensitive parts.

His lips found your ears. “Just like that. I want to hear you just like that. Whimper for me, Y/N. Beg for me. Let me know how much you want this.”

You gasped as he started rubbing slow even circles around your clit, his body still rolled to the side so he could watch intently the pleasure on your face.

It was near voyeuristic, his eyes focused on your face, the pants of air escaping your lips, the way your nipples had hardened, and had become visible through your shirt.

You hadn't been able to wear a bra with your dress earlier, you wanted to explain, but you couldn't find the words.

“Look at your body reacting to me. You need me to make you feel like this.” He whispered, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss over your clothed nipple. “Right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes Spencer. I need you.”

“Here. Can you feel how much I need you, too?” He grabbed your hand in his free one and pulled it over his erection, instructing you silently on how to hold it and rub it.

“I can feel it, Spencer. Please, please fuck me.” Your voice felt alien to yourself. You'd never had that high of a sex drive before, so you'd never thought you'd ever have to beg for it. But there was something in the tender touch of Spencer's fingers that has you desperate to feel him inside you.

“Do you have condoms?”

“No.”

“Birth control?”

“Yes, yes, please, Spencer. Please, I don't care.” His pace had picked up, his fingers moving slightly rougher than before, but you knew you were close as he kept massaging your sensitive clit.

You knew you were going to cum before you felt him inside you, you knew you'd want to cum again. You were going to be forever insatiable because of this man.

He kissed his way across your skin as he peeled your shirt and his clothes off, leaving your panties for last as he watched you grind your cunt into his fingers.

“I love you,” he whispered In your ear as he stroked his cock, watching your body convulse as you came just at his touch.

He kept his lips close to your ear as he entered you during the throes of your first orgasm, whispering again when he had slid his entire length into you. “And you're mine.”

You were intoxicated by his touch, cum drunk as he began thrusting and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He nipped and sucked at your neck, listening to you moan and whimper as he pulled out and entered you again and again, head thrown back into the sheets of the bed you'd been too eager to climb underneath.

A few minutes of thrusting and he gripped your waist and sat you up on his cock, moving his hands to your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck as he bounced you steadily on his cock.

“Shit, Spencer, you're…so…deep,” you pulled him in closer, burying your head in his neck as you deafened as embarrassing squeal.

You came again on his cock as he used you like a flashlight, his own pants and groans soundtracking your breathless orgasm.

“That's it, good job, Y/N,” he cooed at you, lowering you back onto your back and thrusting shallowly through your convulsions. When you'd recovered slightly again, he gently pushed your legs up, stretching you so your knees were as far back as they could go, splayed open so they were almost touching the bed.

His forehead rested against yours again as he held you in place, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he snapped his hips into you with long, quick thrusts that had you gasping again for the breath he was forcing out of your lungs.

“I love you. And you are mine.” He said. “I love you, and you are mine.” The words were a mantra to him as he worked himself to the edge.

“Yes, yes, I'm yours. I love you, I'm yours, Spencer.” He came with a whimper, releasing inside of you and collapsing gently into your arms as you readied yourself to hold one another for the rest of eternity.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 7 months ago

Note

Aaron having a rough day because of too much paperwork and asks reader for permission to hug her at work?

Like super cute and special little moment - totally interrupted by someone walking in or saying “aww” / “finally!”

༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairings: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

— summary: though things between you and aaron weren't official yet, he was in need of a hug (yours of course).

— warnings: literally nothing honestly besides aaron being overworked and tired + fluffiest fluff!!

— wc: 725

⋆ a/n: to me fluff fics are like the light at the end of a very smutty tunnel, so here's this one to balance out all of my aaron smut that i've written 😭

masterlist | AO3

Aaron’s head was throbbing.

The space between his eyes rang dull and his body felt weak, his needy joints craving the sweet release of his bed back home, but most importantly, he needed you. He needed to hold you, needed to feel your plush body warm his harder one.

He casts a lazy glance to the stack of paperwork before his eyes gazed out of his open blinds, and seeing you sitting there with headphones in your ears working leisurely on case files caused a feeling of contentment to settle in his gut.

Aaron couldn't just go down there and wrap you in his arms; things between you were too… confusing. You were lovers but not at the same time; he held you sometimes, texted you, and got lunch with you, but there was no label. It was like there was an unspoken agreement. As old as Aaron was, he was pretty sure this was a “situationship” – cleverly and knowledgeably put by Penelope.

There was no way around this without using his ‘boss’ card.

Your workflow was interrupted by a paper ball being thrown at the back of your head.

“Real mature, Morgan.” You grunt, bending over at the waist to reach down and grab it. “I think you got more things to worry about than a ball of paper, sweetness.” Morgan's head cocks forward a bit, gesturing at Hotch’s office. “The boss man’s already said your name once.”

You look up to see Aaron standing there with that familiar scowl on his face as he stares right back at you. “Could I see you in my office for a moment?” Aaron repeats once more. “Oh shit.” You mutter to yourself with a sigh.

You practically scramble up the stairs to follow him when you see him disappear back into his office without a casting glance behind him.

When you step through the door, Aaron has both hands planted on his desk, his head hanging low and eyes pinched shut.

Your tense demeanor melts and you approach him with concerned eyes and furrowed brows. “Aaron?” You ask and place a hand on his shoulder. You could feel his body relax under your touch, and he sighs. “Are you okay?”

He looks almost hesitant, but he turns his head so he faces you.

“I - forgive me if I’m being inappropriate, but can I hug you?”

The question catches you off guard. He had never been so forward before.

“Yeah, yeah of course,”

Aaron searched your face for any lie or hesitancy, but he found nothing but your soft smile looking back at him.

The first thing that you notice when he wraps you in his body is that he’s warm, so warm and he smells delightful. You bury your nose in his neck and shyly inhale his cologne. It’s pine and cedarwood and completely him.

He relaxes into you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other cradling your head in his hand.

“I’m so tired.” Aaron murmurs into your ear, and the warm air of his breath sends a shiver down your spine and your grip on him tightens. You frown at his words, your own fingers reach up to stroke through the shaved part of his neck, gently massaging the area. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry.” You say quietly.

Holding you makes Aaron really start to regret the limited amount of sleep he had been getting recently.

The air in his office was calm, the only thing you could hear was Aaron’s occasional sighs and two shy hearts hammering together nervously.

“Sir - Oh!” Penelope stopped before she even began, the woman almost tripping over her heels in shock.

Aaron and you all but jump away from each other; there’s a bashful smile on your face while Aaron just looks plain old irritated. He doesn’t mean to glare at the technical analyst.

“I uh - there’s a case.” Was all she could say before shuffling over to put the case file on his desk.

When she leaves, there is a moment of quietness shared between the two of you before you hear a resounding ‘I told you!’ ring throughout the Bullpen below. You gaze out the window to see Penelope at Derek’s desk.

You can’t help but laugh all the while Aaron just grumbles.

A fine contrast if you do say so yourself.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

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floylia · 12 days ago

Text

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾

20. New Year’s Resolution

NOTES:

situationship final boss:

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back

CHILDE x FEM!READER

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TAGLIST (OPEN): @thegalaxyisunfolding @stratusworld @tiramizuloz @miy-svz @trulyylee @batatinhafriita @scaradooche @yuminako @m1njizzie @mtndewbajablasted @fadedpinkpen @vavrin @kioffy @kokoomie @ashveil @tired-jaz @nia333 @riabriyn @kyon-cherri @kitsunetori @morgyyyyyyy @kazumiku @ichorstainedskin @hanilessa @s4ikooo1 @matolka @appy-slicez @monocerosei @mostlymoth @heathnyfangirl @meigalaxy @x-hihihi-x @lunaavity @ladyofpandemonium @coffeeisbehindyou @mentallyunpresent @wrangleanangel @littlesliceofcheese @ell1e2010 @vi0let-writes @strawbyan @blupi02 @eccendentesiast-sapphic @aixaingela @fo-love @mickey-d-luffy @nanfufu @cryoarchoness @li-x1nyu @crucnhice @jayzioxx @lumineskies @scalyalpaca @help-whatdoimakemyusername

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ace-of-zaun · 17 days ago

Text

Kiss Me More. Pt 3:

silco x f!reader - 2.8k words - SFW

cw: angst, Silco being the most clueless mf to ever live (but he’s also a sweetheart, so we’ll forgive him just this once), fluff, Vander being lovely, mentions of poverty, arguments, references to sex, Seven is the actual worst, kind of an angsty end to the chapter (thought i'd mention it just in case)

PART 1 | PART 2

Silco has mentioned Seven and your date with him that many times in the past week, you’re genuinely starting to worry he’s got an unhealthy obsession with the boy.

In fact, he’s brought it up so often, you can tell just by the way Silco takes a breath that he's going to start yet another rant about your situationship, prompting you to scuttle away from him the second he opens his mouth to speak.

It doesn’t put you off going on your date. If anything, it makes you even more determined to push back against Silco and prove to him that you can do this, with or without his support.

So, you go on your second date with Seven.

He’d somehow managed to visit you every single day at work following your first date, which caused a giddy, cherished sort of feeling the first two times it happened, but now kind of irritates you after eight consecutive days of it.

Now, it just feels clingy and suffocating, and you’re getting slightly worried your boss is going to get mad at you for wasting time at work.

Luckily, Seven hadn’t asked you to go swimming on your date, (or, skinny dipping, as Silco had told you was his actual meaning, approximately six thousand times). Instead, he’d walked you to one of the little piers overlooking the river, where you’d sat side by side and shared a simple picnic.

It was nice. Mostly.

Seven had pretty much just talked about himself the entire time (again), and had even interrupted you the one time you tried to tell him about the new vinyl you’d excitedly bought on sale at the market. (So what if you can’t play it or listen to it just yet, Seven, you’ll be able to afford a phonograph one day, and you can just admire the sleeve artwork until then!)

Towards the end of the date, he’d finally kissed you, softer than you were expecting after the bold way he’d previously tried to kiss you outside your apartment.

But there hadn’t been any butterflies, or that wonderful, little spark you’ve often heard people describing when they speak of their first kisses. (Kinda, sorta like the way you felt when you’d kissed Silco…)

Kissing Seven, you hadn’t really felt anything at all, except, slightly icky and a little bit disappointed.

So now, you arrive home from the pier on your own (Seven had apparently been too busy to walk you back this time) with a strange sort of empty feeling emanating from your chest. Like someone has stolen a couple of your ribs while you weren’t looking.

But a warm sense of relief and delight quickly replaces that feeling when you spot Vander sprawled out on the sofa, arms spread out across the back, head tilted up to the ceiling.

It’s rare to see him at home, what with his long hours down the mine and evenings tending the bar. And it shows. Tired eyes and limbs betraying just how shattered he must be after all those hours of work.

You’re desperate to tell him to give up the extra shifts at the bar. But you’re genuinely not sure if the three of you would be able to stay together without it. Maybe you should ask if you could pick up some of his shifts instead, give him a few nights off. Janna knows he deserves it.

Vander looks up when you gently click the front door closed, sitting up properly while you toe off your shoes to join the line along the wall.

“Hey, you’re home,” you say.

“I am,” he replies, easy smile to mask his exhaustion. “How was your date?”

Part of you had hoped he’d forgotten so you wouldn’t have to talk about it. But Vander’s far too thoughtful for that.

“Ah, you know…” you say, looking down at your feet bashfully.

“That bad?”

“I wouldn't say bad.” You sigh, dropping down next to him on the sofa.

You rest your head against his shoulder, tucking your feet under your legs in an attempt to get comfortable. Vander places his arm around your shoulder and gently pulls you towards him, until you’re leaning against his side.

You’ve always secretly thought of him as your wise, older brother. The one who always knows what to say and how to say it. The person you can always rely on.

"But not good?" he asks, genuinely.

This time, the sigh you give feels like it radiates from your whole body.

“It’s just…I didn’t expect any of it to feel like this, I thought I was supposed to feel…”

You don’t really know, to be honest. You’ve only ever heard people describe their experiences with love or dating, so you’re not completely sure what you’re supposed to feel.

But something deep down is telling you, ‘not like this’.

“Feel what, lass?” Vander prods gently.

“I don’t know,” you finally admit.

Van nods in understanding, gently tapping your bicep twice before rubbing up and down your arm soothingly.

“Maybe you just need a bit more time to get to know him,” he says, offering you the advice you’d been too nervous to ask for. “D’ya think you’ll see him again?”

You tilt your head to the side, worrying your lip with your pointer finger and thumb.

“He asked me to go on another date with him tomorrow,” you say, pushing down the fact it feels like a shameful confession. “I said yes but-”

And then Silco storms into the room, looking like he’s spitting nails.

“You're not seriously going on another date with that greasy-haired freak?" he demands, apropos of absolutely nothing.

Immediately, you push yourself from Vander’s embrace to sit up and glare at him. Trust Silco to ruin the nice moment you were having.

“Seriously, what have you got against him?”

Silco ignores you, clearly on a rampage that could only be fuelled by pure insanity.

“You can't go on another date with him,” he announces firmly.

"What? Why?"

You wait, with a truly impressive amount of patience if you do say so yourself, for Silco to explain himself. To present his infallible, incredibly coherent, astonishingly well-thought out argument as to why you can’t go on another date with the person you are currently dating.

"Because he's gross,” he says.

You could really, honestly smack him.

"No, he's not."

"I don't think you should see him anymore," he continues.

“Silco. I’m not a child, you can’t just tell me what to do,” you say, feeling the anger beginning to bubble away inside you. Silco knows exactly how to push your buttons and he knows it.

“Yes, I can,” he argues, arms crossed against his chest.

You narrow your eyes dangerously.

“No, you can’t.”

“Alright, that’s enough, you two,” Vander interrupts before one of you tackles the other and turns the argument into a childish scrap in the middle of the room.

Sil huffs dramatically and uncrosses his arms. Then, clearly not knowing what to do with them as they hang awkwardly by his side, he decides to cross them again.

“Fine. I wasn't going to say anything, but I spoke to a guy at the mines who knows him and he's… got a bit of a reputation."

"What do you mean, ‘reputation’?"

"I mean, he's dated just about every girl in the Undercity," Silco stresses.

You frown at this new information, but honestly, deep down, you don’t really care. Even the mental image of Seven kissing other people doesn’t spark that jealousy in you that it did when you’d pictured Silco experiencing his first kiss.

But admitting that to him feels like defeat so instead you say, "Well, maybe he just hasn't found the one yet."

Silco scoffs obnoxiously.

"What, and you think you're the one?" he says sarcastically. His tone is a little bit on the mean side. Like he’s implying that you’re not good enough for Seven.

And honestly, it stings. It hurts and it makes you angry. You thought after all these years that Silco cared about you, that he wanted the best for you.

But all he’s done for the past few weeks is question you constantly when all you needed was just a little support from your best friend.

And, gods, you know that you don’t really mean any of it, but there’s a burning, horrible impulse to hurt Silco like he’s been hurting you, so you stand up to face him square on.

"And what if I am, huh?” you begin.

Of course, Silco immediately goes to interrupt, but you steamroll ahead.

“You know what, Silco, maybe I’ll just go and stay with him if you’re that wound up about it. Actually, yeah.” You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, before looking him dead in the eye. “No need to wait up for me after my date tomorrow, I’ll just stay at his for the night.”

Silco looks absolutely horrified, face draining at the implication (that you don’t mean at all, honestly, you can’t think of anything worse than spending the night with Seven).

But Silco doesn’t have to know that.

He steps forward a little and says your name, really quite desperately.

“Wait-”

There’s no way you’re letting him get the last word, so you stalk out the living room and into your bedroom without a backward glance, slamming the door shut behind you for good measure.

You drop onto your bed, desperately trying not to cry as you slap your hands over your face, like it’ll hold everything in.

You just don’t get why Silco is acting like this.

And the more time you spend with Seven, the more sure you are that he’s actually quite a repulsive, self-centered person. But you don’t know how to fix any of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into and all you really want is your best friend back.

You just want everything to go back to the way it was.

Is that too much to ask?

You haven’t spoken a word to Silco since your argument. Even after Vander had carefully explained that Silco probably didn’t mean what he’d said, you don’t want to hear it. The hurt is still too raw to forgive him yet.

Everything has changed since you kissed. Now, your heart does this breathtaking little flip in your chest every time you see him, and all you can think about is kissing him again. But you're dating Seven and it's not like Silco likes you anyway, so there’s no point in entertaining it.

Gods, you wish you could just stop feeling like this.

You force yourself to go on another date with Seven, even though you had originally been planning on cancelling when you were talking about it to Vander. Now, you’re going just to spite Silco.

So that’s how you find yourself walking through the city’s sprawling market stalls with Seven, kinda wishing you were anywhere else. You’re not really buying any of the products for sale because neither of you can afford much of anything at the moment, which just makes you feel all deflated.

And Seven is holding your hand as you stroll along, but honestly, you wish he wasn’t. His hands are a bit sweaty and he’s gripping your knuckles just a bit too tightly for comfort. You have to keep letting go to wipe your hand on your leg and it’s starting to get really quite embarrassing.

Just as you’re on the cusp of deciding whether to fake some kind of horrific illness or whether it’d be too dramatic to just flee Zaun and adopt a whole new identity, you’re saved by a tall figure stumbling into your side.

You only just manage to stop yourself from tripping to the ground, thankfully righting yourself before you can fall, just to look up in confusion at-

Silco. Who looks down at you with the most unapologetic expression you’ve ever seen in your life.

It’s clear he’s followed you because why else would he be in the market, he hates the market when it’s busy. He once said he’d rather run naked through the streets of Piltover in front of the Council building than risk the ‘throngs of dawdling idiots’ on a busy market day.

"Hey, fancy bumping into you!” Silco acts surprised, completely over the top and almost embarrassingly unconvincing. He’s not getting a job in the Piltie theatre anytime soon, that’s for sure.

Then, his expression drops when he glances at Seven, like there’s suddenly a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth. “Oh. What’s he doing here?”

You resist the urge to scream, finally letting go of Seven’s hand to step away from him.

"Silco-"

"We're on a date." Seven finally speaks, looking thoroughly annoyed at the interruption. Even more annoyed than when Silco was rude to him outside your apartment.

"Really?" Silco questions. He looks pointedly at the distance between the two of you and then stares obstinately at Seven. "Doesn't look like it to me."

"Look, mate-"

Silco cuts him off with deadly sharp precision.

"You know, Six, I think we have a mutual acquaintance," he says, timbre turning positively dangerous. "Her name’s Lia. Works at the mines? That ring any bells in your dense, little head?"

At this, Seven’s face pales. Rapidly.

"Never heard of her," he insists, far too quickly to be anything but a lie.

Then, he turns to you, snatching up your hand again.

"Let's go, doll, we don’t have to put up with this."

Silco’s expression darkens immeasurably, clenching his fists by his sides as he steps forward, but you beat him to the punch, ripping your hand out of Seven’s grasp.

Fuck this.

"You know what, I've just remembered that there's something that I need to do," you snap, borderline shouting over them when they both jump to speak. "Alone."

Turning on your heel, you stalk off in the opposite direction, automatically heading towards the River without even really thinking about it. It’s the place you usually end up when you need to clear your head, and right now, you just need some peace and quiet.

You’re only a few streets away from the market when you hear Silco following you, knowing after all these years the loping strides of his gait by heart. When he makes no sign of stopping, you take a deep breath and turn to face him.

"Please don’t."

He says your name pleadingly but you shake your head.

"I don't want to hear it, Silco," you say, a wave of exhaustion sweeping your bones.

You’re far, far too tired for this.

"But he's-"

"Why are you going out of your way to sabotage this for me?" you ask, absolutely detesting the way your voice wobbles on the last few words.

Silco’s expression flickers, clearly torn between giving you space and stepping forward to comfort you. He ends up shoving his hands into his pockets defensively, but not without inching just that little bit closer to you.

"I'm not trying to sabotage anything, I'm just trying to protect you," he replies, tone soft. An attempt at reassurance.

"From what?" you ask.

"From getting hurt.”

He bites his lip, determined and desperately worried all at once.

You sigh heavily, scrubbing a hand over your face.

"I just don't get it, Sil, I don't get why you're doing all this," you say, letting your arms drop wearily by your side.

He seems almost startled by your need for an explanation, uncharacteristically sheepish for the briefest moment as you watch him expectantly.

"I… I just…"

And then, as you continue to wait, his expression shutters, turning stony and closed off, and you know you’re not going to get anything from him now. Certainly not anything honest or in the least bit vulnerable.

You bite your lip hard to stop the burning tears from falling.

"Just go home, Silco," you say. You sniff back the tears, dejected but accepting. "I'll see you later.”

It breaks your heart to watch the way his shoulders slump but his expression still doesn’t crack. And he still doesn’t say a word when you slowly turn and walk away from him. He doesn’t stop you.

The next few days feel like a haze of misery; a looping, unfathomable rhythm of going to work and returning home in silence, trying to ignore the way he watches you walk through the flat with a terribly lost expression, like you’ve slipped from his grasp.

You can’t bring yourself to talk to him, even though it physically hurts you to ignore him like this, the irony of not being able to talk to the one person who you can always go to.

And with Vander gone so often, you’re left to just sit silently in your bedroom, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering where the hell it all went wrong.

a/n: I’m sorry for such an angsty end to this chapter, lots of fluff and comfort in the next one, i promise!! (and this story will def have a happy ending, i think i’m physically incapable of writing sad endings, it’s just not in my dna)

super secret taglist 😎: @oceansssblue, @inolaphoenix , @holographicgarden , @darlingimafangirl , @rainyforest777 , @kikiiswashere , @deviantgamergirl , @miffysoo , @eternallyvenus

#silco #silco x reader #silco x f!reader #silco x you #silco fic #silco arcane #arcane #part 3

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chilling-seavey · 6 months ago

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Dreamland (ln4) - Part Six

↳ A/N Here is the promised second part to part 5 since I get so carried away all the time and write too much for Tumblr to handle!!! Excited to hear your thoughts on this one hehe.

↳ Inspired By: 'Grapejuice' by Harry Styles

↳ Summary: George and Alex visit Lando in Monaco for a week that summer. Their visit seems to align perfectly well with the week where yours and Lando's situationship is tested the most

↳ Pairings: Fanboy Lando Norris x Famous!Author!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n), University Student Lando x Internet Friend George x Internet Friend Alex

↳ Word Count: 11.9k

↳ Warnings: 18+, drinking, brief mentions of sex and similar and related adult endeavors.

PART FIVE || PART SEVEN

Lando was fast asleep the next morning, out like a light, as if he hadn’t slept in days. In the familiar warmth of your California king bed, he was at home in your presence and had been cuddling you close all night from the very moment you returned from the office and got into bed. He felt closer to you than ever and safe by your side.

The movement of you turning around in his embrace had him rousing slightly and you slid your arms around his middle to nuzzle into his neck with a sleepy sigh. He gently rubbed your back and let his fingers tangle in the ends of your hair, touching you delicately and lovingly as you melted into him. Under the covers, your leg gently nudged its way between his just to feel him wrapped up with you as close as possible. He kissed your head.

“Morning, sunshine.” you mumbled sleepily against his warm skin.

“Morning, beautiful.” Lando rubbed your back.

You leaned your head back to get a look at his face but the amount of brightness in the room had you startling, throwing yourself away from him just as he went to lean in for a kiss. Shocked, Lando watched as you threw the blankets off and you snatched your phone from the bedside table.

“Shit!” you gasped. “I’m so late!”

Lando sat up as you jumped out of bed and hurried around the corner to your closet to grab a random outfit in your rush. Still trying to wake up from his incredible sleep, he rubbed his eyes, “What time is it?”

“10:45!” you answered, coming back into the room pulling up your pants with a blouse tossed over your shoulder. “I must have forgotten to set an alarm!”

“I thought you were the boss and can decide when you go in.” Lando countered.

“Not when I have a meeting.” you sighed, clipping your bra and pulling on your shirt over top. “A meeting that started fifteen minutes ago.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Lando pouted. He was slouched back against the pillows and headboard, arms stretching themselves awake above his head and he broke into a small yawn in the process.

“Me neither.” you disappeared into the ensuite to apply the fastest face of makeup and brush your teeth.

Although you were clearly in a rush, Lando felt no need to get up and he pulled your blankets higher around him cozily. He waited for your return, unbothered. You came back into the bedroom not long later, clearly stressed, and Lando sat up a bit more to lean towards you and grabbed your hand.

“Take a breath, sweetheart.”

You didn’t tell him how much that simple sentence made your heart skip a beat.

You merely leaned in and kissed his lips, “I gotta go, baby. Come on, I still have to drive you.”

Lando got out of bed finally and started to dress back in his clothes from the day before, “I can bus back to the hotel.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I know the way. Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay. Thank you.” you said almost guiltily.

Dressed and ready to go in seconds, Lando followed after you out of your bedroom and into the main area of your single-storey penthouse and you grabbed your work bags and slipped into your heels that had been left by the door the previous night. When you were both all ready to go, Lando slid his hand around your waist and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You let go of the door handle and reached your hand to the back of his neck to kiss him a little more. You were already late. What was a few seconds more?

With you in your heels and Lando in his sneakers, you were an inch taller than him but he adored that about you and his hands around your waist pulled you closer to his body even with the ever so slight tilt to his head to reach your lips. It was the faintest difference but he loved it. He loved you.

“I really gotta go, Lan.” you mumbled against his lips.

“Mhm.” he pulled away. “Just needed that before we have to go out and face society.”

You smiled sweetly and kissed him once more. Then you opened your front door and with the blessing of the late morning air, your façades were put up.

Lando was back at the hotel by 12:00 after a bus ride into downtown. He was walking on air the whole way back to the room and with a proud smile at just the idea of how his friends would react, Lando swiped the key card and the door unlocked.

Inside their shared hotel room, George was lounging back on his bed watching a football game on TV and Alex was standing by the adjacent desk shuffling through his bag. The sound of the door opening had them both looking over to where Lando stepped inside.

“That’s a smug walk of shame if I’ve ever seen one.” George smirked.

Lando just smiled wider and set his key on the dresser beside the tv, making his friends linger on the secrecy just a little longer.

“Okay, spill it.” Alex pressed impatiently.

“We talked…” Lando started slowly, dragging out his explanation syllable by innocent syllable, “I met her at the office after hours to confront her…we ordered dinner and just calmly talked it out.”

George and Alex blinked at him, waiting.

Lando couldn’t hold it back any longer - the smile on his face was just growing impossible to smother, “But only after I fucked the shit out of her all over her office!”

George and Alex burst into teasing laughter infused with proud celebration and Lando took their pride boastfully. He turned to the full length mirror on the hotel room wall and pulled up the bottom of his shirt to glance back at his reflection, showing off the fading red scratches that still lingered from the night before.

“Holy shit!” Alex gaped and took the step over to turn him around to see better, “Lan, that’s your worst one yet.”

George was right beside him in a second, giving Lando’s shoulder a shove, “Jesus, mate!”

“Kid’s growing up.” Alex tisked, slinging an arm around Lando’s shoulders and ruffled his hair.

Lando just laughed and shoved him away.

“It’s good to see you happy again.” George said. Alex agreed easily.

“Yeah, well, it was a good night. In multiple ways.” Lando shrugged, “She really heard me when I explained why I was upset. She’s going to tell Pierre about us this weekend.”

“Oh?” Alex raised his eyebrows, “That’s huge.”

“Stick it to him that you got his girl.” George nodded.

Lando licked away his smile, not wanting to admit that George’s words were exactly what he had been thinking since the moment you had assured him you would tell Pierre about your little situationship. After so much hurt from seeing the two of you together over the prior year or more, Lando finally felt like he was more himself and was going to have a secret little cup of payback where the boyfriend figure that had caused him so much heartbreak and stress was going to get a taste of it right back.

Alex picked up his phone again and smiled down at the screen before typing away, his strange behaviour peaking Lando’s interest.

“What’s with you?” Lando asked. “Why are you so dressed up?”

“Dressed up? Alex looked down at his outfit, “I’m in a t-shirt.”

“And slacks.”

George took his seat back against the headboard again as he sang teasingly, “Alex’s got a date.”

“It’s not a date.” Alex corrected him for the nth time. He didn’t mention to Lando that he had told them where he was going the day before when they were around the pool. Lando had his mind elsewhere then and it was clear he forgot…it was understandable. Instead, he told him again, “Lily and I are going golfing today.”

“Right!” Lando snapped his fingers, “I knew that.”

Alex smiled widely over at him and then looked back to his phone. He was obviously messaging her and George and Lando exchanged glances with their friend’s back turned.

“Anyway,” Alex slid his phone into his pocket and clapped his hands together, “before she gets here, I wanna know all the filthy details from last night.”

“Oh and get your mind all gross before you go out on your first date with this girl? No way.” Lando tisked.

Alex gaped, “What? That doesn’t matter!”

Lando punched his arm, “Hey, I’m doing her a favour by not telling you. Otherwise you will have horrible thoughts in your brain and might try to lunge at her in the front seat of the golf cart.”

George dramatically ‘oooo’ed from a few paces away.

“Oh fuck off.” Alex tried to hide his blush as he turned away from him and pulled out his phone again.

“Are you gonna try and kiss her at least after?” George asked.

“I dunno!” Alex’s defences were up and it was clear by the tone in his voice, “It’s, like, our first time hanging out…that’s really soon. I don’t even know if she likes me like that.”

George pitched his eldest advice, “Well I don’t think her asking you out for lunch and a round of golf gives ‘I like you like a little brother’ vibes.”

“Ew, mate.” Alex scrunched up his face.

“I vote kiss her.” Lando said.

“Same.” George without taking his eyes off the football game that was still playing on the tv.

“Stop, you’re making me nervous.” Alex grumbled, walking past Lando as he pulled his phone out of his pocket again, nervously checking for any notifications from her. With a gasp, he shut them up, “She’s here! How do I look?”

“Sexy.” George answered.

“Hot.” Lando answered at the same time.

“‘Nice’ would have sufficed but thanks.” Alex shook his head. He was too nervous to be dramatic with them. He shared quick daps with his two best friends and then had to hurry out the door without a look back.

Lando had just joined George to watch the football game when his own phone buzzed with a notification and he smiled at your name across his screen.

-I miss you so much. I wish we could have just stayed in bed all day. Meeting is done and I just want to leave and see you. I’m just sitting in my office with vivid memories of how you fucked me last night…I swear this desk smells like you…I’m going crazy. -Lily texted me saying she’s super nervous for this date with Alex…although she made sure to correct me that it wasn’t a date -It’s totally a date -Anyway, that just makes me miss you more. Would be bored out my mind at the golf course but with you I’m sure we’d make it fun -What are your plans tomorrow night? I’m thinking a huge group dinner with all of our friends before the guys have to leave? -Oh and I’m telling Pierre about us tomorrow morning. We have a PR meeting and I plan on telling him before it. The team can’t know but he can -Sorry I’m spamming I miss you -Miss you soooo much -💕💕💕

Lando was absolutely beaming as he read your messages, each one popping up at the bottom of your text thread as he held his phone in his hand. He was grinning so widely that he was almost shining and George shook his head from his spot nearby.

“Great, I’m totally fifth wheeling now.”

Lando was so impatient to see you that he and his two best friends were already waiting at the curb when you pulled up the following evening to drive them to dinner. As usual, Lando claimed shotgun and it took everything in him to stop himself from leaning over and kissing you hello the moment he got in your car. He just shamelessly checked you out from the distance he was at, skimming your tight red dress that rested halfway up your thighs, simply asking him to touch you. He refrained. He was sure he deserved an award for best self control.

For Alex and George’s last night in the city, you were treating them to a classy restaurant known for its social media popularity among artists and influencers alike - but also known for its steak, dessert, and elaborate plate presentation. Lando felt slightly underdressed in his black slacks and t-shirt, made only slightly dressier with a black jacket overtop and finished with a silver chain he borrowed from Alex. With you at his side in a cocktail dress and strappy heels, Lando felt like he should have at least pulled out a button up.

The location wasn’t too far away from the hotel and soon you were pulling into the parking lot beside the glass and wood trimmed restaurant. As usual, you were the first ones to arrive and you lingered in the parking lot in the light of the setting sun as you waited for your friends to join. Alex and George were talking amongst themselves with you and Lando close by although Lando was hardly focused on his friends.

Standing right up at your side, he kept his hands in his pockets but whispered to you honestly, “You look so gorgeous.”

You smiled at him, “Thank you. So do you.”

“Is this outfit okay?” he asked, glancing down at himself.

“Yeah. The jacket is a nice touch.” you tugged gently at the open zipper.

He couldn’t even offer a reply before Alex was calling out to your little group, “Lily is here!”

Oscar’s car pulled into the parking lot only a few short moments after you had and Lily, who was claiming the passenger seat, reached over to honk the horn a few times at the sight of you. Oscar swatted her hand away before focusing on carefully pulling into the empty parking spot next to your Mercedes. You and the guys moved forward to greet your newly arrived friends as they stepped out of the convertible in their own classy outfits that expertly matched the vibes of yours - almost as if it was their job to half the time.

Alex - trying not to make much of a deal - slid casually between you and George to get to Lily first and he almost completely froze up for a second before they met for a quick hug. George snorted. You elbowed him.

After Alex and Lily had gone on their not-date the previous day, you were surprised with a phone call from her once she had returned home by evening. She had told you everything - of course - from how they got along so well that there was hardly even a second of silence between them the entire afternoon as their conversations just flowed so easily. Honestly, she was completely gushing about him to you which only had you smiling proudly through the phone as she told you the details of their trip for ice cream after sharing a game of golf. You could almost hear the blush in her voice as she confessed how he had asked to kiss her at the end of the afternoon and how she let him; both of them sharing their first kisses with each other in the front seat of her car.

Lando and George got similar recaps from Alex around the same time. They were always ones to confide in their best friends.

But now, seeing each other for the first time since their not-date, there was a hint of awkwardness in the air as they were still figuring out where they stood. You and Lando shared knowing little smiles from the back of your small group.

Your little group made your way to the front of the restaurant and Lily and Alex lingered at the back as they talked together. The host led you through the dimly lit restaurant to your reserved table for eight, leaving you with menus and a confirmation with you that anything you need, just let us know…the manager has already alerted staff of your party. It was a bit over the top you thought but you just smiled politely and took to your seat. Lando sat on your right with Alex beside him and Lily on the other end, leaving George and Oscar to sit across from them. There were two seats empty directly across from you and Lando but they were to be filled shortly.

“I’m thinking a bottle of red for the table.” you announced, “Anyone want white or something else too?”

“Whatever you think is best.” Oscar answered.

When your drinks were ordered and the waiter brought over the bottle, pouring you a taste, Lando’s gaze lingered on your red painted lips as you brought your glass to your mouth. He licked his lips slowly as you sipped and then licked your own, giving the waiter a nod with a smile so he could pour everyone a glass and leave the table with the bottle.

You took your time to read over the menus and decide what you all wanted to order, letting the ambiance of the classy restaurant swirl around your warmly lit table. Lando could hardly process the words on his menu because he was trying so hard not to look at you. It was nice to be out with you in public but the constant need to be completely secretive nearly drove him crazy.

Soon, your remaining two friends arrived to complete your reservation. Walking smoothly across the marble floor, two pairs of dress shoes clicked faintly behind the restaurant chatter and, with a handsome blonde on his arm, Charles greeted your group excitedly.

Everyone looked over at them as they approached in their similar neutral toned outfits, perfectly classy and respectable for your chosen dinner venue, and as you and your friends broke into smiles at their arrival, the guys simply stared, mouths slightly open.

It must have slipped your mind to mention to Lando that Charles’s boyfriend was finally going to be returning to town just in time for your dinner. Of course, he had heard about Max from Charles over the duration of the summer and seen the framed pictures on her desk in the office, but nothing compared to the real life essence of the real thing right in front of him. Lando was completely straight - and wholeheartedly dedicated to you, might he add - but he had to admit to himself that he had never seen a more stunning man in all twenty-one years of his life.

“Max!” you almost cheered, hopping out of your seat to rush over to greet them.

Max smiled warmly at you and offered out his one arm that wasn’t claimed by his boyfriend to welcome your friendly hug. It only lasted for a second or two before you were all returning to the table and as Max took his spot across from Lando, Charles was gladly placing himself in the seat beside.

You briefly introduced Max to the guys, finishing with a passé touch to Lando’s arm when you introduced him third. Best for last, subconsciously. From the spot across from him, Max let a little smile play at his lips as he eyed up Lando.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Lando’s eyes widened, “I- What?”

Max, with his arm around the back of Charles’ chair, said, “This one has kept me updated on everything that has been going on since I’ve been gone.”

Lando was suddenly going pink in the cheeks at the concept that Charles could have told him everything. It was lucky for him that the restaurant lighting was so dim.

As if playing it off, Max followed up, “How’s the job?”

Lando cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “It’s…really great.”

“I bet.” Max picked up his wine glass and took a sip, peaking one of his brows over the edge in Lando’s direction.

He totally knew more than he let on.

Changing the subject, you asked eagerly, “How was Paris, Max?”

“Beautiful.” Max answered, his voice rich and full, “I was lucky I could see some sights between work.”

Alex piped up, “What do you do for work?”

Max only smiled modestly but Charles answered proudly for him, patting his hand against his chest, “He’s a model.”

“Shit.” George gaped.

“Believable, right?” Oscar said with a smirk.

“Yep, front page of Cartier’s spring collection will be this handsome face.” Charles bragged.

Max kissed his cheek.

Lando watched their obvious shows of affection with wide eyes, unfamiliar with such displays, and he looked over at you as if to check to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. You glanced back at him and shared a brief smile. He could see the way your eyes dropped briefly to his lips as if wanting to kiss him too. You couldn’t. You turned back to your friends, picking up your glass of wine.

The waiter returned to take orders and as you all waited for appetizers to arrive, conversation returned to Max’s travels and all that he accomplished in Paris between studio shoots and on-location shoots…interviews, promo, and ceremonies. He promised that next time he would go, he would go for leisure; to which he added a casual drape of his arm around the back of Charles’ chair and a sweet compliment that he would take him with him. He spoke of creating art at the base of the Eiffel Tower, tea in the picturesque cafés…Lando was envious, his heart aching for that too. He looked back at you, staring at the way you rested your chin in your hand and watched with admiration how the lovebirds spoke together.

“But for now I’m just happy to have you home.” Charles said adoringly.

Max leaned into his touch, “First person I looked for when I got off the plane.”

Oscar’s little teasing gag from the other end of the table had you all chuckling and Max only scooted his chair closer to his boyfriend and draped his arm around him.

Charles smiled over at Lando’s obvious staring, “Yeah, you’re going to be seeing a lot of him around the office now.”

Max nodded, his expression scarily serious, “Going to make sure you stay on task.”

Lando offered a slightly nervous laugh.

The appetisers arrived shortly after and you all took a moment to begin eating, the clatter of cutlery filling your table rather than conversation. Lando couldn’t help but keep looking at you, watching the way you rested your napkin on your lap or the gentle way you poured your dressing over the salad in front of you. He looked down to his own bowl and nudged a piece of lettuce with his fork.

With a smile, you directed to your friends across from you, “Well I’m glad that you allowed your first date back together to be with all of us.”

“Of course. All my favourite people.” Charles said easily.

“And we have lots of time for our own dates.” Max added, his hand on his thigh gently caressing him, “We are visiting the art museum tomorrow, right, darling?”

Lily spoke up, “I haven’t been in so long. I hear they have a new photography exhibit.”

“Yes! That is what encouraged me to buy tickets.” Max agreed with a smile.

“Speaking of dates though…” Charles faded out, offering a smirk in Lily’s direction, “Anything you want to share with the table?”

Everyone looked over. Alex cleared his throat.

“I hear it went well.” you added, sending Charles a little smile from across the table.

“Shut up.” Lily snapped, although her tone was more embarrassed than upset.

You leaned forward to look down to her end of the group, “Oh come on, everyone at this table knows.”

“Little golfing…little ice cream…little kissing…” George sang teasingly.

“Okay.” Alex laughed nervously.

“I guess the date was,” you giggled, “a hole in one.”

The table groaned at your horrible pun but Lando just licked away his smile and glanced over at you. You peaked a brow at him as if to say ‘impressive, right?’ and he just laughed softly and shook his head. Your hand on his thigh startled him slightly, unprepared for any sort of touch from you, and he dropped his hand on top of yours for a moment as the table continued harassing poor Alex and Lily about their date. Lando gave your hand a squeeze for a second before you were pulling away to be just as inconspicuous as you were expected to be.

Appetizers came and went and soon you were awaiting the entrees. The bottle of red wine was emptied and replaced by the waiter and you were well onto your second glass by then, poured by Lando’s own hand for you while he topped up his own.

Despite the conversation that lingered among your group, Lando was more focused on the private moments between Charles and Max across from him. He tried not to stare but it was hard when they were everything he wanted to be with you. Whether it was their hand holding or sharing fleeting kisses or even the way one would wipe the corner of the other’s mouth free of sauce with the edge of his napkin, Lando just wanted that to be him and you. You seemed oblivious though as your focus was on George who was deep in explanation about something Lando had already heard probably twice over. Lando sipped his wine.

Lando was hooked on the way Charles and Max interacted. Their sweetness nearly made him equal parts smiley and jealous. He only imagined it to be you and how maybe one day he would be able to kiss you at dinner or feed you dessert from his fork like the perfect pair. He was so in his head that he didn’t realize he had already cut through his steak until the knife screeched against the plate, earning displeased words from the group. He stuffed the bite in his mouth without saying anything else.

“Can I steal a fry, mon cœur?” Charles gestured to his boyfriend’s plate.

He nodded, “Of course, darling.”

Lando set his fork down and tried to distract himself with his food. He skimmed the table for the salt and then nudged your arm gently, “Can you pass the salt, sweetheart?”

The whole table literally stopped what they were doing and looked at him in shock, silence falling quickly over your group.

Lando’s cheeks burned as he stared at your wide, warning eyes.

“I-I mean-” Lando cleared his throat, “Not sweet- because it’s salt…I’m…”

Alex snorted from his other side, “Nice save.”

You grabbed the salt and passed it to him. Lando lowered his voice quickly, “I’m sorry- it just slipped out.”

“We can’t afford slip ups, Lan, come on.” you whispered back, glancing around at the nearby tables just to make sure no strangers had heard. You might have been a little paranoid.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You set your hand on his knee under the table, “It’s okay.”

Lando salted his steak a little before grabbing his wine glass and finishing the last bit in one long sip, trying not to focus on the way your touch burned across his skin. George smothered his smile at him from across the table, hiding it behind a bite of his own dinner.

Max had inquired about how your work was going and you spoke to it happily, explaining how your writing was progressing and the few meetings you had booked for the next week. Lando could have listened to you talk about your passion for writing for hours. The way you lit up just made his eyes turn to hearts. Your writing was how he fell in love with you after all, and nothing was more special to him than that.

You set a hand on his arm, “But of course, my wonderful intern here has been an incredible help this summer.”

All knowing about your little situationship, your friends all shared little ‘ooo’s and smiles.

You looked over at Lando who was already staring at you and you spoke to the table as you looked right at him, “Even willing to stay late some nights…get some extra work done.”

“Anything for you.” Lando whispered.

You sent him a little wink.

“Hopefully it’s enjoyable work.” Charles pressed.

“Never done anything better.” Lando answered smoothly.

“Yeah, because you’ve never done anything before.” George dissed.

The table filled with laughter and Lando only rolled his eyes, suppressing the desire to throw George’s virginity back in his face like always. He wanted to be good for you.

Alex held out a fake microphone to Lando at his side, “No rebuttal?”

Lando leaned towards nothing in his hand, “Nope. I’m being the bigger man.”

“Yeah, you are.” you said in a little sing-song voice, earning teasing laughter from your friends and a furious blush from Lando who still managed to smile at you despite your words. Only you knew the boundaries enough to push them.

A clatter from across the table tore your attention away from Lando’s longing stare to Charles and Max’s slight worry as he tended to his shirt with his napkin.

“Oh no…I’m so sorry, schatje.” Max cooed, “Come on, I’ll sort you out.”

With nothing less than a grin, Charles took his hand as he stood up and Max helped him to his feet. Charles’ barely visible spill on the front of his shirt peaked your brow as you sipped your wine and watched them walk off hand in hand towards the bathroom.

Lily tutted with a light laugh, “Typical.”

Lando looked between her and you, his expression stagnant.

You only rolled your eyes with a knowing smile and set your glass back on the table so you could lean towards him to whisper, “They’re going to get each other off in the bathroom.”

His eyes widened and he stared off in the direction that they had disappeared in and then he looked back at you as you finished your meal. Your short tight dress and gentle smile had him craving to touch you all night and your friends’ obvious displays of affection were doing nothing to help calm his feelings. Their sneak-off only felt to be the weight on his chest moreso.

Lando poured you both another glass of wine.

He didn’t mean to time them, but Lando checked his phone once he saw Charles and Max heading back towards the table through the tightly seated restaurant, his heart only aching at the fifteen minutes that had passed and how much he knew he could do to you in that time. He couldn’t help himself but slide his hand under the table to rest over your lap and you scooted your chair closer to the edge so he was hidden by the tablecloth.

Lando took that as your permission and he inched up the hem of your dress ever so slowly as your group was completed again and you greeted your once missing friends casually. Oscar and Lily exchanged little knowing smirks from across the table and the waiter began to clear the empty dishes. Lando tried to look casual but he couldn’t not look at you and he slipped his hand up your short dress and slid them between your snug thighs to feel your lacey panties nestled warmly there. He wanted to take you to the bathroom next.

But instead, you discreetly nudged his hand away and he was forced to return to his solitude at a table full of partners. He was forced to watch as Charles and Max fed each other spoonfuls of dessert and as Alex and Lily spoke excitedly about their shared interests and as George and Oscar were in lighthearted friendly discussion about the last Formula 1 race weekend. Lando was so damn antsy.

Once everyone had finished their dessert, you paid the bill in full and everyone got up to head out to their cars. Lily and Alex led the group in their own little world of two, with you and Charles and Oscar and George pulling second in some deep conversation Lando wasn’t listening to. He took his time gathering his things and followed after you, trying not to stare at the way your dress hugged your ass with each step in your heels.

The presence of someone at his side startled him slightly and he looked over to see Max standing beside him. Only an inch or so taller than him, Max smiled at him and walked alongside him at the back of your group towards the Monte Carlo evening.

“So, how are you really doing?” Max asked.

“Oh…I’m fine.” Lando answered politely, unable to even really meet his eye with how unbelievably intimidating this man was.

“Really? You seemed kind of on edge all night.” Max mentioned, sliding his hands in the pocket of his fitted dress slacks.

Lando just shrugged, “Nah, it’s nothing. Just hard that we can’t be as mushy as you and Charles when we’re out.”

Max smiled as if he already knew that was going to be the answer, “I get that. Having a job in the public eye isn’t easy. She must really like you if she’s risking so much to stick with you…even when it’s hard to keep it under wraps.”

“I guess.”

They stepped out onto the sidewalk with the rest of your group and you all kept in your little sections to finish up your individual conversations before you would all have to go your separate ways. Max stuck with Lando to the side, offering him insight from his own experience that his best friends couldn’t offer him.

“Charles and I started a similar way.” Max explained quietly, “I was so paranoid of how my followers would see me and how the press would react…it took a while to feel comfortable with myself to be able to take it public. It’s nothing personal so don’t think she’s ashamed of you. Believe me, I know her well, she talks about you more often than she doesn’t.”

As he listened to the advice, Lando let his gaze drift the few paces away to where you stood and you glanced back at him to share a little warm smile before turning back to your friends and your loud, boisterous conversation. You sparkled in the street light under the city-polluted starry sky. Lando looked back to Max.

“Thanks, mate.” he mumbled, “I just really, really like her. I might even love her, y’know?”

Max smirked knowingly, tilting his head slightly to stare down his nose at Lando, waiting for him to go on.

“And I just wanna be able to show her.”

“It’s not all about public displays.” Max explained, “You can show her that you love her in so many other ways. And when the time is right, it will happen. But you don’t need it. You two still looked like the cutest couple in the whole damn restaurant without even trying.”

Lando nodded and there was a pause between them. Then, he added, just to cover his bases, “And please don’t tell her that I told you that I love her. I haven’t exactly told her yet.”

“She knows.” Max said. “The way you look at her? She’s got to know.”

From a few paces away, right on time, you called out, “Lando!”

He turned over his shoulder to you, spotting you bathed in the light of the restaurant entrance and the smile you wore was just as beautiful as your dress. You waved him over, ready to go.

He grinned right back, “Coming!”

Lando turned to Max once more who gave him a pat on the shoulder and one last knowing smile before saying, “Now go get her.”

“Thanks.” Lando exhaled giddily, refueled with energy after the little motivational speech from his newly acquainted. He called his goodnights to the rest of your group of friends as Charles returned to Max’s side, and then he was hurrying after you towards your car.

You were climbing into the driver's seat of your Mercedes when Lando joined you and he helped himself to the passenger side. The doors were shut behind you and the world fell to silence as the outdoors was muffled slightly and you breathed a sigh of relief of being back to just the two of you and away from the prying public in the restaurant.

“Did you have a good evening?” you asked him as you turned your key in the ignition.

“Yeah. Dinner was amazing. Thank you.” he answered easily.

You turned on the air conditioning faintly to cut the heat from the Monaco summer that raged around you but you left your car in park. You looked over at him, “You seemed quiet tonight, is everything okay?”

Lando just smiled at you and your concern and he nodded, “Yes. I’m fine.”

You hesitated a moment as if not believing him but you passed it off, knowing he would come to you if he needed, “Okay.”

“How was your talk with Pierre?” Lando asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and overpowering the craving he felt for you.

You smiled over at him, “It went so well.”

“Yeah?” Lando’s heart raced with hopefulness.

“Yeah. He said he’s happy for us…said he’s glad I found someone who can keep up with me.”

Lando held his hand out to you under the line of the dashboard, “Always.”

You rested your hand in his and your fingers intertwined.

“I feel lighter now that I told him.” you confessed. “I think it was really eating at me. I don’t know why. Maybe now it just proves that he is past…and you are my present.”

“And your future hopefully.” Lando breathed.

You gave his hand a squeeze, “Yes.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night since the second I saw you…now only moreso.”

“Yeah?” you let a small smile come to your face and he watched how you licked your red painted lips through the hazy warm light that dusted your silhouettes in the night air.

“Hated watching Charles and his boyfriend like that all evening when I couldn’t do the same with you.” he whispered.

“I know.” you agreed quietly, “And not even just the little things…I kinda wanted to sneak off with you too. Is that weird?”

“Not weird at all.” Lando shook his head easily, “I did too.”

You giggled softly, keeping your gazes locked and your hands in each other’s on your lap, and you lifted your head from where it had been resting against the driver's seat and you shifted slightly so your body was turned more towards his. There were a few seconds of silence between you where you just stared at each other with calm and content smiles on your lips and his thumb rubbed over your knuckles.

“You called me ‘sweetheart’.” you said softly.

“You are my sweetheart.” he replied just as gently.

“I like when you call me that.” you admitted, keeping the hushed voice between you even if it were only the two of you around in the security of your car. “It’s cute…makes me all blushy.”

“Mhm?” he raised his free hand up to stroke the back of his finger over your warm cheek and he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You smiled at him and shuffled slightly to lean towards him a bit more, letting him trace the features of your face with a gentle touch. He knew you like the back of his hand - he was infatuated with you after all - but he lingered on every inch of you like he had to memorize you all over again. Your skin was warm from the alcohol and your strong feelings, and your eyes fluttered shut peacefully, wholeheartedly trusting of him.

“I want to kiss you.” you breathed, a common sentence between you since the moment he landed in Monaco at the beginning of the summer. It acted as a placeholder for dozens upon dozens of kisses that could not be completed due to your public standing.

“I always want to kiss you.” Lando answered, dropping his hand from your face as he leaned against his seat, the both of you facing towards each other in the front seat.

You pondered a moment before speaking quietly, “Kiss me.”

Lando chuckled, “Take me home then.”

“Kiss me now.” you ordered.

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed for a second and he glanced out the dashboard to the half full restaurant parking lot that you were in the middle of, the only sign of life being Oscar, Lily, Alex, and George in the distance, still lingering by the front doors of the restaurant together. He looked back at you. Your eyes were open and you were staring at him.

“Kiss me, Lando.” you repeated.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Yes. Come on. Please?” you reached out a hand to rest against his chest, fingers grasping onto the front of his black t-shirt. “Kiss me.”

He raised his hand back to your face, cradling your jaw in his hand as he moved in smoothly and pressed his lips to yours before you could change your mind. You hummed happily against his mouth as you shared a few single lingering kisses before you were parting his lips with your own and tugging at his shirt to get him closer. He leaned half over the centre console and you did the same, pushing your tongue against his between deep sensual kisses that filled his cravings so perfectly.

He could taste the rich red wine on your tongue and your lips and he held your head close to linger on the flavour, sucking gently on your bottom lip until you moaned into his mouth and tangled your hand in the back of his hair. Tilting his head to the opposite side, he guided you to follow him and your fingers that were laced with his still on your lap only gave his hand a little squeeze to share your appreciation with how he took control. So much had changed in a few short months.

“Lando…” you breathed between kisses, your words swallowed up by his lips once more.

“Sweetheart.” he replied back, knowing exactly what he was doing with a smile to his tone of sweet buttery voice.

The way you inhaled shakily into his kiss had him chuckling lowly between wet kisses, his thumb drifting around your throat to choke you slightly - just how you liked it - as he took the breath from your lungs. Maybe it was the faint alcohol in your system or maybe it was the wholehearted hold he had on your heart but you were dizzy. With your fingers pressing into the back of his neck, you shoved your tongue into his mouth desperately, your heart racing on the riskiness of your steamy late night makeout and Lando’s hand tightened around your throat.

“Oh my God, I missed you.” you whimpered against his mouth, even though it had only been a day since you had seen each other.

“I missed you so much.” Lando replied breathily.

You moaned happily against his kiss and let him lick his way into your mouth until your kisses were growing faster, more desperate, and you were absolutely burning for him. You could have ripped his clothes off right then and there in the front seat of your car.

A snap of blinding light startled you out of your lust-filled trance and a quick second one had you pulling away from his lips in slightly confusion, only to be bombarded with a wave of camera flashes and shutters through the glare of your windshield. Lando didn’t know what was happening at first - for a second he swore he was seeing the gates of heaven - but your sudden panic solved any of his confusion.

Your hand tore from his and you ducked yourself behind your steering wheel, “Fuck! Oh my God!”

Lando stared out the windshield, squinting in the floods of lights and shouts, until you grabbed the chain around his neck and yanked him down with you to hide behind the dashboard the best you could. The panic in your face was terrifying and he simply stared dumbly at you, not knowing what to do or say.

You fumbled with your purse as there were knocks at your window and cameras pressed against the glass and you struggled to pull out your phone. But Oscar - who was thankfully still on site across the parking lot - had already seen what was going on. It was hard to miss.

He wasn’t an overly confrontational person but he took his job seriously and when part of his job called for protecting you and your image? You best bet he was on it.

George, Lily, and Alex had to nearly run to keep up with his quick pace across the parking lot to the crowd of paparazzi that had seemed to come out of nowhere and swarm your car. Shouting questions at you as the flashes of their cameras blinded you, the group wasn’t overly large but enough to overwhelm you and you kept Lando ducked down until the cameras slowed and Oscar was at your window. The moment you rolled it down, questions were shouted at you again (“Whos that?” “Where’s Pierre?” “Are you cheating on your boyfriend?”) but you were only focused on Oscar who leaned into your car with Lily right at his side - and Alex and George acting like their personal shields the best they could. Lando met his friends’ gaze and they didn’t know what to do.

“Back out of here.” Oscar told you firmly. “Just drive, okay? Text me when you get home. Go.”

You nodded and rolled up your window, keeping yourself ducked down the best you could as you shifted your car into reverse and backed out of the parking spot as smoothly as you could, your engine roaring loudly as you nearly floored it out of the lot and onto the street. Lando peered out the window at the disappearing parking lot and Alex and George standing helpless with furious Oscar and Lily who were cursing off the paparazzi.

He turned forward in his seat again, staring wide-eyed out the front window. Did that really happen? Neither of you spoke a word the whole way back to your house. Lando certainly didn’t want to make the first move since the pale colouration of your grief stricken face was enough to stun him into complete silence.

In fact, no words were spoken until you were safely in your apartment. Lando had to nearly run after you as you stalked out of the car and into the elevator and then through your front door, tossing the keys on the kitchen island on your way in. Lando shut the front door behind you both.

“I-” he started.

“I’m fucked.” you cut him off, turning back to him as you pushed an emotional hand through your hair. You were trembling. “I’m so fucked!”

“Baby-”

Pacing the floor, you could hardly breathe and your shaking hands were tugging at the roots of your hair, rambling anxiously to him as your voice quivered with emotion, “I could I be so stupid? I’ve been so careful for years to protect my image…my career…I shouldn’t have had so much wine tonight. I shouldn’t have been so stupid. They had a clear fucking view. That’s going to be everywhere tomorrow morning. There’s going to be a picture of your tongue in my mouth on the international fucking news tomorrow morning…I’m so dead.”

Lando didn’t even know what to say to comfort you so he offered the only thing he could think of to say, “I’m sorry.”

You stood in front of him and took a shaky breath before letting it out with a flat, “It’s not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I asked you to.”

“So? I still shouldn’t have done it.”

You held your face in your hands, crying out a weak, “Oh, God, Lando.”

“It’s okay.” Lando moved closer and wrapped you up in his arms, “It’s going to be okay.”

He didn’t dare tell you the slight selfish excitement that thudded in his chest that maybe this was the chance that he would be able to go public with you. Maybe it wasn’t ideal if you were forced out but it might have been the push you needed. You sniffed back your forming tears and let your arms snake around his waist, tucking your face in his neck as he rubbed your back to try and ease your stresses.

“I’m gonna be in so much trouble.” you mumbled.

“From who?”

“My management team…PR…all of them. I’m going to have to make a statement and somehow cover this up.” you pulled away from him as the anxieties rose again in your chest. “Oh God.”

“Just breathe for a second, sweetheart.” Lando whispered, taking your hand, “What good is it going to do to just stress out before anything-”

Your phone rang from your purse and you hurried to pull it out, answering it right away as you saw Oscar’s name on the screen and you put it on speaker, “Hello?”

“Hey. Did you get home?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Just a few seconds ago. I’m kinda flipping my shit.” you answered, rubbing your temples tiredly.

“Don’t. I got them to delete it.”

Your entire expression changed and you and Lando shared wide glances. You looked back to your phone, “What?”

“Yeah. Lily and I made them delete the pictures in front of us. They’re gone. You’re good.”

“Oh, Osc.” you whimpered, slumping onto one of the kitchen island stools, “Fuck, mate, I could kiss you.”

“I think enough kissing has been done tonight.” he laughed softly, trying to lighten the situation.

Lando smiled slightly.

“I owe you one.” you said.

Osacr tisked, “No way. It’s just my job. And you’re my best friend.”

“I wonder how they knew we were there.” you wondered aloud.

Lando scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor, mumbling quietly, “Maybe Pierre tipped them off for a revenge plot.”

You nudged him playfully, “Pierre would not tip them off.”

“No way.” Oscar added through the phone. “This was probably just a fluke. It’s a popular place.”

“True.” you sighed.

“You okay?” Oscar asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Get some rest, okay?”

“You too. You did good work, Osc.”

“Thanks.”

There was a muffled voice in the background through the phone.

Oscar spoke again, “Oh and Alex and George want to know if Lando’s coming back to the hotel tonight.”

You and Lando looked at each other but he waited to let you answer since it was your house after all. You answered them without taking your eyes off him, “No. I’m keeping him tonight. I’m gonna need serious de-stress cuddles after this little event.”

Oscar passed on the message and as he did so, Lando stepped closer to you and brushed his fingers through your hair, letting you lean forward to rest your cheek against his chest. You said your good nights to your friends and then your phone was turned off, leaving you and Lando alone.

Wrapping your arms around his middle, you let out a deep breath to let your tension melt away and you shut your eyes tightly to just hold onto him a little longer. Lando scratched his fingers gently through your hair and his other hand rubbed over your back and shoulders, letting you take as long as you needed right there.

“Feeling better?” Lando asked you quietly.

You nodded against his body.

“Want me to help you get into bed?”

You sniffled and held him a little tighter around the waist, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” he chuckled, “You have me all night, remember?”

“No, I mean I don’t want you to go home. To England.”

Lando had been trying not to think about it as the summer was approaching its end and that meant he was soon to return to his rainy home country and leave sunny Monaco behind. Leave you behind. He had only three weeks left.

“I have a whole three weeks left.” he said, trying his best to comfort you. Your sadness over the idea of him leaving was slightly comforting, feeling validated that you cared about him just as much as he cared about you.

“Too short.” you mumbled.

“Let’s not think about that right now.”

“Okay.”

He brushed your hair over your shoulders and down your back, petting your head gently. You held him tightly and buried your face in his chest.

The ‘I love you’ was frozen on his tongue.

As you had anticipated, the three weeks nearly flew by. Alex and George went home only one day after your group dinner, leaving Lando to face the remainder of his stay alone again. But he wasn’t totally alone since he spent almost every day with you. The last week was a little touch and go as you kept putting off your after-work plans without much of an explanation and Lando was starting to feel a little worried that he was going to have to face his last week mostly alone. The girls didn’t seem to offer him much comfort, only shrugging and assuring him that you had deadlines to meet and those waited for no one.

But his last day he spent with you, ordering food together on Friday night and eating in your bed while watching a movie before cuddling the night away. You didn’t eat much that night and it was apparent that his impending departure was weighing on you, he was sure. Even still, you didn’t leave his side and you slept cuddled up in his arms well into Saturday morning. Well, to him you slept soundly. In reality, you were awake most of the night, just listening to his heartbeat and his breaths and the thoughts swirling in your mind.

His flight was in mid-afternoon so it gave you some time to wake up in the morning and stop at a café for breakfast before returning to his hotel to gather the last of his things. You were quiet on the drive across the city and Lando held your hand as you drove. Your teeth were stuck in your bottom lip as if they were permanently meant to be there. He gave your hand a squeeze.

In his hotel room, you sat on the end of the second bed that had been George and Alex’s for only a week while you watched Lando pack up his things. Time was ticking and Lando’s dread was only rising with the minutes that passed. He didn’t want to leave you but part of him was also stressed about missing his flight. He was lingering in this weird emotional purgatory. In all honesty, he didn’t want to face an emotional goodbye with you that would inevitably make him cry. So he tried not to think about it - he didn’t even want to look at you as you sat there quietly and let him pack - and he busied himself.

“Lan?” you called softly, your voice faint.

He didn’t answer, tucking his socks and underwear in his suitcase.

“Lando?” you tried again, a little louder.

“I know, I should put the bigger things in first.” he said, turning back to the dresser to open the next drawer down and take out his stack of jeans and pants. “I’m just going drawer by drawer…I don’t totally care.”

“Lando, can I-”

“I don’t think I should have bought so many clothes here…I don’t know how they’re all going to fit in this suitcase under fifty pounds.” he rambled, starting to empty out all the drawers onto the bed first to see what he was dealing with.

You stayed sitting on the opposite bed. He didn’t look at you because he could already feel himself getting a little choked up.

He moved to the closet and opened the doors to take his few things off the hangers, “Maybe I should wear layers? Or leave my underwear and socks behind…those are cheap. Mom can buy me new ones. I guess that’s the good thing of still living at home, right?”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he returned to his bed and started to messily shove things inside. You didn’t have an answer to give him. You stayed quiet for a few seconds, just watching him pack ungracefully.

Lando tried to fold things as small as he could get them but he was emotional and his mind was muddled and he ended up just jamming stuff wherever it fit. He huffed.

You stood from the end of the opposite bed, “Lando, please, can I just-”

He walked away quickly and into the bathroom, “I need my wash stuff.”

You lingered where you stood in the centre of the room and that’s where you were when he returned, glancing at you for a brief second before he was shoving his zipped up toiletry kit into his suitcase too. He didn’t look at you long enough to see how you were wringing your hands together.

“Razor…toothbrush…hairbrush…” Lando muttered to himself, “Maybe I should snag some of the hotel’s free sample things.”

He hurried back into the bathroom. On his way back out, you tried again.

“Please, can I just say one thing?”

“Is it silly to bring the hotel soaps home?” he asked, shoving them in his suitcase anyway, “They’re kinda cute…shaped like little leaves.”

“Lando.” you said strongly.

“Oh, I need my chargers.”

He passed by you again.

“Lando.” you strained.

“I think my passport is in the safe with my laptop. Can’t forget those.”

“Lando.” your voice broke slightly.

He stuffed his laptop and his chargers into his backpack, struggling with how his hands were shaking, “I didn’t know I had so much stuff. Monte Carlo makes a guy materialistic, huh?”

Emotionally, you crumpled to the ground in frustration, knees to your chest, crying out in defeat, “Lando, please.”

Your sudden drop had him turning right to you, startled by the way you just burst into tears on the floor, your face in your palms as you completely sobbed. He dropped whatever he was holding and knelt in front of you quickly and pulled your hands from your face to guide you into a hug, making you hold onto him as you cried.

“Baby.” he cooed, rubbing your back, struggling to hold back his own tears, “Don’t cry.”

“Just stop packing for a second.” you said softly, your voice quivering.

“Okay. I’m here.” Lando promised. “I’m here.”

“I need to talk to you.” you mumbled against his shoulder.

“You had all night to talk to me.” he chuckled, leaning back slightly so you could move out of your embrace and he could look at your face properly.

“I was going to tell you something last night but I got scared…I was going to tell you five days ago but I put it off and now it’s last minute and…God, I’m such a pussy.” you tisked, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Lando gently took your wrists and guided your hands away so he could hold them in his own, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles, “No, you’re not. What is it?”

Your bottom lip trembled as you looked at him, your vision blurred with tears, and he tried so desperately to read your expression, trying not to psych himself out that you were ending things with him or any other worst case scenario that could have been playing on your mind. Your mouth tried to form words but no sound came out minus a little squeak of anxiety that had Lando chuckling nervously.

“What is it, you muppet?” he encouraged you sweetly, “You can tell me anything.”

You sniffled and silent tears trailed down your cheeks, unable to compose yourself enough to say what you needed to say.

Trying to keep it light for your sake, he bounced your joined hands against your thighs gently, “What? Are you pregnant or something?”

The way your breath caught in your throat and your entire body tensed up had his lighthearted smile faltering for a second. You tore your gaze from his and looked to your lap almost shamefully. Neither of you moved for a moment.

“You’re…not…are you?” Lando asked hesitantly.

A fresh wave of tears came over you and you slumped against the front of the dresser on the floor, tearing your hands from his to hold your face in your palms as you cried.

Lando breathed our name, his eyes as wide as saucers and his face as white as paper, “Don’t play with me right now. Are you serious?”

You nodded into your hands.

“You’re pregnant?” he repeated, “For real? Like…confirmed?”

You sniffled and pulled your phone from your pocket and he waited impatiently as you opened your photos app and then passed it over to him to see. The picture on the screen was of your bathroom counter with three positive pregnancy tests in a row in the centre. Lando blinked. He zoomed in. The three pairs of pink lines were clear as day. He blinked again. Was this real?

“Is this real?”

You nodded into your hands, almost scared to look at him.

“I-” Lando stared at the picture for a second longer and then looked at you, “Are you…What are you going to do?”

You sniffled and dropped your hands to your lap between your bent knees, “I cannot have a kid right now.”

Lando's heart stopped at that statement. It was ultimately your decision but he did not want to lose his chance at having a little family with you. He waited for you to continue.

“But I can’t get rid of it.” you mumbled. “I don’t want…I can’t do that.”

“That’s okay.” Lando breathed.

He honestly felt dizzy - like the entire situation was a dream. Your voice sounded a little echoey and he pinched his thigh to bring himself back to his true reality, trying to focus on your obviously distraught expression.

“I’m scared.” you admitted softly, your trembling voice barely audible.

“Hey,” Lando scooted closer to you to sit at your side against the dresser and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to pull you in towards him, pressing a kiss to your temple, “No reason to be scared. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

You nodded and leaned your head against his and his hand found yours, lacing your fingers together lovingly. His other hand still held your phone with the picture on the screen and he couldn’t stop staring at it in complete disbelief.

“You are going somewhere. You’re going home.” you mumbled.

Lando’s heart sank, “Yeah…”

“I don’t even know what we are.” you whispered. “This whole time…I don’t know what we are. Are we just fuck buddies or…are we, like, something more…?”

Lando stared down at your intertwined hands, having so much information thrown at him in the span of a few moments that his mind was whirling. His momentary silence had you slightly panicked.

You spoke again as if to pitch your case, “Because I really have been feeling like both of us have wanted more but I didn’t want to step out of line or scare you or anything by asking…in case you didn’t feel the same…but part of me always thought that maybe you did and I was just being silly and-”

Lando raised his hand to press his finger against your jaw and turned your face towards his, capturing your lips with his to shut you up with a kiss. You instantly melted into him and your soft sigh as he finally pulled away from your few chasté kisses was almost enough to ease his own consciousness.

“I’ve wanted all of you since the moment I knew your name.” he promised. “I want as much as you’re willing to give me…whatever you want to be. You hold the cards.”

“I just want you.” you confessed, holding his hand in both of yours as you leaned into him adoringly, “I want to really be yours. For real.”

Lando licked his lips as he stared at you, feeling as though he were treading in dangerous waters and pressing his luck, “So…do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You bit back your grin at his shy question, “Well you already got me pregnant so it would be a bit dumb of me to say no.”

“Oh my God.” Lando breathed. His words were punctuated by your lips pressing against his again and you shared a few quick kisses. Reality seemed to settle around him and he tilted his head back to break your kiss, huffing out almost panicky to the ceiling, “You’re pregnant.”

“Yeah.” you mumbled.

Lando pressed his finger against his chest, “You’re having my baby? Mine?”

“Yeah. I told you…there was no one else.”

Lando’s eyes were as wide as saucers and he stared at you dumbly, unblinking, his index finger still pressed against his chest.

You sighed, “I know this isn’t ideal…I’m so busy and you’re still in school getting your degree and we don’t even live in the same country. I get it if you just kinda wanna do your own thing. I don’t need money from you or anything.”

“Hey, no.” Lando grabbed your hands again, “Don’t even say that. I want to be a part of this with you. More than anything, okay? More than anything.”

“You sure?” you pouted, “Because I really don’t want you to think that I’m trapping you in a life that you don’t want.”

“Life that I don’t want?” Lando gaped, “Holy shit, baby, I’ve dreamt about having a family with you since the second I hit that ‘follow’ button on Instagram, are you kidding?”

“Oh my God, really?” you laughed wetly at his confession, sniffling back your tears.

“I promise. I’m not going anywhere.” he swore and shifted onto his knees to pull you into a hug again, “Not even if you forced me.”

Your arms wrapped easily around his shoulders and you dipped your face into his neck, letting him feel the warmth of your body with his on the hotel room floor. He could feel your heavy heartbeat through your chest and against his own and he gently caressed your hair and breathed you in, the smell of you that grew so familiar over the summer. The news was dream-like and he was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around it but holding you in his arms just made it feel so easy and so right.

He had to say it.

“I love you.”

Your arms tightened around him and your fingers clutched the back of his shirt as you let out a small sob into his neck, “Oh God…I love you.”

Lando shut his eyes tightly and choked back his own wave of tears, your voice saying that simple sentence to him meaning more to him than you would ever know.

“That’s so scary.” you sniffed quietly after a moment.

He sat back slightly so he could look at you and he brushed your hair from your face, “What is?”

You shrugged, looking down at your lap where you were picking at your nails, “Love? I dunno…it sounds silly.”

“It’s not silly.” Lando assured you easily, “It’s a lot to trust someone with. But I love you for trusting me.”

You cracked a small smile and he tilted your chin up again so he could press a damp kiss to your lips through your shared emotions.

“And even more because you’re having my baby.” he whispered, almost disbelieving, but he bit back his excited grin as he spoke the words he once only dreamt of.

“Yeah.” you smiled sweetly and slid your hands into his.

Sitting in front of each other on the hotel room floor, you shared a few single kisses through your slowing tears, perfectly innocent and soft that it flooded your hearts with warmth. Lando was over the moon and his hands stayed in yours so tenderly like he never wanted to let you go.

Finally, you pulled away with a soft gasp and then a quiet groan of, “Fuck, I can’t drink wine anymore.”

Lando laughed lightly and he lifted his hands from yours to wipe your tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, “No, you can’t.”

You dramatically rested your forehead against his shoulder.

He rubbed your back, “Only normal grape juice for the next little while now.”

Proper goodbyes were shared before leaving the hotel room together to linger on that last moment of privacy before the public eye would be on you again. Lando partially wished that you had told him sooner because having to leave within the same hour that you told him you were pregnant was almost unbearable. He had always loved you but now it only felt overwhelmingly more and he was having a hard time letting go. Lando promised to call you every night and text often and you promised to FaceTime him during the first doctor's visit which had him crying into your shoulder with how much he just didn't want to leave.

But he had to, and soon he had said an all too quiet goodbye at the airport to you and was sitting at his gate waiting for boarding. Life felt surreal as he sat there among strangers who didn’t know him, didn’t know his story, and didn’t know that you were going to make him a father. He was overwhelmed but he was bursting with glee.

Before he was told to turn off his phone for the flight, he opened one last app to do one final thing. His group chat was quiet that afternoon but Lando was about to change that.

landonorris: Hey guys georgerussell63: Lando!!! Hey! alex_albon: Hiii alex_albon: You back in Bristol yet?? landonorris: Waiting at my gate landonorris: Listen… alex_albon: Listening georgerussell63: Oh no landonorris: I got some news today georgerussell63: Is everything okay?? landonorris: Yeah. It’s great landonorris: I have a girlfriend alex_albon: WHAT georgerussell63: AHHH Like for real??? alex_albon: ITS OFFICIAL???? georgerussell63: OMFGGGKTKJTNGJKT landonorris: Yeah!! As of today landonorris: I still can’t believe it landonorris: But that’s not all georgerussell63: The way I went from celebrating to scared again gave me whiplash alex_albon: Same wtf Lan what is it alex_albon: Just send us one of your classic long paragraphs with everything in it what with the suspense georgerussell63: Lando TELL US landonorris: Well you know how she has been my dream girl for so long right? alex_albon: Duh georgerussell63: Yeesss landonorris: I’ve been basically living the dream because of that this whole summer landonorris: But I guess there was one thing missing that would really complete the ideal universe concept for me landonorris: And I didn’t really think about it too much because it didn’t feel attainable really landonorris: But I guess it wasn’t impossible… landonorris: Because it happened and she told me today... landonorris: We’re having a baby

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glossdebut · 4 months ago

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take a bite | MYG ★ 7

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: copious amounts of FEELINGS both good and bad, theatre references LOL, world-class meddler kim seokjin, yoongi being hopelessly whipped, angst, smut

✧ WORDCOUNT: 10.3k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: WOW. i don't even know what to say... with this chapter, take a bite is officially complete. THANK YOU so much to those of you who have been reading from the very beginning and sending me such kind words. this story means so much to me and i can't believe it's over. thank you again to @love4myg for beta reading this chapter and the last!! everybody go give tanni some love. i love you all! i tried to give this story the ending it deserves so i hope you enjoy the last chapter <3

CH. 7: Wanna Do It All Over Again

You’re a planner, a scheduler. You keep a minimum of six to-do lists at a time. You do your best work when your week is clearly laid out for you within the confines of the neat little boxes on your calendar. So you allot yourself one day to grieve what could’ve been with Min Yoongi, and that’s it.

Your Sunday is spent wallowing, because Rina doesn’t give you any choice in the matter and you don’t have it in you to put up a fight. She seems a little bit like she’s grasping at straws on how to help you, though.

You don’t blame her. Rina had dropped everything to be by your side when your ex ended things, but the remedy for that was pretty straightforward.

There was the initial crying on your part—the intense and nauseating kind that felt like it would never stop, until Rina held you and it inevitably did. After the tears came the anger, the picking apart of every little argument you’d had with him, every quirk of his that had soured from endearing to annoying, and Rina had no problem talking shit. Anger turned into drinking, and drinking led to falling asleep in a heap together on your couch.

It didn’t magically fix the hollowness inside of you overnight, but it helped. Rina had a patented method to make a broken heart a little more bearable.

A patented method that, unfortunately, doesn’t really apply here. Your heart isn’t broken over a failed situationship. You’ve been crying, sure, but it’s more of a passive sniffle than anything else. You can’t bring yourself to feel angry at Yoongi either. Confused, annoyed, disappointed, stupid—all of those you can feel just fine. But the anger just won’t come.

Desperate, Rina defaults to cliches. Cheesy movies, ice cream, face masks—the stuff straight out of a ‘How To Get Over Your Ex In Ten Easy Steps’ article in a teen magazine. She paints your nails while you stare blankly at Julia Stiles’ face on your TV. You force yourself to believe it’s helping. You have work to do, a deadline to meet. So if you need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with Rina and cry it out to cleanse your brain of Yoongi, so be it.

You refuse to use a sick day in general, let alone because of a man, but you do grant yourself permission to work from home on Monday. Not because you’re still grieving—that’s what Sunday was for—but because you look like you’ve been run over, dumped into the river and then fished out.

With greasy hair and puffy eyes, you set your phone to do not disturb and hunker down in your bed to write your profile on Yijeong. Despite the burn of your laptop on your thighs, you type and self-edit for hours, pausing only to listen to your recording of Yijeong’s interview and transcribe direct quotes.

You’re able to churn out a subpar first draft before you burn out around four in the afternoon. Your brain is all over the place, and as a result, the profile is nowhere near where it needs to be. But you don’t have it in you to stare at your laptop screen for any longer.

Rina slipped out this morning and made herself scarce so you could work, so you’re alone. You decide to shower first and foremost, something you’ve been putting off for far too long, and then maybe order dinner if you want to shell out extra money towards a delivery fee.

Stretching your legs as you stand, you use some of your few remaining dregs of energy to drag yourself out of bed and into your bathroom, finally shedding yourself of the sweatpants and shirt you’ve been wearing since Sunday morning.

Your mistake is looking in the mirror. The few marks Yoongi made on your body are only just barely beginning to fade, still dark on your skin. You trace a fingertip over the bruise he’d sucked into your breast just days before, so recently that you can still conjure a phantom of the feeling of his lips and teeth on your skin. He’d wanted you so fervently then that you’d been sure at that stupid party that he already felt what you did. That he’d just been waiting for you to catch on.

You don’t know what you did wrong, what kind of misstep you could’ve made to make Yoongi withdraw so suddenly like he did, but you wish you could take it back.

When you finally emerge from your shower, you’re no more energized than you were when you entered. At the very least, though, you’re clean, and you decide to reward your efforts with tangsuyuk.

When you turn your phone off of do not disturb, you can’t help but hope, just for a moment, that Yoongi has texted you today.

Instead, you find that Seokjin has.

[4:42] Seokjin: If you’re not too busy, can we meet?

The anger that had been missing in action floods your senses all at once.

Seokjin wants to meet you. Seokjin, who you’ve met once. Meanwhile Yoongi, who allegedly still wants to be your friend, can’t send you a cursory text or, god forbid, walk down the hallway to explain any of this to you.

You are not this girl. You have gone through strenuous effort to build very sturdy, very high walls to ensure that you don’t become this girl—the one who loses sight of what’s important to her for a man who will just fuck her over anyway, leave her high and dry. Disappear with no explanation. Fuck that.

If Yoongi isn’t man enough to let you down easily himself, if he’s going to have Seokjin do it for him, maybe you’re better off without any bullshit excuse. From either of them.

You swipe out of your messages, ordering your hard-earned tangsuyuk first. Once the payment has gone through, you open Seokjin’s message again, fingers shaking as you type out your stilted reply and press send.

[5:03] You: i am too busy. and not interested.

Bitterly, you set your phone back to do not disturb. The delivery driver will knock when your food is here, and you couldn’t care less about whatever Seokjin’s reply could be.

★ ★ ★

The rest of the week goes by in a blur, but now that you’re committed to feeling pissed off, you actually feel a lot better. Maybe it’s the man-hater in you.

You hyperfocus on finishing the profile, the words flowing much easier now that you’re done feeling sorry for yourself. Even when you have to write about Suga and his impact on Yijeong’s career, you aren’t the slightest bit thrown off. By the time you’re done, you’re confident that it’s possibly the best thing you’ve written in a long time, and when you hand it off to Rina for feedback she concurs.

On Wednesday morning, you drop the final draft off on Kevin’s desk for approval, and then spend the next few hours helping out where you’re needed. Everyone in the office is in a frenzy to get the layout of Look Here’s next issue together. You spend your day copy editing and calling sources with last minute follow-up questions.

When all of the articles are squared away, you lurk by the design team in case they need any extra hands. In return, you get to watch the paginator type your headline onto the front cover, which is… a pretty cool moment for you.

You usually hate the week leading up to print day, but knowing that Yijeong’s profile is going to be on the cover, you revel in the chaos of it.

You’re slightly anxious when Kevin calls you into his office right before quitting time, but you try not to let it get to you too much. You know the profile is good.

“Y/N,” Kevin says, tearing his attention away from his computer as you step into his office. It’s a good sign, you think, that he’s looking you in the eyes this time. “Sit down.”

You sit, immediately tapping your foot to try and calm your nerves. “You wanted to see me?”

“I read your piece,” he says, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his desk. But he doesn’t say anything else.

Um… Okay.

“And?” you ask meekly. He looks at you seriously, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“It was incredible,” he says. Fuck, thank god. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“Really?” you ask, your whole body relaxing all at once.

“Really,” he insists. “It was well-written, informative, personal. I don’t know how you got him to open up like that, but I hope you can keep doing it.”

You blink at him. “Keep doing it?”

“You can expect more assignments like that starting next week,” Kevin says, smiling at you warmly. Holy fuck. “We’re all very impressed with you. We want to give you bigger responsibilities moving forward.”

“Thank you,” you blurt out, unable to contain your excitement. “Thank you, I won’t let you down.”

“I hope not,” he hums, amused, before turning back to his computer. “Go home and get some rest. Print day tomorrow.”

“I will,” you say, standing up in a flash. You want to call—Rina, you want to call Rina and tell her the good news. “See you tomorrow!”

“Have a good night!” Kevin calls as you leave his office in a hurry.

As you walk back to your desk to grab your bag, it feels more like you’re walking on a cloud. Holy fuck. You were right. This piece was your breakthrough piece, and you proved yourself just like you knew you could. Nothing can bring you down right now.

★ ★ ★

As it turns out, Kim Seokjin is not the kind of guy who takes kindly to being ignored. Based on what you know about him, you probably should’ve been able to figure that out on your own. But you certainly didn’t expect him to ambush you outside of your apartment.

You spotted Seokjin sitting against your door as you made it home from work, although he scrambled to his feet when he noticed you approaching. You wondered how long he’d been sitting there waiting for you to get him. He looked like he was well-prepared to convince you to let him in, a pre-planned speech at the ready, but you didn’t give him the chance, wordlessly letting him inside.

Maybe you were still riding the high of being praised by your boss, but you highly doubted anything Seokjin could say to you would kill your good mood. If he wanted to defend Yoongi’s honor, he was welcome to try.

Your initial impression of Seokjin was that he was boisterous, silly, and a little bit crude. As you sit across from him, all of that still seems to be true, although he seems intent on doing his very best impression of a longsuffering psychiatrist right now.

He sits primly in the armchair opposite the couch you’ve nestled yourself into, his hands steepled together in his lap as he pulls a serious face. It looks strange on him.

“I’d like to preface by saying that you and Yoongi are both being stupid.”

You blink at him, taken aback, until your expression settles into something unimpressed.

“Nice start,” you say flatly.

“You’re perfect for each other and why both of you are willing to throw it away so quickly is beyond me. It’s giving me a headache,” he continues, rubbing at his temples as if to prove his point. “I’m going to play mediator just this once, and then it’s up to you two to figure it out for yourselves.”

“Does Yoongi know you’re here?”

That makes Seokjin snort. “Are you kidding? He’d try to kill me,” he says, crossing his arms. “No, he doesn’t know I’m here. But he told me what happened, and I think there are some things you deserve to know.”

Yoongi told Seokjin what happened. You can’t help the scoff that escapes your lips. That’s nice for him. You don’t even know what happened. Yoongi certainly didn’t seem to feel obligated to clue you into his reasoning for ending things.

“Why doesn’t he tell me those things himself, then?” you ask bitterly.

“Because he’s stupid,” Seokjin says, snapping his fingers impatiently. “Keep up.”

“Okay,” you sigh, equally impatient. You’ve changed your mind. You want to get this asshole out of your apartment as soon as possible. “We’re both stupid. What is it that I deserve to know?”

“Yoongi-yah may be stupid, but he isn’t a bad person.”

You sit up straight at that. Is he joking? “What are you, his fucking character witness?”

“I’ve been his best friend for over a decade,” Seokjin snaps, clearly tired of your attitude. As if you aren’t justified in having one. “So if I am his character witness, I’m a pretty fucking good one.”

You open your mouth to say something, something venomous at the tip of your tongue, but Seokjin beats you to it, holding his hand up to silence you. “Can you just be quiet for five minutes and let me say my piece? Please?”

Huffing petulantly, you shrug and lean back into the couch, gesturing for him to continue.

Seokjin visibly regroups. You watch as he sits up a little straighter, shakes off the irritation, takes a deep breath.

“For as long as I’ve known him, all Yoongi has ever wanted was to make something of himself,” Seokjin starts, calmer now. “He loved making music, and he didn’t care about anything else. Least of all himself.”

“I got to know him when we were freshmen in college,” he continues. “I’d heard about him from classmates, seen him around, but you know Yoongi. He’s pretty tight-lipped about things, always has been. It’s one of his many faults.”

You scoff, your bitterness cutting through the air. No kidding. That’s how you ended up here, isn’t it? Yoongi’s little omissions, always giving half-truths. The real reason why he ended things with you is just another one to add to the list.

“Anyway,” Seokjin says, his eyes narrowing at you for a moment as he continues. “I was majoring in theatre, and I’d been cast in ‘Into the Woods.’ Yoongi was volunteered by his piano professor to help with the accompaniment, and during our first rehearsal I just remember thinking to myself, ‘who is this scrawny kid who can play Stephen Sondheim with his eyes closed?’”

You wish he’d get to the point already. You’re a sucker for a good backstory, you are. It’s what makes you such a good feature writer. But you’d really like to maintain your resolve in being pissed at Yoongi, if you can help it.

“I was so impressed with him, you know? He does that. He makes everything look so easy. I made it a point to get to know him, and he opened up to me surprisingly fast. I think he needed a friend,” Seokjin continues. “He told me that he was mostly there on scholarships, but he still had to work two jobs to live and pay off the tuition that he did owe. He told me that he utilized the fuck out of the production equipment on campus. He told me that all he wanted to do was make music, and for people to hear it and think it’s worth something.”

Seokjin pauses for a moment, shifting in his chair.

“I think he would’ve done anything to make that happen,” he says, tension in his voice. “I already didn’t like some of the shit he did do, the situations he put himself in, but I think if he knew it could’ve made his dream a reality, he would’ve done much worse.”

Seokjin doesn’t offer up any more information on what exactly Yoongi did, but he doesn’t have to. You gather by the grimace on his face that it must’ve been pretty bad.

“Obviously he made it anyway. You know who he is now,” he says, pausing for a moment. He looks at you seriously. “That comes with its own set of issues, though.”

“Like what?” you ask, disbelieving.

You feel bad for Yoongi, you do. At least for what he must’ve went through in the past. You know what it’s like to struggle, to feel like you can’t possibly reach your goals with the resources available to you. You’re experiencing that currently.

But Yoongi is extremely successful now. Artists trip over themselves to get a song from him because they know it’ll chart, that people will go crazy for it. His track record is that good. How hard can it be, living like that? Having people think so highly of you?

“Like people taking advantage of him at every turn,” he says, his words blunt. “People pretending to care about him to get close to him. Even going so far as dating him. Long-term. Or at least as long as it takes to produce an album.”

Oh.

“…Suran?” you guess, thinking back to the party Saturday night. The way Suran kept touching Yoongi, like there had been something there. Yoongi didn’t seem all that uncomfortable, but he’s got a killer poker face. Could Suran be that kind of person?

“What?” Seokjin asks, bewildered. “No, Suran was just a casual thing. He told you about Suran?”

“I met her. Saturday,” you say, waving a hand dismissively. “They seemed close.”

“That’s been done for years. Yoongi cares about Suran, but it isn’t like that anymore,” he insists, shaking his head. “It was someone else. It’s not my place to say who, but it’s the only time I’ve ever seen Yoongi in love like that. Or at all, honestly. He brought her around all of us, which is a big deal for him. Wrote songs for her. Like, not just for her album, but for her. About her.”

“What happened?” you ask despite yourself. You can feel your resolve crumbling, curiosity getting the best of you. Fuck.

“They were out celebrating finishing the album,” he says. “She wanted to go for a walk after dinner. Kissed him in the middle of the street. The next morning, he woke up to pictures of it all over the internet. She’d texted him, too, breaking it off. It didn’t take much brain power to figure out she orchestrated the whole thing.”

You feel a pang in your chest. As hurt as you are, you also know that Yoongi couldn’t have possibly deserved that. Nobody does.

“He threw himself into his work after that—almost never left the studio. Barely ate or showered,” Seokjin says. “I had to put a stop to it. He was going to overwork himself to death, if I didn’t. I had to help him dig himself out of that hole.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, doing your best to ignore how much that sounds like you. How Yoongi was the one beginning to dig you out.

“That sucks,” you say finally. “But I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Come on, Y/N. You’re smarter than that,” Seokjin huffs. Big talk from the man who’s been calling you stupid this whole time. “Yoongi hasn’t dated anyone since then. Hasn’t even shown interest. Until you.”

“That’s not what it was, between us,” you insist. “I thought, maybe…” Maybe it could’ve been, you think. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. “But he ended it.”

“Because he’s stupid,” Seokjin says. “Because he got hurt, and it made him stupid, and when you asked him if he could get you an interview with Yijeong, he was scared that was your endgame.”

What?

Yoongi thinks you were using him? What the fuck????

“I wouldn’t—“ you start, but Seokjin cuts you off.

“Why do you think I’m here?” he asks, his gaze piercing through you. “You think I couldn’t tell you were going to fall in love with him the moment I met you? The moment I saw you two together?”

Your throat tightens and you have to tear your eyes away from Seokjin. Love is a big word. One you’re not quite ready to contend with, not now.

“…I like Yoongi,” you manage. You can admit that now, even if Yoongi himself never got the chance to hear it. “But just because he got hurt once upon a time, it doesn’t automatically make the way he ended things with me okay.”

“Just talk to him,” Seokjin pleads.

“Look, I listened to what you have to say,” you say, standing up from the couch. “And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t change some things. But I don’t know if I want to talk to him, okay? Maybe it’s better that it’s ended before we got anywhere serious, if we’re both so fucked up over the past.”

“Y/N—“

“Seokjin, I have work in the morning. I appreciate you coming over to tell me all of this, but I’d really like it if you left now.”

You don’t give him much of a choice in the matter. He’s overstayed his welcome. You make it abundantly clear that if Seokjin doesn’t use his own two legs to walk himself out of your home, you fully intend to grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him out yourself.

Defeated, Seokjin stands up from his chair and makes his way to your front door. You follow close behind, shutting and locking it behind him before he can get another word in.

When you walk back to the couch, you catch Rina poking her head out into the living room.

Shit. You hadn’t even known she was home.

Wordlessly, you sink back into the couch, emotionally exhausted. Rina sits with you, repositioning you so your head is in her lap, running her fingers through your hair soothingly.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes, but you can practically hear the gears turning in Rina’s head. She’s been biting her tongue since Saturday night, being supportive when you needed it, but not pushing. But she was just in your bedroom that whole time, and Seokjin isn’t exactly quiet. You can only imagine what she heard. You brace yourself.

Finally, she breaks the silence.

“He can play Sondheim with his eyes closed?” she asks.

All of the tension seeps out of you at once. You should’ve known better. Of course Rina won’t push you in either direction. She’s your best friend, your Seokjin. Her loyalties will always be with you, and she knows that you need to process everything on your own.

But she’s also a theatre kid.

“Apparently,” you huff, closing your eyes.

“…That’s really hot.”

You laugh, reaching up to swat at her shoulder. “Not helpful.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice gentle.

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What are you going to do? Seokjin made a strong case for Yoongi, but you’re still mad about how everything played out. You trusted Yoongi this whole time to be honest with you, but you keep being made aware, over and over, of how much he keeps to himself. You aren’t sure if you want to fight to be let in, if it’s worth it. You want it to be.

“I don’t know,” you say finally.

Rina hums, continuing to stroke your hair.

“...Do you wanna watch ‘Into the Woods’?” she asks.

You snort softly, sitting up to grab the remote.

“Only if it’s the one with Bernadette Peters.”

★ ★ ★

When Yoongi got his very first long-term gig as a producer, Namjoon brought him a potted plant as a studio-warming gift.

Yoongi thought it was stupid at first, because his studio didn’t have any windows—windows would compromise the integrity of the soundproofing—so the plant would have zero chance of survival. And why was Kim Namjoon buying him a plant anyway? New headphones would’ve been better, Yoongi told him.

But Namjoon had laughed and insisted that the plant—a dracaena, apparently—was extremely resilient. That it could still thrive in the darkness.

“That’s why I got it for you, hyung,” Namjoon had told Yoongi. “It reminded me of you.”

Needless to say, Yoongi became obsessed with the thing.

It was just a small little cutting, just barely starting to grow on its own, so Yoongi researched how to properly care for it and took all of the necessary steps to ensure it would succeed, even in his dimly lit studio.

He watered it, pruned it, measured its growth. He sent Namjoon pictures of it on a weekly basis. He named it—Eodumie, thank you very much.

It took a while, but eventually, Eodumie started to die. Yoongi didn’t know why, so he started doing research on dracaena. He’d put so much effort into helping it grow, so it only seemed sensible to figure out why things had taken a turn for the worse. Run into a problem, find a solution.

Yoongi very quickly found out that Namjoon was a little bit dumb, and that the only ‘plants’ that grow in complete darkness are mushrooms. But he still felt like he’d failed.

When Yoongi is really upset and can’t stop turning a problem over in his head, he resorts to extremely heavy-handed metaphors to help himself make sense of things.

So all of that is to say, Yoongi has a tendency to kill things before they have a chance to grow.

He thought, because you didn’t want a relationship, that you were safe from it. And you were, because he really was okay with being your friend. He didn’t expect any more from you.

But then you asked him if he wanted to have sex with you, and… Well, everything changed then, didn’t it? Not because he couldn’t keep things casual anymore—if that’s what you wanted, he would do it. He would try. You make it so hard for him to say no to you.

No, everything changed because Yoongi is an overthinker by nature. He’s attuned to the rhythm of the world around him, notices patterns where others don’t. Especially when he’s seen them before.

He gave you his mouth, and then you wanted more. He gave you more, and then you wanted a favor. He gave you your favor, and then Suran gave you his identity. You had your favor, and his identity, and then you were all over him, and Yoongi knows what happens next. He’s heard that song before.

Shit, Yoongi’s made that song before, unwittingly. And he’s not interested in writing another duet just for it to sour like the last one.

Metaphors, again.

The point is, he cut it off before he was in too deep. Sex complicates things. For him. It blurs the lines, and he’d much rather do you professional favors when he’s not also seeing you naked. It’s the only way he can keep being your friend, and that’s what you want.

Seokjin thinks he’s being an idiot. Seokjin can suck his cock. Yoongi was doing what he thought was right.

He hadn’t expected to hear from you. Over the past week he’d thought about reaching out and explaining himself every day. But he wanted to give you space, maybe. Or maybe he still felt a little sore about the whole thing. But then, Friday night, you text him asking him to come over and…

Now he’s in your apartment.

In all of the weeks he’s known you, Yoongi has never actually been inside your apartment before, he realizes. Is that weird? The closest he’d been was when he picked you up for the party on Saturday. When he’d lingered in your doorway, looking at you in your pretty dress. Fuck, you looked good. He didn’t want to go to that dumb party in the first place, but you in that dress… He wanted to drag you down the hall, get you in his bed. Take it off of you with his teeth.

It’s devastating that now that Yoongi is finally here, you seem so stiff in his presence. Quiet. Unlike yourself. You’re sitting as far as humanly possible from him on your couch, and Yoongi feels like an asshole. Even when you were literally a stranger, you didn’t feel like this much of a stranger to him. It was instant, the way you’d hit it off. Did Yoongi really make things this way?

“I read your article,” he says, cutting through the silence. Neither of you have spoken since he came in, and the tension is making him antsy. Desperate to break the ice.

What he doesn’t tell you is that he read your article the second it came out this morning, that he’s had alerts on his phone for everything published under your name since the day after he met you. That he drops everything to read it all, no matter what he’s doing.

It was beautiful. It was about one of his best friends, so of course he thought so, but you have such a way with words. It’s another thing you have in common, he thinks. You both have difficulty saying what you feel out loud, but when it comes to work, when you’re writing, it just pours out of you.

“You read my article,” you repeat softly, huffing. Yoongi can’t read the expression on your face, and that bothers him to no end.

“Of course I did,” he replies, brow furrowing in confusion. “I always do. Especially this one.”

“We need to talk,” you say. He watches as you turn your body on the couch, pulling your legs to your chest to face him.

“Okay.”

“I need to talk,” you suddenly correct, voice tight. You take a breath, and then, “Seokjin came over the other night.”

Seokjin… Oh.

Oh, Yoongi’s going to kill him. Brutally. He told Seokjin to keep his nose out of his fucking business and instead of listening and staying out of it, he came over to your apartment? Is he insane? Yoongi’s always thought so, in a mostly loving way, but this is a whole new level of intrusion that he didn’t think Seokjin was capable of, and now he has to die.

“He came here? He had no right—”

“It’s fine,” you say, waving a hand. Yoongi’s unconvinced, but he forces himself to settle, to take a breath. You said you needed to talk, and he’s going to let you. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was going to text you, so… It’s probably good that he did.”

Yoongi doesn’t see how that could possibly be the case, but he stays quiet. Waits for you to find the right words.

“This whole past week, I’ve been so… confused,” you start, your eyes fixed on the couch cushion between the two of you. “Confused, and mad at you.”

“I still am, I think,” you continue, lifting your head to look at him. “Mad at you. But I don’t want to be, because I miss you. You said that you still wanted to be friends, but you haven’t exactly put in much of an effort to do that.”

“I wanted to give you space,” Yoongi says. His excuse sounds hollow, even to his own ears.

You shake your head. “You don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that, I just—”

“Let me talk,” you snap, frustrated, and Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut so fast he can hear the click of it. “You don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I get it. But if me asking you for help bothered you so much, you could’ve just told me no instead of assuming that I was using you as some kind of stepping stone and then just breaking things off without explaining.”

There’s nothing Yoongi can say to that. He knows you’re right. He should’ve just said no the second he felt uncomfortable, but it was just so important to you he couldn’t bring himself to not help you.

“I get why your brain immediately went there, but I’m not going to apologize or act guilty or anything like that. Because I wasn’t using you,” you say firmly, crossing your arms. “Shit, Yoongi, all the times you’ve offered to help me I’ve tried to stop you. My car? But then the one time I come to you first, you assume the worst and shut me out. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry.”

He feels like the world’s biggest piece of shit. For someone usually so observant, he suddenly feels like he’s been blind this whole time. You’ve done nothing but be upfront with him about what you wanted, and still he assumed you were pulling one over on him. He’s spent the past week feeling justified, feeling like he’d done the right thing, but your words have made his entire mindset shift in an instant.

“The night of the party, I…” you trail off. And then you laugh, which makes Yoongi look back up at you. “Yijeong told me I was special. He said that you hadn’t been to an industry event in years, even when he asked you to. I didn’t know that.”

“It was important to you,” he mumbles, sheepish. He didn’t know Yijeong had said anything about him to you. Looking back now, he realizes how stupid that is. His friends are all world-class meddlers. Clearly they need to be, if Yoongi’s this fucking dense.

“See? That right there,” you say, frustrated. “I thought, maybe… I thought you had feelings for me. Non-platonic, romantic feelings. And for the first time since my ex… Did I ever tell you what happened with him?” you ask.

Yoongi had read between the lines. He knew that your ex had a problem with how demanding your job was, and that it’d ended badly, but beyond that he doesn’t know any details.

He shakes his head.

“We were together for almost four years. Almost all through college,” you start. “He met my parents. I met his. After we graduated, we moved in together. In this apartment, actually.”

Yoongi watches you glance around your living room. He knows that look. Years later, he still remembers what his apartment, his studio looked like when they were occupied by someone else. He remembers every detail.

“I thought we were going to get married eventually. We’d talked about it.” You pull your knees tighter to your chest, looking down. “I got my first job at some shitty newspaper. I worked insane hours and it barely paid anything, but it was a start. I was over the moon about it.”

He holds his breath, waiting for what he knows comes next.

“He broke up with me after two months,” you say, your voice wavering. “He said it was because he barely saw me, that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with me if my job was going to be more important than us. It took him less than a week to move out. Four years down the drain.”

Fuck. It’s awful, watching you relive your pain and not being able to do anything but listen. Because Yoongi hurt you, too. He’s the reason you’re digging this up, that you’re feeling it all over again.

Yoongi looks down, picks at his left thumbnail as he listens. He can’t bring himself to look at you.

Your ex is an idiot, he thinks bitterly. How could someone spend four years watching the way you glow when you talk about writing and throw that away?

“I blamed myself. Why wouldn’t I? He told me it was my fault,” you say. “I haven’t been interested in a relationship since. Why try if I clearly don’t have time for it? The thought of you having feelings for me…”

He hears you suck in a breath, braces himself. He thought he’d done a good job of hiding how he felt about you, even after the sex. But he’d made you uncomfortable anyway. Of course.

“It made me want to try,” you say softly.

Yoongi’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting yours. It’s almost insane, the way his heart starts racing in his chest at just the slightest glimmer of hope. You realized how he felt—feels—about you, and you wanted to try? He wants to interrupt you, to ask what that means, but he holds his tongue.

“I think maybe I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you continue, looking down at your knees again. “And I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. But when Yijeong told me all of that… I mean, fuck, Yoongi. We weren’t even speaking and you read my article. You helped me even though you thought I was just using you to get ahead. When I hadn’t seen you for weeks, instead of thinking I was a bad friend, you offered up your studio so we could work in complete silence together.”

He would do anything. He would do anything to see you glow. That first night in that horrible Western bar you’d both been dragged to, the way you puffed up with pride when you told him where you work—that’s all he ever wants to see.

“I was going to tell you,” you say. “After the party, I was going to tell you. But then you ended things, and I… I didn’t know why.”

Yoongi needs to salvage this. He needs to know if there’s anything left, if you could ever forgive him for being such a stupid, prideful ass. He hopes.

“Y/N…” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You do this thing where you only give me half-truths about shit, and it drives me crazy,” you say, pointing a finger at him in frustration. “All of the secrecy about your job, who you are, how close you are to Yijeong, why you ended things with us. It seriously makes me want to kill you sometimes.”

You’re right. He prides himself on being an honest person, but he kept things from you on purpose. He didn’t want to let you in fully, to let you see him. He didn’t want to get hurt. But none of that was worth hurting you. He’s going to fix this. He’s going to try.

“Then let me clear some things up,” Yoongi says, sitting up straighter.

He scoots closer, closing some of the space between you on the couch.

Yoongi has never been good at talking about his feelings, not out loud. In songs that will ultimately be sang by other people, sure, but doing it like this makes him squeamish. He’ll get over it, though. You need to hear this.

“I’m an idiot,” he says seriously, looking into your eyes. “I’m an idiot for thinking you would do that to me. I was scared and stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I assumed the worst of you, and that I kept things from you, and that I ended things so suddenly. My past isn’t an excuse. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I should’ve been more open with you, so I’m going to try. Okay?”

You nod once, and he takes it as his cue to continue.

“You were right,” he says, reaching to take one of your hands in his. He intertwines your fingers, staring down at them as he speaks. “About me having feelings for you.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t know what that means, can’t bring himself to look at you until he’s done verbalizing all of this, but he hopes it’s a good thing.

“I was happy to be your friend,” he continues. “I didn’t expect anything more from you. But yeah, Y/N, I’d be crazy not to have feelings for you. You’re incredible, you know? You’re so smart, so driven, so insanely sexy. I was a goner the moment you introduced yourself to me with a handshake.”

You pull your hand from his, and for a moment he panics, until he looks up to see you using it to cover a tiny laugh. Your eyes are glassy, and although Yoongi hates the idea of making you cry, he feels relieved to know that it’s likely not out of sadness.

“I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you,” he reiterates, pulling your hand back into his and squeezing it. “I never meant to, but I did, and that’s not okay. But if I didn’t completely wreck my chances and you still want to try, I… I promise I’ll do better. I won’t keep things from you, I won’t act without considering your feelings, I’ll do better with all of it.”

You take another shaky breath, biting down on your bottom lip as you process his words. Yoongi feels like he’s going to have a heart attack, tense and pulled taut, but he waits patiently.

The ball is in your court now, Yoongi thinks. This is your decision, as it should be. If you want him to walk away, he will. If you want to stay friends, Yoongi thinks it might kill him now that everything’s out in the open, but he’ll do it for you. But he hopes—

“No more half-truths?” you ask softly, and holy shit.

“I promise,” Yoongi insists. He holds his breath.

“Then I still want to try.”

Relief washes over him instantly, all of the tension leaving his shoulders at once. He didn’t fuck everything up beyond repair. You still want him. Holy shit, you still want him!

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, squeezing your hand again. “Fuck, can I kiss you?”

“You better,” you say, and Yoongi doesn’t waste a goddamn second. Instantly, he’s moving your knees so he can fit himself between them, cradling your jaw to capture your lips with his.

God, you taste so good. He’s the luckiest motherfucker on the planet.

Yoongi is just happy to kiss you again, to know that you’re his now. But then you make a sweet little sound into his mouth, slide your hands under his shirt, and he pulls away to look at you.

“Baby,” he says, catching his breath. Shit, it feels so good to call you that again. “We don’t have to do anything right now.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask, pushing his shirt up impatiently. Cute. “After you left me hanging last time? In a suit, no less.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, grabbing hold of your wrists to stop your hands in their tracks. “I’m just saying, we don’t have to rush into anything just because—”

But then you shut him up with a kiss, which he melts into easily before you’re pulling back again. You look so serious. Yoongi likes you so fucking much.

“I want my boyfriend to fuck me,” you say, wriggling your hands out of his grip to keep feeling him up, and Yoongi is powerless to resist because fuck, boyfriend. “Is that too much to ask?”

He shakes his head dumbly, mouth agape. He’s your boyfriend. You said it.

You laugh, pinching his nipple, and Yoongi hisses as he’s yanked out of his reverie.

“Come on,” you tease, standing from the couch and pulling him with you. “Bedroom.”

Yoongi follows you to your bedroom eagerly, letting you drag him by the arm. You take a moment to shoo Pepper off of your bed and out of the room, shutting the door to keep her out, but Yoongi’s patience only lasts so long. As soon as the door is closed, Yoongi pulls you to your bed, laying you down on your back and kissing you breathless.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting you as his hands slide over your ass to squeeze it. You moan in response, your hips kicking up against his, and he lifts his head to look down at you.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs lowly, his lips still brushing against yours. Yoongi thinks he’d give you anything you ask for, especially when you look so sweet and needy beneath him like this.

“Just want you,” you pant, chasing his lips for another kiss. He obliges easily, dipping down to lick into your mouth again.

A part of Yoongi wants to drag this out—really drag it out this time—and tease you until you’re desperate and whining, begging. A part of him wants to see how far he can push you, to make you fall apart so he can put you back together again over and over. But Yoongi’s also not feeling very patient, not when you’re like this. He feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t touch you right now.

You moan as Yoongi rips your shorts down your legs, arch your back as he slides his hand into your panties to feel you.

“Shit, Y/N,” he groans, sinking his middle and ring fingers into your pussy with no resistance. “Always so soaked for me.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper. God, he’s so addicted to that—the way you say his name when he touches you. If it wouldn’t make him sound like a headcase, he’d ask you to record it. Sneak it into his fucking songs. Let the world know how pretty you sound for him.

“Fuck yeah, let me hear you,” Yoongi murmurs. He sets a steady pace with his fingers, curling them up and thumbing at your clit, and you cry out for him, your face contorting with pleasure. Fucking addicting. “Sound so pretty, baby.”

“M-missed you calling me that,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you rock your hips up into his touch, and Yoongi’s more than happy to let you take what you need. “Missed the way you touch me.”

“It’s only been a week,” he teases, pumping his fingers faster as his free hand slides over your abdomen and up to your chest to roll a nipple between his fingers. “Am I that good?”

Despite your pleasure, you still reach out to swat at him blindly, and he laughs when your hand connects with his chest. “I hate you,” you complain weakly, but the way your core clamps down on his fingers tells him something else entirely.

“Nah. You like me.” He dips down to lick and suck at your other nipple, satisfaction buzzing through his veins when your hands thread through his hair, grasping at the strands. Yoongi can feel your urgency, can feel how close you’re getting for him in the way your muscles tense beneath him, and he quickens the pace of his fingers in response. “Come on, baby. You gonna come for me?”

“Shit, Yoongi—” you moan. Yoongi feels the tension in your body break, your pussy fluttering as his fingers pump inside of you, and he lifts his head to look.

You look so beautiful when you come. Fuck, he wants to commit everything about it to memory: the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part in a moan, your eyes shut tight as you just… take it.

“That’s it,” he groans, slowing the pace of his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. “That’s my girl.”

After a moment, Yoongi withdraws his fingers, leaning down to kiss you gently. “Okay?” he asks when he sits up on his knees, studying your face as you catch your breath.

“Mmh,” you hum, nodding. Your body relaxes and you sigh, grinning. “More than.”

“Need a second?” he teases, grinning smugly at how fucked out you look already.

“Fuck that,” you say, catching him off guard when you suddenly sit up, surging forward to tug his shirt up and off faster than he can react. The second it’s off, you’re going for his pants next, impatient.

“Fuck, hold on,” Yoongi huffs breathlessly, amused as you struggle to push his pants down over his hips. He stops you, shifting off the bed for a moment to do away with them properly. “Eager, huh?”

“Can’t help it,” you say, laying back for a moment and lifting your own hips to shimmy your panties down your legs. Yoongi can’t help but stare, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of you. So fucking pretty.

You grin, sitting up again and gently tugging Yoongi closer by the waistband of his underwear. “Yoongi,” you murmur sweetly, and he hums, transfixed by the sight of your hand moving to palm at him through the fabric. “I wanna ride you. Is that okay?”

He inhales sharply, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. He feels his cock twitch in your hand at just the thought of you on top of him, and you smirk. Damn. You’re the smug one now, huh?

“Are you sure?” Yoongi just needs to check. He wants to make sure that this is really what you want, but he’s already moving to shed the last barrier between you.

“Uh-huh,” you confirm, biting your lip as you glance down at his now-freed length, your hand wrapping around it and pumping him slowly. Fuck fuck fuck. Yoongi is not proud of the noise he makes, the pitch slightly higher than his normal timbre. If he doesn’t get inside of you soon he’s going to lose it.

Mercifully, you let go, your attention momentarily torn away as you shift off the bed to rifle through your bedside table. Yoongi moves to the head of the bed, sitting up against your headboard and taking a second to calm the fuck down. He wants this to be good for you, and if that’s gonna happen he needs to be able to not come as soon as you touch him, thanks.

When you return, condom in hand, all Yoongi can do is watch you as you tear the wrapper open, roll it onto his length. Wordlessly, you straddle him, his hands coming up to your hips to steady you.

“Good?” you ask, and Yoongi nods stiffly. He’s so good. How could he not be, with you in his lap like this? With what you’re about to do? You’ve completely turned the tables on him, and he’s so fine with that.

“Just—” he grits out, squeezing your hips gently. “Fuck, go easy on me, okay? I want it to be good for you.”

“It will be,” you assure him, reaching between his body and yours to guide the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Always is with you.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you. “Not if I come in two seconds like a teenager,” he points out.

“I’d consider it a compliment,” you tease. Yoongi inhales sharply as you sink down just the slightest bit, his eyes squeezing shut. He feels your lips on his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“I’ll go slow,” you tack on, and then you start to ease the rest of the way down slowly, stealing all of the breath from Yoongi’s lungs in the process.

“Shit,” he groans, his head falling back against the headboard. You moan softly once you’re finally fully seated on him, and he squeezes your hips to anchor you there, taking a moment to just look at you. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yoongi’s words are rewarded with a pretty flush on your cheeks and your shy smile. “Shut up,” you mumble. His heart squeezes in his chest, a grin spreading over his face.

“I can’t tell my girlfriend how beautiful she is?” he teases, using his grip on your hips to encourage you to move, tearing sudden, simultaneous moans from both of you as he starts to guide you into a slow, steady rhythm. “How crazy she makes me?”

“You can,” you pant, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders, using them as leverage to follow his guidance. “Please,” you add, causing Yoongi’s lips to quirk up in a smirk.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your throat. His hands slide from your hips to your ass, groaning as he grips the flesh in his hands appreciatively. “Do you know how often I think about you? About this?”

“Tell me,” you whimper. You sound so desperate for it, for him, and Yoongi is completely awestruck by you. You’re always telling him exactly what you want, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t want to comply every fucking time. Anything for you.

“Can’t get you out of my head,” he moans into your neck. “You’re so fucking—god, you’re so sexy.” Your hips stutter, and he pulls a hand back to smack your ass once, wordlessly telling you to move a little faster. And you do. “So smart, so passionate. Can feel it in the way you write, but not just that. The way you talk about it, fuck, could listen to you forever.”

You moan, clenching around him, and Yoongi hisses, bucking up into you involuntarily. He’s not going to last much longer, he can feel it, but he can also tell plain as day that you’re just as close.

“Look so sexy riding me like this, too. I’m so lucky,” Yoongi says, sliding his hands over your body as he speaks. “This ass,” he says, gripping it in his hands again. “These tits.” Another squeeze, to your breast this time. “Fuck, your pussy. I could write chart-topping, award-winning songs about this fucking pussy.” One hand slides down, his thumb rubbing at your clit in tight circles. You keen, moaning his name. “How wet it gets for me. The way it tastes, how it feels around my cock. Fuck, Y/N. You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“I’m gonna come,” you mewl, and Yoongi can’t help the growl that tears from his throat.

“Yeah, come on my cock, baby, fuck, I’ve got you,” he grits out, planting his feet firmly into your mattress for leverage as he fucks up into you. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips meet your ass, the backs of your thighs, setting an urgent pace.

“Fuck!” you moan. Yoongi must be doing something right, judging by the way your thighs start to shake, the way your whole body goes taut in his grip. “Fuckfuckfuckrightthere—”

It’s still true: Yoongi will never get tired of the way you look when you come. You just let go, shaking and moaning and digging your nails into his shoulders as you writhe above him. He did that. Fuck.

His rhythm gets sloppy quickly and he pulls you as close as he can as he thrusts up into you, his own orgasm quickly following. Stars burst behind his eyes as he spills into the condom, groaning into the crook of your neck as he slows to a stop.

You pull him into a kiss, both of you gasping into each other’s mouths as you recover. When you tear yourself away, Yoongi feels your hands cradling his face, and he opens his eyes to find you looking at him, exhausted from exertion but smiling.

“I think all of those things about you too, you know,” you mumble fondly, thumbing his cheek. Yoongi’s heart skips a beat. “It’s not just you.”

His hand comes up to rest over yours, a shy smile playing at his lips. “Guess we won’t get tired of each other any time soon.”

You laugh, carefully lifting up off of his lap. “No, I guess not.”

It’s hard to tear himself away from you, but Yoongi drags himself off your bed to dispose of the condom, navigating his way to your bathroom easily. Your apartment has the same layout, after all. When he returns, he uses one of your towels to wipe you down carefully.

Afterwards, he climbs into your bed with you, pulling you close, your head on his chest. For a moment, Yoongi tries to think back to the last time he felt this way, but he comes up short. Even in his last serious relationship, it didn’t feel this way. In the back of his head, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it until now, he always knew something was off about it. But this, being close to you like this, this thing you were both so scared of… It feels so right.

“Seokjin thinks we’re going to fall in love,” you say after a long moment, your voice quiet. Dangerous thing to say, Yoongi thinks, with your head on his chest like this, so close to his traitorous heart.

“Seokjin thinks a lot of shit. Says all of it out loud, too,” Yoongi murmurs into your hair, taking one of your hands to thread his fingers with yours. “What do you think?”

Yoongi knows what he thinks. He thinks he’s already more than halfway there. He thinks this… you and him could really be something. Not for the first time tonight, he holds his breath.

“I think he’s right,” you answer softly, lifting your head to look at him.

As Yoongi looks back at you—his wallflower, his neighbor, his music journalist friend, his beautiful, hardworking girl—all he can think about is that Western bar he didn’t want to go to. The one he was dragged to on some random Friday, not even a wellness check night. The one he could’ve easily said no to going to in favor of staying in his studio instead. Just another thing he owes his friends for, he thinks. This might be the best one, though.

He squeezes your hand.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

★ ★ ★

EPILOGUE

You didn’t think you were going to make it.

Work has been busting your ass lately, and while you’re endlessly thankful that your career has suddenly taken a sharp turn for the unimaginable—interviewing Lee Chaerin, fucking CL up close and personal, are you joking?—you told Kevin that you had somewhere to be tonight. And that motherfucker still kept you in his office long past five to brainstorm next month’s edition.

Thankfully, you made it out with just enough time to make yourself look presentable in the mirror before making a dash for your car. Unfortunately, you had to forego running home to shower and change clothes, but you did wear a cute sweater and a flattering skirt to work today in anticipation of exactly that situation. Small mercies.

You’re late, definitely late enough for it to be rude, but Yoongi had insisted over and over that this was a completely casual thing.

You love Yoongi, but he’s totally full of shit. There’s nothing casual about meeting your boyfriend’s literal soulmates.

As you stalk towards the front door of the restaurant, you pray that you haven’t completely squandered your first impression before it even begins. Even Rina is making a better one than you—she showed up twenty minutes early. Backstabbing bitch.

Yoongi, ever the gentleman, meets you at the door.

“Will you relax?” he says, exasperated even as he leans in to kiss you ‘hello.’ When he pulls back, he flicks you on the forehead. Asshole. “You texted me your ETA like twelve times. While you drove. This is the furthest thing from a big deal.”

“Says you,” you grouse, slipping your arm into the crook of his elbow easily as he guides you inside. “These are your soulmates. They already love you. What if they hate me? What if they want to burn me at the stake?”

This past month with Yoongi has been nothing short of bliss. You’re both busy, both practically living in your respective workplaces, but sometimes you make time to visit him in his studio and work next to him in silence. Sometimes you come home to find him cooking dinner for you in your apartment and swapping stories with Rina. Sometimes you sleep in on weekends, wake up next to him and admire the softness of his features in the morning, the way Pepper curls up on his chest like he’s been around forever. It’s so good it makes you want to cry. Comfortable. Plus, there’s lots and lots of sex. Sex so good it makes you actually cry sometimes.

“They won’t,” he insists, keeping you close as he weaves through tables to guide you to the private room in the back. “They’ll love you, too. Maybe even more than me. You’re much easier to get along with.”

“That’s true,” you concede with a dramatic sigh, smiling at him fondly. He may be a grouchy hermit, but he’s your grouchy hermit.

When you reach the door of the private room, he stops. You can hear Seokjin’s windshield wiper-y laugh, even with the door closed. “You ready?” Yoongi asks, turning to you with a grin.

“No,” you mumble, pouting. When he runs his thumb over your bottom lip mockingly, you huff at him. “But I guess I have to be, don’t I?”

“Yep,” he says simply, dipping down to kiss you one more time. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. I love you, so they’ll love you, too.”

You hum, grabbing greedily at the front of his shirt to pull him down for one more kiss. “If you say so,” you murmur. “I love you, too.”

You smooth out his shirt and then do a full-body shake to ease your nerves, which makes Yoongi snort. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Yoongi nods, smiling at you fondly, gums showing. You’re damn lucky, you think, to be the one at the receiving end of those smiles. He loves you. It’s so fucking stupid how much he loves you, and how much you love him in return. It’s still new, still a little thing that both of you are learning how to nurture properly, but fuck it’s good.

When he opens the door, the noise of friends inside—both yours and his—filtering out into the restaurant, it’s that gummy smile still lingering in your mind that makes you take a step inside. That, and Yoongi’s voice in your head telling you it’s going to be okay. Because if there’s one thing you know beyond a shadow of a doubt after this past month, it’s that Yoongi will always be honest with you.

He squeezes your hand, and you step inside.

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