#that scene always tugs my heart
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I need the olive tree bed scene from the Odyssey stuck inside my head, I want that fucking injected into my veins. I love that scene so much .
#it's the i haven't seen my partner in 20 years and idk if its really you so ill test you with something we only BOTH know about#its Penelope's question to see if that's really her Odysseus and its his response of telling the whole bed thing that gives#her the realization that yes after 20 years her Odysseus is home. hes back and hes back for good#its the effort made! the question! the secret to their wedding bed!#it's kinda the main reason why i read the odyssey in the first place#i love that scene so much okay? like imagine being either one of them and Haven't seen them in 20 YEARS yes they were unsure but that#that realization that they're there. that they're home back into your arms and you have waited for 2 DECADES.#mannnmn#that scene always tugs my heart#nezukoo-channn#nezukoo channn#greek mythology#the odyssey by homer#the odyssey#odysseus x penelope#odysseus#penelope#odypen
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Bedsides and Breakfasts
Summary: After Azriel comes home battered and bruised, he refuses to eat the meal you've made him... Why?
Warnings: Angst, character injury, fluff
Author's note: For context, Y/n is Helion's bastard daughter. In an earlier draft of my other (very long) fic, The Shadowsinger and The Inkbird, this was going to be a scene that takes place after Azriel gets hurt during the Battle on the Lake where Y/n figures out Azriel is her mate. I wanted to finish it up and get it out there because I don't want to say goodbye to that story just yet and I wanted to get back into writing so.... here ya go!
The Townhouse sang quietly as it worked. Its melodies lay in the shifting curtains that shook off dust into the wind. Its lyrics in the whistling teakettle. You liked these sounds as you moved about the kitchen, preparing your tea and a crust of bread slathered with butter and jam.
When the Townhouse was empty, you didn’t need to fear your power — there was no one around for you to touch and steal memories from. Mor had tried to drag you out to Rita’s that evening — “Rhys says you’ve learned to keep your Clairvoyance at bay! Come dancing with us!” — but you couldn’t muster the courage or the energy.
Besides, you were awaiting a certain Shadowsinger’s arrival.
“Won’t you come back and make me your home? You who’ve stolen my heart as simple as a whisper, calm as a storm,” You hummed to yourself. You swore the Townhouse sighed in contentment. “Do you like my silly little songs then?” You mused.
The lights shone a little brighter, crackling the air with a flicker of energy.
You were singing about Azriel — of course you were — and blushing all the while. He’d been the first to truly speak to you — the first to notice you — and the embrace you’d shared in Rhysand’s office had left you breathless for days. You could still feel the ghost of his breath against your neck as you’d buried your face in the hollow of his throat. The cracked leather beneath your fingers and the short hairs at the base of his skull you’d caressed as lovingly as any flower. It was the first time you’d ever been touched like that. Like you were something worth holding onto.
When he was gone, the Townhouse felt too empty. You felt too empty. Even now, the edges of your patience frayed like a worn shirt without him.
You spent the evening’s hours combing through every book you’d managed to lug over from the Library. It was quick, but taxing work as every touch against the weathered binding allowed you to absorb its knowledge without you ever having to lay an eye on the page.
When the candle flickered dangerously close to your books and the dull throbbing behind your eyes had gone on for too long, you blew out the light and could do no more than curl up on the sofa before falling fast asleep.
The whispers of shadows woke you. You couldn’t understand the words hidden within their overlapping voices, but their panic and relief were heavy in the air. You could almost taste their meaning on your tongue.
“Y/n,” Azriel moaned. He leaned heavily against the open door, forcing it open against the drag of the carpet. His sword clattered to the ground before his knees. “Y/n,” he called out again, more urgently this time. He prayed to the gods you were home. He’d flown through the night, tattered wings struggling to keep him aloft, to make sure he’d see you again… just in case.
Blood and iron burned your nose and your sleep-swollen eyelids split open. “Az—” Your knee slammed against the coffee table in your struggle to escape the blankets. “AZ!”
Azriel was always greedy for the sight of you, and that familiar tug in his chest tightened as you rounded the corner and sprinted towards him. You tripped where the hardwood ended and the carpet began, throwing his arm around your shoulder.
He smiled softly at you. Three months ago, you’d been too afraid to touch anyone. Now here you were half-supporting his weight as he staggered to his feet. He stole a few precious seconds to lean his head into the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent. For a moment, he believed it would be enough to heal him.
“How bad is it?”
“Three arrows in the right wing, two in the left. Fae bane.”
“Anywhere else?” You both stumbled down the hallway back from where you’d come.
“I may have been stabbed a few times.” He offered the piece of information casually, like he was complaining about the price of eggs.
“What’s a few?” Your eyes were wide as the moon. Searching, searching, searching for wounds.
“Ten?”
Your growl tore through the quiet of the night.
Your hands were slippery with blood, and Azriel almost slid out of your fingertips as you deposited him against the table. You flung your arms out over the hardwood tabletop sending bottles of ink, pens, and sheafs of papers clattering to the floor before rolling Azriel onto the top and forcing him to lay down.
Under the chandelier, Azriel looked ghastly. The warmth was drained from his skin and the hollows of his eyes and the fullness of his lips were tinged purple from cold. His eyes drifted apart from one another.
“I need you to stay awake.”
“I will.” His words were slippery as soap on porcelain, syllables sliding into one another as he promised you he would be alright and that he had suffered worse before.
“Stay awake!” You commanded him and his eyes sharpened ever so slightly on your figure as you tore through the cabinets in the corner.
Where is it? Where is it? Glass bottles clinked and tottered on rounded bottoms. There!
You snatched one of the pale green bottles lining the back wall and bit off the cork top with a grimace, spitting it out onto the floor. You could taste the medicine inside coat your teeth with an acrid film.
“Hey, hey, hey.” You slapped Azriel’s cheeks to keep him awake. “Drink this.”
Azriel’s lips parted immediately and he accepted every bitter drop you forced down his throat. It wasn’t a cure, but it would help stabilize him long enough for help to arrive. In the time it took for you to call out to Rhys and light the candle that would wake Madja and call her to the Townhouse, Azriel’s cheeks had flushed with some more color.
The sight did little to ease your worries as you worked on unbuckling the straps of his armor. Piece by piece they fell away with a wet thud on the ground.
He grabbed your wrist before you could run in search of something to cut off the clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Elain had left gardening shears on the back porch. Perhaps the kitchen had scissors?
“Stay.” He begged. “Please stay.”
“Rhys and Madja will be here soon. I just need to get something to help you.”
“Then stay.” His grip turned desperate, short nails digging into your forearm. “Stay and help me. Don’t leave me.”
Azriel might have smiled if he wasn’t in so much pain. His hand slid up the curve of your arm to hold your neck, thumb tracing the line of your jaw.
“I wanted to see you just in case.” His chest rattled with the effort, “Gods, I missed you.”
He’d been gone weeks on the Continent, scrounging after every whisper of Koschei’s name as far as the eastern mountains. He’d scavenged and raged. Killed and tortured. And he’d missed you all the while. It was what had possessed him to fly all the way to Velaris, when he would have been better off breaking into the Day Court and throwing himself at the mercy of Helion — your father.
You felt the tears prick at your eyes, angry and hot. “If you say another fucking word like you’re about to die, I will kill you myself.” You were not prone to violence, and Azriel felt some pride that he could elicit such an emotion from you.
Luckily for you both, Azriel didn’t get a chance to say anything else, and you didn’t get a chance to murder him before Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Madja were bursting through the front door and following the blood-red trail to the dining room.
Azriel squeezed your hand once more. “Stay with me.”
“Where else would I go, Az?” You whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the palm of his hand before the others crowded close.
You stayed at the head of the table, one hand always holding onto Azriel’s. He swallowed his pain, the faintest groans slipping from his lips as arrows were pulled out inch by bloody inch. It was no easy thing to endure, not even for Azriel. Wicked barbs lined the arrow shaft and caught onto the delicate membrane of his wings no matter how Madja twisted, pushed, and pulled.
One particularly harsh wrench had Azriel crying out, his nails digging into your arm and drawing blood.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, feeling your skin break beneath his nails. His skin was tinged green now. A sickly sheen covered his face and fell over his eyes.
“It’s ok. It’s ok. Just look at me.” You grasped the sides of his face. “Look at me.”
Once again, Azriel was ready to listen to your commands. His eyes never left yours, not once, until the last of the faebane-tipped arrows dropped onto the table with a menacing ring of metal on wood.
Feyre closed his wounds as best she could, but the flesh inside would take longer to heal. For now all they could do was carefully wipe the blood from his body and carry him up to his bedroom.
You lingered by Azriel’s side long after he fell asleep, fingers twitching with nerves as you counted every slow and steady breath of his.
“Y/n.” Feyre gently touched your arm. “He’ll be alright.”
You nodded, still watching Azriel sleep. Then, to your mortification, you burst into tears. Your clothes were drying stiff with sweat and blood — none of it yours — and the red handprints Azriel had left along your arms were turning to copper rust.
She shushed you, softly tugging at your arms.
“He-He asked me to stay,” you said between gulps of air.
“He’d want you to be clean and well-rested, Y/n. Don’t let him wake up feeling guilty.”
If it weren’t for Feyre, you would have remained glued to the floor of Azriel’s room until you became one of the faces trapped in the wooden floors. You let her lead you across the hall to your own room where she filled the tub with warm water and soap.
“Shit,” you mumbled. Your fingers shook so much you couldn’t undo the buttons of your dress. Shadows, loose and long as stalks of grass, wound around your back, plucking the buttons undone without a word.
“He’ll be alright.” Feyre repeated this phrase many times as you scrubbed off the night’s events and turned the water copper brown. The magic of the Townhouse whisked away the grime almost as quickly as it appeared until you sat in a sudsy bath, milky and clean.
“What happened to him, Fey?”
“From what Rhys and I can tell, Koschei had over a dozen archers lying in wait for when he returned to Prythian. We’ve already warned Helion.”
You nodded. Your head felt heavy on your neck, like a doll with a snapped neck.
“He nearly died.” Once the words were out in the open, fragile and pure, you broke down again, knees drawn up to your chest in the tub.
“But he didn’t.” Feyre smoothed back your dripping hair. “It will take more than arrows and faebane for Death to steal him from us, Y/n.”
Gods you hoped that was true, or else your heart might give out every time Azriel walked out the door.
You returned to his side the moment you were clothed, hair still dripping onto his gray bed sheets as you leaned forward from your chair and held his hand. He slept on his stomach, wings flared out and peppered with white gauze like a patchwork quilt. Beneath the drape of his blankets you knew more gauze covered his chest and stomach, dotted with blood like blooming roses.
You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you awoke to a deep ache in your back and a faint choir of voices in the air.
Shadows.
They kissed your cheeks, cool and soft, urging your eyelids open. Azriel was already awake and sitting up in bed with a grimace. One hand clutched his side and a leg hung over the edge of the bed, like he intended to stand. When he saw you, his hazel eyes widened. First in alarm. Then in guilt.
“Az?” Your voice felt crusted with smoke and sleep and you did what you could to straighten the crook in your neck and your spine from the odd position you’d fallen asleep in. ““You’re not supposed to be sitting up.” Your bones cracked obnoxiously as you moved for the first time in hours, and the guilt in his gaze deepened.
You pressed lightly against his chest, feeling the gauze scratch your skin, but he did not budge.
“Az, you need to lay down. What were you even doing up?”
Azriel’s eyes flickered off to the side. “I was… I was trying to move you to the bed.”
You swallowed your yawn and blinked in disbelief. “Azriel, you’ve just been shot and stabbed. You need to lay back down.”
He grabbed your wrists, tugging you forward until you almost collapsed against his chest. “There’s space on the bed. I want you to be comfortable.”
“The chair is fine, and you are hurt. Now, please—” He did not move. No matter how you reasoned with him. No matter how you tried to shove him back beneath the covers.
“I will lay back down under one condition.”
You frowned. He was much more stubborn when he was injured. “What condition?”
“Sleep on the bed. There’s plenty of room.”
“Az—”
“Please.” His hands slipped into yours, fingers pressing against the pulse of your wrists. “Y/n, I will be comforted with you beside me.” He held up his finger before you could sleep. “And not in that gods-awful chair. You’ll wake up crooked.”
“I’m not a stalk in a storm,” you grumbled, because it only seemed appropriate that you should fight him on this. Otherwise, you’d have to admit that the thought of melting into his bed set off fireworks in your stomach, exciting and terrifying at the same time. You’d also have to admit the scent of mountain air embedded in every inch of his room brought you comfort. You could lay your head on his pillows and sleep for an eternity.
I shouldn’t be here. But you let him tug you closer to him. You slid your legs over his waist, calves catching on the waistband of his pants and dragging in a way that had your heart leaping into your stomach until you were safely on the other side of him.
Azriel’s bed was massive — over 12 feet across to better accommodate the span of his wings. You moved as far away from him as you could without eliciting offense and stared at the window.
Your muscles clenched as he shifted closer to you, wings rustling against the silk sheets and whispering as he got comfortable. Every time he so much as shifted, your back prickled, as though you had eyes there that shifted to soak up every inch of him.
He’s hurt and I’m taking up space and—
He reached out his arm and his fingertips brushed against the curve of your back. You stiffened like you’d been struck by lightning. If Azriel were awake, he would have apologized and wrenched back his hand as if burned. But he was fast asleep and the touch was a natural movement he made in his dreams where he was imagining that you were closer to him. So close that he could breathe down your neck and feel you melt beneath his touch.
You didn’t sleep, as much as the lull of his breathing threatened to sink you into sweet and comforting dreams. The sky was but a lighter shade of black when you were slipping out of bed with barely a whisper. Miraculously, Azriel did not awaken, and his shadows ghosted over the floors drowsily.
You were no stranger to dawn as you padded down to the kitchens. You hummed to yourself, cracking eggs over a well-greased skillet with onions, tomatoes, and peppers tossed in. They bobbed up and down in a sea of yellow like ducks on water. Potatoes browned to your right, their skins crackling and spitting grease as bacon popped and sizzled beside them.
You ate as you went, plating the final meal for Azriel, who—if you knew anything about him—would be waking shortly after the first rays of sunlight split his shadows in two.
You slipped back into his room as quietly as you’d left, and then nearly leapt out of your skin to find a dark mass of shadow covering the bed.
“You’re awake,” you said blankly.
Azriel propped himself up onto his elbows, back rippling as he forced his stiff and swollen wounds to stretch until he could sit up in bed.
“Where did you go?” There was but a faint slur to his words. “You weren’t here when I woke up.”
“I was making breakfast.” You dragged over the ottoman from the foot of his bed as a makeshift table. “Did you brush your teeth already?” Not that it mattered. A sour mouth wouldn’t keep him from a meal if he was hungry.
The flash of fear in his eyes was so subtle, so brief, that you missed it.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Well that doesn’t really matter. Madja said you should eat first thing. Oh!” You plucked a purple glass bottle from his bedside table. “And she said to drink this with a meal.” You pushed it into his hands, reluctant as they were to take the stoppered bottle from you.
“I can’t imagine eating right now.” He said, shaking his head. His cheeks puffed out and he swallowed hard. “The smell… it’s… I can’t stomach it.”
You frowned at that. He liked your cooking. It was only due to circumstance that you hadn’t been able to cook for him in months.
“Can you please try?” you begged. “Just a bite.”
His skin turned pallid and the dark marks beneath his eyes stood out. He picked up a fork with a trembling hand, stuck it into a potato, then dropped it as if it burned. Suddenly, he regretted asking you to stay the night. Guilt ate away at his stomach, twisting it like spaghetti on a fork.
You sighed in dejection. “I’ll bring it back downstairs.” You said. You began collecting the silverware from where you’d left them by his side.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured, catching your wrist in his hand.
You smiled softly. “Try and get some rest.”
“Will you be back?” His words caught you by the door.
“You won’t even realize I was gone.”
He doubted that very much. Still, he settled back in bed, rolling onto his stomach to keep its rumbling at bay. He was quite hungry.
You closed the door behind you, carrying the untouched plate of eggs and potatoes. Cassian stopped his whistling as he made his way down the hall, a teasing smile playing at his lips until he caught sight of your dejected expression.
“What’s got our resident Librarian frowning? Did someone misplace a book in the House?”
You didn’t rise to Cassian’s jests. You cast a sullen glance back at Azriel’s door like it was personally responsible for everything, and shrugged. “He hasn’t eaten since he’s been back and I’m starting to get worried. I read up on Illyrian anatomy weeks ago and he should be fine enough to eat by now.”
Cassian leaned down, taking a careful sniff of the plate before grabbing hold of a butter and rosemary roasted potato and plucking it in his mouth. It was cold and the butter had hardened into a greasy slick, but it was still good. He told you as much as he walked with you back to the kitchens, stealing slivers of potato as he went.
“It’s nice to know my cooking’s not at fault.”
Cassian jerked back in surprise and sudden understanding. “You made him that?”
“Yes. I know the House has its own will, but I like to cook. And it still feels strange having food just appear out of nowhere.”
Cassian fought with all his might to keep the cheeky grin from his face.
Poor Azriel, forced to go hungry because he was still too much of a sheepish fool to tell you about the mating bond let alone accept it.
He clicked his tongue. He loved his brother to the grave and back, but Azriel had a horrible habit of getting trapped in his own mind. Cassian had hoped you would help with that, given you suffered similarly.
“I wouldn’t take it too personally. Azriel’s a picky eater. Always has been.”
That was a complete and utter lie. Growing up in the Illyrian war camps meant you either starved or ate whatever gray-brown mush you could get your hands on. Rhysand and Azriel had been quicker to move on from the rugged Illyrian lifestyle, and Rhysand especially had used his High Lord privileges to cultivate a refined and expensive taste, but if they were hungry and limited they didn’t give two shits what went in their mouths.
“I didn’t realize you could afford to be picky in a war camp,” You grumbled. You dropped the plate’s contents onto a skillet, patiently waiting for the House to light a toasty fire. There was no need to let good food go to waste.
You thought over it, some minor irritation settling in that the Shadowinger had rejected the food you’d worked to make. It really didn’t make sense that Azriel would be so particular about food. Or anything for that matter. He’d always struck you as the practical, bare-bones sort, and you knew him well enough now to know that was true. His very job required it of him. But then again you couldn’t remember the last time he’d accepted any food that you’d offer-
You froze. Oh. Oh.
The first night he’d visited your apartment in the Day Court, he’d refused your tea and cakes before leaving abruptly. You’d agonized over that night for months, trying to figure out what you might have done to scare him off. But he’d been so kind and shy afterwards and then the whole matter of Koschei had arose and you’d never given it much thought because he just seemed so familiar and... Oh. OH-
“BASTARD!” You spat out in shock. The skillet dropped to the stove with a sharp cry that had Cassian blinking. He’d never seen you like this. So…agitated.
Had you always been this dull? A year ago you might have been able to blame it on your naïveté, but you weren’t so socially misinformed now and yet this was a bit much. And… oh you couldn’t wrap your head around your own stupidity to even begin to think about a mating bond with…
A mating bond with Azriel. You… you were his mate. He was yours. And you were his. And suddenly the pieces of it were falling into place so quickly you thought you might be crushed beneath the weight.
Mate.
Even the thought of the word crashed around your mind incessantly, like an anxious dog trying to settle down to sleep. Yet it all made such perfect sense. The way Azriel always found you when you were in danger or grieving. The awful days when Azriel had been away and you’d felt like a piece of your body had been severed. The way that the world felt right when he was beside you. Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was just something born out of love, or maybe they were one and the same. It was impossible to tell but it didn’t change anything.
Mate.
Cassian glanced sideways at you and said cautiously, “We’re both bastards, Y/n. I don’t think that’s much of an insult coming from your mouth.”
Your eyes snapped to his, suddenly remembering that he was in the kitchen with you. You brandished a fork in your hand like a weapon, pointing the pronged end up at him like he was a piece of meat to be skewered. You were shorter than him, but the sharpness in your eyes made him pause.
“You.” Such a simple word, yet it sounded so threatening. “You knew didn’t you?”
Was he sweating? The room felt warm.
“I don’t know what-“ You snatched his wrist and with your magic, you stole the information from him that you needed. It was as easy as plucking a flower from a field.
Fuck. Cassian groaned at the same time you did. You knew now. Not that you really needed confirmation from Cassian. Still. It was rather embarrassing to learn you were the last of… well everyone to know, even if it was your fault for not noticing the signs. In your defense you had been preoccupied with other matters…
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You muttered, heating up the remaining food with a great deal of force before setting down a fresh tray, plate, utensils, and mug of tea on the countertop.
You keep muttering to yourself, your joy disguised by your embarrassment and no small amount of shock. Cassian watched nervously as you prepped the plate.
You’d no sooner growled, “Move,” before Cassian leapt to the side and you set off out the door and down the hallway back to Azriel’s room.
She knows. One shadow whispered in his ear. Azriel felt his heart skyrocket and his stomach plunge to the cradle of his hip bones.
She seems… upset.
Upset was a mild word. You were alight with every emotion possible — fury, fear, anxiety, excitement, love — and Azriel struggled to tease them apart. It was like he’d been hit in the chest by a tangle of snakes, each a writhing, living, ever-changing thing. One moment you seemed nervous, the next angry.
“You.” Your knuckles were pale as they gripped the tray. Sunlight molded to your form like a crown, and it became all the more apparent that you were Helion’s daughter — his bastard daughter, but daughter nevertheless.
He scrambled into a seated position just in time for you to drop the tray in his lap with a clatter that sent fork and knife skittering over the dish.
You looked down at the tray, then up at his eyes, wide and molten as amber. “You didn’t tell me.” You didn’t need to elaborate any further.
“I didn’t think—”
“You’re right. You didn’t.” You blinked, suddenly shy. “Did I not make it clear enough that I liked you? That I loved—love you? Or perhaps you don’t… perhaps you don’t want me.” That was a possibility you hadn’t thought of in your excitement to see him again.
Oh gods, you hadn’t thought of that possibility had you? You’d just aggressively thrown food at him, expecting that he would—
Azriel gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him again. Your cheeks were warm and painted with color.
“I always worried I was reading into actions that meant nothing to you. But, never think for a moment that I don’t want you.” He smiled then, a shy, secret smile reserved for you. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Now your cheeks were burning, but Azriel did not mind feeling this kind of heat on his hands. He let go of your chin, twirling a fork with his fingers like it was a knife. It was one of his few nervous ticks whose knowledge was reserved for the people he trusted. For the people he loved.
“Being with me will put you in more danger than you know.”
“But I expect it will bring me more happiness than I could have ever imagined.” You raised a hand up to his face, twisting away a stubborn curl of hair that fell over his forehead. “And you forget who my father is,” you reminded him. “Maybe it is I who will put you in danger.”
“Maybe,” Azriel whispered. His breath fanned over your cheeks, soft and sweet.
You picked up the fork, lifting it up in between you.
“Eat.” You commanded him.
Azriel smiled, plucking it from your fingers and stabbing a potato. He sighed. “I never could deny you anything, and I would never want to,” he said, before chewing carefully. Cautiously.
You blinked in surprise, instinctively taking a step away when you felt something new and warm begin to burn in your chest, like someone had taken a drop of the molten hazel in Azriel’s eyes and dropped it into your heart.
“Oh.” You breathed.
“Yes,” Azriel murmured, “An unusual feeling, I know.” He placed the tray beside him and he’d no sooner opened his arms before you’d buried your face in the crook of his neck. You wanted more of that warmth in your chest. You wanted to slip into Azriel's skin as close as possible to his beating heart. To feel the mating bond wrap around you both like a curtain to block out the rest of the world.
Azriel groaned in pain, but would not let you leave his embrace. No pain had ever been worth so much.
You forced him to finish eating, even though all he wanted was the taste of you on his lips. “Later,” you promised him. When he was healed and whole there would be more breathless kisses and urgent touches, but for now he had to content himself with eating his meal and drinking his draught. But he would not be denied the press of your skin against his as you slipped beneath the covers and curled up beside him. This time, you fell asleep quickly and your dreams came over you like water.
#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x you#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader angst#the shadowsinger and the inkbird
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in the woods
three photos. three crime scenes. three notes. slowly, then all at once, it hits you. you know these words. you’ve read these words before. why do you know these words? where have you read them before? this work is part of the little red cap series
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)
genre: fluff?
content: very brief mentions of a crime scene and blood. lit student reader helps spencer put together a clue he missed.
word count: 2.6k
note: this idea was truly so random but if you like it and are interested to see a p2 that includes her meeting the team feel free to lmk! i would love to develop this story but im having mad writers block rn lol anyways the linked poem is amazing, one of my favourites.
a line: Spencer Reid hardly swears, if ever, but the next words out of his mouth are nothing short of explicit.
But then I was young – and it took ten years In the woods to tell that a mushroom Stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds Are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf Howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out- carol ann duffy
Spencer’s distracted tonight. You noticed it the moment he breezed past you, pressing a distracted kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the study. Normally, you’d give him space, let him untangle the thoughts on his own, but it’s past midnight now, and you’ve decided enough is enough.
“Spence,” you call softly from the doorway.
He doesn’t look up.
You take a breath and step inside, the floorboards cool under your bare feet. The study feels foreign to you. You’re hardly ever in here despite Spencer’s gentle efforts to make space for you after you’d started spending more time at his place. He’d cleared half of the mahogany desk for your own books and files—a space now claimed by a few framed photos of the two of you from last year’s Christmas market.
You’ve always preferred his bed over the confines of this room, the comfort of his sheets beneath you, his bedside table the perfect coaster for your copious cups of coffee as you slog over your essays. The study always felt too still, almost stifling. It’s the kind of quiet that breeds overthinking, though Spencer thrives in it—Especially when it’s work.
Which it does seem to be tonight, judging by the furrow of his brow and the way his hands are clasped, tense, as he pours over the file in front of him. You cross the remaining space and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, thumb moving in soothing circles.
“Hey,” you murmur, leaning down to speak into the curve of his neck. He reaches up absently, fingers threading into your hair, but his eyes stay fixed on the contents on the desk.
“Come to bed,” you whisper, quieter this time, softer, as though you might coax him away if you’re gentle enough.
He murmurs something you don’t quite catch, his focus still locked on the papers. You frown, the corners of your mouth tugging downward as you try again, this time layering your voice with the soft insistence you know he can’t resist.
“Please?”
That gets him. He sighs, the sound heavy, before slowly swivelling his chair around to face you. There’s a small flicker of satisfaction in your chest—still got it, you think, though his tired eyes make it hard to fully savour the victory.
“Soon, honey,” he says, soft and apologetic, but it’s not enough for you.
“Missed you today,” you murmur, stepping closer.
He shuts his eyes for a moment, reaching out to pull you into him. His arms wrap around your waist as he presses his face into your stomach, breathing you in like you’re the first fresh air he’s had all day. And with the day he’s had, you might as well be.
“It’s almost 1,” you remind him gently, brushing a strand of his hair back. “And you haven’t even showered.”
He makes a sound—somewhere between a groan and a half-hearted protest. Probably indignation, though he doesn’t bother to articulate it. When he finally lifts his head to look at you, your chest tightens. He looks so so tired. Handsome, always, but tonight, the weariness in his eyes is impossible to miss.
“Aw, honey,” you coo, voice soft with affection. “C’mere.”
It’s ironic, considering you’re the one climbing into his lap. The chair protests under your combined weight with a faint creak, but neither of you care. Just your presence alone is a comfort that Spencer accepts all too willingly. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you closer and burying his face into you, fingers toying with the edges of your—his shirt.
“Tough case?” you ask quietly, your fingers slipping into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.
He nods defeatedly, the motion slow and heavy, like even that small acknowledgment takes too much out of him.
“He’s already—” Spencer sighs, low and weary. “Already killed three women. And the profile is… flimsy at best.”
You nod quietly, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his shoulder. Though crime-solving and criminal profiling aren’t your expertise, the weight of what he carries is never lost on you. You’ve come to know the signs all too well.
You see it in the way he comes home after cases like this—silent, drained, his body curling into yours. You hear it in his voice when his worry spills over during arguments, like the time he snapped at you for drinking too much on a night out after a brutal final. It wasn’t out of anger but fear, raw, born from the evils he sees every day. He’d never explicitly linked it to the horrors of his work, but you didn’t need to be a profiler to piece it together.
“You’ll catch him,” you say softly, keeping your voice steady despite the knot tightening in your stomach. “You guys always do.”
Spencer sighs, releasing one hand from your waist to rub the bridge of his nose. “There’s something off,” he mutters, words tinged with frustration. “I just... I can’t figure out what it is.”
“Do you… want to talk about it?” you offer gently, watching his face for any sign of what he needs.
He manages a faint, tired smile and shakes his head. “I’d rather not,” he murmurs.
You nod, letting it go. Spencer tries, always, to keep that part of his life separate from you. But even you know some things are impossible to leave behind. Shadows don’t adhere to boundaries. They’re stubborn and heavy, sometimes seeping into the cracks of his resolve. All you can do is try your best to hold him together when that weight gets too much to bear. Leaning into him, you rest your head against his, the silence between you filled with a kind of unspoken understanding.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Spencer whispers after a moment, as though he can sense your quiet disappointment at not being able to do more. His arm tightens around your waist as though anchoring himself. You press a soft kiss to his temple, a quiet gesture of acknowledgement.
“Now,” you say, standing up. Spencer leans forward instinctively, unwilling to let the warmth of you go. “Shower?”
He glances between you and the desk strewn with papers, hesitation in his face. “After I—”
“Nope,” you interrupt, grabbing both his hands and gently pulling him to his feet. “I’ll handle this,” you say, gesturing to the chaos on the desk. “You,” you point toward him, then toward the bathroom, “Shower. Now.”
Spencer lets out a long-suffering sigh, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “Bossy,” he teases softly.
“Maybe,” you reply, a playful glint in your eyes. “But you love me.”
Without missing a beat, Spencer wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Wow,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tone warm and teasing. “Bossy and smart. How did I get so lucky?”
You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling, nudging him lightly toward the bathroom. “Go,” you say, laughing. “Before I add ‘violent’ to that list.” At that, Spencer tears his arms away from your waist, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he backs slowly toward the door. “Go!” you laugh again, shaking your head at him before turning your attention to the desk strewn with papers.
You turn your attention back to the desk surveying the organized chaos, trying to piece together how he usually files them. The thin sheets—pale and slightly crumpled—belong in the manila folder. The thicker briefs, stapled neatly, go in the black case. And the photos…
Huh.
Your hand pauses mid-reach, brow furrowing as your eyes fall on the glossy prints. You tilt your head. Something about them feels—almost… familiar, maybe. You stop to lay them out side by side, studying them more closely.
Three photos. Three crime scenes. Three notes.
The first note reads, ‘I burn.�� The words are scrawled haphazardly, the letters jagged and uneven.
The second is darker, more ominous, ‘Your knife.’ Its edges marked by splatters of blood.
The third is the most unsettling of all. Just two words. ‘All alone.’ Stark and final.
Slowly, then all at once, it hits you.
You know these words. You’ve read these words before.
Why do you know these words? Where have you read them before?
It gnaws at you. The exhaustion you felt earlier is long gone as you find yourself sinking into Spencer’s chair. Your fingers trace the edges of the prints as you try to piece together your fragments of memory. You don’t know how much time has passed since you first laid eyes on the photos until Spencer calls to you from the bedroom.
“In here,” you answer absently.
When he steps into the doorway, your heart flutters despite yourself. He’s a sight to behold—hair damp, shirt slightly clinging to his chest, a towel draped over his shoulders as he dries his hair.
“Hey,” he says, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Why’re you still in here?”
“Got distracted,” you murmur, gesturing to the desk.
“Intriguing, huh?”
“She definitely is,” you reply, almost without thinking.
“I don’t know when he’ll strike next—” he starts, then stops abruptly. His expression shifts, his gaze sharpening as he looks at you.
“What’d you just say?”
“Hm?” You blink, finally meeting his eyes.
“You said ‘she’s’ intriguing,” he repeats, stepping closer now. “You think the unsub’s a she?”
“Isn’t she?” you say, frowning at the question. “I could definitely use a lot of other words to describe her, but…” your voice uncertain.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, the poems, for one—I mean, they’re all about hurt and enraged women,” you explain. “And signing off with them? That’s definitely not not intriguing…” You trail off, puzzled by the sudden gravity of the conversation.
Spencer goes rigid, every muscle in his body locking up. “Poems?”
“Yeah,” you say, your voice small now, “The notes. They’re all closing words of Duffy’s poems. I thought you—Did you not…”
Your words trail off as you see his face harden, eyes widening as the weight of your words hits him.
“Oh my god.” Your hands fly to your mouth as the realization hits you, the pieces suddenly falling into place. “You didn’t know.”
Spencer Reid hardly swears, if ever, but the next words out of his mouth are nothing short of explicit. He’s already moving towards the desk, the towel falling unnoticed to the floor. “Show me,” he says, urgency in his voice. You get up quickly, wanting to make room, but he stops you. “No, you sit,” he says, eyes locked on the notes. “Show me.”
“Okay, okay.” You steady yourself before pointing to the first note. “Um, look, this one, ‘I burn.’ It’s from her poem Warming Her Pearls. She’s a maid who secretly pines for her mistress. She loves her but, well, she can’t be with her cause they’re from different societies.” You look up at him expectantly. “It’s about class inequality and…”
“Unrequited love.” Spencer finishes gravely, his voice low but certain.
“Right, exactly.” You glance up at him, searching his face for understanding. Spencer nods, taking it in, and you move on to the next.
“And then this one, ‘Your knife.’ It’s from Valentine. The speaker, she doesn’t want the usual valentine gifts, so she gives an onion instead. But… she says it’ll make the receiver cry, because well, onions do that. It’s a basically a metaphor for love, how—” You take a deep breath, your throat tightening. “How dangerous it can become.”
Spencer stays quiet, but his eyes are fixed on you. His hand finds your back, giving a reassuring, gentle rub.
You hesitate before pointing to the last note. “And this one, ‘All alone.’” You swivel the chair around to face him fully, the tension in your chest growing. “I wasn’t sure about the first two, but when I saw this, I knew.”
“Little Red Cap,” Spencer finishes for you, his voice tinged with self-reproach. “Your favourite. God, why didn’t I see this?”
You nod, your voice softening. “Yeah. The opening poem of The World’s Wife. She uses Red Riding Hood to explore growing up, losing innocence and… well, you know the rest.”
Spencer’s lips press into a thin line as he nods grimly. “The wolf represents someone older, predatory. A lover.”
“Yeah, and she uh,” you say, barely a whisper. “She kills him.”
Spencer’s jaw tightens, his frustration evident. “How did I not—How’d you—” If the situation weren’t so dire, you might have joked about never expecting to hear those words from Spencer Reid. Instead, you force a shrug, casual, as if your analysis hadn’t just reshaped everything. “TA-ed a few classes on Duffy,” you say grimly.
The silence stretches, heavy and charged, until Spencer crouches down in front of you. His sharp eyes soften as they meet yours. “You’re… you’re incredible, you know that?” His tone is low, reverent. He presses a brief, warm kiss to your forehead before standing, running a hand through his still-damp hair. Then his expression shifts, eyes darkening with urgency. “I need to make a call.”
You nod silently, still curled up in his chair. You don’t trust your legs to carry you to the bed that’s one room over, not right now. Spencer steps away, his phone already pressed to his ear. It takes only a few moments before he starts speaking.
“Hotch,” he begins, “I think the unsub is a woman.”
The reply on the other end is muffled, but you can follow the conversation through Spencer’s responses.
“Poems, yeah—Carol Ann Duffy,” he says, pacing a few steps. “We’ve been looking for patterns in the wrong places.”
He pauses, listening, before adding, “How’d I—? Just… from a friend.”
His tone is careful, protective. You know Spencer doesn’t want his team knowing about you. When Spencer told you he wanted to keep his professional and personal lives separate, you didn’t understand at first. But after he’d opened up about what happened to his boss—how it shattered everyone—you stopped pushing. You understood then why he was so insistent on drawing those boundaries, even if it meant staying in the shadows of his world.
You watch him, eyes tracing the way his jaw clenches, the restless motion of his fingers. “This is the lead we need. What—No, we don’t need to bring them in.” You can see the moment his patience snaps.
“What we need is to focus on her work—her themes, her voice. It’ll give us insight into the unsub’s mindset. No, I—” Spencer’s tone sharpens, frustration creeping in as he rakes a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends.
“I know this is important, I’m not saying it isn’t—” He stops mid-sentence, the voice on the other end cutting him off. His lips press into a thin line, and he exhales through his nose, fingers pinching the bridge. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone tense but resigned.
“Okay.” He pauses for a beat, “We’ll—she’ll be there.”
As he hangs up, Spencer turns back to you, his expression carefully guarded. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks, tentative.
You have two lectures. “Nothing,” you say, the word slipping out easily. He frowns, uncertain.
“Kristoff’s out sick, and Burton doesn’t care about attendance anyway,” you quickly lie. The tension in his face eases just slightly, but you can still see the hesitation in his eyes.
“Right, um, my boss,” You can sense a hint of nervous energy in the way he shifts his weight. “He wants us in at 8, sharp. I’ll drive.”
The apology is clear in his expression as he crouches down, taking your hands in his. “I know this isn’t exactly what you signed up for,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But... I know he wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
A simple, quiet “I know” is all you can manage.
You can tell he feels bad about dragging you into this. You definitely hadn’t imagined this would be your introduction to his world either—messy, intense, and impossibly heavy. And from this brief glimpse, you’re not sure if you’re ready for it after all.
⋆✴︎˚。⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer x reader#spencer x self insert#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x reader comfort
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𝘚𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭 '𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴
“𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶” - 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘦’𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩
𖧧 pairing: choi seungcheol x afab!reader 𖧧 wordcount: 23.5k words
𖧧 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you ^~^
𖧧 genre: best friends to friends with benefits to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, smut (mdni 18+)
𖧧 summary: all it took was one kiss and suddenly you and Seungcheol’s friendship has turned upside down. 𖧧 In other words: exploring how far the boundaries of your lifelong friendship can take the two of you, you and Seungcheol try to navigate what it's like to be friends with benefits. just because you're secrelty in love with each other won't fuck everything up...right?
𖧧 tags: bsf!seungcheol, nonidol!au, rich!seungcheol, middleclass!reader, sml!wonwoo, jealous!cheol, possesive!cheol, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, ANGST, both mc's are heavily in denial, lotssss of miscommunication and misunderstandings, they are one year apart, jeonghan is the only sane person, hoshi is a clingy drunk, mona eisa makes an appearance!, its such a cliche story but i love it, they make bad decsions when theyre 'h' word... 𖧧 smut tags/warnings: dom!scoups, sub!reader, multiple smut scenes, p in v unprotected sex, semi-public sex (sorry), slight mutal intoxicated sex in the first smut scene, choking, slapping, multiple positons, oral (f. receiving), fingering, creampie, praise and degradation, pet names (baby, angel, princess, love).
𖧧 note: finally... its here. im sorry for the long wait :"). i thought i was only going to do 10k words but i got carried way. i want to thank @mysafehaneul who helped me with editing this story as well as my two irl friends who brainstormed ideas with me through out the writing process <3. if i've missed any tags/warnings please dont be afraid to lmk! anyways,,, im excited because this thing is my baby, i hope you enjoy! your thoughts and comments are always welcome :') leave me a comment or ask if you want~
As long as you can remember, Seungcheol and you have been attached to the hip. Even though he was a year older than you, you couldn’t remember the last time you spent a day without him, starting all the way from the young, bright age of 5, when you and your family moved into the small, humble house across his. Although your parents weren’t very well off, Cheol was. It was an odd thing that you two were neighbours because his house was much more grand and nicer kept than yours. This didn’t really bother you growing up though, he always made you feel like an equal.
Seungcheol has been with you through it all, from the petty fights in middle school to the pains of adolescence in high school. He’s seen you at your worst like the time you tripped and fell trying to impress a cute guy at school, which resulted in a nosebleed. You were so embarrassed but at the end of the day, Cheol was there to help you clean your bloody nose and pick you back up. A true night and shining armour in disguise. He was the one to patch up your heart, breakup after breakup. Always your shoulder to lean on when you’re feeling down, and especially when you’re happy.
A man and best friend like Choi Seungcheol didn’t come around very often, and you took notice of that since you were young. You cherish every moment you have and will have with him. He is a true gentleman with a heart of gold, he’s handsome, smart, rich and caring. Every single box on your list is ticked off when it comes to him. Yet, you know that no matter how hard you love him, you will only ever be his best friend. The girl he sees is practically his younger sister. The bittersweet feeling of being so close to him tugs your heart till it's torn. It took you a long time to accept that all you’ll ever be is his best friend, and even now you’re still trying to accept this fact.
I.
Fall freshly arrived in your city. The bustling sound of cars, the light whistle of the wind, the leaves that would crunch with each step. It is the perfect atmosphere for you and Seungcheol's weekend movie marathon. On today’s agenda is Divergent, a series you loved reading growing up.
There you two sat, snuggling on the couch, wrapped in maybe ten pounds worth of blankets that could be someone’s monthly rent downtown. This is why you loved having movie marathons at Seungcheol’s place, he always has the best blankets, the best pillows, the best snacks; you could go on for days with reasons.
Your head on his shoulder, his arm resting behind you on the couch, everything felt perfect. If you closed your eyes for just one second, you could pretend that you and he were together and that this was just a stay-at-home type of date. But, the moment your eyes open again you are faced with the reality of the situation.
“Wow, this movie was a lot better when I was like 13…” you snort after finishing re-watching Divergent for the first time in a long time. Only because Cheol hadn’t seen it before.
“Hmm, it's not that bad..?” He tries to defend the movie, but as someone who read all the books in middle school, you knew that it just didn’t compare.
“No Cheol you don’t understand, it’s just gets worse from here. I really don’t know why they didn’t just decide to follow the book more properly. The first one was so good.” you huff with a frustrated sigh after finishing your rant.
Seungcheol can only chuckle, his voice sending vibrations from how close in proximity you two were. He didn’t mind the physical affection between the two of you, after being around each other for so long, you two became accustomed to it. You were always the type to rant to him about the little things, and he just likes to sit there and listen. He always wants to be the person you go to when you want to let your feelings out, no matter how trivial your tangents are.
“Y/n, if you hate the last two movies why are we watching them?” He asks you, his brow quirked up.
“You’re right actually, maybe we can watch something else…” You agree, your head craned up to look at him from where you’re positioned. A small smile danced across your lips, so close to him you could feel his breath fan your face. The smell of his cologne tickles your nostrils.
“Wanna watch Ponyo?” Seungcheol suggests he knows how much you love Ghibli movies. You always like to mention to him that you’re Ponyo and he’s Souske. He doesn't disagree with you, jesting that he would carry you around in a bucket full of water as Souske does.
Agreeing, giving an affirmative nod, you snuggle into him further as he changes the movie, exiting out of the dumpster fire they call the Divergent. As the movie starts to play, you think back to all the times Seungcheol was your Souske, and all the times he spent making sure you would heal from your hurt.
II.
Seungcheol has always seen himself as your best friend. The man that will be there for you when you have no one else to turn to. He has never seen you as more than his best friend, his y/n. He is a man who never second-guesses himself, always keeping a strong-willed sense of mind. Every time one of his friends asked him if he had feelings for you, he would simply answer no; and that you were like a younger sister to him.
That first year was lonely for him, he didn’t really know anyone and all his classes kept him away from socializing. The only thing that seemed to have stayed constant was you. You face-timed him at least once a week before he went to bed, never forgetting to remind him how much you missed him, and how much you cared for him. In the simplest words, you were his rock for during first year.
Seungcheol was never warned about how lonely and jarring your first year could be. The change in place, people, and most importantly the change in the fact that you weren’t there experiencing it beside him. He was never one to believe clichè sayings, but he finally understood what the saying “distance makes the heart grow fonder” really felt like. He had gotten so overwhelmed from the loneliness he even began to write you letters, ones he would never actually send out, as cheesy as it sounds. But knowing that he was addressing them to you brought him some type of solace in that first year.
A year later you came to study at the same university, and he was elated, to say the least. Finally, he had thought to himself. The one person he hadn’t been able to see, smell, or touch for a year was finally going to be in his proximity.
Unlike Cheol, you were only able to go to this school through bursaries and scholarships, your parents simply just couldn’t afford to send you to school in a different city otherwise. It reminded you how lucky Seungcheol was to receive support from his parents, getting and going to school was nothing he had to ever think twice about. You knew you could’ve stayed with your family, and gone to school closer to your house, but with Cheol away, it just wasn’t the same. Nothing had felt the same since he left. But this didn’t matter to you the moment you felt his arms wrap around you again.
You stood there in the airport all alone, eyes searching for a head of freshly dyed blond hair. The moment you heard his voice call your name, you knew you were finally home.
“Y/n!” An excited, deep voice calls out for you.
You whip your head around to see him. The man you hadn’t seen in so long, the man you were so desperately in love with. Your best friend.
“Cheol!” A squeal escapes your lips, you run to him. He pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his large hands around your smaller frame. Swinging you around like crazy, a laugh bubbles up from your throat.
“I’ve missed you so much y/n.” Cheol exasperates as he hugs you tighter, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.
“I’ve missed you too Cheol…” You whisper into his chest, breathing in his expensive cologne, not caring that you are in public; staying there to embrace him for a weirdly long period of time. “Never leave for that long again.”
III.
“Y/n for fucks sake please stop asking me if we can match for Halloween,” Seungcheol whines, his hands running over his face in exhaustion.
“C’mon it be so fun please please pleaseee,” you beg, your “please’s” getting longer with each second he refuses. You’re both sat on his couch, the morning after your movie marathon sleepover. Kneeling beside his spot on the sofa, shaking his shoulder excessively to get him to agree with you.
It’s a week before Jeonghan’s infamous Halloween party, one that you’ve attended every year since you moved here. It is known for being one of the biggest parties of the year, and Jeonghan is the most dramatic yet genius host on campus. Everyone goes, and you mean everyone. This year is no different than the previous ones. You and Cheol have gone together every year, and he has yet to do a matching costume with you. This year you’re simply not backing down from a simple no.
“But Tom and Jerry would be so funny!” You attempt to reason with him, giving him your biggest doe eyes and sweetest pout. You looked ridiculous, begging like a Victorian child asking for an extra piece of bread.
“Fine. Fine!” Seunghceol finally gives in. If there was something he just can’t resist, it’s when you beg to him with puppy dog eyes. It somehow has always worked for you, even when you two were kids.
“Yes! Finally oh my god, i’ve been waiting for this to happen for the past 3 years!” You jump around victoriously in your fluffy pyjamas. Seungcheol can’t help but laugh at your celebratory dance, especially when you wore fluffy bunny printed pj’s.
“Ok ok calm down, I’ll only allow it if I get to be the stupid Jerry cat.” he grumbles, arms crossed as he leans against his couch.
“You mean Tom you idiot..” You muttered under your breath as you sit back on the couch, returning back to the Ghibli marathon.
You weren’t very slick though, Seungcheol weirdly had a great sense of hearing for someone who can act like an old man sometimes. He turns to you with a glare and you let out a squeak, ready to run away from his hold, wow he is really taking his Tom role seriously, you thought as he chased you around his apartment. The sound of child-like laughter fills the space, your Ghibli movie long forgotten.
IV.
Monday had finally rolled around the corner, which you dread even more after spending the weekend in Paradise a là Seungcheol, a.k.a his apartment; which was a lot more fun to be at in comparison to your own. He lived on one of the highest floors in his apartment building, while you lived in the cheapest place closest to campus. It was kind of laughable how different your life is compared to Seungcheol’s, yet out of everyone he’s your bestfriend.
What’s even worse about this Monday is that you’re finally getting your assigned partner for the midterm project. With your fingers crossed you hope that the professor would pair you up with either Jeonghan or Seunghcheol. At least it would make doing the project a little bit more bearable, especially knowing that the whole project itself is worth fifteen percent of your grade. Not a lot but enough to make a dent in your average if you get careless, which you can’t afford. Literally.
“Okay, so I’m just going to start assigning people randomly…” The professor drones on before beginning to give out assigned partners.
“Y/n L/n and Jeon Wonwoo.” Your name is finally called, and thank the heavens your partner is someone you actually know, and someone you know who is smart too.
In a hurried fashion, you make your way to sit beside Wonwoo. You two weren’t really all that close, but you had mutual friends. He is often seen with Mingyu, considering the fact that they are roommates. You had only learnt this from Seungcheol, who was closest to Mingyu. A golden retriever turned person who he had become friends with at the end of his first year in uni.
Wonwoo is an attractive guy, and smart too, which you cannot deny. He was relatively popular for those reasons, but you never really paid much attention to him. Only ever talking to him at parties or in the student union centre eating lunch with Cheol, Mingyu, and Vernon. Honestly, you were just glad to be paired with someone who you know isn’t going to make you do the whole damn thing by yourself.
You slip into the desk where he sits, exchanging a soft hello before bringing out your laptop to write notes. “Hey Wonwoo, I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Y/n.”
“Yeah I remember you, you’re Seungcheol’s best friend right?” He asks, probably thinking you look familiar from all the times you had been seen walking around campus with Cheol.
“I am, unfortunately…haha.” You laugh awkwardly along with your joke, trying to break the ice between you two. Wonwoo just nods his head at you slowly, aware of your attempt to make a joke. He definitely wasn’t much of a talker. You picked up on that every time Mingyu had brought him around, and every time you saw him he was either on his phone or talking to a friend quietly in a corner.
You two got down to business pretty quickly after your lousy attempt to try and make conversation. This is definitely one of those moments that would potentially keep you up a night. The ones where you’re trying to fall asleep and suddenly remember an embarrassing thing you did or said.
On the other side of the room are Jeonghan and Seunghceol, and much to Seungcheol's dismay he got paired up with the one person he didn’t want to be with. The moment the professors called out their names, Jeonghan turned around giving him the biggest shit-eating grin. With the professor’s queue, he makes his way to sit beside Cheol, sitting too close for comfort.
Jeonghan loves to tick Seungcheol off, he thinks it’s a great way to pass the time. Maybe even one of his favourites. There was something about getting under his skin that he just found so amusing. It doesn’t really help that Jeonghan is one of Y/n’s closest friends, second to Cheol even.
He met Y/n in her first year at the University and even knew Cheol prior to Y/n, but the two men somehow never really got along. Jeonghan and Y/n shared an intro to psychology class back in her first year and became close for sharing an innate hatred towards their professor. After that, they were like two peas in a pod. Four years into their friendship, Jeonghan still relentlessly teases Cheol, especially when Y/n is around.
Jeonghan has always been an observant man, at least he’d like to think so. The first time he saw Y/n and Seungcheol interact he could tell from the beginning that they were hopelessly in love with each other. Although he would never outright butt into their relationship, he definitely knows how to push things along. Their body language towards each other really was the biggest giveaway and the way Cheol gives into everything Y/n would say. What’s even more laughable was the fact that they were both deeply in denial, for what reason? Jeonghan didn’t know but he found their oblivious attitude to be insufferable. Call him bitter but after spending much time with the two of them he just wanted them to finally bite the bullet and date already.
“Hmm look at Y/n getting all cozy with Wonwoo, they would be cute together wouldn’t they Cheollie?” Jeonghan provoked, calling Seungcheol by a horrid nickname. He poked at Seungcheols arm, giving him a cheshire cat grin. The blond man was not very amused by Jeonghan’s antics, giving him a deathly glare.
“You’re blowing this out of proportion you idiot, they’re just partners for a project.” Seungcheol scoffs, rolling his eys at how fast Jeonghan is shipping you with Wonwoo. “Also stop fucking calling me Cheollie, its such an ugly nickname.”
“Why not Cheollie? You let Y/n call you that…” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m just saying people don’t just start dating out of nowhere, plus they’ll be spending a lot of alone time together.” Jeonghan eggs on, nudging Seungcheol with his elbow.
Seungcheol moves his attention towards you, boring holes into the back of you and Wonwoo’s head. Seeing you with Wonwoo didn’t settle right with him, he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it’s because of what Jeonghan said or the fact that imagining you so close with another man wasn’t something he was used to. It doesn’t matter anyways, they’re just partners, nothing else, Seungcheol thought. He lets out a huff of vexation, bracing himself for the upcoming weeks he has to put up with Jeonghan’s antics.
X.
The day of Jeonghan’s party had finally arrived, and you couldn’t be more excited. Midterms had just finished up and you were more than ready to drink away the stress. You hadn’t been to a party in a while now, and you were definitely due for a good one. You were dying just to get your mind off school at least for one night, drinking with your friends and wear a skimpy halloween costume.
The walk to Seungcheol’s apartment isn’t very long, a brisk five minutes and you’re already in front of the entrance. You were excited to see his costume, especially because you haven’t seen him dress up for halloween since you two were kids. As you walked down to his apartment you couldn’t help but appreciate the perfect weather for tonights party. The slightly chilly wind blowing through your hair, the moon full and shining bright in the already dark sky. You just had a weird flutter in your heart that gave you the impression that this party isn’t going to be like any of the previous ones.
Walking down the hall to your best friend’s place always has you in awe, no matter how many times you’ve been down the path to his apartment. Most of the time you felt out of place, everything is so extravagant. The doorman, the high-speed elevator, and especially Cheol’s large floor to ceiling windows. It had a whole view of the bustling city and it took the breath out of you everytime you would spend a few minutes appreciating the scenery.
You knock on his door, and not more than a few seconds later hes opening the door for you. A hearty laugh leaves your lips as your met with the image of him wearing grey cat ears. His cheeks rosy and the tips of his ears turn a hot red as he lets you in. you can’t help but giggle as you make your way into his living room.
Seungcheol may be a little embarrassed by the cat ears but the real reason he’s blushing so hard isn’t because you’re laughing at him. The moment he opened the door the first thing he notices is your costume. He mentally slapped himself trying not to drool at your figure. The brown corset you had on hugs your waist perfectly, the tightness accenuating your cleavage. Your breasts are practically spilling out of the top and the view is causing all the blood in his body to rush to his head. As you walked past him laughing he couldn’t help but look down at how little your skirt covered. His heart was beating so fast, but he quickly masks his desire for you with annoyance.
“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in cat ears.” You’re practically creasing on his couch, laughing after every word.
“You’re the one who wanted to do Tom and Jerry!” he defends himself, a displeased look plastered on his face.
“O-ok sorry sorry, it’s cute! Don’t worry.” A giggle slips past your lips. You stand up and fix his cat ears, your smile widening at the fact that he’s not happy with how “cute” his costume is. “C’mon lemme draw some whiskers and a nose on you.”
Taking his hand, you lead him to the couch. You let him sit down comfortably on the couch before you climb onto his lap, your eyeliner pencil in hand, ready to draw some whiskers. You focus on giving a cute circular nose, your tongue sticking out a little in concentration. Not wanting to mess up the whiskers, you dont pay attention to anything else as you draw three straight lines on each of his cheeks.
Seungcheol on the other hand is trying very hard not to focus on you. His hands are squeezing your hips with an iron grip. The direct view of your cleavage, the proximity of your body, it was getting too much for him. You were so in your own world, concerned by his cat makeup that you don’t even notice your skirt riding up the slightest bit. He takes notice of this, his breath caught in his throat. With your legs straddling his, he has a good view of your panties peaking out from your skirt. Seungcheol can feel himself getting aroused but he’s trying his best to ignore it, his hands starting to sweat profusely.
“Fuck…” He mumbles under his breath, looking straight down at your exposed underwear. He felt a bit like a pervert but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from your body.
“Shh I’m almost done promise.” You assure him, oblivious to the fact that he’s not whining about the make up. “Annnd done!” A satisfied smile spreads across your face as you get off his lap. Pulling down your skirt a little because of it slightly hiking up from being on his lap.
With a relieved sigh, Seungcheol gets up from the couch after you. He wasn’t sure why he’s feeling about this away about you all of sudden. Maybe it was because you two were so close in such an intimate way? No that can’t be it, Seungcheol thinks to himself, we’ve known each other for so long. Maybe its because your costume was accenuating every attractive thing about you, he really didn’t know. But what he does know is if that happened again he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. With that last thought, he decides to just brush it off for now. He feels more than ready to get some alcohol in his system.
“Lets go?” Seungcheol asks, lending you his bicep to wrap your hand around. You nod, taking his arm before walking out of his apartment, ready for the fun night ahead.
VI.
You two arrive in front of Jeonghan’s house. It isn’t a far walk from Seungcheol’s apartment, maybe five to eight minutes and you were already there. As you stroll along the side walk the music exuding from his house becomes increasingly loud. The thumping of the bass echoing slightly throughout the neighbourhood, the halloween decorations hanging off the exterior. You are a little bit in awe at how many people are able to fit in a tiny bungalow, but despite the crowded atmosphere, a party like this is a perfect way to celebrate the end of your midterms.
As you and Seungcheol enter the house, you can already recognize a few familiar faces from your classes as well as some of your closest friends. The music practically enveloped you the moment you stepped into the room, the bass causing your heart to thump out of your chest. You squeeze onto Seungcheol’s arm tighter, not wanting to lose him in the crowd. He keeps you close, fearing that you may disappear the moment he lets you go. As you continue to scan the room for your friends, one person in paritcualr catches your attention.
Soonyoung who was of course wearing a tiger onesie, is already in a drunken state, swaying around aimlessly, bumping into people and then proceeding to apologize with a hug accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. Watching this unfold causes a giggle to escape your lips, you pat Seungcheol and motion to the silly drunkard making his way out of the heaps of people. Seungcheol chuckles at Soonyoung as he ends up making his way over to the two of you. The drunk tiger yells out for you , engulfing you and Cheol into a bone crushing hug.
“Typical of you Hosh, you’re already drunk off your ass,” you scold him as you call him by his nickname, patting his fluffly tiger hood. “Now what are you doing going around and giving people kisses?”
“Y/Nie stop acting like my mom, c’mon lets go find Hao and the others.” Soonyoung whines, tugging on your arm so that you would follow him. You give Seungcheol a look, and he just nods, you knew that meant he would go and find you later. So you let Hoshi pull you away, brining you over to your friends.
You spot Jeonghan and Minghao conversing in a corner of the room. This is the first time you’ve seen an angel look like they were out to do more bad than good. Jeonghan’s angel wings and halo shaking as he laughs at something Minghao says. On Jeonghan’s left side is a Mona Lisa painting with the head and arms cut out. You laugh at the way Minghao is constantly keeping his hands in the same way as the original position of the painting as he talks.
“Y/N! Finally the party doesn’t really start till you’re here.” Jeonghan greets you, taking you out of Hoshi’s grasp to pull you into a hug. “Your costume is adorable but also really sexy, Jerry right? Where’s your Tom?”
“Goodevening to you too Hannie, and uhm…Mona Lisa?” You giggle at Minghao’s odd choice in costume.
“Mona Eisa actually.” He corrects and you don’t even think to ask any further questions.
“Well… he would’ve been here if this intoxicated hamster didn’t pull me away from him.” You reply to Jeonghan, giving Soonyoung a look, seeing that he’s already cuddling up to Minghao, who doesn’t seem too pleased by the sudden affection. “Soonyoung stop trying to strangle Hao, he’s not going to disappear.” you scold him again, resulting in a pouty tiger.
“Jesus Soonyoung let go of me that onesie you have on is like a fucking space heater.” Minghao complains, trying to push Hoshi away. Hoshi only whines, holding on tighter. Looking at the situation unfolding, a stranger would think Minghao is the older one of the two. You have always known how much of a lightweight Hoshi is, but tonight it seems he’s had more than usual.
“Y/N stop calling me a hamster, and Hao what’s wrong with a hug? I thought we were friends..” He continues to whine, his cheeks red from the alcohol.
“We won’t be if you keep holding onto me like that you idiot,” Minghao replies, giving Hoshi a warning look. He let Minghao go with a mope forming on his lips. Minghao can only laugh and pat his head. He wasn’t a big fan of physical affection but he still adored Hoshi even if he was clingy. Y/N found their friendship amusing, they would always quarrel with one another yet still show affection when it really mattered.
“Ok ok, break it up you two. Y/N over here is way too sober, let’s fix that.” Jeonghan suggests, and you happily agree. Hoshi’s face lights up and he attempts to follow the two of you. “No Hoshi, not you, you’ve had enough. Go find Seungkwan Hao, this guy needs to be put on an alcohol ban.”
Soonyoung sulks even harder, causing his chubby cheeks to accentuate. It made you giggle at how cute he gets when he’s drinking. You bid your goodbyes to Hoshi and Minghao and follow Jeonghan into the kitchen. As you trek towards where the alcohol is you say hello to some of the people you were friendly with, complimenting the pretty costumes you saw on the way.
When you finally reach the kitchen, the countertop is filled with bottles of every type of alcohol. You end up spotting Seungcheol standing around the island, talking and drinking with Mingyu, Vernon, and Wonwoo. They notice your presence immediately giving you a polite wave. Wonwoo on the other hand takes a longer than normal look at you. This catches Seungcheol’s attention, causing him to grip his red cup harder till it is slightly crumpled in his hand.
“Cheollibee! I didn’t see you come in earlier.” Jeonghan snickers, taking a good glance at his costume. This only makes Cheol scowl at him, muttering about the wretched nicknames Jeonghan is always coming up with.
“Hello Jeonghan.” Seunghceol deadpans, still leaning leisurely against the island.
“You wanna take a shot with me and Y/N? It’ll be fun, promise.” Jeonghan urges, a mischievous glint twinkling in his eyes. You watch the two and laugh, Seungcheol never fails to show his disdain for Jeonghan, it was kind of their thing.
“Sure why not.” Cheol shrugs, coming up to the two of you. He stands behind you, your body pressed against the counter, you can feel his breath fan the back of your neck. Stiffening at the feeling, you watch him grab a bottle from in front of you before pouring out three shots. For some reason the music was nothing compared to how fast your pulse was beating in your ears right now.
Seungcheol’s strong bicep wraps around you to pour a sufficient amount of liquor in each glass, his cologne engulfing your senses. It makes your knees weak, the proximity of his body pressing up against you has your mind running laps. It was so close you could feel his front side brush up against your behind. The thin material of your skirt feeling the texture of his rough jeans.
“You ready?” Seungcheol whispers in your ear as you look down at the shot glass that he’s trying to hand you. The way his breath fans across your face makes you shiver inwardly. You only nod, taking the little shot glass out of his grasp.
From Jeonghan’s point of view you look like a deer in headlights, he can’t help but smirk. Seungcheol’s presence obviously affecting you.
You turn around to face Cheol, and he backs away a little bit, taking the space beside you; one of his hands gripping the counter beside your waist. His blond hair pushed back, the soft cat ear headband hes wearing contrasts against his hard features. As you throw back your shot, you can’t help but keep your eyes on him. His strong jawline becomes more prominent as he takes his own shot, the liquor dripping a little bit off his chin onto his shirt. Fuck, you thought, i’m not drunk enough for this.
Jeonghan sees you ogling and can’t help but chuckle to himself, he pours another set of shots before handing them off to the two of you. Taking the shot, you wince one again as you feel the alcohol burn down your throat. Two shots aren’t enough to get you drunk but you were definitely starting to feel a light buzz. Your surroundings start to become a tad bit hazy, but in a good way.
“Cheollie why don’t you take Y/N to dance?” Jeonghan suggests, his cheshire cat like grin returning. The look of his mischievous smile in juxtaposition with his innocent and pure white angel costume.
Your eyes light up the moment ‘dance’ slipped out of Jeonghan’s mouth, causing you to tug on Seungcheol’s sleeve, urging him to take you to where everyone else is dancing. The alcohol running through his system and the way your eyes sparkle under the kitchen lights is enough for Seungcheol to agree. He could feel his buzz coming on now but he knew he is far from drunk.
“Fine, let’s go.” He allows, pretending not to be a little intrigued on what your definition of ‘dancing’ is.
You smile excitedly and take his hand, leading him to the dance floor, your hips already swinging along with the music. Which was more like the middle of Jeonghan’s living room with the couches pushed to the side. The crowd of people in the middle of the room are moving with the groove of the thumping bass. You start to do the same, letting your inhibitions go. Taking Seungcheol’s hands you place them on your hips, your body's flush with each others. You snake your hands around his neck, holding onto him as you continue to move with the music. The grasp of his large hands holding your hips tight ignites sparks in your stomach.
Seungcheol’s throat goes dry as you turn around, your back facing him. Your ass flush with his front, causing him to hold onto your hips even tighter. What the fuck…, he thinks to himself. The feeling of arousal sneaking up on him for the third time tonight. As you continue to grind on him, he can’t help but let out a low groan, your ass moving against his growing hard on.
“You enjoying your self princess?” Seungcheol whispers in your ear, his hands starting to move up and down. From your hips to your waist, up then back down to your hips once again. Your breath hitches, the tips of his fingers leaving a searing heat on your skin in its wake. The buzzing haze clouding your thoughts, the pounding of the music, the feeling of his hands on you, it was too much all at once.
“Mhmm..” Is the only thing you can say in response as you continue to dance against him.
Seungcheol chuckles, he can sense your arousal too, with the way you put your hands over his, guiding them back to your hips. Keeping your hands on top of his own, you let the music take over you. You close your eyes to really savour the moment; just because you’re not sure when the next time you will get to experience this with Cheol again.
The more you dance with him, the warmer you get. The heat of his body radiates onto you, his hands move from your hips down to your exposed thighs then back up. Who knew that two shots in, you would be dancing (grinding) on your best friend in the middle of Jeonghan’s Halloween party? As time goes on, you feel your clothes stick to your skin just a little more than before, as well as the heat brewing in your stomach.
“Cheollie…” You look over your shoulder to meet his gaze. With a seductive smile, you give him bedroom eyes, not caring that you’re in front of so many people you know. Or the fact that you’re feeling extremely attracted to your best friend right now. “I’m feeling a little warm, can we go somewhere a little more quiet?” you ask, feigning your timidness.
“Yeah if that’s what you want.” He nods, giving you his charming, dimpled smile.
You take his hand, leading him down the hallway to Jeonghan’s room. But before you enter you send a text to Jeonghan, asking if it was ok to stay in his room for a bit. He replies promptly saying that it was fine and to drink the water in his mini fridge if you needed to. After reading that you had permission to enter, you bring both you and Cheol into the room, closing the door promptly behind you.
“You feeling better in here Y/N?” Seungcheol inquires, grabbing a water from the mini fridge and handing it to you. You simply nod, grabbing the water from his and taking a sip.
“Yeah thank you, it was getting really hot out there. Thank god Hannie always keeps his room freezing cold.” You shrug before taking another sip of your water as you sit down on his bed. You admire Seungcheol as he walks toward you, his tight shirt highlighting his muscular biceps, veins running down his forearms. You mentally shake yourself to stop the drool from dripping past your lips.
He towers over you, standing in front of you as you sit on the bed. You clear your throat before putting the water bottle down on the bedside table. Seungcheol grabs a piece of your hair, tucking it behind your ear, his hand moving down slowly to get ahold of your jaw. His grip is firm but gentle, forcing you to look up at him from where you sit. You gulp, frozen, his actions not clear enough for you to predict what he’ll do next.
“You have been teasing me a whole lot while you were dancing, did you know that princess?” He asks, looking down at you while he runs his thumb over your lip, pulling it down slightly.
He relinquishes his hold from your face, going to sit beside you on the bed. Your heart beats out of your chest as your eyes meet his. Seungcheol’s pupils are enlarged, his brown eyes lidded with lust. You aren’t sure what to do, but whatever he has planned you really wouldn’t be opposed to any of it. Although you were having fun dancing with him, a part of you knew if you kept on grinding against him like that, his self-restraint would break.
The muffled music and the sound of your heavy breaths are the only things to be heard in the room. You bite your lip, not sure how to answer him, your cheeks heating with a little embarrassment, apprehension, and excitement.
“No Cheol I didn’t mean to,” you murmur, your face dangerously close to his. He shakes his head with a chuckle.
“Didn’t mean to what? Get me hard from having you grinding on me like that?” he retorts, his hand comes up to grip your cheek, squishing it between his thumb and forefingers. “I think you did mean to, I only have so much self-control princess.”
He lets go of his grip on you, caressing the spot on your cheek where he pressed his thumb. With one swift motion, he grips your hips and pulls you onto his lap, moving your thighs to straddle his. You yelp due to how quickly he got you into the position, your skirt riding up once again.
“Mm.. Maybe just a little bit, I guess I got caught up in the moment…” you admit shyly, averting his hard gaze as you play with the hem of your skirt.
“Well your actions have consequences sweetheart, so what are you gonna do about it?” He whispers into your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, and the feeling of his hot breath fanning your face causes the heat to pool in your core, staining your panties.
“Cheollie…” you whimper, his hands back on your hips, his grip tightening with every second that passes. Embarrassed, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, not wanting to look him in the eyes. You were just so embarrassed at how turned on you are, the feeling of his body so close to yours has your walls lining with arousal.
“You gonna fix what you did princess?” He continues to whisper to you, making you feel like you two are the only people in the entire house. The feeling of his hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly has you leaning more into his touch, his fingertips leaving sparks as he continues. You nod into where you buried your face into his neck.
“With words.” His tone is firm and another shiver runs through you, but instead, it runs straight through your hot core. His hands now running over your bare thighs, squishing them ever so slightly, as he admires how they look smushed onto his lap.
“I’ll fix it, I want to.” You whisper as you look down at his full lips, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. “I really want you right now Cheollie…”
“I want you too, are you sure princess?” He asks, keeping a safe distance until he receives some verbal consent from you.
“Yes, I want it please.” You’re practically begging, whimpering as you lean in closer, your nose touching his.
Lost in his scent, you can feel the blood rush to your head at how close you are to him right now. His hands gripping onto your waist, his lips so close to yours but still not touching. The alcohol, your beating heart, his touch, it’s making your head dizzy with arousal. You wanted this so bad and you didn’t know much you needed it up until this point. Out of all the people you’ve been with before, nothing compares to how much you’re own best friend is turning you on right now. Something about him intoxicates you way more than the two shots you downed less than half an hour ago.
With that last thought, Seungcheol finally crashes his lips into yours. The moment he felt your lips on top of his it was like a fire ignited in him, one that he couldn’t seem to light properly till you. He’s only been kissing you for less than a minute but you’ve already got him hooked. He knows that theres going to be no one after you. The feeling of your body against his is making all the blood rush down to his dick.
You place your hands on both his cheeks, pushing him into your face even more. Tasting the remnants of alcohol on his tongue, the flavour of him and what he drank making you whimper into the kiss. Seungcheol pushes his tongue into your mouth, exploring the softness of your lips. You couldn’t comprehend how delicious it is to kiss Seungcheol, like he was some nectar you’ve been deprived of all your life.
He groans as he feels you grind your clothed heat against his growing erection, the friction causing his head to spin. Gripping your hips even tighter, he continues you to kiss you with while moving your hips back and forth with ease. The hard motions causing you to pull back to let out a moan.
“Haven’t even touched you properly and you’re already moaning like that…” Seungcheol groans, kissing up exposed cleavage and collarbones. “Fuck angel you’ll be the death of me.”
He adores the corset you have on, the fact that your tits practically spilling out right in front of his face made his dick even harder for you.
“Mmmph, Cheol please…” You whine as he continues to suck on your exposed skin, leaving red marks all over. Gripping on his biceps to stabalize yourself, the feeling of him sucking harshly on your soft skin makes your eyes roll back. As you continue to grind on him you could feel him growing harder underneath you, it nudges against your cunt but barely, teasing you even further.
“Tell me baby, what do you want?” He chuckles against your skin, leaving kisses along your neck and face.
“I need you to fuck me please…” You beg, your eyebrows scrunching in frustration, the kissing and grinding just isn’t enough for you.
“Are you sure princess?” He asks slowly, trying to make sure that is something you really want. You look into his soft brown eyes with desperation, nodding to let him know that you need him right now.
“I do I do please Cheol, cant take this teasing anymore.” you complain, grinding your hips to urge him to take you already.
“You’re a needy little slut aren’t you darling?” He smirks, placing his lips on yours once again. This time he doesn’t hold back with his actions, untying your corset from the back before taking it completely off you. He groans into the kiss as he places his hands your breasts, playing and tweaking with your pebbled nipples. You moan into his mouth as you feel him grope at your chest, fondling them in his hands expertly.
“P-please I need you now Cheol,” you whine harder, gripping onto his strands of blond hair, trying to ground yourself in this moment of increasing pleasure. His lack of touch where you need him most is frustrating you, he may be sucking on your tits but you want him to be sucking on your clit instead.
You’re irritation forces you to seek relief for yourself, your hand snaking down past the bottom of your skirt, pushing your thong to the side. Placing your fingers on your sticky clit you let out a sastified moan. Cheol catches on quickly to your attempt to pleasure your self. You barely got to go in a full circle on your throbbing bud before he throws you onto the bed, laying you on your stomach. Dizzy from the sudden change in positions, you yell out a yelp as he forces your skirt cladded ass in the air.
“What a naughty girl you are…” Cheol mutters to himself.
He tugs at your skirt so it bunches up around your hips, exposing your bare ass for him. Smirking to him self, he starts to caress the supple skin, that is until he brings his hand back to slap your ass with full force. It was so agressive that it jiggles from the impact, leaving a read hand mark on the soft surface.
“Ah! Cheol please ‘m sorry, didn’t meant to touch m-myself,” you cry out, the tears stinging your eyes. The cries turning into moans as he continues to smack your ass one…two… three times… until its too much for you to count. You’ve never been hit like this before but you can’t deny how good it feels.
“This is what happens when you act like a fucking whore princess.” He chuckles, rubbing your hand print covered skin, trying to soothe you. “Tell me you wont touch yourself without my permission again.”
“I-I wont, p-promise. Please Cheollie I need you.” You blubber, the tears falling down your face. He hasn’t even touched your needy pussy and you’re already a mess for him.
Seungcheol is satisfied at how pliant you’ve become, crying and apologizing for him like a good girl. He thinks of all the things he wants to do to you, but ultimately he decides to reward you first. You had taken his slapping so obediently, he thought, wanting to giving you a prize for enduring him. So he turns you around, your back against the mattress, legs spread wide apart for him. He finally gets a good look at your face, becoming more satisfied seeing that the tears are staining your make up, your nose red, and your eyebrows knotted in sexual frustration as you pout for him. Cute, he thought.
“Dont worry baby, i’ll eat you so good you’ll forget all about the pain.” He laughs as he lowers himself until he’s face to face with your heat. His warm breath fanning against your folds. His hands gripping your thighs tightly, keeping you spread for him. He licks his lips, wetting them before he indulges into your hot cunt.
Your underwear already pushed aside, he begins to lick a long fat strip against your wet lips. Letting out a wanton moan, you hold onto his hair, your thighs trying to close but his grip only becoming more tense.
“Fuck Cheol… so good.” you moan out, your eyes rolling back with pleasure. He hums against your core, sending vibrations. His actions continue to make your walls build up with more arousal. You’re so immersed in the feeling of his tongue, he decides to take it up a notch. Choking on air, you feel him insert a finger into your dripping hole, hooking it so it rubs against that spot that sends you into heaven. As his finger slides in and out of you, he suckles on your bundle of nerves. This is the moment you begin to see stars, and you start to feel that familiar build up below your stomach. Cheol adds another finger, picking up his pace a little bit.
“Hmmph Cheol please… need to cum.” you beg him, and he speeds up. He speeds up so much you almost black out. Screaming his name, he puts all his force into getting you to the edge, it makes your toes curl. And then its gone.
“What the fuck?” you ask him, you face flushed from the moments before, but also with frustration. He can only smirk at you as he licks his fingers clean, his jaw wet with your arousal. Seungcheol’s eyes darken as he takes in your small frame below him, your wetness still glistening off his chin. His cat ears long gone, you admire his muscular build as he begins to take off his clothing.
“Just wanted to see you come on my cock…” He mumbles, lining up his member with your entrance. Its large and the girth of it causes your breath to catch in your throat. You’re a little scared how much of it is going to fit without it stinging, but at this point you can’t bring yourself to care. All you want him to do now is to fuck you dumb.
Seungcheol’s self control is thinning second by second, he wants to take his time with you. Playing with you till his touch is burned into your skin. Till his length is burned in your pussy’s memory. So he teases you more, rubbing the tip of his hard member against your dripping folds. He loves how he can hear your lips squelch with every movement he makes.
Savouring the feeling of his cock head bumping into your clit, he places his hands on the mattress beside your waist. He moves his hips back and forth, letting his length glide against your lips but never going into your needy hole. The underside of his dick nestled within your folds, hitting your clit with each thrust.
“Oh hmph… Cheollie please… inside please.” you moan salaciously, as you peak at how his cock is rubbing you. It looks so pornographic you almost come just at the sight of all.
“Sorry baby, I just want to savour you for a bit.” He apologizes, his voice wavering as pleasure radiates through his body. The pre cum beading off the tip of his hardness. He relents his teasing, pulling back a bit to sit on the back of his heels. He stares at your knotted brows, the anticipation clearly written all over your face. Chuckling to himself he enters your tight cunt in one go. “So fucking tight for me…”
“Cheol!” you yell his name, your legs held up to your chest by his large hands, folding you in half.
“Holy fuck princess, your pussy is perfect.” He praises into your ear while moving in and out of your entrance with ease. You clench around him after hearing him compliment you, your brain going blank with pleasure. The feeling of his cock makes you dizzy, especially with how perfectly he fills you. His large member stretching your walls deliciously, the tip grazing against that one spot that makes you weak.
“You love taking this cock like a little slut don’t you.” He mutters, letting go of your legs to put one against his shoulder. You can only nod and make sounds of approval.
Seungcheol admires the way his thick cock is spreading your entrance, making him groan. The white ring forming around the base of his dick makes his push into you faster. Your moans increase as you feel him speed up, the sounds of skin slapping fill the room. The echoing sounds of your wet pussy being filled by Seungcheol’s cock grows louder, making you even more horny than before.
You are so fucked out, you couldn’t even form words of praise for him. The ridges of your walls being filled up by him is something you didn’t know you needed until now.
That feeling you had in your chest on your way to Cheol’s place resurfaces, is this the night your friendship with him changes forever? You think to yourself while looking into his eyes, your eyebrows scrunching as you moan.
The sight is so lewd, his member twitches inside your heat. He knows he’s close, but he doesn’t want this to end. As he continues to thrust into you, he can’t help but admire your beauty. Seungcheol was always aware that you’re an attractive person, but something about you being under him right now, drunk off his cock, basking in the moonlight that spills through the semi-closed curtain is really doing something to him. The feeling in his stomach only intensifies as he watches you moan his name deliriously. So fucking pretty, he thinks, the image of your coming undone burning into his memory.
“You close princess?” He asks you, watching the way your legs are starting to shake a little. You nod as you look at him, silently pleading for him to make you cum. He flashes you a smile as his free hand goes to rub circles on your clit, continuing to piston in and out of your tightening hole. Eyes rolling with pleasure, your back arching off the bed as you lean into his touch even more. Clenching and then unclenching, your pussy is pulsing as it greedily sucks him in.
Seungcheol curses under his breath at the grip you have around his hard length, your walls pulsating with each circle he rubs into your clit. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he warns you.
You smile at him mischeviously, repeating your actions again and again, watching his strokes becoming sloppier by the second.
“Come inside me Cheol, wanna see it drip out after,” you beg him, staring at him through your eyelashes innocently. He doesn’t have to be told twice, his speed increasing once again. This shuts you up quickly, as you whine at the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix. You feel him twitch in you again, and you know he’s close, so are you. Letting go, you orgasm, letting the high wash over your whole body. Your orgasm triggers his, causing him to spurt his hot load into your spent pussy, creaming you.
“That was…” you say with a sigh, the exhaustion starting to catch up with you. Seungcheol’s breathing is heavy, his cock still buried in your cunt, his cum starting to seep out of the edges of your folds.
“Yeah it was.” He agress with you, finally pulling out. He takes a tissue from the bedside table, wiping off his softening member and then you. Kissing your forehead, he collects your clothes as well as his own.
You watch his muscular back as he picks up each article of clothing. A cold shiver running down your spine as the realisation washed over you, causing your heart to skip.
I just fucked my best friend, you thought to yourself. Your cheeks heat up profusely at how lustful you two became, but also your bashfulness turns into embarrassment and a little bit of worry. The talks you’ve had with Jeonghan and the others about hooking up with a close friend flood your mind. You know things like these never end well, but at the same time this isn’t just any other friend. This is Seungcheol, and for some reason you can’t pinpoint whether that’s a good or bad thing.
Seungcheol finishes picking up everything off the floor, handing you your corset as he puts his own clothing on. You untie the strings and clasp the front parts easily, only to struggle with re-tightening the back. With a meek expression, you stand in front of Cheol with your back facing him.
“Uh, do you think you can tighten the back for me.” your voice sounding small. He smirks at how shy you’ve become after the fact he fucked you shamelessly less than fifteen minutes ago.
“Of course princess,” he leans in to whisper in your ear. His breath fanning against your neck, causing you to shiver visibly. He lets out a low chuckle before tying up your corset, his fingers gliding agaisnt your skin. The touch is hot but gentle, yet the feeling lingers for a few seconds. You can’t help but gulp, thinking about how just a few moments ago his grip was harsh and possessive. Before you could register what was happening next, he steps away, asking if you want to return to the party.
“Thank you,” you mumble before taking his hand and leaving Jeonghan’s room.
It isn’t long before you find the host of the party. He is leaning against the counter, laughing about something with Joshua. The party had dyed down considerably, the only people left were a part of your friend group. You leave Seungcheol’s side to go talk to Jeonghan.
“Now where have you been?” Jeonghan asks as you walk up to him, his smirk increasing as the blush on your cheeks grow. Your eyes are wide, as if he caught you doing something you shouldn’t.
“U-um well me and Cheol just hung out in your room for a bit, the party was getting overwhelming.” you mentally curse yourself for stuttering.
“Uh huh… hanging out. So do I or do I not have to wash my sheets?” Jeonghan presses, smiling deviously at how your mouth opens and then closes. Your eyes are wide with embarrassment, you can feel the heat radiate off your entire face.
“Jeonghan!” You squeak, before grabbing his arm to pull him aside, leading him away from curious ears. “Ok yes, please wash your sheets. I’m sorry I don't know what happened, one thing just led to the next… and then yeah.”
You admit to your actions, feeling guilty for staining your best friend's sheets. Your eyes are glued to your twiddling thumbs, waiting for his response. Jeonghan laughs, he laughs. A hearty, bent over clutching his stomach type of laugh.
“Fucking finally, oh my god Y/N. Sorry but it was bound to happen, you should've seen the way he was looking at you tonight. I swear to god if you didn’t fuck him anytime soon he was going to eat you whole.” He giggles, his hand on your shoulder to support himself, as he tries not to double over again.
“W-what?” You’re confused, you weren’t really sure why Jeonghan said all that, from what you can remember Cheol was acting perfectly normal.
“You really are so oblivious aren’t you Y/Nie.” He sighs as he pats your head. “I’m just glad you got that out of your system, you haven’t gotten laid in so long.”
“Hey! You don’t have to say it like that…” you pout, “Hannie, I don’t know what to do now though? Frankly, I’m scared, this is obviously going to change things…”
“You’ll be fine, trust me. Just talk to him, it’s only Seungcheollie after all.” He comforts you, and it admittedly it does help. You knew if there was anyone you could talk to about this it would be Jeonghan.
“Ok, I’m going to his place after anyways. Thanks, Hannie. Also please don’t tell Soonyoung and Hao…” You plead.
“Don’t worry darling, your secret is safe with me.” He smiles softly, pinching your cheek. You give him a hug, thankful you have someone to lean on when you’re feeling distraught. Especially because you can’t get advice about Cheol from Cheol, even if he’s your best friend too.
“Y/N let’s go home?” Seungcheol interrupts your embrace with Jeonghan. You pull away and his mouth is pressed into a thin line, the possessiveness obvious to anyone but you. Jeonghan playfully kisses your forehead, knowing how much it will piss Seungcheol off.
“Ok, bye Hannie, I’ll see you on Monday ok?” you wave goodbye as Seungcheol takes your hand in his.
“Bye Y/N, i’ll speak to you later Seungcheollie. Get home safely you two.” He smirks, eyes connecting with Cheol. His face is hard with an unreadable emotion, he only nods at Jeonghan’s statement before leading you two to the front door.
You bid your friends farewell as you walk towards the entrance of the house, your eyes drifting over to see the drunken tiger sleeping peacefully on Minghao’s shoulder. You wave goodbye to him as well before you’re engulfed by the chilly fall wind.
It’s quiet as you continue on the path to his apartment, your footsteps echoing along the pavement. The city lights shine all around you, the moon gleaming in the dark sky. It really is a perfect day for Halloweekend, you think, hearing the cars zip past you along the street. It is nearing 2 a.m., and the streets are not as busy as they were while you were on the way here.
“You’re not too cold right?” Seungcheol asks awkwardly with his hands in his pocket.
“A little but it’s only a couple blocks till your place so it’s ok…” you mumble, aware of the stiff atmosphere. He only nods before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, sharing his body heat with you. As you two stride down the pavement, you lean into his touch more. The silence between you two becomes more comfortable, admiring the scenery even more as you’re wrapped in his warmth.
VII.
The morning after you lay peacefully asleep on Cheol’s king sized bed. Your breathing steady as Seungcheol observes your soft features. Without even thinking his actions through, he pushes your hair so it’s not in your face. He takes in the way your brows are scrunching, the pout clear on your face even in your sleep. Cute, he thought.
It was a normal occurrence for you two to sleep in the same bed, platonically. A tradition that carried on from your child sleep overs to adulthood.
Reminiscing about the events from last night, Seungcheol feels a tug at his heart, he’s confused. Never have you two been that intimate with each other before, and he’s surprised at how much he’s thinking about what happened. The visions of you under him playing over and over again in his brain. This is the first time he has hooked up with someone thats made him think about his actions so intensely. But knowing that its you, out of all people, complicates his feelings even more.Yet he still forces himself to acknowledge the fact that your friendship has changed, but he’s still not sure if it’s good or bad.
⌗ 𓂃 flash back to seungcheol’s freshman year.
beep. beep.
With a heavy heart Seungcheol hangs up the facetime call. You had to go to sleep early, and he only hung up a few minutes ago, but he already misses you.
The emptiness of his apartment was harrowing. The silence began to amplify, and the lack of noise caused his ears to buzz. The steadiness of his breath was the only sound keeping him grounded in his forlorn reality.
In his 18 years of life, he has never felt more alone. He was in his first year at University, in a different city full of strangers. Most importantly, he was thousands of miles away from you. You had been with Cheol for the better part of his life, and not having you close was a foreign feeling for him.
Pulling out his journal, he begins to write every single thought and feeling down, just needing a way to let go of all of his feelings. Telling you up front was scary for him, he didn’t want to burden you with his problem especially since you had many of your own.
It’s your last year and highschool and when you two were on the phone talking, it was mostly when you were studying for your next test or something along those lines.
Seungcheol wished that he could tell you everything that he held in his heart but it was just something he couldnt bring himself to do. You seemed so stressed and busy trying to make sure you were able to get into the same university as him, that he just didn’t want to add on to the baggage that you were already carrying.
The familiar pang in his heart resurfaced once again, it ached in a way he couldn’t really describe. The feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar as well as being around unfamiliar people just made him feel so alone, secluded. It started out with a simple ‘dear y/n’.
Dear Y/n,
Today was just like the previous ones. I spent most of my time adjusting to my classes, going over lectures, and like every other day, I still miss you. I actually met someone new today, his name is Jeonghan, and I don't really like him all that much. Although he’s not my favourite person in the world he seems to make me feel less alone. His constant need to pester me about the dumbest things remind me so much of you. He has a childish attitude and I think you two would get along really well. Although in front of him I show distaste for his antics, I'm still thankful that he keeps me company. I wish I could just tell you what’s happening but I want to stay strong. I want to stay strong so that when you get here I can be the one you lean on. I want to be the one that you can talk to when you become overwhelmed with your first year.
Just because I feel this way right now doesn’t mean that you have to go through the same things as me. I just want you by my side. So hurry up and graduate so i can finally see you in person again.
Always yours,
Cheol.
⌗ 𓂃 end of flashback.
Before he could wake you up for breakfast, his phone chimes with a notification. He picks up his phone, reading the name only to roll his eyes after, “Yoon Jeonghan”.
“Had fun last night Cheollie?” Jeonghan chuckles over the line, Seungcheol can already invision the smirk on Han’s lips.
“So much Jeonghan. Why do you ask.” Seungcheol says sarcastically as he gets up to leave the room, not wanting to wake you up from the phone call.
“Im going to need you to send me $50.” Seungcheol scoffs at this.
“The fuck? Why?” He presses, pinching the bridge of his nose, he can already feel the headache coming on.
“Because you and Y/n stained my sheets. Obviously.” Jeonghan says smugly.
Cheol rolls his eyes once again, he can already envision the look on Jeonghan’s face. He should’ve expected that Y/n told him. He wasn’t mad at her, but he knows that Jeonghan is never going to let this go. He sighs, it was the right thing to do, he literally fucked you on Jeonghan’s bed.
“Fine fine, just don’t call me again. I hear your voice enough at school as it is.” Seungcheol grumbles, knowing that even though he warns him, Jeonghan will continue to do what he wants. Cheol curses you in his head silently, wondering why a sweet girl like you became friends with the devil’s spawn.
“So…you gonna finally tell Y/n you’re in love with her?” Jeonghan asks in a non-chalant manner.
“Jeonghan. I’m not in love with her.”
“Sure you’re not…but I’m sure you’re pissed as hell knowing Wonwoo was admiring her all night.” Jeonghan teases, causing Seungcheols ears to heat up. He noticed it too, the way Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on you for an abnormal amount of time. Multiple times that night Seungheol had caught him staring .
“Whatever man, Y/n is my best friend. I want it to stay that way.” Seungcheol huffs before hanging up, the agitation never leaving his body. Agitated at Jeonghan for spitting nonsense and agitated at Wonwoo for looking at you so intensely last night. He doesn’t know why the latter has him so worked up, but he can’t shake the feeling off so easily.
On the otherside of the door, you stand there, your heart sinking all the way down to your feet. You woke up shortly after Seungcheol went to pick up his call but decided to stay in bed a little longer. Now you’re fully awake, trying to keep your eyes dry after hearing the words that your best friend just uttered.
It shouldn’t even hurt this much, you think. You know that all you’ll ever be is Seugncheols best friend, but why did it feel like you have just been hit by a ton of bricks?
Before you could finish your thoughts the door slowly creaks open, so you blink away your unshed tears, coming face to face with your Seungcheol.
“Oh. Didn’t know you were awake.” Seungcheol’s eyes are wide, he’s wondering if you overheard his call with Jeonghan.
“Y-yeah I just came from the washroom.” You stutter. A wave of relief washes over Seungcheol.
Whilst talking to Jeonghan over the phone, it felt like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone that he doesn’t have feelings for you. It was like the words were practically being forced out of his mouth. The guilt was knawing at him, but why? Why should Seungcheol feel guilty for telling the truth? You’re Y/n, his bestfriend Y/n. The Y/n he fucked deep into Jeonghan’s mattress last night…
“I feel like we should talk about last night…” He says after his train of thoughts.
Wide eyed and rosy cheeked, you didn’t expect him to bring up the events of last night so early on. The visions of you and Cheol tangled in the sheets of Jeonghan’s bed starting to leak their way back into the forefront of your memory.
Instead of saying anything more, you just nod. Making your way to his couch, sitting at the corner where the back of the couch and armrest connected. Seungcheol follows suit. He looks serious, lips press into a thin line, eyeing you for some type of indicator that you feel the tension as much as he does.
“About last night…” you begin, not sure how you want to proceed, but you continue to talk anyways, “Did you enjoy it as much as I did?”
With that question, your heart stops momentarily, preparing for Seungcheol to tell you how much he regretted what happened.
“I did like it. But I just don’t want this to ruin our friendship Y/n. You’re my best friend.” Seungcheol confesses, you’re nerves put at ease momentarily. He keeps repeating those dreaded words ‘You’re my best friend’.
With every breath you take its like a stab in the chest.
“If you regret it that’s ok. We can just leave it in the past, but I just want to be honest with you Cheol…” you gulp, trying to find the right words to express how you feel,
“I’ve never felt that good before, and if there was some way we could arrange something between us. I wouldn’t be opposed.” You finally huff out. Gnawing anxiously at the inside of your cheek, you wait for his response.
Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat, he’s quick to agree. “I’m ok with that.”
“I-Wait? Really? You wanna do this…?” you’re dumbfounded.
The man of reason himself, is agreeing to a friends with benefits situation. Huh?
Seungcheol is someone who is very aware of how “FWB” tends to ruin friendships, but he can’t resist this opportunity. Especially after last night.
“I do. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want a round two of what happened at the party… but if we want to do this I feel like there should be some rules.” He concluded.
VIII.
“So you are and Seungcheol are fuck buddies now?!” Jeonghan exclaims, you try your best not to slap the incredulous look off his face in the middle of the student union centre.
“Oh my god why don’t you just tell the whole world while you’re at it,” you seethe, shoving his shoulder lightly as he leans over the table, forcing him to sit back in his chair. His sandwich long forgotten.
Jeonghan has known the feelings you’ve secretly harboured for Seungcheol for years now. He expected that after what happened at his halloween party you and Seungcheol would finally confess to each other. What he didn’t expect were for the you to do to the exact opposite. I’m surrounded by idiots, he thought to himself.
“You two are the stupidest people alive I swear…” he mutters under his breath. You’re close enough to pick up what he said, giving him a glare from across the table.
That previous saturday morning you and Seungcheol hashed out the details of you’re enhanced friendship. It was a pretty simple set of rules:
No strings attached. If one person catches feelings then the agreement is null and void.
The “relationship” is strictly exclusive. No fucking other people.
No one is to know about this. Exception: Jeonghan.
There wasn’t really a point hiding anything from Jeonghan, even if Seungcheol was against him knowing, he knew that Jeonghan would find out one way or another.
“We’ve been friends for so long Hannie, this is just an added bonus.” You tell him, although a small part of you knows you’re convincing yourself more than anyone.
“Good afternoon to you all.” A cheerful voice interrupts your conversation. Soonyoung walks towards your table with a cheeky smile on his face. Minghao trails behind him, looking exhausted.
“Ah so the tiger finally is out of his den huh?” Jeonghan chuckles, referring to Hoshi’s weekend long recovery after the halloween party. The three of them took time out of their saturday nursing Hoshi back to health.
“Well what can I say? You can’t keep me tame for long.” He practically growls. Minghao side-eyes him, the look of disgust and worry painted all over his face.
“...Ok! So what were you two whispering about?” Minghao asks, wanting to stray as far away from the tiger discourse as fast as possible.
“It wasn’t anything important. Well would you look at the time! Jeonghan we gotta go or we’ll be late to our class.” You try to avoid the conversation, the guilt start to boil in your stomach.
Of course you wanted let Minghao and Soonyoung know what’s going on, but it’s just not a good idea. Especially after having a mutual agreement with Seungcheol not to tell anyone, other than Jeonghan. The more people know, the more blown out of proportion things could get.
“Well thats my queue, see you two love birds later!” Jeonghan waves at the two frenemies, knowing it would piss Hao off.
“Hey! Yoon Jeonghan come back here!” You can hear Minghao yelling from across the room as you tug Jeonghan along. The only thing he does is throw his head back laughing, while Soonyoung looks around cluelessly.
IX.
“So what should our research proposal be?” Wonwoo asks, looking at you for ideas.
After entering class the professor allowed time for partners to start brainstorming for the midterm project. With everything that has happened during the weekend you hardly had time to think about school again. You actively recall the events in your head, thinking about the way Seungcheol towered over you. The thought of it all causing your cheeks to heat.
“Y/n? You still there?” Wonwoo calls out for you, waving his hand in front of your face.
Your eyes go wide, and you shake your head slightly, waking up from your self induced trance. Wonwoo on the other hand looked confused.
“Yeah I was just thinking about something.” you mumble, your cheeks blushing even further. The fact that you were thinking about fucking Seungcheol while you were trying to work on a project made you feel bad for Wonwoo. Clearly you weren’t focused on the task at hand, which was more important than your mid-day fantasies.
“Oh ok. Anyways what do you think about doing child development and growing up with pets?” Wonwoo looks for your reaction, trying to gage whether you thought it was a good idea or not.
Internally, Wonwoo became curious on what has taken up half of your attention. He finds you interesting to say the least, and pretty. He doesn’t know why it took him so long to realize how fun you are to be around, but a part of him wants to get to know you more. The other part conflicted, knowing that all your friends believe that you and Seungcheol are meant to be. Yet he can’t help but wonder if he could be the one to make you fall instead of Cheol.
“That actually sounds really interesting! I'm down to do that.” You smile at him, thankful he’s a good partner, and not someone who just makes you do all the work.
“Perfect. Honestly I’m glad I have you as a partner Y/n. You’re a lot better than the ones I’ve had in the past.” He confesses, putting a hand on your shoulder, his warm smile causing you to blush hard.
You glance over at his hand, before looking up at him once more. Wonwoo is an attractive man, you can admit that much. The time you spend with him is enjoyable to say the least, but to you he’s like any other guy friend you have. Seungcheol being the one exception, who has been on your mind since you’ve met him. A man who’s been able to woo you since you were kids, in the most silent and gentle ways too.
You leave your train of thought to answer Wonwoo once more.
“Y-yeah same! We’ve had the same friends but for some reason we were never that close. Maybe we can change that.” You return his friendly affection. At least that’s what it seems like to you, friendly affection.
“I’d like that a lot actually. I'm sure you’d be better company than the boys, or at least cleaner.” He laughs. You laugh along with him, not really thinking much of his words.
…
Seungcheol was annoyed, he watches the way you and Wonwoo are laughing together. The blood in his veins already starting to curdle and boil. Who does Wonwoo think he is? His habit of wanting to be around you at all times kicks in once more.
Cheol is aware of his possessive tendencies, but he doesn’t ever admit about them out loud. It wouldn’t be fair to speak on your actions when you aren’t dating him romantically. Although he convinces himself he’s only your best friend, he can’t help but refuse to push aside his jealousy of seeing Wonwoo spend time with you when it should be him instead.
“You know Wonwoo isn’t going to spontaneously combust the longer you look at him. You’re going to have to try a different tactic.” Jeonghan mutters beside him, trying not to laugh at Seungcheol.
“I dont know what you’re talking about.” Seungcheol crosses his arms, pouting, looking like a cranky child who didn’t get his way. He knows Jeonghan is right but he can’t help but try to blow up the whole lecture hall in his mind.
“Oh please, cut the act Cheollie. We both know you’re jealous of them. Wonwoo isn’t even doing anything and Y/n seems to already be falling for his charms.”
“Jeonghan whatever you have planned I don’t want to be apart of it.” Seungcheol quips, but he can still see the mischievous grin begin to form on Jeonghan’s face within his peripheral vision.
“What plan?” Jeonghan gasps, putting his hand over his chest, feigning an insulted expression. Trying to keep up the act, as if Cheol didn’t have him all figured out.
…
“Thanks for today Wonwoo!” You beam at him, sitting up from your desk to collect your things. He smiles back at you, the crescent shape of his eyes emphasizing.
“Maybe next time we can go to a cafe for our next study session?” He suggests, looking at you for a sign of approval.
“Yeah that sounds like fun actually!” You agreed, feeling happy that you’re partner is actually wanting to put in the work for once. “Anyways, I gotta go meet up with Cheol, see you soon!”
“See you Y/n.” He smiles at you politely, like always, and you find it quite endearing.
You wave him one last goodbye before finishing up packing your things, and putting your laptop in your bag.
“Y/nie!” Jeonghan calls out for you, standing by the door with Seungcheol.
You turn around and spot them, waving at them with excitement. Focusing more on your best friend than the person who called your name. His blond hair flowed, the tight polo shirt hugging his large biceps. You drooled inwardly, trying not to get caught practically eye-fucking him.
He catches you staring at him, smirking at you as you continue to get closer. Pulling you in by the waist he hugs you. This caught you off guard, Cheol was never one for affection in public. Even as friends, it’s always been within privacy, unless there was some type of special occasion.
“Always wearing a tight little skirt for me aren’t you princess?” He whispers in your ear, causing you to blush.
Oh. His voice is low enough that you’re the only one that can hear him. So this is why he hugged you? Because of the outfit you have on? You really hadn’t thought much of it, the skirt didn’t seem short in your own opinion, but you became flustered knowing it was turning him on.
“Y/n and I gotta do something, see you later Jeonghan.” Seungcheol dismisses him quickly, tugging you past the lecture doors without another word.
You begin to follow him down the long corridors of your University, pushing past crowds of people as they all herd towards their next class. The opposition of the two of you moving in the other direction causing you to bump into each person you pass. A string of ‘‘excuse me’s’’ and “sorry’s” leaving your lips. The handsome and strong man pulling you by your waist doesn’t care who he bumps into, his mind only on one thing and one thing only.
It happens all within a blink of an eye, and before you can become fully aware of what’s going on, you find yourself in an empty classroom. The door locks with a click behind you.
“Did you enjoy your study session with Wonwoo?” Seungcheol inquires out of nowhere, feigning nonchalance. Just saying his name is starting to piss him off. Yes he sees Wonwoo as a friend, but he wants you to only see Wonwoo that way too.
“It was normal…why?” you’re suspicious. Since when did he care about the fact that you’re partners with Wonwoo? You wonder to yourself, but he continues to try and close the distance between you two.
“I could see the way he was looking at you, even though I was across the room.” He huffs, like a spoiled child who was told to share.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Cheol.” you sighed. “Sounds like you’re jealous.”
Your heart skips a beat as you utter those words. If Seungcheol is jealous of Wonwoo what does that mean for the two of you? Does he wants you more than as someone to press into his mattress each night? You pondered it for a moment, but you’re highly doubtful of that being the case. It just can’t be, Seungcheol grew up as an only child, he probably just doesn’t like to share, you try to justify.
“Jealous? Baby of course I’m jealous. I don’t like to share.” He scoffs, fuck not voicing out my jealousy, he thinks. It’s like you were reading his mind.
He begins striding his way over to you till your back is pressed against the desk behind you.
“It’s not like we were going to hook up, he’s my partner?” It was your turn to scoff at him, trying to ignore your pulse quickening as his face inches closer to yours.
Seugncheol looks down at your lips, admiring how your teeth graze against them as you bite down. He likes that he has an effect on you, especially with knowing that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. Just thinking about being the only one making you come causes the blood to flow down straight to his already hardening member.
Placing his large hands on your hips, he tugs you closer to him. A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his hard on against your thigh. Your eyes staring up at him, admiring how he is towering over you, the stern look on his face causing warmth to pool at your core. You’ve always loved how much larger he is compared to you, his shoulders and arms enclosing you completely.
“That better be all he is to you angel, this pussy is mine.” He mutters against your neck, trailing kisses on your delicate skin. As your eyes roll back, you whimper, relishing in the feeling of his lips and the tightness of his grip on your waist.
He pulls you on to the desk, causing you to sit, your legs spread wide enough for him to slip in between. Caressing your exposed thighs, he can’t help but let out a groan as he feels the softness of your skin. Everything about you and your body made his head dizzy with lust, especially when you look at him so innocently with anticipation. You’re alway so eager for his next move.
“I love how wet this pussy gets for me. Barely touched you and you’re already soaked” He mumbles, grazing a finger ahaisnt your underwear clad wetness. The feeling of his fingers make your knees weak, and he hasn’t even put them inside you. He continues to move his fingers against you while kissing you tenderly. After what happened at Jeonghan’s, Seugncheol has been dying to get his hands on you again, savouring the taste of your lips even more.
The smack of your lips moving against his fill the quiet classroom. It was so eerily silent through out the room that you become paranoid that someone might catch you two. Knowing how much your reputation matters for your scholarship, you wonder what the reparations would be caught having sex in public.
“Hmm Cheol.” You whine, but your legs spread further instead of shutting closed. “We’re at school, we can’t be doing this.”
Your brain is fogged by his touch even as you try to think rationally. With every kiss and every stroke of his finger, your mind begins to slip into a state of pleasure. The outside world becoming a muted background as Seungcheol is pulled further into the forefront of your mind.
“But look at you all needy. Would you rather I just leave you like this?” He practically purred into your ear, licking up the side of your neck as he sucks behind your ear. The hotness of his breath and the heat of his kisses makes you give in to him completely.
Fuck it felt so dirty being here, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop.
“This pussy needs tending to doesn’t it baby?” He chides, his tone of voice causing to whine against him once more. You decide to let your morals go for just one moment, spreading your legs further, giving him full access to where you needed him most.
Instead of staying anything more, he takes the opportunity to press his lips against yours once again. The urgency of the kiss causing you to moan against his mouth, feeling the way his tongue pushes past your lips, caressing your mouth with passion and vigour.
His hand snaking their way down to your skirt, pulling off your lace underwear without any hesitation. You lift your hips to ease their removal, excited to feel his fingers fill you.
As he pushes a finger in, you gasp into his mouth, the squelch of your wetness echoes within the walls of the classroom. His finger pumps your hot pussy, your core clenching and unclenching with each thrust of his hand. Seungcheol continues to add more fingers until he’s able to fit up to three comfortably. Your moans never ceasing for a single moment, the euphoria of his long digits massaging your soft spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head.
“Want you.” You somehow were able to voice out, begging him for his length to fill you instead.
“Be clear with your words princess. I’m already giving myself to you.” He plays dumb, continues you finger you as his thumb circles your clit.
“I want you inside me please.” You let out another moan, the stimulation of him pumping his fingers into you, while rubbing your sensitive bud has your mind going blank.
“I am inside you love.” He chuckles, enjoying you beg for him. His member straining against his jeans. Seungheol could continue this for hours, but he knows the moment you ask, he’ll be fucking you with his hard length instead.
“Want your cock please Choelie” You whine louder, your hands making their way to unbuckle his belt.
“Good girl, thats what I wanted to hear.” He mutters against your neck, finally moving his hands away from your body to remove his jeans.
The absence of his fingers make you whine, but you’re quickly silenced by the feeling of his thick length pushing past your wet pussy lips. It makes you gasp and lean black slightly, your arms locked at the elbow as you try to support yourself.
“S-so good.” You’re words practically imcomprehensable as Seugncheol pumps himself inside and out of you. His length leaving your warmth only to push back into you fully once more. Over and over till a creamy ring appears at the base of his cock.
“Who’s pussy is this princess?” He asks you, his hand making its way to your neck, holding onto you tight, but only enough to make your head go fuzzy.
“Mmph Yours!” You sputter, only able to think about the way his hardness is caressing against that one spot against you. He hits it once more and before you know it you’re coming all over his length.
“Fuck you’re so tight angel.” He praises you, snapping his hips till he’s filling you with his hot white seed.
“Ah Cheol.” You call out slaciously, your head falling against his shoulder, tired from how hard he fucked you.
“You’re always so good for me aren’t you?” He kisses your cheek as he takes a tissue from your bag to clean you up.
Too tired to respond you let him take care of you, it causes your pulse to beat against your veins hard. Hiding your face in his chest, he helps you get dressed after your classroom quickie.
You jump off the desk, his hand wrapping around you to ensure you don’t fall. Knees wobbling slightly you hold onto him for support. One thing you can’t seem to get over is how caring he is after he’s pumped you full of his come. In a fucked up way it makes you fall for him further.
“You ok to walk?” he cautioned, not wanting you to fall to the ground. You only nod and simply wrap a hand around his bicep, stablizing you.
“I’m fine, but can we go home now?” You murmur, placing a kiss on his cheek as an unspoken thank you.
“Of course.”
X.
After getting home from school and Seungcheol’s place, you decide to give Jeonghan a call. You didn’t know how to feel about what happened today, especially after Seugncheol had expressed his jealousy for Wonwoo. Maybe it really isn’t that deep, but the fact he acted so possessive made your stomach flutter, but also confused you even more.
Jeonghan is the only person who knows what’s been happening, so you turn to him in your time of need. What you didn’t expect was from him to yell into your ear instead.
“Why are you fucking in a classroom, are you insane?!” Jeonghan yells at you through the speaker of his phone. Your cheeks turning a bright pink at his words.
“Ok I know it was a bad idea, but its fine we didn’t get caught!” you try to justify your actions, but you agree it is pretty insane to fuck in a classrom, especailly during school hours. It was like you were possessed in the heat of the moment, nothing could’ve stopped you from letting Cheol fuck you.
“Y/n you can’t just be making bad decisonms because you’re ‘H’ word!” He scolds you, sounding like your mother for a second. You can’t help but giggle at the fact that he hates saying the word horny. Jeonghan once telling you someone like him should never say such an ugly word.
You roll your eyes even though he can’t even see you. You’re phonecall with him quickly turning into a lecture because of how hard he’s scolding you right now.
“Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me young lady.” He warns you, causing you to jump and look around your room. You know hes not here but somehow you’re spooked.
“You can’t even see me so how would you know?” You bite back defensively even though you know hes right.
“Becaue I know you! Oh my Y/nie one day this whole situation is going to bite you in the ass. You and Cheol should jsut be responsible adults and confess already.” He groans, he isn’t even the one in this predicament and yet hes the frustrated one.
“Ok Han, you were literally on call with him the morning after your party. You heard him! He only sees me as a friend.” You counter, not wanting to have to remind yourself that your best friend doesn’t like you back.
“Oh please Y/nie, we both know he was lying out of his ass.”
“How would you know? He sounded pretty confident to me.” You mutter, absentmindedly playing with the drawstring on your shorts. The scene continues to replay in your head, he obviously doesn’t like me, you think. You can still recall the way your heart stopped beating for a millisecond as you heard him utter those words.
“You two are impossible.” Jeonghan sighs, thinking hard. And with that, it was like a lightbulb went off in his head, with a large ding and everything. “Y/nie don’t hate me but I have an idea.”
“Huh? What is it?”
“What if you try and make him jealous.” He chuckles, it’s soft but there was an evil sound to it all.
“Jeonghan whatever idea you have brewing in the scheming head of yours, I dont want to hear it.” You warn him, already not liking where this is going. The thought of seeing Seugncheol jealous is intriguing indeed, but what happens if you realize you don’t even have that effect on him? It would be so embarrassing.
“You’ll never know what could happen unless you try!” He concludes in a sing-song tone, you can already invision the menacing look on his face.
“Hannie it’s so highschool, I don’t think it’d be smart to do something like that.”
“Ok but you’ll fuck him on campus grounds?” He rebuttals, shutting you up quickly.
“I-” You couldn’t even defend yourself.
“Night Y/nie! See you tomorrow.” The line goes dead, and you curse out at your blank phone screen. Leave it up to Yoon Jeonghan to put bad ideas into your head.
XI.
The next day you sit with Wonwoo in a coffee shop that is only a few minutes away from campus.The city had gotten more chilly with each day that passed, and the cafe was a perfect meeting place to do your project. The warm atmosphere enveloped yout two into a perfect working rhythm. Your partnership with Wonwoo was a lot better than the previous ones you’ve had for classes, you agree to spend the majority of your time going over what to add to the presentation, as well as how it should be presented. Hours felt like minutes, and you two ended up finished earlier than you had anticipated.
“I’m so surprised how quickly we got through everything! We even finished everything early,” you rejoiced, happy that Wonwoo is such a productive partner.
“Honestly we make a really good team.” Wonwoo compliments you, giving you that same polite smile. You end up blushing, his eyes staring at you with so much kindness.
“I agree, hopefully we get paired up more for the rest of the semester.” You giggle, shying away from his gaze.
As you spent more time with Wonwoo, you realized how nice it was to be around him. He makes a good friend, and he’s definitely a lot more than just the quiet guy in the group. His personality more complex than what you had previously assumed, and it makes you wonder why you two weren’t really all that close in the first place. The two of you have the same friends, take the same classes, and enjoy the same things. So what was the one thing blocking you two from becoming closer?
“Well that’s all for today. I can walk you home.” He clears up his things, ready to leave the serene environment of the cafe, throwing away his cup along with yours.
“Oh no you don’t have to! Cheol is actually going to pick me up!” You tell him, seeing his black BMW sitting idle in front of the cafe already.
“Sounds good. Let me walk you out at least.” He gestures to the door, allowing you to walk in front of him. He follows you suit till you’re in front of Seungcheol’s car. “It was fun, I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time?”
“Yeah sure! I’ll be free.” You beam up at him, his frame towering over yours.
The wind is blowing slightly, causing your hair to get in your face, whipping at your eyes. Wonwoo is quick to react, taking the strand and placing it softly behind your ear. The heat begins to crawl up your neck fast, making you realize how close you two are standing together.
Wonwoo leans in a touch more to place a soft kiss on your cheek, and the blush on your face is definitely evident now. Before you can say more, hes walking away with one last good bye. Leaving you there standing with a shocked expression painted all over your face. Quickly you shake your head of what just happened before heading into Seungcheol’s car.
“Were you two on a date?” His voice is stern, obviously pissed off at what he just witnessed.
“...No just working on our project.” you say with a dazed look, watching Wonwoo's figure get smaller the farther he walks away.
“Ok…but he kissed you on the cheek? I thought he was just your partner.” Cheol presses for answers, he really wasn’t impressed of having to witness such an intimate moment between you and Wonwoo. His blood curdling as the grip on his steering wheel tightens. The flesh on his knuckles turning a ghostly white.
“He is just my partner, I really don’t know why he did that.” You mutter as you try to recall all of the events that could’ve led up to this moment. It didn’t make sense to you, did Wonwoo have a crush on you or something? He’s never made any advances towards you before. So what changed that?
“He obviously likes you. Do you like him back?” Seungcheol is too jealous for his own good. His pulse reaching new heights with how fast the blood was pumping through his veins. You can’t like Wonwoo, there’s just no way. Right?
“Well no. I see Wonwoo as a friend.” you admit, and the relief sped its way through Seungcheol’s body.
Although another side of him is wondering why it made him so angry to see Wonwoo act so flirtatious with you. He concludes that he just donesn’t like it when peoples are touching what’s his. Wonwoo’s his friend and you and Cheol are intimate with each other, it would just be weird for Wonwoo to try something with you too, at least that’s what Seungcheol says to himself as he tries to calm himself down. You’re his best friend, nothing more, he keeps repeating it in his head. And if you decide to break off the arrangement with him to date Wonwoo, then he can’t complain.
“Oh. I see.” He mumbles as he starts the car again, taking the route to bring you back to your apartment.
…
You and Seungcheol sit against your sofa watching a yet another ghibli movie. This time it is Kiki’s Delivery Service. Cuddled up in your blankets, your Friday movie marathon happening like clockwork at this point. Nothing can make you feel more content than feeling Seungcheol’s heartbeat as you watch your favourite movies with him.
His breathing is steady as his arm holds you close to him, his attention focused on the moving flashing across your tv. On the other hand, you continue to stare at him, his strong brows and nose bridge has always been your favourite feature of his. You love how manly he appears, but you know on the inside he like a big ball of fluff, so warm and inviting. He just smelt like home, even though your real home is miles away, he’s a piece that you can carry around with you anywhere you go.
As the movie continues to play in the background your attention is forced away from admiring your best friend and brought towards your phone. It lights up with a text notification from Wonwoo.
Wonwoo: Hey Y/n. I know this is sudden but I’d really like to take you out sometime. Would that be ok with you?
Your eyes practically pop out of their sockets as you read the text over and over again. It kind of makes sense that he’s asking you, especially with how he acted today. But what does this mean for the situation between you and Seungcheol? You decide to respond anyways, not wanting to flat out reject him over text.
Y/n: uhhmm i’m not sure, can i have time to think about it? :)
Wonwoo: Sure. Take your time.
Beside you, Seungcheol sits with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. He knows he shouldn’t look at your texts but he can’t help himself. The moment he decides to, he begins to curse himself mentally, reading the text over and over again just like you. It pisses him off, seeing how forward Wonwoo is about his feelings towards you.
He ultimately decides not to say anything the moment you reply to Wonwoo’s text, why did you even need to think about it? Shouldn’t you have said no if you don’t have feelings for Wonwoo? His heart falling all the way down to the pit of his stomach. The familiar feeling of the tug on his heart coming back to haunt him once again. Instead of asking you, he decides to call in early for tonight.
“Hey angel I think i’m gonna head home early tonight.” He whispers to you, stroking the back of your head softly. The stinging behind his eyes doesn’t leave, he just can’t seem to get rid of it. He looks at you with such tenderness, from an outside perspective someone would mistake his stare for utter and complete love.
You look up from your phone, locking it before looking at him with a worried frown strewn across your lips.
“Is everything ok? You’re not sick right?” you ask, placing a hand against his forehead to check his temperature. He shakes his head, taking your hand and placing it in his. His long fingers wrapping around yours, squeezing them reassuringly.
“No no, i’m fine. Just gotta wake up early tomorrow.” He attempts to give you a convincing smile. You don’t know why the mood has changed all of a sudden but you begin to worry even more.
“Cheolie is something wrong?” You press the issue, not wanting for him to leave just yet.
“No nothing’s wrong. Trust me I’m ok.” He insists before getting up to to grab his jacket and leave. And just like the seasons passing through the city, he left with a swiftness you couldn’t seem to comprehend. The hurriedness of his movements leaving you dazed and confused.
The guilty pit at your stomach only seemed to grow the longer the silence filled your tiny apartment. Seungcheol’s once warm presence left a dent on the cushions beside you and a cold cup of tea on the coffee table. You frown at the now empty living space, as well as the empty hole in your heart, which can only be filled by the man who left without another word.
XII.
The snow began to fall in your city. It came unexpectedly, and left just the same. This winter being colder than most, you started to feel the seasonal depression coming on a lot faster than usual.
Seungcheol left so abruptly that day, and with the midterm project you weren’t able to reach out to him since then. It felt weird because this is the first time in a long time you’ve gone without talking to him. The week dragging along as you head into midterm break, trying to think of what to say to him the moment you’re able to talk to him again.
For some reason, ever since that night you have had a weird feeling in your stomach. Call it intuition but it felt like Seungcheol was avoiding you. Even though you weren’t able to reach out to him, he also didn’t try to do so either. The predicament you find yourself in causing your thought to stray as you study for the second round of midterm exams.
You would see him often, in class, or eating with friends, but strangely enough he was gone before you could muck up the courage to approach him. The two of you stuck in an odd limbo that feels like it won’t end.
During this time in previous years, it would be you and Seungcheol studying together in the library, but with your current situation you knew it wasn’t going to happen. So instead you sit with Jeonghan and Minghao, figuring out how to cram as much information as you can for the statistics final.
“Y/n? You keep gazing out the window, is everything ok?” Minghao’s voice cuts off your thoughts. His eyesbrown knotted together in worry.
“Huh? Oh yeah…everything’s ok.” You mumble, your eyes still looking out the window. The campus now coevered in a layer of snow, students walking around, bundled up in winter coats.
“You sure? You’ve been staring out there for almost fifteen minutes now.” He checks on you again. You can only muster up a sound of approval.
Thankfully Minghao isn’t one to push to get an answer so he leaves it there. The sudden urge to pee overcomes you, causing you to walk over to the libraries bathroom. But before you could reach it, two people walk into the library, causing you to do a double take.
The last person you expected to walk in is heading towards an empty table. Your heart beat stuck in your throat, the urge to use the bathroom is long gone. As you watch Seungcheol sit down with a girl, you feel the tears start to well. You were so confused as to why he has time to ask this random ass person to study with him, when he could’ve sent you a text instead. It made no sense to you, and with that, you leave the library without another thought.
The tears falling down your cheeks with every step you took. Seeing him with another girl pulled hard at your heart strings, unsurfacing a feeling you thought you got rid of long ago. You continue to walk with your head down, just trying to think of a private space to let out your emotions. But before you could do so, you bump into something hard, which turns out to be a man’s chest. Looking up you realize it’s Wonwoo’s chest.
“Y/n? You ok? Why are you crying?” Wonwoo speaks so fast, the worry spilling out of his mouth in words. His hand flying up to your face, wiping any tears that fall before they could roll down any further.
“I-I don’t even know why i’m crying. This is so stupid my god, i’m sorry you have to see me this way,” you’re hicupping through your words. You begin to sob, and you feel wonwoo’s strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close. Giving you the comfort that you would usually receive from Seungcheol.
Wonwoo’s large frame squeezes you in, giving you that secluded space that you were once searching for.
Behind you is the frame of a man who is your usual safe space, your usual secluded corner. The one to help you deafen out the world from its ugliness and anger. He stands there watching you trade his comfort for Wonwoo’s. He’s never known what it’s like to be on the outside perspective and witness your hurt in this way. In the arms of another. With every moment passes as he watches Wonwoo comfort you instead, he feels his whole world crumble and fall at his feet.
XIII.
⌗ 𓂃 flash back to seungcheol’s freshman year.
“You talk a lot about this y/n person. Is she your girlfriend by chance?” Jeonghan asks Seungcheol.
“No dumbass she’s my childhood bestfriend. I’ve known her for a long time.” Seungcheol tries to clarify his relationship with you, not wanting others to mistake you two for something more.
“I dont know man, you only ever talk about Y/n.” Jeonghan shrugs before going back to his paper.
Seungcheol thinks about Jeonghan’s words, ‘why is she always popping up in my conversations?’, he wondered to himself. He can’t help the fact that he talks about you so much, you’re all he knows after all. The only one to experience anything and everything with him. He can’t help but want everyone to know what an amazing person you are, and the fact thatt everything around him somehow reminds him of you. It was like an empidemic. You conquered all corners of his brain, always with him, but far enough for him to miss you all at the same time.
“You know, it’s not a bad thing if you have feelings for her. She seems like a great girl.” Jeonghan pipes up after realizing how little work Seungcheol gotten done due to his rampant thoughts.
“Yeah I guess if i did, it wouldn’t be a bad thing.” He mutters, attempting to focus on his work once again.
⌗ 𓂃 end of flash back.
XIV.
For the majority of midterm break, you spent it cooped up within the confines of your room. Wrapping yourself in enough blankets to put a bear into hibernation. You’ve gone back and forth with your own thoughts. Calling yourself dramatic for crying over pretty much nothing, to crying again because you can’t just invalidate the pain you felt when you saw him with someone else, and you don’t even know what she is to him. Long story short, the over thinking is getting to you, but calling him up is the last thing you’re about to do.
Although you’ve never really fully admitted or denied it, you know you’re love for Seungcheol goes beyond friendship. You’ve known for so long, and kept it to yourself for so long, and yet you’ve never known whether he felt the same way. His actions always contradicting his words.
The cliché trope of the pain of falling for your best friend is as old as the bible. The story of the unrequited love you convince yourself you’ll never have reciprocated, and yet at the end of every story everything works out, the two friends turned lovers. The end. But what about you? What about the fact that this isn’t some story and you won’t be able to get ahold of your own cliché best friends to lovers ending.
Before you could spiral even further a notification dings, your phone screen lighting up.
Cheolie <3: im outside.
Seeing the text makes your heart drop, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from climbing out of bed and opening the door to let him in. As you did so, you take a good look at his state. In fairness, he looked just as shitty as you did, if not worse.
The eyebags accenuating how tired he looks, his cheeks slightly sunken in. Probably from lack of sleep, and not to mention the way his hair seems to stick up sporadically, you know immediately it’s because he keeps running his hands through it.
“What are you doing here?” You cut to the chase, your heart already pounding out of your chest.
“I-um. I’m not sure actually.” Seungcheol admits, his head falling as he stares at his feet nervously. You sigh, opening the door wider to let him through.
He looks lost and not like his usual self, which makes you feel even worse, but what could you even do to help him? You two weren’t even mad, or had a fight, everything is just weird. So vague and hard to explain. All you knew is that you’re hurt and he’s at the root of it all.
“I don’t have all day, Seungcheol.” You call him by his first name, and you can see how it pains him. The way his frown deepens with each moment you two stand there in the foyer, not exchanging the words you’re meant to say.
“I’m sorry, I know we haven’t spoken in awhile and I just- fuck I dont even know man. I saw that text with Wonwoo and I just freaked out.” He puffs out, running his hand through his hair once more.
“So thats why you’ve been acting weird? Because of Wonwoo?” The look on your face is unreliable and Seungcheol feels the knot in his throat begin to form. Your hand come to cross in front of your chest and you scoff. “Just because Wonwoo shows interest in me doens’t mean I have feelings for him.”
“What? But you didn’t reject him?” He presses on the situation even further.
“I just didn’t want to be an asshole and do it over text.”
“Yeah right, I saw you two cuddled up last week!” He dejects, his arms flying around as he speaks. He doesn’t know why you decided right now is a good time to lie to him, but he knows what he saw that day.
“As if you werent spending time with some girl instead of communicating to me what’s wrong in the first place? You’re unbelievable. I can’t read your mind Seungcheol, and why do you even care about what happens between me and Wonwoo? We’re just friends remember? Or do you only say that when you’re on the phone with Jeonghan?” You spat, the words on your tongue coming out as fireballs of hurt. Every single one hitting him right in the chest.
“We are best friends. I can’t explain why I was so worked up, but if you were going to start dating him, you should’ve broken off what we had first.” Seungcheol attempts to defend himself, spewing out whatever he can to justify his acts of stupidity. He knows himself that what he’s saying wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you how in love he is with you.
“Ok so because of that, you just get to do whatever the fuck you want then huh? The rules just don’t apply to Choi Seungcheol do they? It doens’t matter if I get hurt in the process of it all.” You sneer, the cold look on your face never faltering.
“No Y/n, I know we made rules but you broke them first. I just copied your actions.” He replies, it makes you mad that he lashed out because of a misunderstanding. You feel fed up, too tired to talk to him or argue further. The tears already threatening to spill the more you look at him.
You and Seungcheol never fought, you can’t even remember the last time it happened. It was probably when you two were still kids, fighting over something silly and not talking for an hour, only to make up the same day. This fight is different though, so many things said out of anger, you knew it wouldn’t just be forgotten the next day.
“I really can’t stand you right now.” You say as a lone tear slips out, the salitness of it hitting your lips.
“Then sit.” He bites back, his facade almost cracking as he sees your tearful expression.
“Fuck you. Go home Seungcheol.” You walk to the door, opening it enough to allow him to exit your home. He doesn’t protest, his anger and sadness bubbling up faster with each second that passes. He’s smart enough to not let his temper overcome him completely.
As the door closes on him, you let out an agonizing cry. Your sobs raking through your body as if the whole earth had crashed ontop of you. The echo of your cries filling the room, mocking you, reminding you of your loneliness.
XV.
Seungcheol hasn’t been feeling well since the argument that went down a few days ago, but he can’t bring himself to contact you again. The anger and sadness he felt quickly dissipated into nothing but shame. He knows it’s his fault. Its his fault that he didn’t communicate with you properly, and the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to tell you he loves you. He doesn’t even know who he was trying to convince, but that argument with you made him realized so much about himself, you, and the friendship you two have.
The constant sleepless nights were starting to catch up with him, the bags under his eyes more prominent than they were the last night he saw you.
There are times he catches glimpses of you on campus and it pulls on his heartstrings, especailly because half the times he seen you, you’ve been with Wonwoo. It pains Seungcheol to know that you’ve been hanging out with him since the fight had gone down, but he has no right to stop you. After everything, he should be understand to let you do what you want freely.
“Well don’t you look like shit.” Jeonghan interupts his train of thought, sitting beside him in the library. He takes out his notes and laptop, ready to work on their project for theri psychology class.
“Wow thanks, I didn’t know.” Seungcheol grumbled, hating how cheerful Jeonghan looks in comparaison to his own gloomy expression.
He takes out his tablet, pulling up their project. As much as he wants to ponder about you some more, he knows that he should probably focus on the rest of the project they need to complete. But everytime he tries to focus on anything other than you he ends up failing.
“So what happened to you?” Jeonghan asks. He can tell something is wrong, both Seungcheol and Y/n have been looking so down in the dumps lately, and Y/n is flat out ignoring him, Soonyoung and Minghao.
Seungcheol can’t even hold it in anymore, if there's anyone he can talk to about what happened, he knows it's Jeonghan. Despite their quarrelling, he finds Jeonghan to be a trustworthy person.
Before he can even speak, he recalls your face, the tears that were about to spill, and the way your voice sounded when you two were fighting. He doesn't even recognize either of you from that day, it was just so out of character for the two of you to fight like that. And the only thing he can do is blame himself for everything that happened.
Seungcheol feels his throat constrict, and his eyes start to sting. He hates that feeling, the feeling of crying and being vulnerable. In all four years of knowing Jeonghan he never thought he’d be crying in front of him. But once he asked that question it was like everything came crashing down upon him once more. All the memories of you, especially the ones from your fight make his heart ache so bad he has to clutch his chest.
“Uh.. Y/n and I, we fought. It was a huge fight and it was really bad. I don’t know what to do and i’m so scared Han. I-I think I love her.” He confesses to Jeonghan, as the tears begin to slip down his cheeks.
As he explains what happened that night, Jeonghan can’t help but feel sad with him. The way Seungcheol speaks about the events leading up to the fight and the fight itself makes his heart ache for the two of you. He also can’t help but mentally scold you two. He knew from the moment that Seungcheol and Y/n decided to partake in becoming friends with benefits, that it would just blow up in flames in the end. They love each other too much to say what's really on their mind. So afraid to ruin their friendship that choosing to become friends with benefits did that for them instead.
“Then let her know how you feel.. God Seungcheol, I’ve been telling this to the two of you for years now. You need to tell her, before it's too late.” Jeonghan is practically begging him, pulling Seungcheol into a much needed hug.
…
You sit there, Wonwoo sitting beside you at the same cafe you two have been going to for the past week now. He always does the same thing, ordering your matcha latte and keep you company while you re-think your fight with Seungcheol. He can see that you’re hurting but he doesn’t ever overstep any boundaries you’ve set up. Instead he just sits there, waiting for you when you’re ready to talk to him.
You called him after your fight with Seungcheol, not knowing who else to turn to. You know that Jeonghan would’ve been available but you weren’t ready for the lecture that he would’ve given you. Calling Wonwoo that one night turned into every night, and every night turned into daily trips to the cafe. He sits there, keeps you company, you thank him and he goes home. As much as he likes you, he realizes that you’re deeply in love with your best friend, even though you won’t directly tell him.
Wonwoo knew something happened between you and Seungcheol, especially because of how red your eyes were that night you called him for the first time. As well as the fact that he caught glimpses of Seungcheol staring at you with so much longing during class, it even makes Wonwoo’s own heart ache.
“We fought over you.” You finally speak up, not bothering to stare into Wonwoo’s eyes, instead opting to swirl your latte with your straw.
“What? Why” He’s confused, why me? He asks himself.
You finally look at him, letting out a bittersweet chuckle, you wish you kenw too. Seungcheol’s distaste for you becoming closer with his friend seemed uncalled for, especially because you’re under the impression that he has no romantic feelings for you.
“Beats me.” You mutter.
“I’m sorry Y/n, I should’ve never asked you out.” He says apologetically, the remorse filling his chest. He feels bad knowing he started this fight between the two of you, but he's also mad that Seungcheol just won’t admit his feelings for you. He just doesn’t understand what was stopping him, especially since it’s so clear that you like him back.
“It's not your fault.”
“I know but you guys would’ve never have fought if it weren’t for me” He sighs, looking down at the his hands, picking at them.
“No, I’m sorry that I even roped you into all of this. I should’ve just been a normal person and tell you everything right away. Instead I’ve been dragging you along because I feel lonely.” You sigh, the guilt of including Wonwoo in all this drama starts to eat away at you.
“I want to be around Y/n, especially because you’ve been so down lately. I know you’re in love with Seungcheol, but I still want to be your friend. I hope that's ok?” He comforted you, putting a hand on top of yours.
“I want to be your friend too. I’m really sorry about everything, and I’m grateful that you’ve been helping me. You don’t know how much this all means to me Wons.” You give him a small smile, the tears starting to running down your face as you glance up at him.
You are so grateful that you and Wonwoo became so close in such a short amount of time. He is so kind to you, despite everything that’s happened. In another universe maybe you did fall for Wonwoo, and maybe you two were together and happy. But he’s not the one you’re in love with in this universe, and you’re thankful he understands that it’s strictly platonic between the two of you.
He pulls you in towards his chest, his arm wrapping around you. Staring at him, you can’t help but glance at his lips. You’re not sure what possessed you in that moment, but you feel yourself start to lean in with no rhyme or reason. Wonwoo does the same, he’s confused but he doesn’t stop himself or push you away. Maybe if you just tried…
You’re so close that you can feel his breath fan of your face, and it’s like the realization hit you like a truck. Quickly, you pull yourself from his arms. You weren’t sure what happened but maybe his warmth and reasurring words were starting to get to you, but you’re glad you stopped before you could even make the mistake for kissing him. He isn’t the one you want, and he can’t do anything to change that.
Wownoo can tell, he can tell that you don’t like him romantically, but the way you were closing in on him had him fooled just for one second.
“I know, you’re in love with him. It’s ok Y/n, I understand.” He sighs, looking at you with longing eyes.
“Yes I am.” You breathe out, before pulling away from him completely.
XVI.
“Y/nie open up! It's us.” A voice calls out from the outside of the door.
Jeonghan, Minghao, and Soonyound standing outside of your apartment, hoping you’re still alive. After your fight with Cheol, you’ve been pretty much MIA from them. Not answering any of their calls or texts, so this is their last resort. Jeonghan knows why you haven’t been contacting any of them, but he decided it’s time that the two of you finally have a talk.
His timing is a blessing and a curse, as he was the one to witness what happend the day you three went to study in the library. That’s when he knew that shit was starting to hit the fan. He’s concluded that hes had enough of the two of you being so closed off about your feelings towards eachother, and it was his time to help once more.
You contemplated opening the door, but decided that you needed the comfort right now.
“Y/nie! Are you ok?” Soonyoung comes running, tackling you into a bear hug. In this case, perhaps a tiger hug. “Hannie told us everything.”
He grabs your face, taking a closer look and inspecting your face, then making a conclusion before pulling you back into a hug. It warms your heart to see him so concerned about you, even after you’ve been ignoring them and only spending time with Wonwoo.
You know you should’ve contacted them, but they can tell what’s wrong with just one look and you know you would’ve cried if you had to explain everything. As much as you love the three of them, it would’ve hurt your heart to recall what happened between you and Seungcheol. So you stayed quiet, opting for the solitude and comfort that Wonwoo offered.
“Yes I’m ok. Dont worry your cute little head.” You say, patting his head as you savour his comforting hugs.
“We were really worried about you kiddo. I’m glad to see you’re alive.” Minghao remarks as he squeezes your shoulder reassuringly.
“Thanks Hao.”
“Ok enough with the reunion. Y/n we need to talk to you.” Jeonghan interrupts the tender moment, a small box sitting in his hands.
You arelady knew where this is going, but at this point you knew there was no way of getting out of this conversation. There is three of them and one of you.
Jeonghan sits you on the couch, his stern face coming into your view. It reminded you of the times your mother would scold you when you were younger. His hands crossed over his chest, foot tapping impatiently.
“Y/nie we love you but you really need to just come forth with your feelings about Seungcheol. The fact that you’ve kept it from him this long shows that it’s doing more harm to your friendship than good. I know you’re scared and I know you don’t want to get rejected, but you need to understand that if you don’t learn to tell him how you feel it’ll blow up in your face.” He sighs, coming down to sit next to you, his hand on your shoulder.
“I know you don’t want to fuck up your friendship with him, but how else can you move on from this if you can’t even tell him how you truly feel?” Mingaho adds, giving you a soft frown.
As you take in their words, you can’t help but feel the tears welling up again. Not just because your scared about the direction you and Cheol’s friendship is going to take, but also the fact that you’re thankful for friends who aren’t afraid to tell you the truth.
“We love you ok? And what ever happens we’ll be there to help you. Every step of the way.” Soonyoung assures you, pulling you into a another hug. You laugh a little and hug him back tighter.
“Thank you guys. I definitely needed that reality check.” you laugh as you wipe your tears.
They laugh with you, embracing you and supporting you.
“Anyways, theres something I want to show you.” Jeonghan says as he pulls back from the group embrace.
He takes the small box from beside him, presenting it to you. As you open it you grow even more confused. It was filled with letters addressed to you. From Seungcheol.
“What is this?” You look at Jeonghan, searching for an answer. He only shrugs.
“I dont know. Seungcheol gave them to me. He told me he wanted you to read them” Jeonghan reveals, peering at the stack of letters in the box. “He’s sorry you know? He said the letters will explain the things he can’t say in person.”
“Hes sorry? I-” you didn’t even know what to say, you were just scared of what all these letters could possibly hold. And why were there so many?
“Anyways we’ll leave you to it. Text us when you and Cheol finally grow some balls and confess to each other!” Jeonghan and the two sidekicks bid you goodbye. Leaving you to scour through the letters on you own.
There was one letter in particular that has a recent date written in the corner.
Dear y/n,
I know you don’t want to hear from me at the moment, and I know I’ve said some things I didn’t mean the last time we spoke. Im sorry. Im sorry I didn’t communicate properly with you, and that I left us in a vague and confusing position. I dont know what came over me. I was so used to the whole world just revolving around us two, and then when Wonwoo began to show interest, I just completely switched off.
You deserve someone as kind as him. A person who will be there for you when you need someone to lean on, a person who’s willing to hold you till you can sleep peacefully. I was always that person for you for a long time, and if i'm not the one you want anymore i’ll come to terms with that. I just want to see you happy Y/n. In the same sense that I know you want me to be happy as well.
There's not a day that goes by where I think about how thankful that I have someone like you in my life. You are my rock and sometimes you didn’t even know. The more you read these letters, the more you’ll start to realize how much you helped me. I know I would be able to survive without you, that I could do it even if it hurts me. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to live in a world where I’m living to survive, when I can be living to make you happy instead. My best friend, the one who understands me inside and out. Please come back to me angel.
I love you and always yours,
Seungcheol.
As you read through the letter you couldn’t help but burst into tears. The relief you felt knowing that he felt the same way, that he wanted you in his life just like how you wanted him. This was enough for you to know that he needs you like you need him.
You begin to sift through the countless of letters he wrote you, all of them as heart wrenching as the previous. It put into perspective all that he went through when he moved here all alone. And with each letter that you read, the harder it got to ignore to urge to just go and see him. So thats what you do.
Dropping the letters on the coffee table, you slip on a pair a shoes and head to Seungcheol’s place as fast as your legs could carry you. The snow starting to stick to your hair as it fell from the sky, the chilly weather making you shiver. But you couldn’t stop yourself, you didn’t even care. You didn't have a coat on nor a warm pair of shoes, the only thing preserving your heat is the thought of finally confessing your love to Seungcheol.
After ten minutes of speed walking, you find yourself in front of his door. You knock, nervously, your heart beating a hundred miles per hour. You aren’t really sure what to expect, but you knew that you just needed to see him. Even if you were shivering, even if your hair and clothes are damp from the snow.
The door opens to reveal the man who you consider home.
“Y/n? Holy shit you must be freezing come inside.” He ushers you in and you oblige happily. “Why did you come in your PJ’s? Are you crazy? You're gonna get sick.” He worries, grabbing your face, scolding you.
“I needed to see you.” You pant, tired from how fast you walked.
“Lets get you some warm clothes first.” He states, grabbing your hand to lead him to his room. Marching over to his drawer he grabs you a pair of sweats and one of his large tshirts. You’re completely engulfed in fabric but at least you’re warm.
“Seungcheol I’m in love with you.” You tell him right before he goes to grab you a hot cup of tea. Better late than never, you thought.
He turns around, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Your neck turns red as the blush starts to creep its way up your cheeks. Seungcheol doesn’t say much more, his actions doing all the talking for him.
Taking your face in his hands, he swallows you into a kiss. Pressing his lips against yours with the same amount of passion and vigour as the first night you kissed him. You whimper at the sudden affection, fisting his hair in your hands to ground you.
He pulls way. “I’m so in love with you too Y/n.”
He goes back to kissing you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding on so tight that you’re convinced he thinks you’ll disappear into thin air if he didn’t hold you close.
“I love you, I love you my angel.” He keeps repeating those three words. Three words that finally replaced the dreaded “you’re my bestfriend” statement.
“You’re my best friend and I love you.” You whisper to him against his lips.
Epilogue.
“Just keep watching the movie love.” Seungcheol warns you, his tongue playing skillfully with your clit as you try to do what he says. Your legs are spread for him, your hips grinding against his face, it’s pure bliss. The pleasure Seungcheol gives you seems to work better than any drug that’s been created.
You don’t know what happened, one moment you two were sitting on his couch, watching Howl’s Moving Castle for the millionth time. The next moment you’re watching your boyfriend kneel in front of you, eating you out while you try to concentrate on the movie playing on the tv.
“Seungcheol please…” You moan, his hair intertwined with your fingers as he continued to lick at your folds. You can hear how wet you are and it makes your head spin, the pleasure, the feeling of Cheols tongue grazing against you, it’s all too much.
“You like this don’t you baby? You like it when your boyfriend eats you out on his couch?” He taunts you as he pumps two fingers into you now, wanting to see you the way your eyebrows scrunch from all the pleasure.
You love the way he calls himself your boyfriend, the label rolling off his tongue perfectly. It was like he was meant to be called that all along. It’s only been a week since you two started dating officially but you’ll never get tired of hearing him tell you that he’s your boyfriend.
“Yes! P-please I need you now, please baby.” You whine and beg as he teases you, his fingers still playing with your entrance. All you can do is watch him, your eyes lidded with so much desire that Seungcheol can probably come just from looking at you.
He relinquishes his hold on you, getting up to sit on the couch before manhandling you into the position he wants you in. Placing you on his lap, he takes off his sweats, revealing his hard member. You drool at the sight of it, ready to take him for all he’s worth.
“Look at how hard you got me love.” He whispers to you, placing a kiss on your lips after. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you moan against his mouth.
Without breaking away from him, you lift yourself up to align his length against the entrance of your needy cunt. Slowly but surely you lower yourself, causing you to gasp against Seungcheol’s lips, feeling him stretch you.
“How are you still so fucking tight.” He mutters to you, his hands breaching the hem of the large shirt that you’re wearing. He fondles your breasts, pinching your nipples as you bounce yourself on his lap. Groaning at your actions, he lifts the shirt completely off your body, taking the opportunity to take one of your mounds and enclosing his lips around it.
“Hmm so close baby.” You tell him, feeling your climax coming on. He groans as he continues to suck on your nipples, his hands snaking around to your ass to grope at the flesh. He grips you tight, forcing you up and down faster, releasing his mouth from your chest.
Seungcheol’s head leans against the couch to admire how sexy you look riding his cock. He doesn’t let go of your ass, slapping it and groping it till you’ve fully orgasmed.
“Fuck you’re so sexy.” He mutters, driving you into overstimulation as he fucks up into you, his own release closely following yours. You clench at his words, your pussy gripping him like a vice, and it finally sends him into his own orgasm, his come filling you completely.
“I love you.” He says, giving you one last kiss before finding a wash cloth to clean you with.
“I love you too.”
⌗ 𓂃 end.
© wonustars
a/n: you've reached the end! i hoped you enjoyed the story, because i know i loved writing it :")). if you have any thoughts, questions, or just want to chat, dont be afraid to visit my ask box <;3 - anna
𖠗 𓂃 。˚ ⋆ taglist: @mysafehaneul @christinewithluv @soonyoonswoo @aaniag @iluvmingi @auniverseline @k07-1313 @idubutily @kmoon @leah-rose03 @ana-marais98 @xcynthiaaa @wonwoo24 @yelsuki @yuyunhoo @sana-is-ms-rmty @hwashiningstar @svt-reads @imprettyweird
#seungcheol#scoups#seventeen fic#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#seungcheol smut#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol fic#seungcheol angst#seungcheol fanfic#scoups smut#scoups x reader#scoups fic#scoups fanfic#seventeen angst#wonustars ✧ ゚. {works}#wonustars ✧.* {fics: seungcheol’s letters}
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GIFT WRAPPING ﹒ 、、 c.sb
it’s a shame that soobin has to work on christmas eve, but coming home to a fire-toasted home and his little family is enough to make up for it. ˒´-
꣑ ࣪˒ 〈 🌰 〉 ・ 3.4k
ρairings ˒ husband!soobin x reader
ɠ ; smut ˒ fluff
ωarnings ˒ breeding kink, soobin rlly wants to get reader pregnant, lactation kink, general smut, traditional roles, tradwife reader, whiny soobin, breast fondling, mentions of balls cause i know how some people feel abt that, they’re both whiny for each other, soobin’s big, and lmk if i missed anything!
✎୭ ashlynn's note this one’s at the request of my lovely @biteyoubiteme! i love you baby, and could not thank u more for giving me this gift. this was the best gift i could’ve gotten for christmas >.<‘ but yes, since we are always giggling over dad!txt, this one i dedicate to u!!!
﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist
The best thing you’ve heard today is the jingling of keys at the front door.
Soobin comes through the door with heavy, tired eyes. When the kids come tumbling down the hallway for him, they soften into something warm. Lifting one to pepper kisses over her face, and listening to the other tattle about something that’d happened earlier, his mouth tugs into a gentle smile.
Dusting powdered sugar off your hands, you wait your turn. The scene falls over you like a dryer-warmed blanket. All you three had done today was wait for him to come home. When finally it’s you that he turns to, your heart flickers.
The Christmas tree is up and in a stand, but it’s bare. You didn’t want to decorate it without him, as much as he told you he wouldn’t mind if you and the kids did. It’s not every Christmas eve that he works, but he’d been scheduled this year. You’d spent the whole day rolling out dough and slipping the kids some, even though you knew the sugar would wind them up, just to make the house feel less empty.
And, wind them up it did. You took them outside, bundled up in thick cashmeres and puffy jackets, at one point, hoping they might work some of it out in the fluffy snow that’d fallen fresh on yesterday. It hadn’t worked, but watching them with pink cheeks and giggling was worth the while. Then, the three of you drug snow-wetted feet indoors to defrost, tugging off layers to accept the tingle of warm air against your numb skin.
You wish he was there, too, though.
Soobin reaches up to pull his tie loose from his neck as he comes to give you your greetings. He just manages to get it loose before taking your lips against his.
With his hands steadying you by the hips and the counter at your back, you sigh out a soft breath. Your lips speak of your longing—the both of you. Slow and intimate tugging of lips and soothing, your lashes dust against your cheeks. He tastes like some peppermint candy he’d probably picked up on the way out of the office. Fingers still a bit cold from outside, he brings one hand up and cups your cheek, brushing a thumb up and down the flushed skin there.
He smiles against your mouth and parts from you only to sprinkle sugary kisses over your face. They fall everywhere: a few over your cheeks, one just beside your mouth, and the last to your forehead. He cups your cheeks through each. When he pulls back and you think he’s done, he steals a quick peck for good measure. His hot-chocolate eyes catch yours once he’s done for real, nose crinkling.
“Hi, baby,” he says. Your heart sings listening to his smooth timbre. It resonates through you and brushes down every last frayed nerve. “How did home treat you?”
You reach behind yourself to tug your apron off. It’s a mess of flour and stray buttercream icing. “It’s Christmas eve,” you tell him. That’s answer enough. “How was work? Did you have a good day?” you say, smoothing your hands over the knitted sweater you’d swiped from his drawer. “We missed you.”
His chest is like home against your back as he wraps you up in his frame. “Doesn’t matter; I’m home now. It’s a good day.” He murmurs his words into your hair. “Mmm. You smell good. Are all these cookies for me?”
“You know who they’re for,” you say. The smile on your mouth is light and fluffy, like whipped cream. Sweet. You’d waited all day for this—for him.
His arms encompass you, wrapped across your front like ribbons over a present. You can hear the lazy smile in his words. “Were you baking all day waiting for me, beautiful?”
With the weight and warmth of him against you, you let your head fall back on his chest. You hum. “I missed you so bad,” you say.
“I know,” he says. Pressing a toasty kiss right into your neck where it’s bared to him, he adds, “I missed you too. Wish I was able to spend the whole day with you guys, not paperwork. But, it’s okay. I had my pretty wife here waiting for me.” Toward the tail-end, he hangs sweet suggestion over his words.
Your cheeks go pink. Maybe you’ve got the heater up too high. It’s not usually this hard waiting for him to get home from work. You’ll usually be busy with your own stuff, so that time passes you by fast enough. And then, he’ll come home all tired, and you’ll finally get the kids to sleep and he’ll make slow, sweet love to you, and then the whole household goes quiet as you all knock out. But today... you found yourself missing him more. On Christmas eve, you’re all supposed to be together; spending the day sprawled over the couch with intertwined limbs and running through Christmas classics with bellies full of hot chocolate and candy canes.
But, he’s here now. That’s all you can ask for. A full, content home.
“The kids want to do the tree,” you say, curling your fingers over the warm skin of his forearm where he’s bunched the cuffs of his button-up to his elbows. “They waited very patiently all day.” You drag the word all out, because really... it’d felt just as long to you. Usually, you’d have had your tree up and laced with twinkling lights and ornaments two weeks ago, but you really wanted to wait until you could do it all together.
“Well,” he says, leaving you with one last nip to the column of your neck before dragging himself off you. You miss the security of his arms almost pathetically quick. “Let’s get it decorated, then. Wouldn’t want to make you guys wait any longer.”
Soobin departs to find the tubs of Christmas stuff, and you go to pull the kids from their playing.
You can hardly help the excited little smile that finds its way to your mouth as you do.
❅
The lights on the tree wink at you, a cozy warm white like ice crystals among green pine needles. Its branches dip under the weight of heavier bulbs. Starry silver and Santa red, and even those assorted ornaments that you’d let the kids pick out, shimmer in the low light. It’s serene and familiar, like the Christmases that you can only relive through orange, flickering memories of better times. Your chest aches in the good way, looking at it.
All of you had put your touch to it, but mostly, you’d sat back and watched them all work, committing it to memory so that it might never go spotty—so that you can remember it years down the road, and use it like a dose of soothing balm when you no longer have this.
Now, you and Soobin just sit and admire it. In true Christmas fashion, you two had to wrangle the kids to bed. You raised your brows at them and warned them with the same old things you’d heard on Christmas night: Santa doesn’t stop by the houses of kids who don’t sleep, and he especially doesn’t stop for kids that don’t listen to their parents. That got them, warm in their jammies, dragging their feet to bed. Reluctantly, yes. But it did the job, and now it’s just you two.
Your stomach does an excited flip as, in between his mindless smoothing over your skin, Soobin toys with the waistband of your plaid pajamas. Lifting your head from his chest, you look up at him.
“Baby,” he says, taking that hand up and under your shirt. Running the warm, calloused tips of his fingers up the plane of your belly and then just under your breast, he says, “I missed you...”
Sweet and slow, a familiar hunger kindles between your thighs just at the way he says it. You know when your doting husband needs you. Your heart tugs toward him—you need him just the same. Surrounded by the home you’ve made together, made lovely by the scent of Christmas, and in his safe arms, all you want is him.
You tug yourself up from him and the cushions, sliding yourself over his lap so that your two thighs part around his waist and your heat meets his bulge. He’s hardened there already, strained against the fabric and hard against your clothed cunt even through the layers. Sucking in a breath, he supports the small of your back with two sturdy arms.
“Missed you too, Binnie,” you mumble into his neck. You’d said it a few times already, but you think it still isn’t enough to convey what you feel. His hands come down to cup your ass, digging divots into it and pressing you into soft grinds down onto him a few times. Your skin prickles wherever he goes.
When his hands find their way back to the elastic band of your bottoms, you lift your hips and let him tug them off you. It’s an awkward position, and you have to lend him a little help with those and your panties with a snort. He presses his forehead into your shoulder, laughing too.
At a brush of your bare cunt against his cock as he frees it, stood proud between the space of you and against your belly, your smile gives way to soft gasp. The tip of him weeps with pearly beads from the slit. He takes it into his hand taps it against your bud a few times, his free hand at your back, and relishes in the twitching of your hips above him.
With the warmth of his cock lined up with you, he pushes some of your hair out of your face and says, “Hate having to wait all day to see my pretty girl...” His chocolate eyes dart up and down between the sight of you just about to join bodies and your face.
Sinking down on him, letting yourself feel every inch of him anew, you hum agreement. You nestle him all the way down until the tip of him brushes just before the end of your depth, and then you give your hips a few rolls to let your insides adjust to his cock. Soobin’s big—no matter how many times you take him, it’s still a stretch. He doesn’t mind the wait; he sits patiently for you to adjust each time, running his hands up and down your hips just to touch you.
You dig your knees into the cushions and lift yourself off his cock. You let him slip all the way up until the flared tip of him threatens to pop out, letting the moment linger there for a moment before dropping back down on him. His shoulders take the blunt of your weight as you fuck yourself up and down him. “I...wish you didn’t have to work that stupid job...” Your voice permeates the air, above the crackle of the fireplace and the soft smacks of your skin against his.
His fingers dig into the soft curve of your waist where your shirt bunches. Each time you push yourself up, he helps, the corded muscles of his forearms twisting. It’s an intimate dance that the two of you have practiced and mastered, knowing when to give and to take without even the need for words. “I know,” he says, his voice taut. “But... I’m here now, baby. I’m here now. I’ll give you anything you want.”
Your chest feels full at that. You know he means it; he works so hard for you all. The couch cushions are abrasive against your knees, and your thighs burn with a terrible ache, but all that matters in this moment is how he sucks his lips into his mouth and lets his head fall back into the cushion at his back. He rocks his hips up to try and meet you. Each time you bring yourself down on him in a way that has his brow twitching or eyes screwing shut, you aim to find it again—in all of it, you hope he feels you thanking him.
Lifting his head, he tugs your shirt up to watch your tits bounce along with you. Taking his palm over one, he says, “Fuck—miss when these were all full of milk. All heavy for me...” His thumb rolls a pert nipple. Shuddering around a chill, your chest jumps against his hand.
Rather than controlled drags up and down his cock, you devolve into frantic rutting hips and whines. Each roll—back, forth, and in messy circles—nudges his twitching cock right up against that weak spot. Flame rolls in your belly and your thighs.
When you’d been pregnant, your tits had swollen up to produce milk, and they’d never gone back down. Maybe a bit, but never back to what they’d been before pregnancy. Soobin loved it. Not that he hadn’t been content with your breasts before, but you think it was more that he was fascinated that it was him who did that to you. That he had filled you with his cum, and got you round and pregnant. When you’d first started leaking, it wasn’t even you who’d realized. You had been stood in the kitchen with a flimsy grey shirt tugged over your body. When you looked up to see what your husband was up to, his eyes were all glazed over and heavy on your chest, where your shirt had gone dark and wet around your nipples. Before you could hurry off with reddened cheeks to change, he’d pinned you against the counter by the hips to suckle the mess up himself.
“Baby,” he says, voice coming from his throat a hoarse plead, “Beautiful, please, can you give me something for Christmas? Just one thing?”
Hair on your neck damp, you nod frantically. Around his waist, your thighs twitch with exertion and each blazing brush of his cockhead against your gummy walls. You’d give him anything; you’d already grown two children for him.
“You—gonna let me put another in you? Can I please get you all pregnant again?” he grits out, his hair falling out from its styling and over his rose-dusted cheeks. He looks at you heavy-lidded.
Your cunt squeezes him, an answer before you can even form the words. It does a number on you, the way he says it. Because really, you do think that to Soobin, the greatest gift you could give him is to carry his children and to just continue to love him. It’s no different for you; you want nothing more. “Yes, please... I’ll give you as many as...you want, please, just...”
The entirety of your pleading is not even out of your mouth before he’s pressing a strong arm across your back and laying you under him. The cushions accept your back lovingly.
Soobin takes a moment to situate you two. He drags you down by the hips, closer to him, tugs your shirt fully off to let it flutter to the floor elsewhere, tugging his own off in the same fashion, and he pushes your mess of hair out of your face so that he can better see you. And then, melding the bare, warmed skin of your soft chest to his own hard one, he rolls his cock up into you.
It’s slow and tender, like promises of love baked into each grind. He makes love to you in the form of open-mouthed kisses and puffs of breath fanning out over your skin when a deeper thrust has both of you shaken-limbed. In your ears, hot, he whispers filthy nothings.
“Gonna knock my pretty girl up again,” he pants. “Want—you to go around wearing me, big and round. My wife. You look so pretty pregnant... Fuck..” The skin of his chest brushes up against your hardened nipple each time he fucks himself up to you, his hands everywhere as he can’t find where he wants to hold you most. Eventually, he settles on linking his fingers with yours above your head with one hand, and the other splayed over your belly. Right where your belly might be swollen, were you pregnant once more. “Right here... can’t wait—h-oh, shit. Do you want that, baby? Want to give me another?”
Chest and belly tight, you can only manage a squeak and a nod. Through bleary eyes, you take in his face. The soft and masculine angles of his cheeks and jaw, his sweet brown eyes, his pinched brows... and all you feel is safe. Safe in his arms, safe in his love. His body cages you against the cushion, slung over you and delivering languid strokes, but you don’t feel trapped. Not one bit. In his arms, you feel untouchable. Secure beyond a doubt.
Nowhere else, with nobody else, would you rather build a family.
“Soobin, please,” you whine, welcome tears prickling at the corners of your eyes like snowmelt. “Want it so bad... I want it so bad....” Wrapping your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his lower spine, you urge him deeper.
“Okay,” he says. The smacking of your skin punctures the serene air as he picks up the pace. He lets his head fall into your shoulder, stunted breaths falling out as his belly tenses. “Okay, love. Gonna fuck you full of my cum, n’ keep it in there so I know it takes... shit, gonna give you my cum now, okay?”
Face screwed up, you try and roll yourself to meet him, to chase the tightness in your own belly, but he’s got you. With a few more hot stripes of his tongue over your tits and over your neck, and a few frantic nudges right into that spot he’s so familiar with, you go still and then break into full-body shakes. You press your mouth into his shoulder to obscure the sharp, sweet cry that comes rushing out along with your orgasm, worried about waking your sleeping kids. Your thighs twitch and shudder around him, some deep and innate part of your brain taking over through the fog to make sure he cums well and right into you. Fingers and toes curling and splaying through it, you allow yourself to fully feel the sweetness his cock gifts you with.
You don’t doubt that he’ll get you pregnant, cumming in you. Soobin’s seed is heavy and potent. He could knock you up whenever he pleased; the last two times he’d done it, you were surprised how easily it took. Your insides twist up around him harder.
“Fuck,” he half growls, half whines. “Fuck, fuck... Love you, baby... Love you so much...”
He holds you to the couch, fucking you into it as his heavy balls smack against your bottom. And then, spewing murmured expletives and taking your face into a big hand of his to press frantic kisses to your cheek, his hips stutter.
As promised, he spills his cum right into you, right where he knows it’ll reach your womb and give you just what you want. It’s hot and thick against your gummy walls. He holds you through it, taking your hips in kneading hands to hold you still. When you think he’s done rolling his hips up into you to shoot more ribbons, he grinds harder.
Soobin slumps over you, finally stilling. He does not pull out, nor unplug you, though. He wants to make sure his cum stays right where he wants it. His heart thunders a lovely song against your chest, and yours his. He runs long fingers through your hair mindlessly, the both of you basking in the slow fire as it burns through your veins and leaves you lazy.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” he mumbles.
Heart fuller, you hold him closer. “We have so much wrapping to do...” you mumble, trying to blink away your content sleepiness.
He pushes himself off you just to say, “Don’t remind me.” His weight cradles you once more, running appreciative fingertips over your thighs as he says, “Just a little more.”
Who are you to deny him that? You cherish the lines of his face, all soft in the yellowish glow of the tree’s light. Here, in his arms, you let yourself forget about that and anything else but the simple love buzzing in the air.
“Just a little more,” you agree.
﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist
✎୭ ashlynn's note ZOOWEE MAMA!! soobin come over here, let’s recreate this for christmas! pls!
﹙📋﹚ @hmusunoo , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @joycelyjjj , @sunoolver , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @apeachty , @fandomtrashsblog , @bewitchless , @yezzns2 , @hhoneyhan , @ethystclove , @darkdayelixer , @calumcxke , @biteyoubiteme , @bamgeutsz , @soobabby , @little-shiny-starr , @bambammtori , @bunniebun-posted , @heeambi , @bunnisoobin , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @bakugosbottombitch , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!
#꒰🥮꒱ ࣭ ٫ ashlynn’s twelve days of christmas#txt fanfiction#txt ff#txt fluff#txt fanfic#txt fic#txt smut#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#txt x reader#soobin smut#soobin fluff#soobin fanfic#soobin ff#soobin x reader#soobin x you#soobin x y/n#dad soobin#soobin hard thoughts#soobin hard hours#soobin soft hours#soobin soft thoughts#fem reader txt#txt x y/n#txt x you#kpop smut#kpop x reader#kpop fanfic#txt christmas
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𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 | hwang in-ho
( gif credits to @lalaray )
—summary: for some reason, player 001 seems to like you a little too much, way more than you think. amongst the chaos after the mingle game, he gets closer to you. —pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader —word count: 4.5k —warnings: bro has a lot of names, +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, some porn with some plot, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, slight voyeurism? (a guard outside the bathroom listening all the tea💀), sub in-ho!!!, obsessive, possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, slight manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader, they want each others bodies so bad, panic attack, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.
writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!
The first thing you saw were Young-il's eyes, and then you sensed his hands resting on your shoulders, a subtle touch but one that struck your entire core, sending shivers up and down your spine, snapping you out of the trance of shock, drawing you back to reality and back to him.
“Hey, hey, shhh...” he spoke softly, leaning close to you, making all you focused on was him, his voice, his eyes, the way his lips uttered your name. Him, him, him...
“Young-il?” you breathed out, matching your respiration to his ever-calm one.
He nodded his head slightly, his fingers stroking your shoulders soothingly. “You're okay. You did so good. It's over now” his soft whispers felt like an anchor back to earth, anchors you were clinging to with all your might.
“I got you” he assured you, helping you to your feet again. It was only then that you noticed that you were still in the room set of the third game, there was only you and him left in the arena, and the multitude of bodies sprawled around the bloodstained floor, of course. Noticing your gaze drift to the dead people, his hand lifted to your chin, standing right in front of you to block your field of vision and reduce it to just him, his serene face and piercing eyes, “Just look at me, angel. Keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah?”
He delicately pleaded you, his thumb tracing patterns of grazing caresses on the skin of your chin, treating you as carefully as possible.
And you complied, of course, succumbing to the gentle darkness contained within his eyes. Like a little lamb falling into the wolf's trap.
“There you are,” a little, honest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
A couple of guards were standing near you, watching you in silence and strangely, allowing Young-il to comfort and help you during your panic attack. The first one you had since you had arrived in the horrifying place, you hadn't cracked once, holding a tough and fearless armor.
“You are safe with me. Nothing will happen to you,” his other hand moved down from your shoulder through your arm, igniting a warm flush on your skin under the passage of his palm, all the way down to encounter yours, his fingers intertwining between yours. “I'll make sure of that, okay?”
You merely manage a trembling nod, holding his gaze. His reassuring, gentle demeanor was all you needed at that moment, in that strange place, full of strangers, he seemed to be the only familiar sight to you, the light among all the ruthless darkness. And his face, exuding concern, completely captured your heart.
Young-il offered you that one protector figure you always needed, that someone to rely on and trust even in your darkest moments.
“Come with me, please” one of the guards, the one with a square outlined on his mask, interrupted your moment, stepping up beside you, his gun pointed at the ground and not at either of you, thank goodness. His voice held a diplomatic, yet polite tone, glancing at the two of you. Young-il glanced at him with a scowl on his face, not too happy that the guard had popped onto the scene, apparently, his gaze went ice cold in the span of a millisecond, “Sir, miss, you need to go back to the main room with the other players.”
“The lady needs to freshen up a bit, could I accompany her to the bathrooms?” Young-il asked— no, rather, he actually demanded of the armed guard, his demeanor shifting to an authoritative one, straightening up and looking at the masked man with imposing eyes.
The guard looked from Young-il to you and back to him, finally nodding his head just once after a few seconds of contemplation, looking at him too long, nearly as if he was considering Young-il's expression, “Of course. Come with me, please.”
You did not decide to comment on the strange behavior of the guard, even they had been acting like human beings, empathetic and considerate. You really couldn't think of anything much at all, all you could focus on was Young-il's hand placed on your lower back as you walked together through the winding, ridiculously colorful corridors and staircases inside the seemingly infinite building.
His touch had your mind a fuzzy blur and the panic and self-doubt in your veins had already been well forgotten, replaced by a state of constant flushing, feeling so small next to him. The feeling was a good one, though. Definitely.
Ever since you had met him he had seemed to have a special liking for you, always making sure you were safe and secure, putting you above the others, making you feel protected and seen. Before every game he made sure he stayed by your side, willing to take whatever risks were necessary for both of you to come out of it alive. Gi-hun had told you a couple of times that he liked you, much more than a friend, but you refused, huffing that it wasn't the place to think about that, much less regarding a man who was married, supposedly. The two of you had really bonded so well, as if you had somehow known each other for a very long time before this.
Once you were in the bathrooms, Young-il closed the door behind both of you, leaving the square guard just outside, and then guided you towards the sinks, opening one so you could take a sip of water.
“Let me...” he quietly whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his turquoise tracksuit and soaking his hands for a few seconds before raising them to your face, running his fingers gently across your cheekbones, removing traces of blood droplets that had been lucky enough to land on your skin, he thought to himself. For some reason, everything felt more intimate than it should have.
You stood in silence, watching him with big, attentive eyes as he wiped your face delicately, as if your skin were the finest porcelain. All that could be heard for a few moments was the water running from the sink and the thundering beat of your heart, desperate to flee out of your chest and leap into his.
“Young-il?”
“Hm?” he hummed, very much focused on cleaning your face, his countenance encouraged you to ask him anything you wanted, it was peaceful and gentle.
“Why do you care so much about me?” you dared to ask him, in a low tone, brave enough to hold his gaze, which softened at your question.
He held back his hands, pulling them away from your face very slowly, analyzing your flushed face for a few moments, contemplating an answer.
“You're special. Very different from the others.”
Young-il sympathized with you, with your history, your person. Usually when he looked at you, he saw his old self, from before all this. He saw in you the good side of things, your good heart, your innocence and kindness, you were much more than a pretty face. He could see past your usual gloomy and pouty face, past your sharp and too cunning eyes, you were too much for that place. And that's why he intended to take you out of there and keep you with him, to have you by his side to care for you and provide for you.
He was excited about the idea of getting to know you further, like a new game in which he had to crack his way through. And In-ho, he was good at games.
You blushed slightly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Special?”
Young-il spun around, allowing you to see his side profile as he washed his hands in the sink, concealing the impulse to smirk as he noticed the immediate effect his words had on you. He had you right where he wanted you.
Now he wasn't wearing his usual dark mask, capable of covering his each and every emotion, no, now his expressions and gestures were for everyone to see, so he had to try a little harder than usual to be cautious. As you too were very careful and cautious, always attentive to your surroundings, you had figured out the objective of the last games as soon as you arrived at the arenas. It had been a record, no other player had been as interesting and quick-witted as you. You only needed a couple of minutes, a scan through the walls, the equipment brought by the guards, and you already had the answer. You were a prodigy. Not even he knew what you were doing in there to begin with, when you should have been in the best university.
You would definitely be a favorite of the filthy V.I.P.'s and that, for some reason, made him uneasy.
“Mhm...” he hummed once again, wetting his face now, refreshing himself as well, thoughtfully, “That makes you dangerous.”
His eyes held a slight playfulness as they met yours now, and his pupils expanded as he watched you step closer to him, unwrapping your sweatshirt from around your waist and lifting it up to his face, gently wiping and drying his skin with it, running the cloth carefully over his cheekbones, forehead and chin, drying every drop of water, sweat and blood that rolled across his skin.
“Why?” you tilted your head, big, interested eyes watching him intently as you carefully wiped his cheeks.
Young-il gazed at you for a few seconds, feeling himself swooning at the careful way you were treating him. He cleared his voice subtly before replying to you, in all honesty, “You're the only one I care about in here.”
Usually In-ho encountered with people who looked at him with fear, with trembling hands, hesitant voice and submissive manners. Most guards were like that with him, he was the Front Man after all. Just a movement of his fingers, a word emitted by his voice, was enough for the whole building to move at his command, for anyone to race to do what he ordered.
But you... you simply reached out to him, touched him, treated him with care, with gentleness and softness, looking at him with warm and sympathetic eyes.
“No other person makes me feel both weak and strong” he rasped out, quietly, his warm breath brushing against your lips, which gaped at his words, his choice of words, “That's dangerous for a man like me”
You motioned to pull your hand away from his face, but he was quick to grab your wrist, stopping the movement.
“Young-il, you're married, I can't—” you hurriedly opted to go the right way, trying to talk some sense into him, shaking your head softly, blinking several times within a single minute. Your heart was already starting to beat faster and he could feel it through his thumb placed on your pulse.
He shook his head, seeking your gaze, his fingers gently squeezing your wrist, not wanting you to move too far away from him.
“I'm not married. I lied” he revealed to you, almost desperately. There was no reason for him to lie to you on that, because he knew that you were someone he could trust, and that everything that was going to happen there, would remain within those walls. A little complicity. A minor crack in the script, in the whole scheme that he had been working on for weeks.
You let him grab your wrist and the jacket of the tracksuit you had previously held in your hand fell to the floor, making a muffled noise that echoed off the quiet walls of the bathrooms. Your brow furrowed slightly, not understanding what he was talking about now.
“You lied? Why?” you asked in a low tone, as if anyone could hear you. It seemed, at least it felt like too private and all too intimate a conversation for anyone to overhear.
“I didn't want to push you away and scare you with my... life resolutions” Young-il lowered your hand now joined with his, looking at you with brighter eyes than usual, “It was the wiser thing to do.”
“Resolutions?” all you appeared to be doing was asking and asking, and In-ho, right there and then, was willing to answer all you wanted to know. Your tone of voice drifted into playfulness, void of judgment or disgust, on the contrary, you reassured him, “All of us here have made bad choices in our lives, that's why we're here. We're all the villains of society”
“Villains...” he repeated, savoring the word and approving it with a gentle nod of his head. Then he tugged on your hand, lifting it to his face, placing an affectionate kiss on your knuckles, doing all of that while keeping eye contact, “But you're not bad, not like them, not like me. You're just so good, angel.” There was the petname again, and it held the exact same effect as when he first called you that, making you blush softly, your legs trembling just barely, your core reacting instantly, your body succumbing to his, longing for him.
His fingers caressed the palm of your hand tenderly, “You have no blood on your pretty hands, no perversity in your little head, no, you're a good girl. You always have been, right?”
He read you like an open book, even though you had been cautious and reserved since the games had begun, you had not let anyone in, much less pass over the walls you had built around yourself. Yet in the span of a few minutes, Young-il had ripped them apart, tearing his way through them, into you.
You caught a glimpse of pity in his eyes.
“You don't have a debt, you just don't have anyone out there waiting for you, to take care of you, provide for you” At his words, you gulped, watching him kiss your knuckles once again, making your heart race, then his lips kissed your pulse on your wrist, and after that, he tugged you closer, placing your palm against his chest, making you feel the beat of his heart as well, “I could be the one. I could take care of you, protect you, give you everything you want. There wouldn't be anything I wouldn't do for you and those eyes. You'd just have to stick by my side, look pretty for me, hm?”
In-ho had been watching you, of course, ever since you had met Gon Ji-cheol in the subway, ever since you had encountered Gi-hun. He knew your life completely, he had grown obsessed with you. You were everything he needed, everything he wanted, the missing piece in his new life. The anchor he desperately needed, yearned to hold on to.
And to your flesh he clung, his lips making a path of light, but tentative kisses on the back of your hand, across your skin, up your arm.
“Young-il...” you breathed out his name a bit stunned by the whole sudden confession. At the sound, he felt his limbs tremble, his lips had reached your bicep and it wasn't until he kissed your shoulder that he opened his eyes so he could look at you with raw adoration, his breath joining yours at the closeness.
“I'll get you out of here, safe and sound. I won't let them touch a hair on your head” he promised, reassuring you, pulling you in, inviting you to slip into his orbit, “I just need you to trust me”
Your eyelashes grazed your cheeks as you blinked slowly, your hand rising to his shoulder, thumb brushing his neck, “How will you do that?”
“Trust me” he pleaded, staring at you for a few seconds before leaning down into you, both of his hands landing on your waist, holding you against him, his face nestled into your neck, he began to press his lips into your skin, kissing it. You close your eyes in utter pleasure, feeling yourself getting all aroused, suffocated by all the attention, the sweet words, his desire for you.
“Would you do that for me?” he rasped out against your skin before kissing it, sucking lightly, “...hm?”
You nodded, swallowing hard, his lips rapidly kissing your throat, and suddenly, everything was him, his mouth, his breath, his hands squeezing your waist. Him...
You lifted your chin, allowing him more access to the soft flesh of your neck, seductive lips exploring every inch of your skin.
“Yes”
“That's my girl” he cooed with tenderness, kissing your neck one last time before pulling away from it so he could look at you, not even letting you breathe the air that had slipped out of your lungs for the entirety of his doing, before he was kissing your lips like a starving man.
He breathed against your lips in between frantic open-mouth kisses. He almost felt himself melt as his ears were blessed by the delightful little noises leaking out of your mouth, panting and low moans escalating up your throat.
“Young-il…” you whispered his name, your voice sheepishly lowering as you noticed the look in his eyes, your hands clasped around his neck, fingers trembling from the thrill and sudden shame that shook you.
“Jump” he said, his tone of voice heavy with command, his hands reaching around your waist and down onto your ass to lift you up effortlessly onto the side of the sinks, balancing himself tight against you in between your legs, which wrapped around his hips and pressed him further into you, under an instinctive impulse.
You panted against his lips as you felt his erection against the inside of your thigh, his body eagerly surrendering to yours in desperation.
His commanding voice and face were something that really turned you on even more, if that was even possible. It wasn't usual for him to be this stern with you, he was usually like that with the other players, with strangers, always cautious, quiet and tactful, meticulous of his every step and every word.
“W-wait— we're going to fuck in h-here?” you somehow managed to asked in between frantic, breathless kisses, barely opening your eyes, catching him with an expression of raw lust, pupils fully dilated now.
Young-il smirked playfully, allowing you to catch your breath for a moment, hands caressing your skin appreciatively beneath the fabric of your shirt, before dropping down and laying on either side of you against the sinks, veins bulging against his skin, “You want to do it in the other room? I don't mind having an audience.”
His little tease and the way he tilted his head made you blush furiously, fingers nuzzling the back of his neck, curling between locks of his hair.
“The guard will hear us...” you tried to talk some sense into him, whispering quietly to him, leaning your head even closer, as if you were little kids sharing a forbidden secret.
But Young-il stood his ground, kissing your lips shortly, to reassure you, noticing the worry in your big eyes, “Don't worry about him, don't worry about anyone,” his hand snaked between your bodies, spreading your legs a little further apart, “He won't hear a thing, they never hear or see anything. Not if they are ordered not to”
One of his hands reached up, stroking your hair soothingly, sensing the softness of your locks between his fingers. You were perfect, perfect. And he just knew he could lose all track of time, if it meant letting himself fall into you, touching you, feeling you, worshipping you.
"Lift your hips for me, yeah?”
Obedient, you lifted your hips just a little, letting him pull the hem of your tracksuit pants down your legs, taking it out of the way of obstructing his path into you.
“I know you want this as much as I do, you don't have to say it,” he cheekily smiled, looking up at you once he had lowered your pants down until they were at the level of your ankles. On his journey upwards, he kissed the side of your leg, your knees and your thighs without taking his eyes off yours, he was ruthless and you looked so pretty to him.
“Your body speaks to me, it has spoken to me since the first game. I've noticed the way you look at me. You are a naughty girl.”
You heaved a sigh, closing your eyes and pulling your head back as his hand dipped into the center in between your legs, feeling the wetness of your panties and the heat, your cunt pulsing around nothing. Your hands, now on either side of you clasped onto the ceramics of the sinks, your back arching beautifully.
You can't help the way your body trembles, flutters and simply submits when his finger rubs your swollen clit through your panties, feeling your face and your whole body flush, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment at the magnitude of his words and the enormity of all that was happening.
“Look at you,” he cooed, eyes locked on your pussy once he had pulled down your panties with precise but desperate motions, ran his index and middle fingers through your slick folds, making you moan, “you're soaking wet for me, just for my kisses? Fuck, you are so beautiful. My pretty, dirty girl. Letting herself be touched by a stranger.... but then again, not a stranger at all, hm?” his voice almost sounded mocking when it reached your ears, “I need to taste you,” his gaze moved up to your face, and he looked nearly pleading, he licked his lips in anticipation, fingers sinking just barely into the small entrance of your core, “may I?”
“Please—” You at once nodded feverishly, almost whimpering over the words that rushed into your throat, “Yes! Please, Young-il, please—”
He dropped to his knees in front of you, slouching closer, sinking right between your legs, his hands lingered around your knees, squeezing them against him with a possessive hold.
“In-ho” he corrected you, flushed against the skin of your inner thigh, pressing kisses along it, all too drunk already by your intoxicating scent, his mind going fuzzy with desire, the urge to make you his, “Call me In-ho”
You didn't even pause to doubt what he was telling you, Hell, you'd call him God if he asked you to. You were in the palm of his hand, on full display. His lips kissed your sex and you mentally thanked fate for putting you there, with him.
“Say it” he ordered, just before he plunged his tongue deep between your folds, knocking all the little breath left in your lungs. “Say my name, angel” the vibration of his voice against the most sensitive flesh of your body clenched the knot deep in the bottom of your belly.
“In-ho” you named him between shaky whimpers and little moans, like a prayer. One of your hands dropped to his head, fingers sinking into the black of his hair, tugging it and making him hiss against your cunt. “In-ho...”
In-ho, In-ho, In-ho...
“Good girl”
God.
He ate your pussy like it was his very last meal, lapping and drinking in everything you had to offer, every bit of wetness from you. The slurping noise burst through every wall of the bathrooms and suddenly, you didn't give a shit if the guard outside heard you, you didn't give a shit if all the guards heard you.
They could be right there watching you, you couldn't care less, it wouldn't change the way you tugged at his hair, how your eyes rolled back and the way he was gazing up at you from below, kneeling perfectly between your legs as if they were the gates to heaven.
His tongue seemed familiar, his fingers squeezing your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, his lips kissing your sex with no breath, all the breath he needed was you. He didn't feel like a stranger, your body acquainted him, perhaps in another life. It all felt like deja vu, a reminiscence.
Your muscles tensed and he felt it through his tongue. You were about to cum, and your throat felt scratchy from all the moans and whimpers rasping through it.
“Gonna cum, baby?” he coaxed, pulling away from your cunt for just a couple of seconds, sneaking a hand in and pressing just barely at your entrance with a couple of fingers, kissing your clit and sucking it just right, “Yes you are,” he grumbled endearingly, his tongue tracing caresses all around your clit now, looking up at you.
“You're so tight” he marveled, watching in awe as your cunt eagerly attempted to suck in his fingertips, clenching and struggling to fit them. “Look at her, so eager... such a good girl, aren't you?” Once again he leaned into your clit, kissing, sucking and caressing it with his tongue, already too pussy drunk to stop. “Cum for me. Cum on my tongue, yeah, just like that”
“Holy shit, In-ho—” you hiccupped, feeling tears blur your vision, a wave of pleasure unleashing from deep in your belly. You moaned his name like a prayer, pressing his head closer to your cunt on an instinctive impulse, “Mmph!”
Maybe it was seeing his chin and mouth all dripping wet of you, or his dark, deep eyes marveling at how your pussy squeezed tight around his fingers, or his other hand sliding up under your shirt, finding one of your breasts and flicking your nipple. Maybe it was all of it, either way, you were cumming like you had never cum before. Your whole body was shaking and succumbing to the overstimulation. Succumbing to him.
In-ho gulped down everything you gave him like magic waters.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he confided, licking his index and middle finger as well, catching every trace there was of you that he could possibly consume as if it were honey.
Then, he kissed your pussy once more before standing up, sending shockwaves of electricity through your whole body with his touch, his hands settled on your hips, holding you so you wouldn't fall.
And he just smirked. He moved closer to you and kissed your mouth, making you savor your own taste through him, his hands appreciatively caressing your thighs, swiftly pulling up your panties back on.
“You're perfect, perfect,” he smoothed against your lips, his forehead leaning close to yours and he kissed you again, praising you, holding you tight in the afterglow of your orgasm, “My girl, my favorite girl, so good for me"
“We need to get back before someone starts to get suspicious,” he mumbled softly, helping you to your feet and pulling up your pants, always holding you with his hands and strong arms.
“B-but,” you retorted, your hands gripping his shoulders, still feeling your legs a little wobbly and unsteady, your dilated pupils and half-closed eyes following him as he arranged you, “I want to-”
He interrupted you, grinning warmly, stroking a lock of your hair away from your forehead before kissing your lips once more, as if closing a deal, a promise, “There will be time. Be patient, princess. We don't want the others to find out about my favoritism, do we?” seeing you still looking a bit confused, and still denying with your head, In-ho smiled playfully, “That would be very unprofessional of me, so this will be our secret”
This time you kissed him, sealing the secret.
#cosmictheo#squid game 2#i shouldn't like him but god knows i do#squid game#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game x y/n#in ho x reader#in ho squid game#hwang in ho#front man x reader#young il#front man#player 001#squid game smut#squid game fanfic#squid game season 2#squid game 2 x reader#in ho x you
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─ • CSC .ᐟ Stolen Sweater
› content ┆ idol scoups x fem reader, established relationship, fluff ✎ word-count .ᐟ 1.4k. ⌁ summary ┆ Seungcheol comes home to you wearing his sweater ❀ a/n┆i feel like that would be something I would do if i were to be in a relationship, plus Seungcheol is big so it would be the perfect size to drown in his sweaters
It was a lazy afternoon, the kind where the sky outside was overcast, and the chill in the air made staying indoors the perfect plan. Seungcheol hadn’t been home for long, having just finished showering, but he was already beginning to relax into the peaceful quiet of the late afternoon. After a grueling practice session with the members, the ache in his muscles was a welcome reminder of how hard they’d been working. Yet, as much as he loved his group and his role as their leader, coming home to you was what really made him feel at ease.
Seungcheol was never one to admit just how much he loved the little things about his relationship. As a leader, he had always been the strong, reliable one—the protector. But when it came to you, there was something different about the way you made him feel. You had a way of softening him, of making him smile even on the hardest days. Today, though, you managed to catch him completely off guard.
As he walked across the hallway toward the living room, still rubbing his damp hair with a towel, he caught sight of you, and it made him stop in his tracks.
There you were, curled up on the couch, one leg tucked beneath you, completely absorbed in a book, a cup of warm tea on the coffee table. But it wasn’t the peaceful scene that stopped him in his tracks—it was what you were wearing.
His sweater.
His heart skipped a beat. It was his favorite sweater—black, slightly worn, with a faded Chrome Hearts logo of the brand he loved so much. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d worn it himself, nor did he realize you’d taken it. Yet, there you were, wrapped up in it, looking impossibly cozy in the too-big sleeves, your fingers just barely peeking out cutely.
For a moment, Seungcheol didn’t say anything but just stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his towel long forgotten in his hand. His eyes roamed over you: from the way the sweater practically swallowed your small frame to how your fingers barely peeked out of the sleeves as you held your book. The neckline hung loosely, revealing just a bit of your collarbone, and something about that made his heart race.
It wasn’t just that you looked good—you did, of course—but it was more than that. There was something intimate, something almost possessive about seeing you in his clothes like you’d claimed a piece of him, even if you didn’t realize it.
He hadn’t noticed how long he’d been staring until you looked up from your book after sensing his presence, your eyes meeting his. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as if you’d caught onto his reaction.
“Hey,” you said softly, your voice warm and familiar. “You’re home.”
Seungcheol cleared his throat, trying to shake off the daze you’d put him in. “Yeah, just got back.” He walked further into the room, tossing the towel onto the armchair, but his eyes kept looking at you. “You… you’re wearing my sweater.”
You glanced down as if only just realizing it, then back up at him with a playful smile. “Oh, this? It was cold, and it was the first thing I saw in your closet. It’s really... comfortable.”
Seungcheol blinked, still processing the sight in front of him. The way you said it, so casually, like it was no big deal, made him chuckle. But it *was* a big deal, at least to him.
There was something about you wearing his clothes that did something to him, something he couldn’t quite put into words. He didn’t mind, of course. If anything, he found it endearing. It felt intimate like you were wrapped up in a piece of him. He felt his chest warm with a strange mix of pride and affection.
“Does it feel okay?” he asked, sitting down beside you, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch the hem of the sweater’s sleeve. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric, and for some reason, the action made him feel strangely protective.
You nodded, shifting a little closer to him. “It’s perfect. Honestly, I think I’m going to keep it,” you teased, glancing up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Oh, really? You’re just going to steal my favorite sweater like that?”
“Stealing is a strong word,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “Borrowing indefinitely sounds nicer.”
He laughed, a deep, rich yet cute sound that filled the room. “Alright, alright. I guess I can let you borrow it… indefinitely.” His voice softened, and the teasing tone faded as he continued to look at you, still feeling that tug in his chest at the sight of you in his clothes.
“You look better in it than I do,” he finally said, his voice soft.
You laughed lightly, your cheeks flushing just a little at his compliment. “I don’t know about that. It’s pretty big on me.”
“Yeah, but that’s the point,” he teased. “It’s supposed to be big.”
You set your book aside, sliding closer to him. “Well, it’s perfect for this kind of weather.”
You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and Seungcheol instinctively wrapped an arm around you, pulling you even closer. You fit perfectly under his arm, snug and warm, and he couldn’t help but notice the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the sweater. It was the little things like this that made him realize how much he loved you—how much you meant to him.
“I’ll get you your own,” he murmured into your hair, though he didn’t really mean it. He liked seeing you in his clothes, liked how it felt like you were carrying a piece of him.
“Why would I need my own when I can just steal yours forever?” you replied, your voice playful but laced with affection.
He chuckled, resting his chin on top of your head. “Fair point.”
They stayed like that for a while, the sound of rain beginning to tap softly against the window, a gentle rhythm that matched the calm between them. Seungcheol absentmindedly ran his fingers up and down your arm, tracing the soft material of the sweater, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in the moment.
“You know,” he said after a while, his voice low and thoughtful, “I’ve never really been the type to care about stuff like this. But seeing you in my sweater…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “It makes me happy. I don’t know why.”
You tilted your head up to look at him, your expression softening. “You don’t have to explain it. I get it.”
He smiled down at you, grateful that you always seemed to understand him, even when he struggled to find the words. Seungcheol wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, especially when it came to sentimental things like this, but you always made it easier for him.
“You can wear it whenever you want,” he murmured, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “It looks better on you anyway.”
You laughed softly, leaning back into his chest. “You say that now, but you’ll miss it when you can’t find it in your closet.”
Seungcheol chuckled, “Maybe, but if it means you’re always wearing a piece of me, I think I can live with that.”
You didn’t say anything for a while, just settled more comfortably into his embrace, and Seungcheol closed his eyes, letting the warmth of your body and the soft patter of the rain lull him into a peaceful state. He didn’t need anything more than this—just the quiet intimacy of sharing a piece of himself with you.
After a long moment, you spoke up again, your voice barely above a whisper. “You know, I think I love this sweater now too.”
Seungcheol smiled against your hair, holding you just a little tighter. “Good. Because it’s yours now.”
They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the sweater and each other keeping the chill of the afternoon at bay. Seungcheol didn’t need grand gestures or big declarations of love; moments like these were enough. His sweater, his girl, and the quiet peace they shared—it was all he needed. It was enough to make him feel like the luckiest man in the world.
› anonymous review form
here comes my first even Seungcheol fanfic! Posting this after the One Ok Rock concert in Paris
thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! don't forget tp like, reblog, comment ^^
‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip"🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
#cherry-zip#svthub#keopihausnet#scoups x reader#scoups x y/n#scoups x you#seungcheol scenarios#scoups scenarios#scoups imagine#seungcheol imagine#seventeen#seventeen scoups#seventeen seungcheol#seungcheol headcanons#scoups headcanons#fluff#scoups fluff#seventeen fluff#seungcheol fluff#scoups smut#svt smut#seventeen smut#seungcheol smut
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GIFT ANIMATION
After a year and a half... IT'S DONE!!!
DCA! Serial Killer AU by @ayyy-imma-ninja & @moonlit-dreamers
Hope you two like it!! :3
Just wanted to make something for the AU because I love it with all my heart. Like, I love Sun and Moon in this, the plot, too. It's just amazing, dude. Can't wait to see how the story goes!!
My rambling under the cut-
First of all, I just wanna apologize for how long it took me to finish this qwq
I'm no professional animator and I made a ton of mistakes in the process of making this-
I've always liked crime/detective shows since I was little so I think that kind of explains why I love this AU so much XD
I tried to get as much of the AU into the animation as possible. There are also some unintentional and intentional references to the comic Meg made last year (ex. Sun tugging on his glove, etc.)
When I said I was gonna 'fix' older frames I actually meant "redraw almost the entire animation". Why? My style has changed a lot ever since I started this project. The first half looked so poorly drawn compared to the second half, and there were some scenes that I didn't like or didn't make sense.
I still have the old frames saved and oh boy... you CAN see the big difference and improvement... there are some I posted here some time ago that do not appear in this now. There are some scenes I did leave there, I think it's noticeable which ones because of the style
That's all I have to say I think yee :3
#dca!serial killer au#animation#animation meme#sk sun#sk moon#sun the librarian#moon the security guard#serial killer moon#serial killer sun#serial killer duo#sk duo#sk boys#detective y/n#for the children#tw blood#cw blood#tw knives#tw knife#tw axe#tw weapons#cw knife#flashing lights#tw flashing#tw implied abuse#cw implied abuse#dca au#dca au fanart#oh god those are a lot of tags#holy moly#dxrk draws
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Poison
Azriel x Reader
Summary: At an event hosted by High Lord Beron, Azriel's closest friend Y/N seems to be incredibly wasted. The only problem? Azriel knows that she doesn't get drunk. Ever.
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, poison, vomiting, a drunk love confession, a bit of angst but it is all in all quite fluffy
A/N: So this may or may not be inspired by the scene in Wicked King where Cardan gets poisoned... enjoy!! :3
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Y/N is, as always, on high alert as she follows Rhys into the ballroom. Something combined with her dislike for social events and her lack of trust for the High Lord of Autumn meant her eyes and ears were everywhere, keeping constant watch over everything. Azriel’s large hand gently splays over her bare back, the rough fingers a gentle reminder that he’s there, and possibly to tell her to stop being so tense. She shoots a glare at her best friend, who responds with a badly-concealed smile.
She’s dressed in black, they all are, as is custom in the Night Court. Her dress is floor length, the black satin offering a nice hold around her figure, the neckline a low plunge, and the slit on her left side allowing her some freedom. The fabric is littered with silver threads and diamonds, meant to represent constellations, and also to match the sparkly heels on her feet. She looks pretty. She feels it.
A servant welcomes them warmly, almost immediately offering the group a drink of champagne, which she takes. Cassian snorts, and teases her for taking the only glass that the poor servant had, but she rolls her eyes and takes a sip.
She rarely drinks. She doesn’t like it. She’s seen enough of the boys’ drunk shenanigans to be put off it for a lifetime. She usually stays sober, if not tipsy, whenever they go to Rita’s, opting for escorting a stumbling Rhys back to Feyre rather than being the one stumbling.
But one drink won’t hurt. Not tonight. Tonight, she’ll need it.
The Inner Circle split up around the room, Azriel hot on Y/N’s trails, scarred fingers just barely tracing her bare shoulders. She sighs, leaning against a wall, him doing the same. “Time check?”
Azriel snorts. “You’re the one with the watch.”
She clicks her tongue, and checks the time, leaning back with a groan. “Two more hours of… this.”
“Always a ray of sunshine.”
“Says the shadowsinger.” she grins. Azriel was the first person she’d met in the Inner Circle, and coincidentally, her closest friend. They’d been attached at the hip the moment she’d introduced herself. They know everything about each other, inside and out.
She’d never admit it, but her heart longed for the Illyrian. He was always so clever, so considerate. And, not to mention, his sharp features and hazel eyes made heat rise in her cheeks; hot, blissful, lovestruck heat.
“I think Cassian wants me for something.” Azriel muses, tipping his chin towards where Cassian was very unsubtly gesturing for him to accompany him. Y/N narrows her eyes at the redhead he’s standing with, and laughs.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that were Eris Vanserra. Good luck, Az.”
Azriel groans, playfully tugging her hair as he walks over to his brother.
All alone, now. She drinks her champagne, downing it almost immediately. She liked champagne. It never got you too drunk, never made you too irrational. “Enjoying the festivities, Y/N?” Beron’s voice purrs out from behind her. She forces a smile.
“I’d say yes, but it appears I’ve run out of champagne.” The High Lord cocks a brow at her words, and offers her another glass with a different, more vibrant liquid. “Try this. It’s exclusive to the Autumn Court. I believe you’ll enjoy it, it’s not too strong.”
She eyes the glass, before taking it, taking a sip. It’s a subtle flavour - fruity, slightly bitter. “Thank you, my lord.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he walks away.
Cauldron, this drink is good. She drinks every last drop, and places it down on the table next to her, looking for a bottle of the same-
Oh. Oh. This is fun. Fun, fun, fun!
Why isn’t she having fun! Tonight is amazing!
An uncontrollable giggle tears from her throat, the sound throwing her off slightly as wave after wave of lucid dizziness hit her. She laughs, clutching her chest. This is so fun!
Where’s Azriel? Is he having fun? Oh, she loves him. Loves him so much. Where is he!?
-----------------------------------------------------------
Azriel cracks his neck, obviously not wanting to engage with the eldest son of the High Lord, who clearly would rather be anywhere else. Cassian is long gone, with the excuse of seeing Nesta, and now Azriel has been left to deal with Eris. This could not get any worse.
Until it does.
Y/N beams at him, tripping over her feet to get to him, stumbling as she slumps into his arms, snorting and giggling. He freezes. Eris chokes on a laugh. Her hands reach up to grab his face and tug at his hair.
“Y/N?” he murmurs, taken slightly off-guard by her strange behaviours.
“Azzy!” she squeals, laughing and kissing his cheek. Eris cocks a brow. “Looks like your little Y/N’s had too much to drink.” His words echo around Azriel’s head. No, that can’t be. Y/N doesn’t like drinking. And why would she get drunk here of all places? And why-
His heart sinks. Her pupils are dilated. Her body is trembling. Her skin is turning clammy.
This isn’t alcohol. It’s poison.
His eyes go wide as he pulls her form into his arms. “Y/N?” he mumbles, a little firmer now. “Y/N, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, silly!” she squeals. Eris laughs again, and Azriel’s head whips towards him. “What the fuck did you do to her!?” The eldest son’s eyes widen at his harsh, almost growling tone.
“Me? I’ve done nothing. She’s just drunk, shadowsinger.” He sneers at him down his pointy nose. Azriel clutches Y/N closer, ignoring all of her babbles as she squishes his cheeks and tugs his dark locks like a child.
“I love you!” she squeals. “I love you sooooo much. So much. I wish we were mates.” she slurs. Azriel takes a shaky breath at her words, and Eris gestures to her flailing form. “See? Drunk.”
“She’s not- she’s not drunk, she’s- fuck, where’s Rhys?” His tone is desperate as he searches for the High Lord. Y/N’s knees start to buckle, but he wraps her arms around her thighs. “Stay with me, sweetheart, you’re gonna be okay.” He manages to catch the attention of Rhys, whose eyes go wide at the sight of Y/N’s slumped form, and he rushes to them. “What-”
“She’s been poisoned.” Azriel chokes out, panic surging in his veins as he hugs his girl as tightly as he can to his chest. “We- we need to get her out.” Rhys takes a breath, and seems to send a message to Feyre, because she starts to round everyone up. “She’ll be okay, Az, just calm down-”
“I’m not going to calm down! She could die!” He snaps. Rhys backs off at the protective gaze in his brother’s eyes. “Get her back to the Night Court, I’ll sort out here.” Azriel hooks one arm under her knees and the other on her back as he closes his eyes, winnowing back to Velaris.
She squirms, shoving herself onto the cold floor of the Moonstone Palace, and she pukes, gasping and gagging. He shushes her gently, his shadows swirling around her and stroking her hair back as she retches. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Get it all out.”
As she vomits, his mind can’t help but flick back to what she said in the Autumn Court. ‘I love you!’ ‘I wish we were mates.’ His heart flutters at the recollection, but he silently growls at it to shut up. She’s been poisoned. Her head isn’t right. She was probably just saying words for the fun of it. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean it.
But still…
No, heart, stop it.
He pulls her up against his chest when she’s finished, gently rubbing her back. She sobs, slurring unintelligible words. He kisses her sweaty temple and carefully carries her up to her room, murmuring sweet nothings to keep her calm, but her body thrashes. Her eyes are rolling back. His hands are shaking.
He just about manages to get her writhing form onto the bed when Rhys arrives, Madja hot on his trails. “She’s been poisoned?” she asks. Y/N screams in response. Rhys winces at the noise, but the expression worsens at the fury on Azriel’s face.
“Azriel-”
“Go on.” He growls. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t storm back in there and kill them all.”
“Because first of all, that’ll be a lot of paperwork for me, and second of all, I don’t think Y/N wants you to leave.”
Rhys is, frustratingly, right. Y/N has taken it upon herself to latch onto Azriel’s arm, clutching him and mumbling profusely, cheek squished against his bicep. He sighs, and gently pats her hair, shooting a glare to the High Lord of Night in the process.
He sits with her the entire time Madja treats her, his fingers tightly intertwined with hers. The healer concludes that she’ll be okay, but not without side-effects. She says he was clever to get her home so quickly. It wasn’t out of intelligence, it was out of fear.
She gives Y/N a sleeping draught, just so her aching body can get some rest, and then she leaves. Azriel stares at his best friend’s face, and figures he should do the same. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead, smiles at her fluttering eyes, and moves to leave.
Standing in the doorway, however, his eyes flit back to hers, the hazel of his irises connecting with her soft hues.
And then he feels it.
Like a string pulled taut, it snaps within his chest, flooding his veins with the pure bliss of finally having something to protect, to care for, to love. It roars throughout his body, his heart burning with the golden flames of the bond.
Mate.
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PART TWO HERE!!
lol hmu I write for acotar now
#ik ive been gone for at least a year#very long story#azriel#but im back now!!!!!! yipee#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x y/n
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atsumu x reader; cw spoilers for the vow (movie) i guess
"how do you look at the girl you love and tell yourself it's time to walk away?"
channing tatum's voice echoes from your laptop. it was movie night and this week's choice was 'the vow'.
it was different from your usual rom com or dramedy, the go tos, but atsumu had insisted he heard this movie was akin to gold. what better love story was there than learning how to fall in love all over again?
but as your heart tugged against your chest at the scene unfolding before you, the screen freezes with the pause symbol before it can end.
"do you need more popcorn? we were getting to the good part. why'd you pause the movie?" you ask, turning to your boyfriend whose eyebrows had drawn together in confusion. "what's the matter?"
atsumu shook his head. "i don't get it."
"what don't you get?"
he turns to you, and you're a little taken aback by the seriousness he displays. because despite what everyone thinks, your boyfriend isn't an idiot; he's not just brash humor and unprompted confidence. maybe it's because he's an athlete that they think that, but atsumu has always been so much more.
he's the type of guy who grumbles about being woken up for your midnight cravings but drives you down to whatever fast food chain. he's the type of guy who guards sharp corners with his hand so you don't hurt yourself accidentally. he's the type of guy who ties your shoelaces without you having to ask and loves so easily you forget it was ever difficult.
"how do you not remember the love of your life? even with amnesia . . ." atsumu is annoyed. you can tell even before you smooth away the lines that form on his face from frustration.
"well, it's just a movie," you try. "and she has amnesia. it's not by choice."
"i would never forget you," he says, or rather, he declares it. "even if i got into a horrible accident or when get old and i lose all my memories, i would never forget you."
you're quiet and he takes it as a sign to continue, "because of my hands."
"your hands?"
he nods. "all you'd have to do is put yours in mine like this," atsumu reaches for you, holding your hand against his (measuring them in comparison and memorizing them) before intertwining his fingers with yours. "and i'd know. we fit like puzzle pieces because everything just feels right with you."
the movie is forgotten as your heart stutters, and you realize—again and all at once—that you love atsumu. you love him with as much of you there is. but in this world of too many people and lost time and missed opportunities, thankfully he loved you too.
how lucky were you?
shitty ending sorry! atsumu in love got overwhelming and this is all i could get out
#atsumu x reader#atsumu x you#atsumu x y/n#atsumu headcanons#atsumu drabbles#atsumu fanfic#atsumu fluff#haikyuu blurbs#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu fluff
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content: rafe cameron x reader, fluff, angst, heavy inspo if not me shamefully imitating stefan & elenas scenes i fear LMFAO, secret relationship, past & future, time skip
authors note: guys omg my finals week is over n i get a month n a half break BLESS. but i still dont know if ill be totally active like i used to be. ill update u guys if that ever changes !!
main masterlist
your relationship with rafe had always been easy, natural in a way that almost felt inevitable. you’d known each other for years, if not all your life, your families orbiting each other like planets in the same solar system.
your parents met his dad in college, you think. all you knew was that every holiday, every long weekend, every summer, the camerons were there. sarah and wheezie were like sisters to you, and rafe . . . well, rafe had always been different.
you’d grown up side by side, bickering and teasing like it was second nature, but somewhere along the way, the dynamic shifted. you weren’t sure when it happened, only that it felt right. a few months ago, he kissed you for the first time, and it was like something clicked into place. since then, everything had been smooth sailing—well, as smooth as things could be when you were secretly dating your best friend.
you’d both decided to keep it quiet, at least for now. your families were too close, too intertwined, and the thought of all the questions, the teasing, the pressure . . . it was easier this way. for now, it was just yours, something special you didn’t have to share.
tonight was no different from the dozens of christmases before. your parents were hosting, the camerons were invited, and everything was perfectly predictable. your dad was in the dining room with ward and rose, sharing some expensive whiskey that probably had a story behind it. sarah was in the kitchen helping your mom, wheezie trailing behind her like a shadow. you and rafe were in the living room, curled up on the couch by the fire, a blanket draped over your lap.
your head rested on his shoulder, the soft glow of the fireplace making the whole scene feel oddly intimate. rafe’s hand was hidden under the blanket, his fingers lightly resting on your thigh. it wasn’t obvious—he wasn’t obvious—but it was enough to make your heart race. you pulled the blanket tighter around you, leaning into him as the sound of the tv filled the room.
“sarah asked me about you,” rafe said suddenly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.
you lifted your head, intrigued, your fingers idly playing with his under the blanket. “oh yeah?” you murmured, a faint smile tugging at your lips.
“yeah.” he glanced down at your intertwined hands, then back at you. “she asked if we were together.”
you snorted softly, amused. “and what’d you say?”
“what do you think i said?” he asked, raising a brow.
you just shook your head, letting the silence hang for a moment. then, rafe gave you a look, one that made your stomach flip in a way you’d never admit. “we should start a fight,” he said, completely deadpan.
you blinked at him, pulling your head back to study his face. “what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
he shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “might throw sarah off our scent.”
“you’re so stupid,” you muttered, shaking your head, but there was no bite to it.
“i’m serious,” he said, leaning back against the couch. “we get into some dumb argument, everyone’s gonna think we’re just . . . you know, being us.”
“but it’s christmas,” you said. “we’re supposed to be in the christmas spirit, not the . . . i don’t know. hateful one.”
“fine, fine. not hateful,” he conceded, tilting his head slightly. “okay, what about this—” you watched him, waiting, your fingers still tangled with his. “—when i say, ‘you always have to get the last word, don’t you?’ what i’ll really mean is, i love you.”
you stared at him, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. he was so stupid. so him.
“okay,” you said slowly, your voice soft. “then when i say, ‘only because you never know when to stop talking,’ that’ll mean i love you back.”
rafe squinted at you, his lips twitching into a smirk. “oh, i don’t know when to stop talking?”
you nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. “yeah.”
“yeah?” he echoed, leaning in closer.
“yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely audible now.
before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours, soft but firm, shutting you up in the most effective way possible. it was quick, but it was enough to leave you breathless, your heart pounding as he pulled back, a smug smile on his face.
now the dining room buzzed with the usual holiday energy—silverware clinking against plates, the hum of casual conversation, and the faint scent of rosemary and cinnamon wafting in from the kitchen.
your dad was deep in conversation with ward, their low voices occasionally punctuated by laughter as they sipped their whiskey. rose stood nearby, her forced-polite smile unwavering as she chimed in here and there, while wheezie flitted around, setting plates at each spot on the long, polished table.
you lingered near the head of the table, your fingers brushing the back of one of the chairs as you debated where to sit. rafe stood just a step behind you, his presence unmistakable even without looking.
sarah appeared in the doorway, carefully balancing a steaming casserole dish in her hands, her gaze scanning the room before landing on the table. rafe must have noticed her at the same time because, without warning, his shoulder bumped into yours—not hard, but enough to make you stumble a step forward.
“move,” he muttered, his tone sharp enough to catch your attention.
you blinked, caught off guard, before turning to him with a raised brow. there was amusement in his eyes this time, but his expression remained serious. you knew exactly what he was doing.
“excuse me?” you shot back, your voice dripping with mock irritation as you planted your feet firmly where you stood.
“you’re in my way,” he said, gesturing toward the chair you were closest to as if you were blocking his path.
“i’m in your way?” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. “you’re the one taking up half the room with your oversized ego.”
his lips twitched, but he kept his composure. “and you’re taking up the other half with your big mouth.”
he did not.
you stared at him, fighting every urge to laugh. your lips twitched as you bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep it together.
for a second, you thought he might crack. his lips pressed together, his shoulders stiffened, but he stayed in character, his determination to fool sarah unshakable.
meanwhile, the room carried on as if nothing was happening. your parents barely spared you a glance, too engrossed in their conversations. it was clear they were used to your bickering—it was just background noise to them at this point.
but sarah wasn’t as quick to dismiss it. she paused mid-step, her eyes flicking between the two of you as she set the dish down on the table. her brows furrowed slightly, and you could feel her studying you, trying to piece something together.
you didn’t miss a beat. “you always have to make everything about you, don’t you?” you said, stepping aside just enough to let him pass but not without bumping his arm in the process.
rafe moved into the space you’d left, pulling out a chair with an exaggerated huff. “you always have to get the last word, don’t you?”
i love you.
your gaze narrowed, and a small, knowing smile tugged at your lips. “only because you never know when to stop talking,” you replied, your tone quieter now but no less pointed.
i love you back.
the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk, but he didn’t respond. instead, he sank into his seat, leaning back with an air of triumph.
you moved to the opposite side of the table, pulling out the chair directly across from him. sarah, still watching, shot rafe a glare. “you’re such a jerk,” she muttered under her breath before disappearing back into the kitchen.
the second she was gone, your eyes flicked back to rafe. he was already looking at you, his smirk softening into something more playful. he winked, the gesture quick and subtle, and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from smiling.
you and rafe had navigated the evening like it was your own secret game, your relationship hidden in plain sight.
now, just a year later at the same christmas dinner, the only thing hidden is the sharp ache that settles in your chest whenever you catch sight of him.
the breakup isn’t totally fresh—weeks and weeks have passed, long enough for the initial sting to fade into something duller, quieter. still, the weight of it lingers, like the ghost of a bruise. you tell yourself you’re over it, over him, that whatever you’d felt has burned out long before the end. but being here, in the same room, breathing the same air, makes it harder to convince yourself of that.
you sit through dinner with practiced ease, smiling at the right moments, laughing when it feels appropriate. rafe, seated across the table, seems to be doing the same. his face is unreadable, his attention focused on his plate or the conversations around him, but you can feel his presence like a steady hum beneath your skin.
after the plates are cleared and the wine glasses refilled, you slip outside. you sit on the front step of the porch, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped loosely around them, and you stare out into the quiet, your thoughts drifting aimlessly.
the sound of the door creaking open breaks the silence. you don’t turn, but you know it’s him before he even steps outside.
rafe lingers in the doorway for a moment. he looks down at the drink in his hand, his thumb brushing idly against the rim of the glass. then, without a word, he walks over and sits down beside you. the step creaks faintly under his weight as he sets his drink down beside him.
for a while, he doesn’t say anything. neither of you do. the silence isn’t comfortable, but it isn’t unbearable either—it’s just . . . there.
you keep your gaze fixed on the horizon, the faint outline of trees against the dark sky. rafe sits with his hands loosely clasped between his knees, his shoulders hunched slightly forward. the space between you feels like miles, even though he’s close enough that you can feel the faint warmth of him against the cold night air.
rafe breaks the quiet. his voice is low, almost tentative. “sorry about the, uh . . .” he gestures vaguely to his shirt, where the faintest stain from earlier is barely visible in the dim light.
it takes you a second to catch on, but then you remember: during dinner, his drink had tipped—his fault entirely—and splashed across the front of your sweater and slightly his own. there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
“don’t worry,” you say lightly, turning your gaze back to the houses across the lots. “you saved me from wearing that thing ever again. it was time to let it go.”
he huffs out a small laugh, looking down at his hands. “yeah, well. still.”
for a moment, it feels like the edges of the past have softened, like you’ve both stepped into some neutral ground where the weight of everything isn’t crushing you. but the moment doesn’t last. something itches at the back of your mind, a question you’ve thought about too many times to count but never dared to ask.
you turn your head slightly, just enough to face his direction, though your eyes stay fixed on the porch railing. your voice is quieter now, more careful. “why did you . . . ?”
you don’t finish the question. maybe you don’t know how to, or maybe you’re afraid of the answer. but rafe knows. he always does.
he exhales slowly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “why did i what?”
“you know,” you murmur.
he’s quiet for a moment, and when he finally speaks, there’s a weariness in his voice that mirrors your own. “i guess, i didn’t know what else to do. after everything, i just—” he stops himself, shaking his head. “i thought maybe if i kept moving, kept doing . . . something, it’d feel less like everything was falling apart.”
you nod slowly. because you’d noticed, of course, the way he threw himself into everything—work, parties, anything to fill the spaces you used to occupy. you’d wondered if it was his way of coping or if it was just his way of running.
“and did it?” you ask, finally glancing at him.
he looks over at you, his blue eyes shadowed in the dim light. “did it what?”
“feel less like everything was falling apart.”
his lips press into a thin line, and he looks away, his gaze falling to the ground. “no,” he admits, so quietly you almost don’t hear it.
you nod again, your fingers picking idly at the hem of your new sweater. “me neither,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
he looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s trying to read the things you’re not saying. but you don’t meet his gaze, keeping your focus on the dark horizon instead.
“i didn’t think you’d leave,” he says after a moment, his voice rough around the edges.
the words hit harder than you expect, even though you’ve thought about this moment a thousand times. “i didn’t think i would either,” you confess.
and there it is, the unspoken story between you—the weight of everything you’ve been through, the cracks and fractures that finally gave way. you don’t say any more, and neither does he.
so your hand moves before you even think about it, reaching across the space between you. his hand is resting on his thigh, fingers loosely curled, and you gently wrap your own fingers around the back of it, curling into his palm. you don’t say anything—there’s nothing to say, not really—but you squeeze once, firm enough to tell him without words that you’re here, that you’re still here, even if it doesn’t feel like enough.
he doesn’t look at you. his eyes stay fixed on the grass in the front yard. for a second, you think maybe he won’t respond, maybe he won’t let you in. but then his hand twitches beneath yours, his fingers shifting to squeeze back, just once. it’s a quiet thank you, a wordless acceptance of something neither of you can name.
you feel a lump rising in your throat, the vulnerability in his silence cutting through you in a way nothing else could. you know he doesn’t want to talk about it, so you say the first thing that comes to mind, something stupid, something that might make him laugh.
“i just, you know, didn’t think you’d ever play basketball with topper again,” you say, your voice light, almost teasing. “i mean, didn’t he break your nose last time?”
you glance at him, hoping for a smile, for something to break the tension. and for a second, you think it works. his lips twitch, the corner of his mouth lifting into a bitter smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. he just stares at the grass, his fingers tightening slightly around yours before letting go.
the silence stretches again, thicker this time, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “you always have to get the last word, don’t you?”
your chest tightens, the words hitting harder than they should. it’s not just what he says—it’s how he says it. your expression hardens, the realization sinking in like a stone. he’s not talking about the joke. he’s talking about you. about this. about the way it all ended, the way you ended it.
the code you made up a year ago flashes in your mind, unbidden. you always have to get the last word. it was supposed to be a joke after that, a way to tease each other when you argued over stupid things, but now it feels like something else entirely. something sharp and unforgiving.
i love you.
you don’t say anything at first, the guilt settling heavy in your chest. you know he’s right. you know what he’s trying to say, even if he won’t come out and say it. but what can you do? what can you possibly say that will make any of this better?
finally, after what feels like forever, you whisper, “i know.”
you can’t bring yourself to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see the way his jaw clenches, the way his head dips lower. the dim porch light catches on his face, and you realize his eyes are glossed over, though he doesn’t let a single tear fall.
he doesn’t look at you, and you don’t blame him. you can’t bring yourself to look at him either. you just sit there, side by side, the space between you feeling wider than ever.
#rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#drew starkey blurb#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron angst#rafe fanfic#rafe smut#rafe angst#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#drew#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x you#drew starkey fic#drew starkey fanfic
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── ୨୧ ! BOSTON FOR THANKSGIVING
chris sturniolo x reader
SUMMARY: Where Y/N goes back to Boston with Chris and his brothers for Thanksgiving.
WARNING: None.
REQUESTED?: Yes, by @smileymilee
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
A/N²: I'm sorry if I couldn't create the whole Thanksgiving vibe correctly, we don't commemorate it on Brazil, so I don't know how it follows traditionally.
༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
The crisp November air bit at Y/N’s cheeks as she followed Chris up the stone walkway leading to the Sturniolo family home. The familiar house with its neatly trimmed hedges and warmly lit windows looked just as welcoming as it had last year, but this time, Y/N felt more at home. It was her second Thanksgiving with Chris and his family, and she already knew what awaited her inside: love, warmth, and a fair bit of chaos.
Chris shifted the bags he was carrying and glanced back at her.
"You ready?" He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
Y/N nodded, her own smile spreading wide.
"Always."
The front door swung open by Nick before Chris could even reach for the handle. A blur of caramel fur darted out, running between the boy's legs while barking excitedly.
"Trevor!" Y/N squealed, dropping her own bags instantly. She knelt on the porch, arms open wide as the family dog launched himself into her embrace. His tail wagged furiously, and Y/N giggled as he licked her face with enthusiasm.
Chris stood above them, shaking his head with an amused chuckle.
"Guess I know where I stand." He teased, adjusting the straps of the duffel bags on his shoulders before bending slightly and taking her dropped bags, throwing it over his free arm.
Y/N grinned up at him, scratching behind Trevor’s ears.
"You know you’re second to Trevor." She quipped before pressing a kiss to the dog’s head, inhaling his comforting Dog Shampoo scent.
The sound of hurried footsteps approached, and Mary Lou appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
"There’s my crew!" She exclaimed, her face lighting up at the sight of her boys. She rushed forward, pulling each of them into tight hugs.
"Hi, Mom." Matt said, his voice muffled by her embrace.
"Missed you, Ma." Nick added, smiling fondly as she kissed his cheek lovingly.
When Mary Lou turned to Y/N, her expression softened even more.
"Oh, my sweet girl!" She said, pulling her up and into a hug so warm and tight, it could melt the chill of a Boston winter.
Y/N’s heart swelled.
"I missed you so much." She murmured, squeezing her back.
Mary Lou pulled back just enough to cup Y/N’s face, her eyes bright with affection.
"Missed you too, honey. How’s everything? You’ll have to catch me up on all the details."
"I have so much to tell you." Y/N replied eagerly, already feeling herself slip into the comfort of their mother-daughter dynamic.
"Well, come on then!" Mary Lou laughed, tugging Y/N’s hand and leading her toward the kitchen without so much as a glance back at the boys or their luggage.
Chris watched them go, shaking his head in mock disbelief.
"Every time." He muttered, stepping inside with the bags still slung over his shoulders.
Nick snickered.
"We’re chopped liver the moment Y/N shows up."
"Facts." Matt added, grabbing his duffel and heading toward the living room.
As they piled the bags near the staircase, footsteps creaked from upstairs. Jimmy appeared at the top of the stairs, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed the scene.
"Hey, boys!" He called, his voice booming with warmth.
"Hey, Dad!" They chorused, looking up at him.
Jimmy descended the steps, grinning. But when he noticed the absence of Y/N, his grin widened knowingly.
"Let me guess, your mother already stole Y/N, didn’t she?"
Chris laughed, tossing a jacket over the banister.
"Yep. She didn’t even give us a chance to finish saying hi."
Jimmy chuckled, clapping a hand on Chris’s shoulder.
"Sounds about right. That girl’s practically her daughter at this point."
"Don’t we know it." Matt said, rolling his eyes playfully.
In the kitchen, Y/N perched on a stool at the island, recounting stories to Mary Lou as Trevor curled up at her feet. The smell of freshly baked pies filled the air, and the warmth of the room seemed to wrap around Y/N like a blanket.
Mary Lou hung on her every word, her eyes sparkling.
"You’re such a delight." She said, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand. "I hope you know how much we love having you here."
Y/N smiled, her heart full.
"I love being here."
The sound of Jimmy entering the kitchen snapped them back to reality, his steps light but deliberate, making a beeline for Mary Lou, planting a quick kiss on the top of her head.
"Hey, hon." He greeted warmly before turning his attention to Y/N. "And there’s our star guest." He said with a broad smile, extending his arms for a hug.
"Hi, Jimmy!" Y/N replied, returning his embrace with the same warmth she always felt from him. "How's that cabin going?" She asked, remembering the small cabin that Jimmy mentioned during their last 'family call' - how Chris liked to call it, one that he'd been building himself.
"It's finally getting somewhere." He smiled proudly, receiving a gaze full of joy and love from Mary Lou.
"Oh! I just remembered that we need to make a quick trip to the supermarket." She folded her towel, looking up at Jimmy. "I thought we had everything, but we’re out of thyme, and I need more butter for the turkey."
The oldest nodded, already heading toward the door.
"I’ll grab the keys."
"Y/N, you okay holding down the fort?" Mary Lou asked, her voice tinged with both apology and trust.
"Of course." Y/N replied immediately, rolling up the sleeves of her green Harry Potter sweater. "I’ve got this."
Mary Lou smiled, her affection evident.
"Thank you. I'll be back in no time."
As the front door closed behind them, Y/N found herself alone in the kitchen. The comforting sounds of laughter and basketball from the living room filtered through as she turned her attention to the stove.
She moved with ease, stirring sauces, seasoning vegetables, and now chopping fresh herbs for the stuffing. Her movements were precise, her mind immersed in the rhythm of cooking.
"Hey, chef extraordinaire." Chris’s voice broke through the quiet.
Y/N glanced up briefly, spotting him leaning against the doorframe, his grin wide and teasing.
"Need something?" She asked, arching a brow before turning back to her task.
"Yeah." He said simply, stepping into the room. "You."
Before she could respond, she felt his long arms slide around her waist, his warmth enveloping her as he pressed gently against her back. His fingers interlocked over her stomach, and his lips brushed against her cheek in a lingering kiss.
"Chris." She murmured, her voice soft with a mix of exasperation and fondness. "I’m trying to cook."
"I know." He whispered against her ear, his voice low and velvety. His lips trailed a slow path along her jaw and down to her neck, leaving a series of soft kisses in their wake.
Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her hands stilling on the cutting board.
"You’re impossible." She said, her tone betraying her amusement.
"I’m thankful for you." He murmured, completely ignoring her comment, his lips brushing against her shoulder. "So, so thankful."
Her heart melted at his words, and she turned her head slightly, her cheeks flushed, but her smile unrestrained.
"You’re ridiculous." She said softly.
"And yet, you love me." He replied with a grin, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"I really do." She whispered back, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes, enjoying his gentle touch and soft perfume.
Their moment was interrupted by the slam of the front door and Mary Lou’s cheerful voice.
"We’re back!"
The sound of grocery bags being set down and Jimmy’s voice joining the mix signaled their return. Moments later, Mary Lou bustled into the kitchen, her sharp eyes landing immediately on Chris.
"Christopher Owen." She scolded, her tone firm but playful as she placed her hands on her hips. "What are you doing? Let that poor girl work!"
Chris straightened but didn’t release Y/N, grinning like a mischievous child caught in the act.
"I’m just showing her some love, Ma. There's nothing wrong with that."
Mary Lou swatted him lightly on the back of the head.
"Out! Go join your brothers in the living room and let her focus."
Y/N laughed, her cheeks still warm.
"It’s okay, Mary Lou. He wasn’t bothering me too much."
Mary Lou shook her head with a fond smile.
"Don’t defend him, sweetheart. He’ll take advantage of it."
"He totally will!" Nick's voice yelled from the living room, causing laughter to escape Y/N's mouth.
Chris sighed, finally letting go, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender.
"Fine, fine. But for the record, I’m still thankful for you."
He winked at Y/N as he left the kitchen, his retreat punctuated by his brothers’ teasing from the living room.
Mary Lou sighed, her affection for her son shining through even her exasperation.
"That boy." She muttered before turning to Y/N with a warm smile. "You’re a saint for putting up with him, you know."
Y/N paused, her knife hovering over the herbs before glancing toward the door where Chris had disappeared. A soft smile spread across her face, one filled with pure affection.
"I don’t think of it as 'putting up with him,'." She said, her voice warm and sincere. "Loving Chris is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I'm very thankful for him."
Mary Lou’s expression softened, her eyes glistening just slightly.
"Oh, sweetheart." She said, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand. "He’s lucky to have you. We all are."
Y/N smiled bashfully, her cheeks flushing as she returned to her task, but her heart felt lighter than ever.
#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo x y/n#chris sturniolo x fem reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturiolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader fluff#chris sturniolo x fem!reader#christopher owen sturniolo#christopher sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#chris fanfic#fanfic#imagine#oneshot#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo fanfiction#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fic#fluff#thanksgiving#chris sturniolo thanksgiving#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader
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You are the embodiment of fairness...
is what Neuvillette believes. There is not a single hair on your body that is selfish. Not a single thought in your mind that strays into evil thoughts.
The Chief Justice is just as fair, just as sensible. Though on you, he stays his gaze for a moment longer. Allows the slightest tug upward of his lips as you discuss the latest trial with him. The difference between the two of you? He doesn't think that he is as "well-behaved" as you are. There have definitely been times where he had thought to abandon his gentlemanly and prestigious image, just to lean in and brush his fingers on your cheek. Thankfully, so far, he hasn't done so, even though the two of you had decided to enter a romantic relationship.
The Chief Justice was very guarded, but so were you. The two of you were never seen together, only in the privacy of his home or yours did the two of you enjoy each other's company. Perhaps only his most trusted Melusines knew. Professionalism was important.
"I hope the next trial resolves to your liking, Neuvillette," you smile knowing what his answer would be.
"It isn't my thoughts that are important, Y/N-" he starts and he finishes his sentence at the same time as you chide in with him.
"It's the evidence. I know, I know,"
You bid him goodbye rather curtly, not even a kiss, just a brief pat on the arm. It's working hours, and it's not the time to do such a thing.
Working hours.
As the Chief Justice sat in court, trial in session, he locks eyes with you, the accused. He recognizes the confusion in your eyes as genuine, the hidden panic behind clear as day.
"Neuvil--Your honour," You catch yourself, voice trembling a little. "This is a mistake, it wasn't me,"
and yet all the evidence points to you. Photographs, witness accounts, the hat that you'd left behind in the crime scene. No matter which way you look, the answer was you.
"Guilty," was all he could muster, when he usually said more. His hand looked for the oratrice, hoping that the machine would give him something different, but he already knew it in his heart.
"According to the judgement of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale, the accused, L/N Y/N is..."
One second.
Two.
Three seconds.
Four.
The crowd started to bristle a little.
At five he opened his mouth, and closed it again, gritting his teeth in secret.
At six, he repeated his own words. "Guilty,"
Cheers erupted from the audience, he could not bring himself to look at your face, though he heard you loud and clear.
"No! NO! This is a mistake! I didn't kill anyone!" Your hysterics were comparable to a mother who had lost her child. To a hardworking man watching his hard earned house burn down.
"NEUVILLETTE PLEASE!"
The Gardes struggled, just as they always did, but you pushed forward, unable to understand nor accept what happened. At that moment you had not noticed the tears of desperation running down your cheeks.
You were going to that underwater prison forever. Dark and alone. What if the sea swallowed you? Or worse, what if the silence swallowed you? All by yourself hundreds of feet below, drowning was such an easy possibility.
Neuvillette almost grimaces, but keeps his face hard as stone. There are a thousand things running in his mind...but the Oratrice was absolute, and so was its verdict.
"Bring the accused to The Fortress of Meropide,"
The wails you let out haunted him, more than any other trial had.
Author's Note: Hello! This is just a quick update, literally wrote it in 30 minutes so excuse any pronoun slips or mistakes! I just wanted to let everyone know I am great and still playing Genshin! Just a quick reminder that The Ruthless Prince is still available on Amazon in paperback and all my previous works are still accessible in my Masterlist!
Do let me know what you think of this one though, and if you think I should turn it into a full fic!
#genshin x reader#genshin angst#genshin impact#neuvilette genshin#neuvillette#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette brainrot
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SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY
summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?
or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.
warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)
notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…
“500,000!?”
Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.
You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”
“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”
“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”
“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”
“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”
“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.
Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”
“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”
Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.
They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”
Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.
“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”
“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”
“Ah,” Aether says.
“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.
“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”
“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.
You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.
“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.
“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”
“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”
“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”
“Still a student through and through, huh…”
“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”
You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.
Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.
Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.
“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”
“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.
You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.
She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”
Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.
“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”
She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”
“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”
She peers below, unworried—silent.
“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”
Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”
“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.
“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”
“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”
Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.
Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.
Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.
After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.
(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)
To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.
Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.
Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”
“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”
“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”
“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”
Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”
Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”
“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?
“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”
“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.
Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.
“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”
Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.
The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.
Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.
He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.
“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”
The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.
His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.
Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.
Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.
A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.
You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?
You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.
(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)
Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.
You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.
You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.
CRASH.
The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.
When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.
Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.
(His hands were shaking.)
The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.
It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.
You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.
Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.
You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.
“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.
You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.
“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.
You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”
“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”
“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”
Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.
“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.
Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”
Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”
“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”
“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.
“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”
“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”
Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”
There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”
Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.
“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”
“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”
“Generously,” Aether adds.
It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.
“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”
He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”
“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.
“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”
“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”
You blink. “Are you saying—”
Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?
This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.
“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.
Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.
You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”
“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”
Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”
Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”
“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.
“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”
You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.
Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.
“The hat’s empty.”
Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”
You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.
His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”
Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”
“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”
And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.
Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”
Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.
“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”
“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”
“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.
“Yes! It means—”
“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”
His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.
“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.
His ears were red.
“You’re still staring.”
“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.
Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.
“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”
“He did not.”
Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.
“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”
Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”
“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”
You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.
“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”
“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.
You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.
It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.
If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.
In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”
“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”
“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”
“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.
“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.
“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”
“Please, we want to see!”
You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”
His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”
Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.
“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.”
He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”
He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.
“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”
You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.
The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.
“What? It was empty!”
“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”
“Are you a magician, too?”
“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”
“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”
They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.
You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.
The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.
“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.
“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”
“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”
“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”
“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.
Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”
“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”
“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”
You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”
“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”
Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”
You nod.
He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.
“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space?
“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”
“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”
You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”
But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.
“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”
“What are you trying to say right now?”
Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”
You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”
“I almost want to disagree.”
“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”
Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”
“Absolutely not.”
“So still you’re letting me?”
You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”
Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”
“No tricks?”
“No tricks. No strings.”
You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.
Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.
You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)
It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.
You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.
There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.
Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.
You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.
“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”
“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”
“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.
“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.
A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.
Speak of the devil…
“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.
“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.
Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”
You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”
Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.
“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”
Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”
You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.
If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.
Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”
“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.
No tricks.
Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.
No strings.
Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.
Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.
“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.
You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”
He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.
“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”
“Why? Missed me?”
And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”
“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”
He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”
“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.
Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.
When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.
You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of.
You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.
Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.
His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.
You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”
“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”
Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.
You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)
Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.
He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.
As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.
“Brother.”
Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”
Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”
Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”
Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”
He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”
He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.
It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.
And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.
It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.
But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.
No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?
Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.
“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.
You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”
His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”
At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”
And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.
“Oh,” you say.
That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.
And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.
Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.
Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.
You sigh and call for the aquabus.
A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.
“W-What—”
Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”
“I—I’m sorry—”
“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”
“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”
“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.
You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.
“How did you even know I was leaving?”
Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.
You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.
Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”
“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”
And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.
“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.
He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”
It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.
“Y/N,” he whispers.
“Lyney,” you call back as gently.
He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.
This is different from the last kisses you shared.
Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.
“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.
Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”
“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”
“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”
“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.
It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.
He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”
“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.
“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”
( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”
He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.
“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up.
It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.
“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )
a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️
more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.
more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#lyney x reader#lyney x you#lyney x y/n#lyney fanfiction
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PROTECTIVE P──BUECKERS⁵
request!
─ summary | paige finds you in tears after watching stepmom and, misunderstanding the reason for your distress, instinctively comforts your with her protective nature.
─ pairing | paige bueckers x fem!reader
─ warnings | omg nothing, so short and sweet. paige is being slightly overdramatic, but reader is crying sooo... yeah. literally nothing at all it's so sweet.
ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!
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Tears blur your vision, the dim light of the room making the screen in front of you seem like a watery painting. You quickly swipe at your cheeks, though the attempt is pretty useless considering how soaked the tissue in your hand already is. The closing credits of Stepmom roll in a soft melody, tugging at your chest like a string you can't sever. You take a shaky breath, hugging your knees tighter to your chest, the weight of the movie's ending pressing down on you in waves.
The room feels oddly still, like even the air is holding its breath alongside you. The last few scenes play in an endless loop in your mind: the bittersweet embrace, the tearful goodbyes. It all claws at you, pulling at emotions you hadn’t prepared for. Your heart aches in that way only a well-crafted story can make it—like you're mourning something personal, something real. And as much as you want to pull yourself together, the lump in your throat only grows, tightening with every labored breath.
You stare blankly at the dark screen now, the credits long gone, but the emotional storm inside you rages on. The empty room echoes with the quiet sniffles you fail to hold back. A part of you feels silly for crying over a movie you've seen a million times, but to be completely fair, you were about to get your period.
Suddenly, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Before you can react, the door creaks open, and in walks Paige. The look on her face shifts instantly as she takes you in, sitting curled up on the couch, your tear-streaked face lit only by the soft glow of the television.
"Baby?" Her voice is low, gentle, but you can hear the edge to it, like she's holding something back. Her eyes—those sharp, intense blue eyes—narrow as they sweep over you. She's scanning, assessing, the same way she does when she’s reading a defense on the court. "What happened?" she asks, her tone both concerned and commanding, demanding an answer even as her voice stays soft.
Your throat tightens, and you shake your head, unable to explain through the wave of emotion still crashing over you. You know you don’t look great right now—puffy eyes, blotchy skin, a crumpled tissue that’s no match for the tears—but Paige doesn’t care about that. No, she’s laser-focused on the fact that you’re upset, and that’s all she needs to see.
In a heartbeat, she’s crossing the room, long strides eating up the distance between you. She drops down beside you on the couch, her arm sliding around your shoulders in one smooth motion, pulling you in against her chest. Her grip is firm, possessive, like she needs to protect you from whatever caused this. Even if she doesn’t know what “this” is yet.
"You don’t have to talk," she murmurs, pressing her cheek against the top of your head. Her voice is like velvet, low and soothing, but underneath it, there's a quiet storm brewing. Her protective instincts are flaring up, you can feel it. She’s always been like this—fierce when it comes to you, like you're something precious she’d fight the world to keep safe.
Her hand gently cups your cheek, turning your face up toward hers. Paige’s eyes are intense, practically burning with emotion, the warmth of her palm grounding you despite the whirlwind inside. "Whatever it is, I got you," she whispers, and you believe her. You always believe her.
But the softness in her touch contrasts with the edge in her voice. There's a possessiveness there that makes your heart race, a deep need to fix whatever has you so broken right now. She tightens her hold on you, like if she hugs you hard enough, she can shield you from whatever hurt is eating at you.
"Baby-"
"No, it's okay. Shh..." She interrupts before you can finish, and you feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. She looks ready to go to war, to tear apart anyone or anything that could have possibly made you cry.
You try to pull away slightly, to create some distance, but Paige isn’t having it. Her grip tightens, drawing you back against her chest as if she’s physically unwilling to let you go. "Don’t do that," she says, her voice low but firm. "Don’t hide from me." Her fingers trail down your arm, her warmth seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and you feel the goosebumps rise in response.
You open your mouth, ready to explain, to tell her it’s nothing serious, just a movie, but the way she’s looking at you stops the words before they can even form. There’s something fierce in her eyes, a protective edge that goes beyond simple concern. It’s possessive, almost primal, like she’s ready to tear down anyone or anything that might hurt you—even if that thing is your own emotions.
"Paige, really, it’s not—"
"I said shh..." She cuts you off again, her voice dropping lower, more insistent. Her other hand moves up to cradle the back of your head, gently pressing your face into the curve of her neck. She smells like fresh sweat and a hint of soap—probably from the quick shower after practice—and the familiar scent makes you relax a little more, even if your heart is still racing.
"Just let me take care of you," she murmurs, her lips brushing your hair. "You don’t have to explain anything. I’m here, okay? I’m here." There’s a soothing rhythm to her words, each one a steady beat that matches the rise and fall of her chest.
You can feel her heartbeat under your cheek, strong and steady, grounding you even as you’re still battling the emotional aftershocks of the movie. It’s almost overwhelming—the way she’s holding you so close, her arms wrapped around you like she can shield you from everything, including yourself. And maybe that’s exactly what she’s trying to do.
Her fingers tangle in your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, deliberate strokes, and despite the embarrassment still gnawing at the edges of your mind, you can’t help but relax into her touch. Paige always has this way of making the world disappear when she’s near you, like nothing else matters as long as you’re in her arms.
"Who hurt you, baby?" she whispers, her voice darker now, and you feel the intensity of her question deep in your chest. It’s not just a question—it’s a promise. A dangerous one. You know she’d go to extremes to protect you, to make sure nothing or no one ever makes you feel like this again.
"It’s just... a movie..." you manage to mumble into her neck, but even as you say the words, you can feel Paige tense beneath you.
"A movie?" she repeats, and though there’s a hint of relief in her voice, there’s still a trace of suspicion, like she’s not quite ready to believe it. "You’re crying like this over a movie?"
You nod against her, the heat in your cheeks returning in full force. "Yeah. Stepmom."
Paige lets out a long breath, and you can feel her relax slightly, her grip on you loosening just a little. But even then, she doesn’t let go entirely, keeping you close like she’s not ready to fully release you from her protective embrace.
"Baby, you scared me," she finally says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. Her gaze softens, and a small, almost sheepish smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "You know I can’t stand seeing you like that."
"I’m okay," you whisper, though the way her eyes linger on yours tells you she’s not entirely convinced.
"Next time, just tell me," Paige says, her thumb brushing your lip in a feather-light touch. "I’m here for all of it—the good, the bad, and the sappy movie tears. You don’t ever have to hide from me. Got it?"
"That's what I was trying to tell you," you let out a teary laugh as you look at her. She rolled her eyes, her lips quirking up in that sweet smile you love so much. Paige presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than usual, her lips warm and gentle against your skin.
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#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers x oc#uconn wcbb#uconn huskies#uconnwbb#uconn#wcbb#paige bueckers fanfiction#uconn wbb#uconn women’s basketball#uconn lives#uconn x reader#paige buckets#wbb fanfiction#wbb x reader#wbb smut#wnba basketball#womens basketball#ncaa wbb
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— empty souls do not breathe, they wait.
pairing: kinich x gn!reader
premise: ajaw has always thought that after kinich's death, all will eventually bow to him as their new king. what he didn't expect was to grapple with his host's loneliness and find the reason why he sought your presence during nights that grow too cold.
— warnings: slight angst if you squint
— author's note: ajaw holds a very special place in my heart so deserves to be the main character of this fic. and after almost 24 hours of having no electricity, it'll finally leave the basement. this is heavily inspired by this comic on twt so please go give it a read! art credits to @.n249 on twt. | 2.5k words.
— tags: @ryescapades @moineauz @mikashisus @https-sourlimes ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms in my pinned!!
there was something wrong with kinich. mavuika’s eyes scanned over the wounds on the poor boy’s body and the blood dripping from his forehead. long gone was his usual bandana and golden rimmed eyes were now tainted with a strange red.
this man is not kinich.
“so kinich has fallen, too,” her voice sullen, eyes barely able to look at the husk of one of her heroes. though her stance is not tense, it certainly wasn’t relaxed either. “kinich” followed her movements carefully—the way her hands twitched towards her claymore, her eyes he could not read, and the unmistakable tone of her voice. the pyro archon was disappointed.
“i, too, would be disappointed if you didn’t notice, archon.” kinich dipped his head low and let out a bone chilling laugh that scratched his throat the wrong way. blood stained glove came to push his hair back as mavuika stares at the eyes that did not belong to the dendro user of the scions of canopy.
“it was a shame for that brat to die, but oh well,” a twisted grin tugged at his lips as mavuika’s face remained passive. “it is i! the almighty dragon lord, k’uhul ajaw!”
he takes a deep breath before letting his host’s arms fall to his side. “per our agreement, i will stand in and make kinich the greatest hero for all of natlan to see!”
“and would you be satisfied with that?”
ajaw’s gaze hardened as his lips tugged into a deep frown. the pyro archon’s eyes now held a fervor brighter than any hope this entity of chaos has ever seen. was she still hoping that kinich would miraculously survive?
“are you implying that not even celestia is celebrating my return? their gift is now mi–”
“the gift you claim for yourself does not respond to you,” ajaw flinches back, eyes zeroing into the vision of his person as his fists shook in rage. “dreams will die if their master has fallen. there’s more to the contract between the two of you than you think.”
ajaw sees red. teeth snarling into a disgusting scowl as he readied kinich’s weapon—ignoring the way this too did not answer his call for blood. “are you mocking me, archon?”
much to the dragon’s surprise, the woman laughs. she laughs. at him? he’ll never know because he’s already zipping away from the scene.
“this is merely a trial, a simple waiting game.”
“why the hell am i using that servant’s party tricks!” ajaw screams as he lands in the far distance. he’s been using kinich’s grapple hook to come to and fro natlan these days as his mind flies back to this boy’s archon and her infuriating claims. “bwah! forget it, i have other things to deal with like–”
“kinich?”
like you.
the person from kinich’s life that he’s persistently pined over for years on end—ajaw even thinks kinich does it unintentionally, the boy was missing a few screws in the emotional department after all.
ajaw doesn’t answer back. he just blankly stares how your face is drained of its color. the way your fist grips at your chest like you're about to rip your heart out and the shaky–afraid–smile you flash him as you come to sit beside him.
you kept your distance—normally you’d sit so close your fingers would slightly entangle with kinich’s. ajaw observes you from the corner of his eyes before looking at natlan in the distance. back in his pixelated prison form, he could barely see natlan as a whole, just bits and pieces as he focused his energy to disturb and plan kinich’s untimely death.
“what are you doing here?”
how strange, ajaw didn’t mean to voice that question out in the open. especially with the way you look at him as if your world had crumbled to dust, leaving no trace of your home to pick up. something tugs at ajaw after your blank answer. the great almighty dragon lords do not feel, they wreak havoc, instill control, so why? why was this heart beating in such a melancholic rhythm?
“let’s go,” he says as he slowly comes to a stand, trying to mimic kinich’s attitude and actions towards you to the best of his abilities. you look at him, tears threatening to spill, yet you still smile and take his outstretched arm. ajaw doesn’t voice how you immediately drop his hand when you stand—you always hold kinich like your final lifeline, so why are you letting go?
ajaw understands, he simply won’t accept this fact.
you loved kinich, not ajaw.
you wanted kinich, but you still treated ajaw with the same treatment.
you treat his wounds with care, apologizing whenever he winces and flinches, pressing soft kisses to the calluses of his hands and his forehead. you let him listen to your beating heart that drummed the same melancholic melody and wipe away at the tears he never acknowledges whenever the figure of kinich’s dismantled body haunts him at night.
you acted as if you loved him and ajaw can’t live with this anymore.
so he runs away—punishes himself into confinement until you won’t be able to follow him. and then he thinks. sitting silently on a patch of grass as the sun slowly fades into another dreadful night. now that he’s left alone to grapple with all the uncontained emotions kinich himself couldn’t answer, ajaw finds himself at a loss.
“hey kinich,” he whispers to the wind, a bare hand filled with scars and scratches—free from the gloves that didn’t fit him—tug at the fabric of his shirt, right above his heart. “have you always been this lonely?”
ajaw hugs his knees, hand grabbing at his hair harshly–this body did not belong to him, he does not deserve your kindness or love. he won’t admit it, but now under the scrutiny or judgment of no one, ajaw comes to finally admit of his stretched jealousy for you and kinich. how come this insolent servant of him had someone who deeply cared about him despite his attitude? someone who was born to accompany him through thick and thin, to infuriate and fret over but still share whatever he or you could share with one another. neither of you left each other, and ajaw wanted that.
will ajaw have to live his life like this? chasing after the shadows of your relationship with kinich until his legs finally gave out?
“ugh! i hate you kinich!” he screams into the wind as they howl back.
“don’t say that, ajaw,” his world stills and the already chilly breeze turned colder. there you were, under the light of a fading sun with a small smile on your lips. “you’ll hurt kinch’s feelings.”
he scoffs. grip tightening as he buries his head on his arms. “then he can stay dead if he can’t handle some words from me! my servant,” his voice quivers slightly. his breathing shakes and turns shallow as you step towards him. “don’t come near me!”
you take one step, then two, then you’re sprinting to ajaw before he could run away for a second time. you cradle his head to your chest as you let his iron grip bruise your arms and silent tears be soaked in your heart.
“my kinich would not be offended by me!”
“i know he won’t,” you say in a whisper, hand rubbing circles to his back and ajaw finally comes to understand why kinich always sought you out each night when his past comes to haunt him. you kept his fears at bay with your overwhelming love for him. ajaw wonders if there’s also some love from you reserved for him.
the following nights, ajaw spends his time in your arms as you tell him stories from your childhood. how kinich had saved you from a safety malfunction when you went bungee jumping, the kinds of flowers you press into your journal, and the many photos from your family in different nations.
“do you not miss them, human?” ajaw asks, another photo from your mother as she stands in front of a quaint flower shop in fontaine. you only smile and tuck away another album under your bed. the sight of ajaw curiously sifting through your photos—from family, friends, and kinich—makes something swell in your chest. it bloats and bloats until you’re sure it can hold all of natlan with ease.
“i do,” you reply, sitting by the edge of your bed and looking at the dates written behind each photo. “but at least they send me things so i know they’re doing well.”
ajaw frowns in contemplation. “will they come home?”
will kinich come home?
you don’t voice out the question that’s floating in ajaw’s mind and just smile. watching the flame from the small lamp on your bedside table flicker, your reflection staring right back at you as you meet ajaw’s gaze.
“they will, we just wait.”
ajaw frowns. “waiting means to waste your efforts to hope for a miracle.”
despite his harshness and pessimism, you chuckle. gathering all the stray photos, you put them back neatly in the album. as you make your way to the window to close the window, you turn back to ajaw. “an empty soul does not breathe, it waits. you’re waiting, too, ajaw.”
“i am not waiting for that vermin!” he protests with a huff. you laugh as he falls back on your bed, both hands behind his head as he stares at your bedroom ceilings. a contemplative expression falls on his face as the furrow of his brows from embarrassment finally eases. “is he even still alive?”
you hum as you lay beside him. your eyes gaze at the still blazing vision on his pants and close your eyes. “a person’s vision is their ambition. they die out when it's been fulfilled or when its master passes,” ajaw looks at you with storm clouds in his eyes but you shift in your position and gently close them with your hands. “so long as kinich dreams, he’ll still live. he’s not the type to leave business unfinished.”
tonight ajaw dreams—he hopes that your belief turns out to be true. in the blanket of night he’s grown to be afraid of, he sees you and kinich. but strangely enough, he sees himself in between you two—not as an obstacle, but as a part of your happiness. ajaw finds himself really liking this dream.
the night kingdom, like its name suggests, is a perpetually cold and dark landscape with only the wayob in front of him casting a faint light. small engravings of his ancient name glows in a light purple as he gazes at his hazy body. surprisingly enough, his bandana still stayed securely on his head.
“seems like i’m still under the wayob’s protection,” he says to no one in particular as echoes about a flame burning bright eases his worries. ��if i’m still here then surely we must have won.”
kinich was about to turn and walk away—to where? he’s not quite sure. as he takes a step after another, the wayob—the original bearer of his ancient name—speaks to him in a voice he can only describe as all knowing; omniscient like his archon.
“you seem troubled, “malipo” kinich,” it said and this makes kinich stop in his tracks. “do you not trust your little companion to bring you victory?”
kinich doesn’t answer immediately. he takes his time to weigh out the answers he could reply with. “trust is a strong word. we’re only bound by a contract after all. i’m simply weighing the chances of my gamble.”
the wayob chuckles, deep and fatherly. kinich felt his shoulders start to relax a little more as the wayob continued to speak to him. “bearers of the “malipo” name are often accompanied by saurian companions through thick and thin. some, if not all, of them had an unbreakable bond between them.”
“so i’ve heard,” kinich says, arms crossing over his chest as he questions, “but a lot of people have questioned your judgment because of it.”
kinich hears a chuckle again as he hears something akin to glass breaking in the distance.
“i’m well aware, “malipo” kinich. which is why i’m glad,” when kinich looks up to the dark sky, hundreds of shattered fragments rain down on him but he doesn’t shield himself. he feels his heart beat a little faster when he catches sight of his body—lacking his bandana and gloves—land a few feet away from him.
“my judgment was proven right, once again.”
“wait–” but the wayob had lost its glow. kinich doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it further as his own body possessed by a small dragon is grabbing him by the shoulders and screaming at his face.
“consider yourself lucky that i see some value in you “malipo” kinich!” the dragon shouts as he raises his hand, the same hand he always uses to summon ajaw’s power before being blinded by a green glow. “consider this an investment! so you better bring in some profit or i’m taking your beloved as hostage!”
a persistent series of knocks on your front door rudely awakens you from your slumber. grumpily leaving your bed, you try to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you prepare yourself to berate whoever is at your door at this ungodly hour.
“what is it—”
“you win this time, human!” a small dragon screams at you. you blink a few times as you hold out both your hands for ajaw to land on as he huffs and obliges. “i’ve fulfilled my end of the deal, so you better keep yours!”
“please don’t tell me you actually made a deal with him…” when you look up, you feel tears threaten to spill from your eyes again. kinich stands there, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you in distress. you let ajaw go and let your hands drift to kinich’s face, dragging them under his eyes and tracing over his lips as a ghost of a smile starts to form.
you chuckle in disbelief. “yeah, maybe i have.”
“i hope you know the consequences of your decision,” you sneak a peek at ajaw who has his little pixel arms crossed over his chest. you turn back to kinich, a smile on your lips as you tug him inside your not so empty home. “you’ll just have to wait and see.”
ajaw quietly watches as you make kinich some food, a homely ambience blankets the house as you and kinich catch up. he’ll never openly admit it, but he’s glad you agreed to his deal. he feels kinich’s eyes follow him like a hawk as he sits himself down on your shoulder. you offer him a spoon of food but he only huffs in decline.
you’re waiting has paid off, though ajaw will never verbally admit. the other half of both your souls has come home and your statement was proven right: ajaw’s soul—as well as yours—will always wait for kinich to come home.
and kinich smiles, because like ajaw, he’ll never verbally admit how he’s been waiting for him to save him from the night kingdom all this time.
© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.
#—stellaronhvnters.#kinich x reader#kinich x you#kinich fluff#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact fluff#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin imagines#genshin impact kinich#( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ
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